Kulan: Knightfall's Shackled City Legacy PbP Game [IC] (On Hiatus)

Tellerian Hawke

Defender of Oerth
Kane says, in a low tone, "Good to see you as well, old friend. Dorin here is a skilled ally that I have recruited to help me complete a task. I thought you might be able to help as well. I was told to recruit skilled, reliable, trustworthy help. You and Dorin definitely fit the bill. But the details are best left for more intimate, less-crowded, less public environs. Is there a place near here where privacy can be found?"
 

Scotley

Adventurer
The Druid takes Dorin's offered hand in his own and shakes it with a firm grip. "I am most pleased to meet you. I'm not so different from other Druids you might have met. We all have an environment we favor. The lairs of men are still teeming with life and nature for one who sees." He gives Kane a sly wink. "Anon, my friend. Let my newest friend have a look at this script and then we'll repair to a convivial watering hole I know and have a chat." He motions toward the sail makers shed. "Just down here I have something I'd like to show you Dorin. The smell is a bit off-putting I fear." He pulls the little hand cart behind him and its wheels squeak softly as it rolls.
 

Tellerian Hawke

Defender of Oerth
OOC: I am waiting for Dorin's (or the DM's) input before posting again. I don't want to assume party responses / actions / etc., nor do I want to put words in anyone's mouth. :)
 

Thateous

Explorer
"Off-putting smell you say? Well that only makes me all the more interested. Please lead the way." he says while barely able to hide the excitement in his voice.

Sent from my SM-G955U using EN World mobile app
 

Knightfall

World of Kulan DM
Oleander and Brother Pi

Oleander notes the anomaly and think to himself...
~Not that it is odd to see a dwarf with a broom, but there is definitely something more to that one.~

Oleander pauses at another stall, trying to appear natural while also trying to discern more information about the interesting dwarf.
"Pleased to meet you, master Zalachia," the dwarf replies to the merchant. "I am Brother Pi."

The pleasant smile does not leave the dwarf's face as he continues, "A broom is exactly the right tool to clean away scum. And I do not require payment for doing the right thing."
Well, how refreshing to meet an adventurer with a noble heart," Master Zalachia replies. "So often I have had to make deals with rascals in order to deal with other rascals. To have a holy man such as yourself take a look would be much appreciated. Which of the city's temples are you affiliated with?"

Looking around, Pi's gaze immediately finds Oleander's.
Upon being noticed, Oleander makes a quick amiable wave and smiles. He continues to wait where he is.
Master Zalachia notes the elven man as well. "A... friend of yours?"

---
Lingering for a moment, he eventually turns back to the merchant.

"So where can I start?"
Well, if you want to take a look at my shop and see whether you can find some some other details that were missed by my staff, I would appreciate it and would be willing to give you a small discount on my wares, if you can bring the troublemakers to justice. And, please, call me Anikagar, or simply Anik."

Master Zalachia looks at Oleander. "And for your, uhm, friend as well, if he is interested."

"Father," a feminine voice says from behind Anikagar. "I could show Brother Pi where the marking were on our shop." A great young beauty, for a human, steps out from behind a thin shawl of silk that hangs in an archway that leads to a subtly hidden back area of the stall. The young woman is likely in her mid-twenties and fiery red hair and a pale complexion. Her facial features match her father's but are more delicate.

"My daughter, Ketisa," the merchant introduces her to Brother Pi. "She has a keen eye for cloth."

"And for other things, father," Ketisa says. "Was it not I who realized the markings weren't just random splotches of bile." She looks at Pi. "There was a purpose to them." She notes Oleander's presence with mild interest. "I could show him, uhm, them, exactly where the marks were on the wall and the shapes they took. There might even be some traces left."

"I would hope that Arinitam would do a better job than that," Anikagar replies.

"It is possible that there could be traces that would be invisible to sight. Blood tends to leave such invisible marks."

