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Apr 6, 2012

No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8

Hrm. Egina was the only one who seems interested. And she's the one who murdered someone for suggesting she looked too elfish...

Well, I suppose it's better than nothing.

I open the trapdoor and gesture to the door and Egina, saying, "Ladies first."

No way am I going first and letting her stab me in the back.

Sneaking into Lab Tower: 1d20+2 3

Save DC: 15
Cantrips: Mage Hand
To Do List:
  • Turn pocketed Lantern Archon into a potion.
  • Investigate Warden's Laboratory
  • Enlist Worm's assistance in matters of the spirit after death
  • Escape Prison


Apr 6, 2012

No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

Conversation with Pharom and Egina as they move towards the lab in the secret tunnel
: Egina moved in the trapdoor, the spear in her hand. Probably for the best, she was far better at dealing with possible threats on the other end than he was. As she squeezed her way through , she figured it wwas as good a time as any to figure how useful the man would be. "So... Pharom right? You sound like you have gone through a fair amount of studies."

: Pharom follows behind, closing the door behind them. When Egina starts up a conversation on his studies, though, he says, rather proudly, "An understatement, to be sure."

: "Hmhmm... but I haven't seen you actually cast anything. Does your knowledge includes information about arcane matters? I can't help but notice that I have not seen you cast spells yet."

: His tone suddenly much more stiff, Pharom says, "I'm quite knowledgeable about Arcane. Certainly more knowledgable than any other person in this wretched prison. For instance, I am the one that identified the exact nature of the ward holding our newest friend and how to best remove it. However, my specialty is in Alchemy. Frankly, it's much more elegant than the crude manipulations of most spells."

: "Hmm.... alchemy. I can't say I know much about it besides 'making potions and weaponry'. Is Alchemy that strong? Could it counter or overpower the effects of normal magic?"

: Pharom laughs, saying, "What an interesting question. It's vague enough to be unanswerable yet pointed enough to make it clear you have something in mind."

: Not quite that foolish in his pride then. "The curse on the orcish people. Is that something your alchemy could undo, or lessen?"

: Pharom grows silent at that, mind racing through possibilities. A long moment of silence passes befire he says, cautiously, "Probably. Eventually. I'll confess it's not something I ever studied in depth, and anyway, its nature is a closely guarded secret. Supposedly, only two archmages know the details. But, it's unlikely that it has a physical focus to disrupt like the dimension bind." He then adds, mostly to himself, "Actually, for a hereditary curse like that... alchemy would make more sense than attempting a wide ranging curse. What kind of binding would you even use for that?" He continues murmuring to himself, fascinated by the puzzle he never really considered at the root of the curse.

: Some frustration that them an didn't have an answer ready, but there was hope there, and clearly an interest. She was worried he might dismiss it out of hand, as some kind of loyalty to his kind. No, this elf definitely needed to be kept alive. "Huh, I have to admit, I mostly thought of alchemy as 'where the potions and the tanglefoot bags' come from. As you can imagine, I have an interest in putting an end to that curse."

: Pharom stops his train of thought, saying, "Feh. Simple trinkets made by apprentices with no imagination. Alchemy is capable of so much more." He leans forward to whisper in the close quarters, eyes shining with mad certainty, "I have such plans for when we escape from here."

: She couldn't quite see his eyes in the cramped tunnels, but she could hear the excitement in his voice. "Ah? Do tell." She said invitingly.

: With the same unshakeable certainty, Pharom says, "I was so close to a breakthrough in my work, when the fools had me locked in this prison for 'meddling with the natural order.' I've been working on unlocking the secrets of immortality. True immortality, mind you. None of this embarrassing, undead half-life nonsense."

Pharom's tone lightens, and he says, "Honestly, it's refreshing to discuss this with someone who isn't reaching for a torch to burn the heritic for once. "

: "Hm, I don't imagine the rest of the elves would be very happy with it. They're very happy with being the long lived ones compared to the other races being mayflies; It's easy being satisfied with the natural order, if the natural order says you live for centuries ever-young. When they were getting their rear end kicked by the Dominion, they certainly were willing to interfere with that." She said. It'd be.... easier if Pharom didn't hold any attachments to his race.

"But yes, after wearing masks for a lifetime it's good to speak freely isn't it?"

: Suddenly uncomfortable, Pharom mutters, "Even elves die of old age. It doesn't make sense why they were so closed minded..."

