Against the Shadow V - A Faded Glory Story Hour
- Thread starter Old One
- Start date
Quickbeam
Explorer
I'm back...
Old One my brother, how are you? The trials and travails, and the joys and miracles, of life have fallen into such places that I was able to catch back up on your FG world. And I'm damn glad to be back, I must say!!
Despite the many bouts of pitiful rolling early on, I love this party and their exploits. We have two players in our group who suffer through spells of extremist rolling (very bad or very good with no in between), and their frustrations occasionally diminish their roleplaying effectiveness. Not so with the plucky band of characters you've assembled, though. They just keep hangin' on by the skin of their collective teeth, and then...WHAM!! they unleash great wrath and furious anger upon their foes. I love it
.
I await the next installment with barely enough patience to function well outside these threads
. BTW, thank you and Corey very much for all of the kind words regarding Griffin's birth last week!! Your thoughtful wishes are greatly appreciated.
Old One my brother, how are you? The trials and travails, and the joys and miracles, of life have fallen into such places that I was able to catch back up on your FG world. And I'm damn glad to be back, I must say!!
Despite the many bouts of pitiful rolling early on, I love this party and their exploits. We have two players in our group who suffer through spells of extremist rolling (very bad or very good with no in between), and their frustrations occasionally diminish their roleplaying effectiveness. Not so with the plucky band of characters you've assembled, though. They just keep hangin' on by the skin of their collective teeth, and then...WHAM!! they unleash great wrath and furious anger upon their foes. I love it
.I await the next installment with barely enough patience to function well outside these threads
. BTW, thank you and Corey very much for all of the kind words regarding Griffin's birth last week!! Your thoughtful wishes are greatly appreciated.Re: Faded Glory as a EN World Hosted site...
O'Berton -
Hadn't thought about it...
I am not sure if we have enough info in "presentation form" to make that viable at this point. Shoot me an e-mail or in the e-groups and let me know your thoughts!
Thanks,
~ Old One
Oberton said:
O'Berton -
Hadn't thought about it...
I am not sure if we have enough info in "presentation form" to make that viable at this point. Shoot me an e-mail or in the e-groups and let me know your thoughts!
Thanks,
~ Old One
Re: I'm back...
Quickbeam -
Great to see you back, my friend! I hope that you joy is continuing from the birth of Griffin and that you and your wife are getting some amount of sleep!
In all my years of playing, I have never seen a group with such rolling extremes...it seems to either be all good or all bad. They continue to plug away and thier role-playing acumen continues to amaze me. I hope to have an update or two in place today!
Thanks for the continued readership and congrats again!
~ Old One
Quickbeam said:Old One my brother, how are you? The trials and travails, and the joys and miracles, of life have fallen into such places that I was able to catch back up on your FG world. And I'm damn glad to be back, I must say!!
Despite the many bouts of pitiful rolling early on, I love this party and their exploits. We have two players in our group who suffer through spells of extremist rolling (very bad or very good with no in between), and their frustrations occasionally diminish their roleplaying effectiveness. Not so with the plucky band of characters you've assembled, though. They just keep hangin' on by the skin of their collective teeth, and then...WHAM!! they unleash great wrath and furious anger upon their foes. I love it
I await the next installment with barely enough patience to function well outside these threads
Quickbeam -
Great to see you back, my friend! I hope that you joy is continuing from the birth of Griffin and that you and your wife are getting some amount of sleep
!In all my years of playing, I have never seen a group with such rolling extremes...it seems to either be all good or all bad. They continue to plug away and thier role-playing acumen continues to amaze me. I hope to have an update or two in place today!
Thanks for the continued readership and congrats again!
~ Old One
Quickbeam
Explorer
Old One:
My wife and I are getting a fair amount of sleep all things considered. Besides, sleep is highly overrated IMO...that is, until you aren't getting enough of it . I promise to be back among your faithful readers henceforth, and thanks again for sending happy words our way regarding Griffin!!
Darklone:
Thank you for your recent email. I would have responded in like fashion, but couldn't find a valid reply address anywhere. There is indeed life outside the Boards, but I have nonetheless seen your posts regarding this fine campaign setting. Best wishes to you and Dougal. BTW, what's your perspective on why he loves gnomes so much?!?