Anikagar sighs. "Very well, take them to the shop and show them what you can, but after that, have Arinitam answer their questions. I will need you back here, understood?"

"Yes, father," Ketisa bows gracefully to her father before stepping out of the stall. She deftly slips through a narrow crack between stalls. She stands half a foot taller than Brother Pi. her clothes are of the finest silk and enhance what the gods gave her. She ties back her hair and beckons Brother Pi and Oleander to follow her.

She leads Pi (and Oleander, if he follows) to a shop that sits just south of Coin Street on Magma Avenue North. It is a large building that sits adjacent to another shop called Tygot’s Old Things. (Across the avenue are the dormitories of the nearby Temple of Bast.) The front of the shop faces out onto Magma Avenue and a large sign hangs to one side of a double door. The sign simply reads Threads of Destiny with no adornments.

Ketisa points to the doors and says, "There were splotches on the doors, but they were more random. It was like someone had thrown... well, poop against them, as a sort of sick joke."

She then leads them around to the northwestern side of the building and points below two low windows. "It was here that we found the markings that were more than just random splotches. There was form to them with some lewd pictures as well. You can still smell it, even after we used lavender to mask the stench."

She coughs and covers her mouth with her sleeve while tracing out an invisible outline along the wall. "The marks were almost runic but malformed like whoever drew them had limited knowledge of what they were writing. My father thinks they weren't meant to be a true language, but I'm sure they meant something." She steps away from the building and points to the adjacent shop across the narrow alleyway. "There were some markings over here too, but Mister Kesortane removed them from his house early this morning before I got a chance to see them."

OOC: Brother Pi can tell that her tracings on the wall do appear to look runic, and he wonders if the marks could be related to dwarven runes. If so, they would have been very crude and would have been gibberish in the Dwarven tongue. He knows that other races often use dwarven runes for their own languages, but if that is the case here, he doesn't know which race could have made such mockery of his language.

There isn't enough left 'offal' on the walls for Oleander to use Decipher Script to figure out what was written there. If he can find a way to make the invisible blood visible, you can roll a check. But, make a Spellcraft check (DC 20), and post the results in the OOC thread.
 

JustinCase

the magical equivalent to the number zero
Well, how refreshing to meet an adventurer with a noble heart," Master Zalachia replies. "So often I have had to make deals with rascals in order to deal with other rascals. To have a holy man such as yourself take a look would be much appreciated. Which of the city's temples are you affiliated with?"
Brother Pi shakes his head. "I am no monk or cleric. Every man is my brother, and one helps his family for no other reason than it's the right thing to do."

Returning his gaze to Oleander, the dwarf motions for the elf to join them.

"Come, my inquisitive friend. Care to help me solve a mystery?" Brother Pi asks with a kind smile. "Anikagar here was telling me about mysterious markings in an, err, unconventional medium..."

"Father," a feminine voice says from behind Anikagar. "I could show Brother Pi where the marking were on our shop." A great young beauty, for a human, steps out from behind a thin shawl of silk that hangs in an archway that leads to a subtly hidden back area of the stall. The young woman is likely in her mid-twenties and fiery red hair and a pale complexion. Her facial features match her father's but are more delicate.

"My daughter, Ketisa," the merchant introduces her to Brother Pi. "She has a keen eye for cloth."

"And for other things, father," Ketisa says. "Was it not I who realized the markings weren't just random splotches of bile." She looks at Pi. "There was a purpose to them." She notes Oleander's presence with mild interest. "I could show him, uhm, them, exactly where the marks were on the wall and the shapes they took. There might even be some traces left."

"I would hope that Arinitam would do a better job than that," Anikagar replies.

"It is possible that there could be traces that would be invisible to sight. Blood tends to leave such invisible marks."

Anikagar sighs. "Very well, take them to the shop and show them what you can, but after that, have Arinitam answer their questions. I will need you back here, understood?"