He responds to her question, saying, "It is indeed. You have a surprisingly sharp mind about you. Much sharper than the rumors I heard about you suggested. It makes sense, of course. People mock and disparage what they do not understand."

: "What kind of rumors?" She said, her voice remaining nice and pleasant, despite feeling the 'surprisingly sharp mind' one. "And the curse doesn't take quite the same way on those of mixed blood. Do not forget, that it was us who build the engine of war that brought this continent to its knees! The tieflings might have been doing the political scheming, but it were the orc legions that forged the Dominion. Our minds were sharp as the blades we wielded! As strong as the fortresses we built!"

: Either not seeing or not caring about the offense given, Pharom is interested in the information about mixed blood' s effect on the curse, saying, "Truly? My, what an oversight. Perhaps the reason the curse is such a closely guarded secret is that it was an embarrassing, slapdash effort if it missed such an obvious edge case."

Pharom adds, as an afterthough, "Oh, the rumors? Nonsense like you murdering a conspirator or partner for suggesting you looked more elvish than orcish."

: And all of a sudden, her mood goes back to a bright one, with the suggestion that the curse was slapdash. "It was pretty much a desperate last gambit, wasn't it? If we simply add in a bit of elven blood into the orcish population and mix it, does any amount of 'impurity' release one of the curse?" She shook her head. "No, I won't accept something that takes so long as simply 'breeding out' the curse as a solution. It must be broken, shattered over the knee, rather than evaded through a loophole."

At the rumor she blinks. "Hm? Oh, I see where that came from. I don't mind people thinking of me as 'being more elven than orcish' in general. I use it to my advantage. People adore the story of a half-orc, reclaimed from orc barbarity, and raised in civilization and turning out a sweet, graceful bard. Victory of 'good' over 'evil' within one person. Exactly the kind of story they must believe to keep their kingdoms running. That I am an elf with some 'unfortunate orcish blood'. rather than an orc with elven blood. A disguise like another. Much like the name I was given was a false name the moment I realized my place in history. Still, at some point, while I was busy with some underground contacts, not so long ago, someone said it, and they meant it like an insult, and I gave him a trashing. He didn't die though."

"My elven blood is fated. It has purpose. It is something that was given to me to use for the orcish people!"

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.

Tension posted:

The first tick fails its Escalation check, meaning the alarm is still not raised. Escalation chance increases by 30% to 40% due to individual discovery (+20%) and time (+10%). We are now on Tick 2.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Warden's Library, Warden's Tower 2F

Soon enough, the party in the warden's tower scattered, leaving the Meleki witch to herself. As Salvatrix resigns to sob alone at the bottom of the stairs, her tears seem to stir something. Whatever deep and buried place they spring from, like water from the earth, it does have a little power. Long after both the halfling and the tiefling (and her pet) have made their way upstairs, she hears a ragged cough, the sign of life that hadn't been there before. A hoarse, almost unintelliglbe whisper.


None of that display had been for naught. Whether she knew she had an audience or not, it had been sensed, perhaps through a feverish daze, through what was surely a ragged few moments punctuated by cold unconsciousness, but the boy was fighting, uplifted by a power of hope that suffused him, dragging himself to the top of that stairwell and looking down.

"Please... don't cry..."

Whether she attended to him or not, he grasped at something hidden in the loose pockets of his shift then shuddered into himself, drawing forth all his reserves left of energy. There was the sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs, so the pressure of time was upon him. He drew forth a little piece of copper wire, gritting it between his teeth so no one could hear it.

It came as a whisper over the air, heard only for Salvatrix's ears, no matter how distant she remained, and without the same grasp of pain on his voice.

<Quickly. With the crystal ball, you contact the master. He may be exiled, but could still save you. In his quarters, there is another friend that can aid you. The command is "sadikh.">

It was all he could do with what little life he had. You are not sure what friend that might be, or what the command is (or what the command itself means, in a language you have never heard before). He let out another ragged breath, and his body loosened, becoming once again still, though in a slightly different position upon his belly upon the time Excellence arrived back at the bottom of the stairs, to wait for Vicenza's return.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Apprentice Quarters, Warden's Tower 3F

The conversation between the tiefling bladesworn and her newest recruit to darkness follows them from the library upstairs, as Vicenza takes her spoils from her master's collection. Vicenza almost looks bored by the questions.

"This is the rear end end of Myrcia, in a castle where people are shuffled off to be forgotten. Do you really think there is some treasure to be found here?"