My wife and I are getting a fair amount of sleep all things considered. Besides, sleep is highly overrated IMO...that is, until you aren't getting enough of it
. I promise to be back among your faithful readers henceforth, and thanks again for sending happy words our way regarding Griffin!!Darklone:
Thank you for your recent email. I would have responded in like fashion, but couldn't find a valid reply address anywhere. There is indeed life outside the Boards, but I have nonetheless seen your posts regarding this fine campaign setting. Best wishes to you and Dougal. BTW, what's your perspective on why he loves gnomes so much?!?
Session 13 (Part Three)
Captains Courageous
Quintus pondered the scroll proclaiming their guilt in the death of Acrius Sestius for several long minutes. “It is even more critical that I inform my companions of this latest news. Thank you and I will be in touch soon.”
The sorcerer turned to leave, but his exit was interrupted by a rapid knock at the door. Casian rose and moved quickly to the portal. He cracked the door a bit, and then opened it to admit the same scruffy looking fellow that had been shadowing the companions earlier. The man nodded at Quintus, then moved quickly to Andrimia, bent and began whispering in her ear.”
“This man is in your employ?” Quintus asked, his displeasure evident in his voice. When Andrimia and Casian nodded, Quintus shook his head and continued, “He needs some remedial training then…we spotted him many times!”
Casian spoke for the first time, “We set him to watch for your protection.”
Quintus mumbled something about being spied upon at every turn, looked at Drusilla for a long moment, then slipped from the room. He hadn’t gone 5 paces down the hallway when he heard the door open behind him. “Master Quintus!”
He turned to find Casian, face set in a look hovering between fear and concern, hustling towards him. “Master Quintus, please come with us and quickly. I am afraid there is no time to explain!”
Quintus hesitated for a moment, ‘If they meant me harm, they already would have acted,’ he reasoned with himself.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he followed the retreating form of Casian. As he re-entered the room, he saw Drusilla exiting the room through a previously unseen door. Andrimia, a palpable air of authority around her, issued one command after another. “Quickly, my dear, we have little time! Quintus, follow Drusilla and stay silent. Casian, shoot the bolt on the door and follow quickly. Be sure to arm our little friend after you pass!”
Quintus followed Druisilla into a small alcove, through a trap door in the floor and down a wooden ladder. He heard the pounding of flesh on wood from behind and looked up in time to see Andrimia start down the ladder. Muffled curses floated down from above as he continued his descent. The pungent smell of stagnant water, offal and other waste assaulted Quintus’ nostrils as alighted from the ladder and into a handsbreadth of fetid muck. He glanced around quickly, taking stock of his surroundings.
Slime-covered walls, made of old, discolored stone, arched overhead, rising four paces from the floor. The scruffy man stood nearby, holding a hooded lantern and glancing nervously down the passage in both directions. Drusilla also stood nearby, her hood once again drawn up to cover her face. Within several grains, Andrimia and Casian splashed down from the ladder and Andrimia motioned to the scruffy man, who set off at a rapid pace.
No one spoke as they made their way through the ancient sewers under Oar and the scruffy man made so many turns that Quintus was soon hopelessly lost. Once, he thought he heard the ring of metal off of stone in the distance, but the only regular sounds where their own soft footfalls and labored breathing. Finally, the lantern-bearer halted and ran his hands lightly over the wall. A section of stone slid away on well-oiled runners, revealing another wooden ladder – this one leading up. Drusilla began climbing and Quintus followed her. Behind him, Andrimia dipped her head and spoke to the scruffy man in clipped, urgent tones.
Quintus emerged from another trap door into the center of a dank under cellar. He stood and followed Drusilla up a flight of stone stairs, through a sturdy door and into a large storage room stacked from floor to ceiling with crates, boxes and barrels of all shapes and sizes. A door flew open on the opposite side of the room and several unkempt looking men entered with leveled crossbows.