"Yes, father," Ketisa bows gracefully to her father before stepping out of the stall. She deftly slips through a narrow crack between stalls. She stands half a foot taller than Brother Pi. her clothes are of the finest silk and enhance what the gods gave her. She ties back her hair and beckons Brother Pi and Oleander to follow her.
Pi greets the young woman with a respectful bow. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Ketisa. If you are half as perceptive as you are beautiful, your help will be of great use."

She leads Pi (and Oleander, if he follows) to a shop that sits just south of Coin Street on Magma Avenue North. It is a large building that sits adjacent to another shop called Tygot’s Old Things. (Across the avenue are the dormitories of the nearby Temple of Bast.) The front of the shop faces out onto Magma Avenue and a large sign hangs to one side of a double door. The sign simply reads Threads of Destiny with no adornments.

Ketisa points to the doors and says, "There were splotches on the doors, but they were more random. It was like someone had thrown... well, poop against them, as a sort of sick joke."

She then leads them around to the northwestern side of the building and points below two low windows. "It was here that we found the markings that were more than just random splotches. There was form to them with some lewd pictures as well. You can still smell it, even after we used lavender to mask the stench."

She coughs and covers her mouth with her sleeve while tracing out an invisible outline along the wall. "The marks were almost runic but malformed like whoever drew them had limited knowledge of what they were writing. My father thinks they weren't meant to be a true language, but I'm sure they meant something." She steps away from the building and points to the adjacent shop across the narrow alleyway. "There were some markings over here too, but Mister Kesortane removed them from his house early this morning before I got a chance to see them."

OOC: Brother Pi can tell that her tracings on the wall do appear to look runic, and he wonders if the marks could be related to dwarven runes. If so, they would have been very crude and would have been gibberish in the Dwarven tongue. He knows that other races often use dwarven runes for their own languages, but if that is the case here, he doesn't know which race could have made such mockery of his language.

There isn't enough left 'offal' on the walls for Oleander to use Decipher Script to figure out what was written there. If he can find a way to make the invisible blood visible, you can roll a check. But, make a Spellcraft check (DC 20), and post the results in the OOC thread.
A serious frown appears on Brother Pi's face as he studies the scene, leaning on his broom and occassionally sniffing the surface or scraping with his finger. Once he gets a picture of what the markings looked like, he turns to Oleander.

"Those runes are not Dwarven. Do you recognize the language?"

As if remembering suddenly, the dwarf lights up. "Apologies! I completely forgot to introduce myself. I am Brother Pi."

He extends his hand in greeting while sporting a huge grin.
 

MacConnell

Creator of The Untamed Wilds
"My name is Oleander. Despite being an orphan from here, I am scripted. I have some skill at deciphering and knowledge of the arcana.

Sadly, there is not enough of the markings remaining here to attempt to decipher
."
 

Knightfall

World of Kulan DM
Bravec, Dorin, and Kane

Bravec shakes his head in frustration. "I'm sorry, but the tracks are lost to me here. I think the scribbles on the walls are our best bet..." he trails off as two men approach. He looks them over curiously. The little wheeled cart next to him starts to roll and he grabs the handle before it can roll away, though the ground here looks pretty level.
"That's to bad," Vilmar replies as he stands back as not to trample any clues. He tries to shoo away onlookers from the spot without luck. "If we had some way to find... eh, who's this then?"

Kane approaches the puzzled Druid with a warm smile, extending his hand for a handshake. When he is close enough, he whispers, "Fooled ya again! Ha ha, it's me, Kane. You got a minute?"
The tall bearded Druid's eyes widen in surprise and then dance with mirth as he takes the other man's hand in a strong handshake. He pulls the disguised Cleric in close for a one armed hug and whispers back. "And who is your companion? If he's skilled at masquerades as you it is likely my own brother fooling me as well." He steps back and scratches his beard for a moment. "Your arrival might be fortuitous. My friend the sail-maker has a little problem. Are you knowledgeable about scripts? Might you recognize the source of some writing?" He glances at the third man awaiting and introduction.
"So, this is your friend Kane, is it?" Vilmar asks quizzically. "He's not really as you described him. I was expecting someone more robust and regal, for a cleric of Jalivier."