"It seems you already found the Astra, the most interesting book in the collection. There is also the Floragerium, which is a catalog of flowers and herbs in Talingarde, while this..."

Vicenza traces a finger down the spine of a rather unassuming book with a black binding and burgundy tinged pages, one of three in a set.

"This is the Authorized History of the Earls of Myrcia. From Roak to Markadian. It's as exciting as it sounds."

Vicenza rolled her eyes, and moved to the spell cabinet, to begin defusing the spell and unlocking it.

"We were never allowed in our master's quarters, but I'm sure he has something. The Sergeant wears finer clothing than his low station would allow, and I hear he confiscates interesting items from all of the prisoners who travel through here."

Excellence shakes her head, saying, "Not treasure, perhaps, but things that may prove useful as we make our way out from the prison." She does, however, add the indicated volumes to her pack. "Excellent. I'm sure the halfling will find anything your master would keep hidden in his chambers and, indeed, I can't imagine that the rest of our band will let the opportunity of the sergeant's quarters slip by."

Moving into the room by Vicenza, Excellence asks, "Has your former master let slip any details on how they'd track anyone who managed to escape?" She has no little doubt magic would be involved. It usually was. "If so, is there anything we'd need to ruin or otherwise destroy before making for freedom?"

"He is an abjurer, not a diviner." She says this as if it should be obvious. "But the University will take your escape as a personal affront. They will likely use scrying to mark your movements and alert their caretakers in the Inquisition. In there, the White Lion Knights will track you down, and likely kill you."

Vicenza glanced over her shoulder once the case is unlocked, and lifts the cover, her hands settling on the spellbook.

"Do you know how scrying works? Perhaps not." She turns back to the book, lifting it up in her hands. "They will have collected locks of hair during your processing. Or some other objects that were important to you. The sergeant puts them into lockboxes and has them shipped to Castlecliff. Gods know where it may go from there. But they will likely call upon their elven lapdogs to work on it, rather than the University. Might give you a few weeks since the elves are slow to act on anything."

"But it's more or less inevitable that you will be caught. So what exactly makes you think that you will be different?"

Vicenza turns and seems genuinely curious. She believes that there is some plan here, but considering the stakes and the odds, she doesn't quite see exactly how it would play out.

"Suffice to say, we're not without powerful friends. The security in this place has proven appallingly insufficient, but the tools we needed to capitalize on those failings were smuggled in and provided by said friends." Excellence's ignorance of their exact nature is clearly being masked as an interest in maintaining operational secrecy. She smiles with no little confidence, "So once we've rendezvoused with them, a solution to the problem of scrying will naturally be implemented. I assume that the boxes have already left for Castlecliff?"

"I don't pay much attention to what the dirty little gnome does with his time. Weekly a boat comes to Roak's Awe and docks down the road where we receive supplies, and then continues along its way to Castlecliff. Sometimes with a new prisoner, or new staff or the like."

Vicenza places the spell tome under one of her arms and begins to collect the scrolls shortly after that.

"He sometimes keeps particular items of interest to him. But even without those objects, they may still find you. And that brand is powerful magic itself. It will mark you no matter what form you take."

"To be sure. My aim is simply to muddy the waters as much as is possible on the chance that there's an uncharacteristically quick response to our escape." Excellence looks unconcerned by the threat of the brand. "If our plans come together, the brand will be less of a factor than you think. The belief in its efficacy will turn into a shield that will protect us from the White Lion Knights and any others who would pursue us."

After all, if their mysterious benefactors don't have a convincing solution... well, suffice to say she intends to make one last glorious attempt at the King. That bold stroke might well bypass their timeline.

"Muddy the waters, is it? You might be best served scattering to the five winds if that is your intention."
Vicenza's tone is droll, as she draws up to the third floor to go to her personal quarters, to gather her own personal spellbook and things. Still wearing her blue nightgown, she looks over her shoulder with an arched brow. "Do you mind giving a lady her privacy?" She had to change into something more appropriate.

"Of course. We'll be moving on soon." Excellence settles back down in the main area, waiting for the others to finish their tasks.

Vicenza takes her time, going through her things and collecting all that she might need to set off on this "adventure," but leaving plenty enough behind. She decides on a velvet doublet, laced up to her clavicle, with boots and a dark colored mantle on her shoulders. Pulling the hood over her head, she steps down the stairwell, bandaging her arm where she cut herself to demonstrate her blood oath.