********************
Rosë growled in frustration. He had managed to gnaw partly through the sack covering his head, but could see little in the dim light. The hazy outlines of his companions were barely visible in the darkness of the pit. He strained for the hundredth time against his manacles, but the strength of the chains defeated even his mighty thews.
Brother Lew spoke quietly, “Rest, Rosë. You will probably need your strength later.”
********************
Quintus stepped in front of Drusilla and began to summon his Sleep magic. “No,” Andrimia called as she entered the room. “They are my men. Please make yourself as comfortable as you may. I will have food and drink brought as soon as possible.”
She paused for a moment and looked Quintus fully in the eyes. “I am afraid that I have some ill news,” she said, gave never wavering. “It seems as though our enemies move more quickly then we do. Your friends have been taken.”
Quintus’ heart sank in his chest. Reading the despair plainly evident on the sorcerer’s face, she continued. “Do not give up hope. One of my men followed the assailants and if we act quickly, we may be able to save your friends before any great ill can befall them. Please, wait here and I shall return soon.”
With that, she swept from the room with Casian in tow. A few turns of the minute glass later, a lad of perhaps fourteen winters entered with a wooden tray laden with food and drink. Drusilla nibbled at a bit of the fare, but Quintus left it untouched as he paced back and forth around the crates and barrels. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened again and Andrimia re-entered, trailed by a lean man well dressed in silver-trimmed black.
“May I present Captain Octavius Rook, master of the Sea Eagle. Captain Rook, this is Quintus Scipio. I have already briefed Captain Rook on our dilemma and he may be able to help us!”
The lean man flashed Quintus a disarming smile, accompanied by a perfunctory bow as the sorcerer sized him up. Octavius Rook stood just under three paces high. Close-cropped dark hair, feathered with gray and piercing black eyes graced his head. Well-made clothing – tunic, breeches and boots cut and stitched from black cloth and leather – clung to his slender frame. Several blades of various lengths hung from scabbards attached to the woven silver belt that rode just above his hips and several other silver details broke the monotony of the outfit. “Well, young Scipio,” Captain Rook boomed in a voice used to commanding men, “what can my men and I do for you?”
To Quintus, it was less of a question than a test or even a challenge. A wry smile played across the sorcerer’s face as he squared his shoulders and responded, “My friends have been captured and I need your help – if you are up to the task!”
Captain Rook roared with laughter and clapped Quintus on the shoulder with a blow that belied his lean frame, “Well said, lad! I will put it to my crew, but it will be up to you to convince them. Coin and loot are always good things to mention when asking for their help.”
With that, he strode to the door and flung it open. “Come on in, you cutthroats. There’s a friend of Lady Andrimia here who needs some help and has a proposition for you!”
Quintus stepped back involuntarily as a score of the most unsavory looking fellows he had ever seen filed into the room. A cacophony of bright colors leapt towards the sorcerer. He noted preponderance of reds, blues and yellows, but very little green. They were heavily armed, but lightly armored and Quintus noted several missing hands and eyes among the bunch. They plopped themselves onto crates and boxes, eying the sorcerer expectantly. Quintus cleared his throat and began nervously, “My friends have been taken and I ask for you help in getting them back…”
His voice trailed off as he noted rolled eyes and bored looks. It was clear that this tact wasn’t working. He pulled the pouch full of coins from his belt and shook it overhead. “A bounty of 100 denarii for any man who comes with me plus the greatest drunk you have ever had!”
The assembly roared with approval, thrusting bared weapons into the air. “What about loot, Cap’n?” A voice called from the throng.
Captain Rook looked at Quintus. “You are welcome to anything you find, except my friends personal possessions!”
The cheers redoubled, then trebled as Casian rolled a cask of rum into the room, followed by a lad bearing a huge tray of tankards. Quintus was astonished at the speed with which Captain Rook’s crew emptied the cask, the last drops drained from the upended container by a barrel-chested Khazardyn with a hook in place of his left hand.
(DM’s Note: Quintus rolled very well on his Diplomacy roll!)
“Well then, lad, we best be off before they decide to start their legendary drunk now. Lady Andrimia tells me you know something of the magic arts. My pet mage is away on business right now and any help you can provide there will help things go much smoother. What can you do?”