Vilmar greets Kane with a hearty handshake and warm smile. "I am glad to meet you, young priest. Bravec has told me some of your life and training. You are quite lucky to be learning under Minister Knobel. He's a good man."

Dorin's eyebrow perks up at the mention of scripts and his head is filled with a sense of jubilation. What mysteries could be revealed through the investigation of the penmanship, the choice of ink and paper, or the level of grammar used. Each one could reveal a little more knowledge about the author. Like that one journal he read when...

Dorin's focus shifts from the ramblings of his inner voice to the very real world in front of him. As the druid eyes him, Dorin had no way of knowing how long the man had been staring at him. He cleared his throat to mask the embarrassment in his voice. "Greetings druid. My name is Dorin and I believe I could be of some help if script knowledge is what you're looking for. I specialize in the study of monsters, but script analysis is not outside of my purview." he extends his hand and give a firm professional handshake before saying, "You are the first druid I've had the pleasure of meeting that preferred the ambiance of a town to that of nature. Perhaps, when the time is right, we could sit down over a drink and discuss it? Oh, my apologies. My pursuit of knowledge borders on becoming the eighth deadly sin." he says with a smile.
The Druid takes Dorin's offered hand in his own and shakes it with a firm grip. "I am most pleased to meet you. I'm not so different from other Druids you might have met. We all have an environment we favor. The lairs of men are still teeming with life and nature for one who sees."
"And I am Vilmar Sorison," the sail-maker says, not waiting for Bravec to introduce him to the others. He motions to the building behind him. "This is my home and business. Young Bravec here is helping me with some nasty vandalism, which included some scrawled scripts, as he says."

Kane says, in a low tone, "Good to see you as well, old friend. Dorin here is a skilled ally that I have recruited to help me complete a task. I thought you might be able to help as well. I was told to recruit skilled, reliable, trustworthy help. You and Dorin definitely fit the bill. But the details are best left for more intimate, less-crowded, less public environs. Is there a place near here where privacy can be found?"
He gives Kane a sly wink. "Anon, my friend. Let my newest friend have a look at this script and then we'll repair to a convivial watering hole I know and have a chat." He motions toward the sail makers shed. "Just down here I have something I'd like to show you Dorin. The smell is a bit off-putting I fear." He pulls the little hand cart behind him and its wheels squeak softly as it rolls.
"Off-putting smell you say? Well that only makes me all the more interested. Please lead the way." he says while barely able to hide the excitement in his voice.
"I'll remind you that you said that," Vilmar adds as Bravec and he lead the two newcomers to the storage shed near the buildings lakeside dock. The sight is disgusting to say the least. The marks on the wall are made with some sort of gooey substance that Dorin recognizes as the entrails of a underground giant beetle called a Helthorn. The smell is unmistakeable, as he's encounted it before. The beetle is a favorite food of several underdwellers including bugbears, minotaurs, and troglodytes.

The script the splotches of goo form is more mysterious. There is runic form to them, which makes him think of Dwarven, but the angles of the runes are all wrong. It is almost like half the runes are written backward or upside down. There could be some bastardization of dwarf runes in the writing, but it is unclear what is being said without more study. Some of the marks look half finished, like whoever wrote them were interrupted.

Kane notes the runic forms as well while trying not to be overwhelmed by the smell of the goo. It is gods awful! The shed is a tangle of torn nets and villainous intent. Whoever did this was trying to make statement and likely not just to Vilmar.

A seagull lands on top of the shed and then flaps its wings awkwardly as it quickly flies away from the stench. Only the flies coming in off the water seem to want to be near the smell.

"Careful where you step," Vilmar notes. "Whoever did this also relieved himself on the floor." Once the sailmaker points out that detail, all three of the young men immediately recognize the scent of urine. "I also found smelly mucks under the dock, but I didn't go near them."
 