"I am Domina Santzia Vicenza Cremona of Nostoy. Who do I now owe allegiance to, if not the crown of Darian?" She seemed happy enough to renounce such a thing.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Warden's Quarters, Warden's Tower 4F

It had been an interesting venture for Glenn, but it was exactly as he imagined it, that returning now to the "logistics" would indeed settle him. Far away from the bleeding bodies in the grand hall, and the most recent addition of a callow young farm boy to the list, he founds his hands settling, at least for a time.

The warden's quarters, up at the very top of the tower, on one end opening up into a balcony overlooking the sea, with heavy curtains though still quite breezy and cold. On the opposite end were slit-like windows overlooking the prison, and its various turrets and fortifications. There was a simple bed, a second study and desk, and various trinkets and memorabilia of a more personal nature than what was kept in the office below. A wardrobe as well stood opposite the bed.

There was also at the foot of the bed a great metal-banded trunk, which Glenn found was magically locked, the tumblers not even reacting to his picks. It was likely further warded as well, and very heavy, difficult to transport. It would take some time to unlock, and likely would need to be forced open, possibly resulting in whatever magic was within it to be unleashed.

Under the bed, the white-furred cat hissed, causing his hands to lose their steadiness, its glinting eyes staring at him with a strange intelligence the whole time, though it did its best to stay in cover and away from his gaze or hands if he grasped for it. There was still treasure to find here, but the trunk remained locked with its secrets safe inside.

Plunder posted:

In the wardrobe, you can find the following:
  • three sets of blue tunics, a utilitarian take on wizardly robes that tell of someone who travels often and considers themselves an adventurer, with a white undershift that matches with it, with various pockets, belts, and patches, tailored for a tall, Medium-sized human male. (30 gp value though quite burdemsome.)

At the desk you can find:
  • two common potions of healing in one of the desk drawers
  • a 1-ounce block of soft, malleable substance made from an unknown material
  • a sealed tube of clear liquid with a tiny bobber floating in the middle of it
  • a petrified frog
  • a bag of Keshkevarine incense, charcoal, and herbs, as well as a brazier to burn them in (30 gp) [can be used to cast find familiar three times, or to enhance the atmosphere of a ritual]
  • atop the desk is a brass oil lamp engraved with a map of the fabled City of Brass. Beneath it is a note written in fine calligraphy on thin papyrus, in Draconic. (Translated: "To [Irdanvaeros], thanks for everything! [Gethsimanu]". A History check at DC 16/18/20 might reveal a little more about the name "Gethsimanu.")

Outside on the balcony, you can find:
  • an iron sundial, with a glass sphere set into a central groove that seems to emulate the sun. The sundial is not mobile, but the glass sphere can be taken.

There is a personal collection of tomes here, though their value is more sentimental, not being much more valuable in monetary value as the ones on display in the library on the second floor.

There is also a dirty old rug on the floor, covered in dust. It would not have caught your eye, but you saw it gleam in the light under that thin layer of tarnish, which wipes away easily. It is about four by seven feet, made of the finest fibers. At each corner, there is a long golden tassel half-knotted. While it appears at first glance to be silk, closer examination reveals that the fibers are metallic. While it has the appearance of silk and remains flexible, it is immensely heavy and nearly indestructible. The patterns are incredibly beautiful and intricate, thought of no earthly design you know. They almost seem to form a face. An Arcana check at DC 15 will identify it as being woven in the City of Brass on the Elemental Plane of Fire, the home of the efreeti. If it is not enchanted, it would still be a wondrous item, nearly priceless. However, it would be nearly impossible to transport.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Chapel, Watchtower A

The Beast of Freness seems just as mystified by being named as it did when it was first spoken to, tilting its head and blinking its beady little eyes, trying to suss through the word.


"OK, grandmother. I'll be Griswold, for now. It's pretty cool. I've never had one before! Everyone called me Beast, which I don't think is a name..."

But when the caramels and candies are offered, it becomes quite ravenous, snapping at the air like a cat trying to "chew", being that it had no proper molars to grind through the sticky candy, which kept it busy for some time while the villains discussed their next plan of action. It was still snapping at the air trying to work through the sweets when Gertrude placed her hand on the creature, and drew it to accompany her across the yard.