Captain Rook nodded, a decidedly shark-like grin spreading across his face as Quintus enumerated his powers. “Shape-changing magic, eh? Perfect!”
The Captain bellowed a few commands and his crew rapidly prepared to depart. Quintus was gratified to see the efficient response. He started to check his gear and felt a slender hand slip into his own. He turned to see Drusilla looking up at him. She gave his hand a fierce squeeze, then disappeared into the press.
Andrimia joined them briefly and whispered to Captain Rook. He nodded, grinning and caught up her hand, busing it with a fleeting kiss. He motioned for Quintus to join him, then strode back down the stone stairs and descended the ladder into the sewers, the sorcerer in tow.
They found two men waiting for them below with hooded lanterns. Captain Rook waved to the men and they set off through the maze of sewer passages. Although he tried to keep track of their progress, Quintus’ lack of reference points made navigation all but impossible, so he soon gave up. They traveled for nearly thirty turns of the minute glass through many twists and turns before the men leading them halted.
Captain Rook turned to the members of the crew behind him and whispered, “Bring him up!”
Quintus saw a badly beaten man being drug to the front in the grasp of two burly sailors. “Ah, there you are, my good fellow,” the Captain said pleasantly. “Would you be so kind as to tell us today’s password?”
Despite having one eye swollen shut and a multitude of bruises on his face, the prisoner did his best to look fierce and glared back at his interrogator. “No? Unfortunate. Gentlemen, if you please.”
One of the sailors clapped a meaty paw over the prisoner’s mouth and the other wrenched the man’s left arm up behind his back at an impossible angle. Quintus saw the man’s shoulder joint ripple under the shreds of his gray tunic, followed by an audible pop and the sickening sound of bone grinding against bone. The man’s body arched in pain as the sailor destroyed his joint. The wretch slumped in defeat and nodded to Captain Rook through tears of agony.
The crewman holding the man’s mouth loosened his grip and the man whispered the password to Captain Rook between ragged gasps. “Thank you, sir! You have been of great service and I will see that no other harm comes to you…provided you are telling us the truth. Quintus, can you make yourself look like this man? Yes? Be sure to add in a couple of bumps and bruises!”
Quintus stood before the man and tried to look beyond the ruin of his face. He concentrated for a moment, then cast his Alter Self magic. The man’s eyes bugged out of his head when he saw his own visage looking back at him.
(DM’s Note: Alter Self gives +10 to disguise checks and Quintus’ Bluff skill gives an additional +2, for a total of +12 on his roll. I think his total result was about 25!)
“Do you have the password?” Captain Rook asked Quintus softly. The sorcerer nodded and the Captain continued, “At the end of this corridor you will find a door. Go to the door and speak the password. Hopefully they will let you in. Once you are in, do your best to keep the door open, for we will be right on your heels. Agreed!”
Quintus had little time to digest the flaws in the plan. What if the password had changed? What if he couldn’t keep the door open? What if Captain Rook and his crew didn’t arrive in time? He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he made his way down the corridor towards a barely visible door, hooded lantern in hand. He steeled himself as he halted before the door and spoke the password, a daring plan forming in his mind.
An eye-high slot slid open. “What happened to you?”
“Quick, let me in!” Quintus croaked, holding his stomach. He was greatly relieved to hear several door bolts being slid back.
The door opened partway and Quintus saw a small guard chamber. Four men in gray cloaks occupied the room, one at the door and the remainder spaced about the room with loaded crossbows pointed towards him. Quintus stumbled into the room and dropped to his knees, taking care to ensure his body blocked the door from being quickly closed. “I am going to be sick!”
The man at the door skipped a step or two back from the kneeling Quintus, who used the momentary confusion to complete his readied Sleep magic. One of the crossbowmen cried out and swung his weapon up to skewer the sorcerer, but it was too late. All four guards slumped to the floor, sound asleep!
(DM’s Note: Quintus readied an action to cast Sleep after entering the room. He also rolled a 22 on his Bluff check, so he got the drop on them!)
Behind him, Quintus heard the pounding of many feet and allowed himself the briefest of smiles…
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 13 (Part Four) - Battle Royale!