Thateous

Explorer
Dorin pulls out a small journal and copies the crude scripts. "Ah-ha!" Several seconds pass before Dorin shares his revaluation. "Does anyone know a Snerk, because apparently he smells like beetle dung." he says straight faced. "At least that's what this scribble hear seems to say. As for the other, I am unsure. No doubt something just as lude and childish."
 

JustinCase

the magical equivalent to the number zero
"My name is Oleander. Despite being an orphan from here, I am scripted. I have some skill at deciphering and knowledge of the arcana.

Sadly, there is not enough of the markings remaining here to attempt to decipher
."
"A pleasure, Oleander."

Brother Pi goes back to studying the scene, shaking his head occassionally.

"Lass," he asks the merchant's daughter if she is still around. "You mentioned offensive imagery as well?"
 

Tellerian Hawke

Defender of Oerth
Vilmar said:
"So, this is your friend Kane, is it?" Vilmar asks quizzically. "He's not really as you described him. I was expecting someone more robust and regal, for a cleric of Jalivier."
Kane smiles, and whispers to Vilmar, "Please forgive my appearance, good sir. There are times when discreet subtlety is more appropriate than blatant straight-forwardness. This is one of those times. I didn't want to attract attention to my mission, thus, I am in disguise. I hope that our next meeting will allow me to correct your misconception of me, and make a better impression," he concludes, with a laugh and a wink.
 

Scotley

Adventurer
Bravec blinks in surprise. "So some sort of goblinoid has been in here writing insults in the entrails of Helthorn beetles?" His expression clearly details his consternation. "You say there is more of this scrawl under the dock?" he asks the sail-maker. "Perhaps we should see if the writing is more profound than comments on this 'Snerk's' hygiene? If we might impose on your skill as a translator once more good Dorin?"
 

Thateous

Explorer
"Assuming it's goblinoid." He says as he copies the rest of the scrawlings in his journal. "Perhaps I could get these translated, or perhaps with a bit of research I could find out more about this places history. Maybe Snerk is a code name for someone in town and they sell Hellthorn beetle entrails as a strange delicacy. Oh man I remember the first time I smelled that beetle. Really kicks you in the face don't it?"
Dorin is silent for a moment, then opens his mouth as if to speak but then closes it again. He does this several times before finally saying, "What were we about to do again?"

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Knightfall

World of Kulan DM
Oleander and Brother Pi (cont.)

Brother Pi shakes his head. "I am no monk or cleric. Every man is my brother, and one helps his family for no other reason than it's the right thing to do."
Master Zalachia nods in understanding...

Returning his gaze to Oleander, the dwarf motions for the elf to join them.

"Come, my inquisitive friend. Care to help me solve a mystery?" Brother Pi asks with a kind smile. "Anikagar here was telling me about mysterious markings in an, err, unconventional medium..."

Pi greets the young woman with a respectful bow. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Ketisa. If you are half as perceptive as you are beautiful, your help will be of great use."
"Thank you for your kind words, Brother Pi," she replies to him as they walk to her father's shop.

A serious frown appears on Brother Pi's face as he studies the scene, leaning on his broom and occassionally sniffing the surface or scraping with his finger. Once he gets a picture of what the markings looked like, he turns to Oleander.

"Those runes are not Dwarven. Do you recognize the language?"

As if remembering suddenly, the dwarf lights up. "Apologies! I completely forgot to introduce myself. I am Brother Pi."

He extends his hand in greeting while sporting a huge grin.
"My name is Oleander. Despite being an orphan from here, I am scripted. I have some skill at deciphering and knowledge of the arcana.

Sadly, there is not enough of the markings remaining here to attempt to decipher
."
"A pleasure, Oleander."

Brother Pi goes back to studying the scene, shaking his head occassionally.