The passage to the chapel is at first uneventful, as Griswold moves perfectly silent like a cat. Thanks to Gertrude's influence, he is stopped in his tracks before he makes to descend upon a patrol, and it begins to dawn that there's a few more guards than anticipated. There are at least two patrols on the grounds of two guards each, armed with halberds, as well as a rottweiler sniffing around for each of them. Their circuit is relatively lazy, and at least one of them looks completely drunk, more or less being carried in good cheer by the other guard. There were also two guards at the main doors of the great hall, oblivious to the carnage gone on inside, and two guards at the gatehouse door. Both of these sets were armed with spears, shields, and ringmail.

Worst of all, the guards seem to sing to themselves to keep themselves awake with their little peasant songs, sometimes duets, or calling out to each one. Three guards walk the battlements with their crossbows, and one is stationed at the top of the laboratory tower, visible by a shape outlined by bright heart fire, as it acts as a lighthouse, for ships that might pass through the treacherous waters. Yet this good cheer, drink, and singing also makes them mostly oblivious to what's happening. However, that does not extend to the Gebroan hounds, one of which stops and perks up, catching the scent downwind from where Gertrude and Griswold are. It sniffs, and begins to growl, especially at the scent of blood and death both carry with them

The guards stop, as it makes to leap but is snapped back at the chains. "Saints be good, these things are terrible!" Complains one of the guards, who appears to be half-elven. "They see something move and suddenly its all teeth. They're liable to hurt one of us one of these days."

The other guard, a hard-nosed human woman, just keeps silent, raising her lantern and peering into the darkness. "I didn't hear nothing," she finally assents, and sighs. She turns back, as Griswold and Gertrude were crouched behind the wooden construct of the gibbet, which stood between their way and the chapel.

All the while, underneath their feet, Worm crawled through the tunnels underneath the castle grounds, built into the old foundations. They were braced with old wood, and seemed to be of a different formation than the castle itself, though Worm was no dwarf and thus failed really to see much of it at first glance that was interesting, and likely was a bit preoccupied with the ticking clock at their hands. The two villains and their good, good beast-boy would arrive at about the same time at the chapel.

Worm is the first to enter the chapel, and finds it empty and humble. At the bottom of the watchtower a little sanctuary has been built around a smokeless fire, burning with the holy oil of Mitra (something only his flamines are known to consecrate), but it is a small flickering flame like that of a candle atop a waxen wick at the center of a censer set on the ground. its flickering light illuminates the sanctuary it is behind, where semi-translucent icons of the various saints are arranged on three wooden panels, each revealing a different face and mask of the mercurial god of the sun. A humble dwelling is built under the stairs, with a chamberpot, pile of straw and blankets, as the flamen here seems to live more the life of a friar than a finely appointed priest of the faith. Gertrude, when she arrives, especially makes note of this, and there's little sign of any drink or the like allowed in here. It has all the trappings of a holy place.

More doves like those that flocked in the upper rafters of the great hall flood the rafters of this watchtower as well, gazing down and cooing. They are the only sign of life in the chapel, however, as you find no sign of the flamen. Where is that doddering old man?

Desecration posted:

Desecrating a holy place of Mitra can vary on how to go about it. Simple iconoclasm can serve as a message, but if you truly want to pervert the message, you need to taint it. Destruction and carnage is the provenance of demons and pagans rather than devils and heretics. Of course, neither of you are necessarily faithful of Asmodeus. So there are two directions you might go.

An abyssal desecration would use blood as its primary means. Animal blood works, but human sacrifice is better. Destroying the sanctuary, and corrupting the sacred oil with spilled blood in a perverse way that would cause the fire to burn with a baleful light. This would be relatively easy, and would certainly create a goodly amount of hate. It would also still please the Lord of Cania as well as a more diabolical approach.

An infernal desecration would be more methodical in destroying and leaving little evidence of what existed before. While corruption of a sacred place can be done over a very long time, it should instead be more like salting the earth. Human sacrifice can be involved but it should be far more ritualized, mocking the methods of execution like crucifixion or immolation, and burning down the chapel to hide the evidence of your direct passage while still sending a clear message, using the very holy oil that feeds the sacred fire.

You can do an abyssal desecration without spending an extra tick. You can do an infernal desecration, but only by spending more time in the chapel. Either you can incorporate human sacrifice with, it'd be easy to abduct a guard, though that will increase the chance of escalation. With the Desecration branding mark, you aren't sure what the "best" way to go would be here, it'll vary based on your own intent, but neither would really require a roll. Being creative in adding elements either way may help, but there's no "roll" to desecrate per se as it's not purely mechanical.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Sergeant's Quarters, Great Hall 1F

The lizardman and sorceress make for across the mess hall to his quarters, to toss and look for anything that might be of interest. They are a bit more subtle though than those words might imply, as they can hear through the walls and window slits the sound of two guards conversing outside, and can see the occasional patrol on the grounds.