~ Old One
Captains Courageous
Quintus pondered the scroll proclaiming their guilt in the death of Acrius Sestius for several long minutes. “It is even more critical that I inform my companions of this latest news. Thank you and I will be in touch soon.”
The sorcerer turned to leave, but his exit was interrupted by a rapid knock at the door. Casian rose and moved quickly to the portal. He cracked the door a bit, and then opened it to admit the same scruffy looking fellow that had been shadowing the companions earlier. The man nodded at Quintus, then moved quickly to Andrimia, bent and began whispering in her ear.”
“This man is in your employ?” Quintus asked, his displeasure evident in his voice. When Andrimia and Casian nodded, Quintus shook his head and continued, “He needs some remedial training then…we spotted him many times!”
Casian spoke for the first time, “We set him to watch for your protection.”
Quintus mumbled something about being spied upon at every turn, looked at Drusilla for a long moment, then slipped from the room. He hadn’t gone 5 paces down the hallway when he heard the door open behind him. “Master Quintus!”
He turned to find Casian, face set in a look hovering between fear and concern, hustling towards him. “Master Quintus, please come with us and quickly. I am afraid there is no time to explain!”
Quintus hesitated for a moment, ‘If they meant me harm, they already would have acted,’ he reasoned with himself.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he followed the retreating form of Casian. As he re-entered the room, he saw Drusilla exiting the room through a previously unseen door. Andrimia, a palpable air of authority around her, issued one command after another. “Quickly, my dear, we have little time! Quintus, follow Drusilla and stay silent. Casian, shoot the bolt on the door and follow quickly. Be sure to arm our little friend after you pass!”
Quintus followed Druisilla into a small alcove, through a trap door in the floor and down a wooden ladder. He heard the pounding of flesh on wood from behind and looked up in time to see Andrimia start down the ladder. Muffled curses floated down from above as he continued his descent. The pungent smell of stagnant water, offal and other waste assaulted Quintus’ nostrils as alighted from the ladder and into a handsbreadth of fetid muck. He glanced around quickly, taking stock of his surroundings.
Slime-covered walls, made of old, discolored stone, arched overhead, rising four paces from the floor. The scruffy man stood nearby, holding a hooded lantern and glancing nervously down the passage in both directions. Drusilla also stood nearby, her hood once again drawn up to cover her face. Within several grains, Andrimia and Casian splashed down from the ladder and Andrimia motioned to the scruffy man, who set off at a rapid pace.
No one spoke as they made their way through the ancient sewers under Oar and the scruffy man made so many turns that Quintus was soon hopelessly lost. Once, he thought he heard the ring of metal off of stone in the distance, but the only regular sounds where their own soft footfalls and labored breathing. Finally, the lantern-bearer halted and ran his hands lightly over the wall. A section of stone slid away on well-oiled runners, revealing another wooden ladder – this one leading up. Drusilla began climbing and Quintus followed her. Behind him, Andrimia dipped her head and spoke to the scruffy man in clipped, urgent tones.
Quintus emerged from another trap door into the center of a dank under cellar. He stood and followed Drusilla up a flight of stone stairs, through a sturdy door and into a large storage room stacked from floor to ceiling with crates, boxes and barrels of all shapes and sizes. A door flew open on the opposite side of the room and several unkempt looking men entered with leveled crossbows.
********************
Rosë growled in frustration. He had managed to gnaw partly through the sack covering his head, but could see little in the dim light. The hazy outlines of his companions were barely visible in the darkness of the pit. He strained for the hundredth time against his manacles, but the strength of the chains defeated even his mighty thews.
Brother Lew spoke quietly, “Rest, Rosë. You will probably need your strength later.”
********************
Quintus stepped in front of Drusilla and began to summon his Sleep magic. “No,” Andrimia called as she entered the room. “They are my men. Please make yourself as comfortable as you may. I will have food and drink brought as soon as possible.”
She paused for a moment and looked Quintus fully in the eyes. “I am afraid that I have some ill news,” she said, gave never wavering. “It seems as though our enemies move more quickly then we do. Your friends have been taken.”