"Lass," he asks the merchant's daughter if she is still around. "You mentioned offensive imagery as well?"
"Oh yes," Ketisa replies. "It had been here," she moves to the north corner of the building. "It was... a depiction of sexual deeds by multiple persons with horns. There was also a scene of decapitation on this side. It didn't seem to depict any recognizable figure in the city." she points to the comer of the building. "It was lewd and disturbing, and it wrapped around the entire corner from here to here." She points out a 10-foot section of wall that begins in the alley and then continues on to the back of the building, facing onto Coin Street. "Despite its disturbing medium and crudeness, it was very detailed. Whoever drew it has some artistic talent, even though it was highly offensive."

Brother Pi notes that the entire area that had been vandalized was quite low to the ground. He isn't sure if Ketisa meant to point to the lower section of the building, but if she had, it meant the vandal had been short.

"I must go back to my father," Ketisa says. "I will go get Arinitam. He will be able to tell you more." She bows to Brother Pi and smiles at Oleander. Her eyes linger on him before she runs off to a back door and disappears inside.

Then, Oleander gets a whiff of something that isn't offal or lavender. It is a pungent ethereal odor and it something he knows right away -- sweet oil of vitriol. The smell is unmistakeable since it is often used by the downtrodden of the Elfwatch Ward as a way to escape the worst aspects of their lives.

OOC: Roll a Knowledge (arcana) and/or (nature) check to know more about sweet oil of vitriol.
 

MacConnell

Creator of The Untamed Wilds
...Oleander gets a whiff of something that isn't offal or lavender. It is a pungent ethereal odor and it something he knows right away -- sweet oil of vitriol. The smell is unmistakeable since it is often used by the downtrodden of the Elfwatch Ward as a way to escape the worst aspects of their lives.
Oleander takes in the scene running his left hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face.
"This is definitely ritualistic. It reminds me of something specific... horns, oil of vitriol..."
[sblock=Knowledge Arcana]Roll = Skill: 1d20+4 22[/sblock]
 

Knightfall

World of Kulan DM
Bravec, Dorin, and Kane (cont.)

Dorin pulls out a small journal and copies the crude scripts. "Ah-ha!" Several seconds pass before Dorin shares his revaluation. "Does anyone know a Snerk, because apparently he smells like beetle dung." he says straight faced. "At least that's what this scribble hear seems to say. As for the other, I am unsure. No doubt something just as lude and childish."
"I don't think so," Vilmar replies. "It's definitely not a name of anyone I've ever employed."

Kane smiles, and whispers to Vilmar, "Please forgive my appearance, good sir. There are times when discreet subtlety is more appropriate than blatant straight-forwardness. This is one of those times. I didn't want to attract attention to my mission, thus, I am in disguise. I hope that our next meeting will allow me to correct your misconception of me, and make a better impression," he concludes, with a laugh and a wink.
Vilmar seems concerned by Kane's need for discretion. "A mission! You make it sound like the sky is falling," Vilmar replies. "Is there trouble brewing in the city? Is that why you're here? Did some vile force do this," Vilmar shakes his head in confusion. "Why would evil forces be interested in me. I just make sails for local fishers working Crater Lake. Sure, I've designed a few more exotic sails but that was years ago. My hands get too sore now for me to do intricate work. Plus, the clients were a pain to deal with... always wanting updates. No, I just make simple sails now." He pauses and looks towards the nearby fishers before he speaks to Kane again quietly. "Of course, I'll help in any way I can. Cauldron is my home and I'd hate for the city to go through more troubles. People are just starting to get back to the way things were before the old disasters..." He trails off before looking at Kane with fear. "Nothing like that is going to happen is it? T-the Cagew-wrights aren't back are t-they?" The sail-maker begins to pace back and forth along the dock. "T-they can't come back," Vilmar exclaims. "We l-lost so much l-last time!"

Several of the fishers look towards him with concern.