The warden's room is well appointed, with feather down mattress and pillows, linen sheets and plush accommodations that are not ostentatious, but tastefully outside his salary. He has fine tastes but is not obviously stupid about it, and it could be justified if he had an inheritance or some other side income. Of course, you know that his side-income is highly illegal.

In his personal desk, after ripping off one of the locked drawers, you find papers confirming what was hinted at in the journal, showing the exact amounts if one took a peer through that were embezzled from the crown's budget for the prison and then a few letters ordering the Skarrian whisky to be used as his seed for his speakeasy venture. There's a few other things that are interesting too. There's a few artifacts that appear to be from the wars against the hobgoblins, and some correspondence with the warden, Lord Mathias Richter. Apparently him and Blackbriar were personal friends, and veterans of that conflict. Blackbriar was apparently decorated for bravery after being found injured on the battlefield. Though that doesn't seem in character for what you know of him...

[An Investigation check at DC 15 might reveal more.]

There is also a portrait of him atop his prized war mastiff, fully armored and raising his lance high. It is an ostentatious portait, and obviously depicts him as larger than he is, perhaps equal in size to the hobgoblins that cower at his charge. [Passive Investigation] It's easy enough to surmise that it is hiding something, since it is slightly ajar, and removing it reveals a gnomish safe, with a complex mechanism, built into the wall.

Plunder posted:

You can find a fair amount of things here.

In the wardrobe, you will find:
  • Four various sets of aristocratic clothing, tailored for a Small male. Two of the sets include kilts with the Blackbriar tartan. (40 gpv)
  • A few hats, that thanks to the proportions of gnomes, would still fit a human-sized characters.
  • A set of gnomish bagpipes.
  • [Passive Investigation] Three bottles of Skarrian rye, hidden away in the side. (each is worth 25 gp each)

In his desk, you will find:
  • direct evidence of his embezzlement
  • various war medals
  • correspondence with Lord Richter
  • a dirk (gnomish dagger) made out of cold iron

His suit of armor has been left here on its stand, along with some of his weapons.
  • A long gnomish lance.
  • A well-oiled suit of half-plate, fitted for a Small humanoid.
  • A gnomish claymore (longsword).

The safe is trickier. It has a combination lock and a complex mechanism that means it has a high DC (16) and because it requires listening to the mechanism inside to crack, uses Wisdom instead of Dexterity. You do not need thieves' tools to crack it, however (though having the tools and the proficiency would allow you to add that bonus as normal). Tearing it open would cause a fair amount of noise (prompting an additional Escalation roll), and requiring a Strength check at DC 18, with advantage if both of you attempt it.

Either an attempt to crack the safe or rip it off can be done during Tick 1, before you decide what to do on Tick 2.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Laboratory, Watchtower B

At the end of their argument, neither Egina nor Pharom are particularly prepared for what they find in the Watchtower. They are greeting with a growl, as a Gebroan rottweiler is hunched over and with its teeth bared not far from the hole in the floor from where they lifted up the loose stone that hide the trapdoor.

"Your voices carry pretty well down the tunnels," says a smiling dwarf, oblivious to just how bloody-handed the business the night has been. He's looking down the length of his heavy crossbow, pointed at whichever one would have been the first to surface. "I knew the little ones would play down there, but old Blackbriar should have listened when we asked to seal them back up. It was a good try, but it ends now. Let's get you back to your cells, then."

The dwarf and his hound seem to be the only guards in the tower. There are a few options: Bluff, escape back through the tunnel, or fight.

What do you do?

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010

HP: 8/8 AC: 19 Villain Points: 4/5 HD: 1/1 d8

Gertrude clicks her tongue in annoyance when the flamen isn't present, it would have made ghe message sent here so much more powerful if on of the hated Mitra's priests had been found disemboweled and crucified to the wall. Beggars can't be choosers though!

Giving young Griswold a pleased pat or two for his excellent work sneaking about, Gertrude eyes up the scene and ponders what was to be done. Eventually she comes go a decision and makes her suggestion, pointing at the saintly images on the wooden slats "I was a practicing Mitran as a girl, so I'm quite familiar with the iconography we're dealing with. It would just be one more layer of disrespect on top of everything to recreate some of the more poignant scenes from this here," she pats the holy book Glenn had given her and with a slightly out of practice hand flips to a page depicting the birth of a saint. "We have quite a few corpses laying around we could make our own little dedication with in a mocking style, if you're up for hauling the bodies from the basement and the second floor all the way over here."