Quintus’ heart sank in his chest. Reading the despair plainly evident on the sorcerer’s face, she continued. “Do not give up hope. One of my men followed the assailants and if we act quickly, we may be able to save your friends before any great ill can befall them. Please, wait here and I shall return soon.”
With that, she swept from the room with Casian in tow. A few turns of the minute glass later, a lad of perhaps fourteen winters entered with a wooden tray laden with food and drink. Drusilla nibbled at a bit of the fare, but Quintus left it untouched as he paced back and forth around the crates and barrels. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened again and Andrimia re-entered, trailed by a lean man well dressed in silver-trimmed black.
“May I present Captain Octavius Rook, master of the Sea Eagle. Captain Rook, this is Quintus Scipio. I have already briefed Captain Rook on our dilemma and he may be able to help us!”
The lean man flashed Quintus a disarming smile, accompanied by a perfunctory bow as the sorcerer sized him up. Octavius Rook stood just under three paces high. Close-cropped dark hair, feathered with gray and piercing black eyes graced his head. Well-made clothing – tunic, breeches and boots cut and stitched from black cloth and leather – clung to his slender frame. Several blades of various lengths hung from scabbards attached to the woven silver belt that rode just above his hips and several other silver details broke the monotony of the outfit. “Well, young Scipio,” Captain Rook boomed in a voice used to commanding men, “what can my men and I do for you?”
To Quintus, it was less of a question than a test or even a challenge. A wry smile played across the sorcerer’s face as he squared his shoulders and responded, “My friends have been captured and I need your help – if you are up to the task!”
Captain Rook roared with laughter and clapped Quintus on the shoulder with a blow that belied his lean frame, “Well said, lad! I will put it to my crew, but it will be up to you to convince them. Coin and loot are always good things to mention when asking for their help.”
With that, he strode to the door and flung it open. “Come on in, you cutthroats. There’s a friend of Lady Andrimia here who needs some help and has a proposition for you!”
Quintus stepped back involuntarily as a score of the most unsavory looking fellows he had ever seen filed into the room. A cacophony of bright colors leapt towards the sorcerer. He noted preponderance of reds, blues and yellows, but very little green. They were heavily armed, but lightly armored and Quintus noted several missing hands and eyes among the bunch. They plopped themselves onto crates and boxes, eying the sorcerer expectantly. Quintus cleared his throat and began nervously, “My friends have been taken and I ask for you help in getting them back…”
His voice trailed off as he noted rolled eyes and bored looks. It was clear that this tact wasn’t working. He pulled the pouch full of coins from his belt and shook it overhead. “A bounty of 100 denarii for any man who comes with me plus the greatest drunk you have ever had!”
The assembly roared with approval, thrusting bared weapons into the air. “What about loot, Cap’n?” A voice called from the throng.
Captain Rook looked at Quintus. “You are welcome to anything you find, except my friends personal possessions!”
The cheers redoubled, then trebled as Casian rolled a cask of rum into the room, followed by a lad bearing a huge tray of tankards. Quintus was astonished at the speed with which Captain Rook’s crew emptied the cask, the last drops drained from the upended container by a barrel-chested Khazardyn with a hook in place of his left hand.
(DM’s Note: Quintus rolled very well on his Diplomacy roll!)
“Well then, lad, we best be off before they decide to start their legendary drunk now. Lady Andrimia tells me you know something of the magic arts. My pet mage is away on business right now and any help you can provide there will help things go much smoother. What can you do?”
Captain Rook nodded, a decidedly shark-like grin spreading across his face as Quintus enumerated his powers. “Shape-changing magic, eh? Perfect!”
The Captain bellowed a few commands and his crew rapidly prepared to depart. Quintus was gratified to see the efficient response. He started to check his gear and felt a slender hand slip into his own. He turned to see Drusilla looking up at him. She gave his hand a fierce squeeze, then disappeared into the press.
Andrimia joined them briefly and whispered to Captain Rook. He nodded, grinning and caught up her hand, busing it with a fleeting kiss. He motioned for Quintus to join him, then strode back down the stone stairs and descended the ladder into the sewers, the sorcerer in tow.