Bravec blinks in surprise. "So some sort of goblinoid has been in here writing insults in the entrails of Helthorn beetles?" His expression clearly details his consternation.
"Assuming it's goblinoid." He says as he copies the rest of the scrawlings in his journal. "Perhaps I could get these translated, or perhaps with a bit of research I could find out more about this places history. Maybe Snerk is a code name for someone in town and they sell Hellthorn beetle entrails as a strange delicacy. Oh man I remember the first time I smelled that beetle. Really kicks you in the face don't it?"
"Eh, what? Goblins! Goblins made this mess," Vilmar looks at his shed with disgust. "A-are you sure? If so, I'll have to burn everything," he sighs. "Even if I tried to clean and fix it all, no one is going to buy it if goblins pissed everywhere!"

Several of the fishers move closer to eavesdrop. They're not very subtle about it and they begin whispering amongst themselves.

"You say there is more of this scrawl under the dock?" he asks the sail-maker. "Perhaps we should see if the writing is more profound than comments on this 'Snerk's' hygiene? If we might impose on your skill as a translator once more good Dorin?"
Dorin is silent for a moment, then opens his mouth as if to speak but then closes it again. He does this several times before finally saying, "What were we about to do again?"
"No, no. No scrawls. Just nasty mucks," Vilmar replies. "I'm glad those gobbers didn't feel like pooping in my shed too. Gods! Goblins! We have to tell the guards. We can't have goblins running around the city!"

One of the fishers gasps when he hears the word 'goblins'. He pulls in his lure frantically and rushes away from the dock and out onto Broken Glass Way. He is quite distraught and rushes away mumbling, "Goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins..." Onlookers look at him like he's crazy.

Vilmar pulls Bravec towards a wooden ladder than descends down to the water's edge. He leads the city druid under the dock and back towards his shop. Bravec quickly smells the messy 'mucks' before he even sees them. The feces are mixed with half-eaten fish and rotting fruits.

"Awful, ins't it," Vilmar says while holding his nose. "I thought that years of living near sailors and fish has made me immune to the worst stinks in the world, but this, this is just terrible." Vilmar sneezes once then retches and backs away from the mucks, which are spread out and watery. The scene is ghastly and gross. Who- or whatever left the feces ate something very smelly before dropping trousers under the dock and shop. The smell seems to, inexplicably, hang 'heavy' near the ground and some of the mucks have been pulled and pecked at by several seagulls that now lie dead in the befouled sand and rock.

OOC: Anyone who goes under the dock has to make a Fortitude save (DC 13) or be nauseated for 1 minute plus 1 minute for every 5 points the save is failed by.
 

Thateous

Explorer
Dorin finds a stick and goes under the dock to investigate the droppings. "You can learn a lot about a creature from it's droppings." he begins as he picks up some drift wood and leans down to get a good look at the mess. Picking through it he continues, "Let's see what this one's diet looks like. Hmm consistency suggests... and then there is the color... these bits here look like they are from... and there is a hint of ... from the smell it's about ... and the shape makes it..."
OOC: Roll for feces analysis? Nature? Fort: 1d20+6 17
OOC:

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Scotley

Adventurer
Bravec follows his friend and only with great effort of will manages not to join him in retching. He pales as Dorin ventures into the muck to examine it and has to look away. "He's a braver man than I," he admits with a shudder.
 

Tellerian Hawke

Defender of Oerth
Kane follows Bravec and Dorin, and nearly loses his breakfast, but at the last minute, manages to gain control of himself.

OOC:
Verification Link
Fort DC 13:
Roll = 14 (Saved)


"Wow, this smell is BAD. I don't think I've ever encountered its equal!"
 

MacConnell

Creator of The Untamed Wilds
Seemingly pacing, but really remaining within the same space, Oleander finally exclaims.
"Oil of Vitriol! Now I remember. In addition to being used by addicts and healers, the fumes from the stuff are highly flammable, explosive even under the right, or rather wrong, conditions. We need to be very cautious here."
 
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