Gertrude flips the pages in her book a few times picking out some mote suitable imagery to pervert as she considers other means of desecration "Snatching up a guard or two would definitely need to be done in some manner if we had no sacrifice, but I imagine young Griswold here could wait around a moment, while we went off to fetch some decorations, and ply a deft touch toward rendering the flamen unconscious should the doddering old fool return." She turns to Griswold to inquire "would that be fine with you child? Or would you prefer to stay with someone?"

Save DC: 14
Cantrips: Control Flames, Guidance, Light, Mold earth, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead
Prepared Spells Bane, Bless, Command, Detect Magic, False Life, Healing Word, Inflict Wounds
Feature: Mage Armor (Once per long rest)
Circle of Mortality: Max HP gained when healing creatures at 0hp.
Lvl. 1 [2/2]
Effects: Mage Armor: AC is 13+dex (8 hours)


Worm has final say on the plan, just throwing out a quick suggestion before I disappear into the shaky wifi zone for a few days.

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.

Successful Businessmanga posted:

Gertrude flips the pages in her book a few times picking out some mote suitable imagery to pervert as she considers other means of desecration "Snatching up a guard or two would definitely need to be done in some manner if we had no sacrifice, but I imagine young Griswold here could wait around a moment, while we went off to fetch some decorations, and ply a deft touch toward rendering the flamen unconscious should the doddering old fool return." She turns to Griswold to inquire "would that be fine with you child? Or would you prefer to stay with someone?"

"Just wait around? That sounds boring..."

There's a slight whine to the voice, but having been aware enough of her guidance in the yard, it tries to be good, especially since it know she has more treats to give if it impresses.

"I guess. Hopefully someone shows up so I can play. Then grandmother would have more decorations, right?"

Oct 20, 2010

Three games, thousands of playthroughs. 90% of the players don't know I exist. Still a redhead saving the galaxy with a [Right Hook].

Hriss“The Unbroken”

HPS: 17/17 AC: 18 Villain Points: 3 of 5 Remaining HD: 1 (d12) Rage 2/2 Rage Dmg: +2

Serving on the crew of a pirate ship had taught Hriss a thing or two about searching through another persons belongings. As a lizardfolk he was already adapt at scavenging. His people survived by being resourceful. It was another thing entirely to be confronted by the gnome's safe. While he had seen such things before, Captain Ortiz had one of his own on the Wave's Delight, he knew little of how to open one. He looked to the one known as Reve and made his approximation of a human shrug.


In Roll20 made wisdom check against the safe. 1d20+3 for 13 total. Spent one villain point to add 1d4 to that check for a result of 1.

Hriss was more concerned by what he saw and heard outside. There were guards out on patrol. The instinct to escape and survive this place was growing louder in his mind by the minute.

"Reve', this gnome must keep his secrets here in this place. But we have little time to read what he is written. There are guards outside we must deal with if we are to escape. Take what you will if you believe it will protect your family. But we must leave with the others now. One of these soft skins is bound to discover our escape soon."

Hriss takes what time is left to sabotage the gnome's equipment. He takes the longsword in case it would come in handy later. He cuts the straps on the armor and places the lance as high as possible so it is out of reach of the small man. The later part would be considered a spiteful act by most but for Hriss it was just practical.

"If you have the magic to contact the others I urge you to do so. We must work together to escape this place."


Hriss wants Niashe to contact the rest of the group via magic to get everyone together again for the final escape

Trast fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2018 around 00:17

Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

HP: 10/10 AC: 11 Villain Points: 4/5 HD 1 (d8)

Egina is faced with a crossbow. Her mind briefly goes over the possibilities. Go straight for the attack, fake a surrender, try to intimidate? A dwarf, likely stubborn and dutybound. But his words seem kind. Feign weakness than... the dog.

Egina's eyes quickly go away from the crossbow, ignoring it as she stares at the hound in feigned terror, making strangled panicked noises as she gibbers and sobs. "No... teeth... dog.... please, I'll be good... don't let it near me, please, please, please! Nonono!"

It was another quick lie, meant to simply have that crossbow lowered as the dwarf was face with what seemed to be someone with an absolute terror for dogs. She just needed a few seconds of lowered guard, before she and Pharom might put an end to him before he could cry for the alarm. The dog barking would hopefully not draw extra attention.