They found two men waiting for them below with hooded lanterns. Captain Rook waved to the men and they set off through the maze of sewer passages. Although he tried to keep track of their progress, Quintus’ lack of reference points made navigation all but impossible, so he soon gave up. They traveled for nearly thirty turns of the minute glass through many twists and turns before the men leading them halted.
Captain Rook turned to the members of the crew behind him and whispered, “Bring him up!”
Quintus saw a badly beaten man being drug to the front in the grasp of two burly sailors. “Ah, there you are, my good fellow,” the Captain said pleasantly. “Would you be so kind as to tell us today’s password?”
Despite having one eye swollen shut and a multitude of bruises on his face, the prisoner did his best to look fierce and glared back at his interrogator. “No? Unfortunate. Gentlemen, if you please.”
One of the sailors clapped a meaty paw over the prisoner’s mouth and the other wrenched the man’s left arm up behind his back at an impossible angle. Quintus saw the man’s shoulder joint ripple under the shreds of his gray tunic, followed by an audible pop and the sickening sound of bone grinding against bone. The man’s body arched in pain as the sailor destroyed his joint. The wretch slumped in defeat and nodded to Captain Rook through tears of agony.
The crewman holding the man’s mouth loosened his grip and the man whispered the password to Captain Rook between ragged gasps. “Thank you, sir! You have been of great service and I will see that no other harm comes to you…provided you are telling us the truth. Quintus, can you make yourself look like this man? Yes? Be sure to add in a couple of bumps and bruises!”
Quintus stood before the man and tried to look beyond the ruin of his face. He concentrated for a moment, then cast his Alter Self magic. The man’s eyes bugged out of his head when he saw his own visage looking back at him.
(DM’s Note: Alter Self gives +10 to disguise checks and Quintus’ Bluff skill gives an additional +2, for a total of +12 on his roll. I think his total result was about 25!)
“Do you have the password?” Captain Rook asked Quintus softly. The sorcerer nodded and the Captain continued, “At the end of this corridor you will find a door. Go to the door and speak the password. Hopefully they will let you in. Once you are in, do your best to keep the door open, for we will be right on your heels. Agreed!”
Quintus had little time to digest the flaws in the plan. What if the password had changed? What if he couldn’t keep the door open? What if Captain Rook and his crew didn’t arrive in time? He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he made his way down the corridor towards a barely visible door, hooded lantern in hand. He steeled himself as he halted before the door and spoke the password, a daring plan forming in his mind.
An eye-high slot slid open. “What happened to you?”
“Quick, let me in!” Quintus croaked, holding his stomach. He was greatly relieved to hear several door bolts being slid back.
The door opened partway and Quintus saw a small guard chamber. Four men in gray cloaks occupied the room, one at the door and the remainder spaced about the room with loaded crossbows pointed towards him. Quintus stumbled into the room and dropped to his knees, taking care to ensure his body blocked the door from being quickly closed. “I am going to be sick!”
The man at the door skipped a step or two back from the kneeling Quintus, who used the momentary confusion to complete his readied Sleep magic. One of the crossbowmen cried out and swung his weapon up to skewer the sorcerer, but it was too late. All four guards slumped to the floor, sound asleep!
(DM’s Note: Quintus readied an action to cast Sleep after entering the room. He also rolled a 22 on his Bluff check, so he got the drop on them!)
Behind him, Quintus heard the pounding of many feet and allowed himself the briefest of smiles…
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 13 (Part Four) - Battle Royale!
~ Old One
!!
Oberton
First Post
Darn Spell Casters....
Nothing like a spell caster to mess up a good old fashioned fight...
I can see the cut-throats run into the room expecting armed resistance... Hehe... and there waiting amoung the sleeping men is the spell caster waiting for the fighters... hehe...
I wish my players played that smart!
Nothing like a spell caster to mess up a good old fashioned fight...
I can see the cut-throats run into the room expecting armed resistance... Hehe... and there waiting amoung the sleeping men is the spell caster waiting for the fighters... hehe...
I wish my players played that smart!
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