Trying to feign terror towards the hound to lure the dwarf into lowering his guard. Sadly, with a +6, I get 7.

Shogeton fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2018 around 00:07

Nov 6, 2011

...She's behind me, isn't she?

HP: 11/11[5 THP] AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8| Bardic Inspiration: No

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling. Onwards, Worm crawled. The underground tunnel was cramped, even for one of the goblin’s stature, but he didn’t mind. It was a familiar feeling, rooting about in the enclosed dark like this. Reminded him of home, or of the times he had to duck into barrels to evade pursuers. Either worked, really. Smiling for a moment, he shook off the memories. Look back on the past later, when this was the past. The thought made Worm realize this whole prison escape could make for quite a tale to tell to kin. Once he made it out, that is. And he would make it out. There was never any doubt about that in his mind.

Cracking open the trapdoor to the watchtower, the goblin carefully peeked his tiny head out, before beginning a quiet look about the church. Gertrude hadn’t arrived yet, nor the Quaggoth. Or Griswold, as he had apparently taken to being called. As a matter of fact, there was no one but himself and a small, burning fire. The goblin scoffed at seeing the flames unattended, blowing them out. Even a runt knew of the danger a single spark posed. Not that that kept his kin from playing with flames regardless, but Worm had thought these ‘flamens’ would be wiser, if nothing else. The goblin begun to prepare for the old woman’s arrival, when voices. Instinctively, he began to dart up the watchtower, when he heard,

“Oh me, oh my, your feathers certainly seem ruffled tonight, Charlotte! What ever could have you up in a such fuss on such a quiet evening?”

“Miranda, dear! I’m so glad you’re safe! These ruffians, these brutes, these criminals-”

“Safe? Criminals? Good heavens, you must settle down at once! The way you’re shaking, you’d think those halflings were planning on putting you in their stew.”

“ I can’t settle down, Miranda, I can’t! These terrible, awful, horrendous scoundrels have broken free, and they’re going to eat you, and then they’re going to eat me-”

“Scoundrels? Broken free? Oh me, oh my! T-the good flamen must be alerted at once!”

“Oh, the good flamen knows already, Miranda, dear. That’s what I came here to tell him, and as soon as he heard, he rushed right off to tell the Warden. Mitra bless his heart, he does his best.”

“That he does, that he does. If the good flamen knows, then I’m certain there’s nothing to worry yourself to death over, Charlotte-”

Rolled a 14 on Investigation searching for clues as to why the heck the flamen isn’t in their church!

At this point, Worm tuned out the conversation of the oddly speaking spirits above, having already gleaned the important bit of news. He heads on over to Gertrude and Griswold, the former of which begins to speak about just how to descrecate this church they’re in. The goblin listens patiently, nodding, before saying,

“If this is what Elder Penderghast believes should be done, then Worm will follow, as he knows little of your ways, and how best to offend. But. Worm has heard the spirits, chatty as they are, and heard that this ‘flamen’ has gone seeking the Warden in his tower. We can pursue, catch. Interrogate.”

Informing Granny about what I’ve learned, not making any decisions quite yet until further discussion.

As the goblin says that, he stops. Listens. In the distance, the alarm had begun to sound out. Had the flamen informed someone after all? Or was one of their fellow prisoners discovered? Regardless, that changed things. If they were going to attend to their 'business' here in the church, it had to be now, before the violence really got started.

"Worm speaks too soon. The defilement of the Church first, then. But, corpses too far to reach now that the alarm sings. Come, Griswold, the hunt for guards begins. For Elder Pennyghast."

Change of plans, thanks to alarm rolls on Discord! Skipping over the flamen and going with Gertrude's plan to snatch up some nearby guards as sacrifices, hopefully with Griswold in tow. Edit: And to clarify, we'll be going for a quicker desecration closer to the Abyssal method since we appear to be rather pressed for time now!

Save DC: 14
Cantrips: Primal Savagery, Infestation
Prepared Spells Entangle, Cure Wounds, Goodberry, Create or Destroy Water, Speak with Animals
Lvl. 1 [2/2]
Hriss: Respectfully Wary | Glenn: Indifferent | Gertude: Curiously Cautious
Niashe: Irritatingly Useful | Salvatrix: Resents | Excellence: Distrusts
Egina: Tenatively Respects | Pharom: Is an Elf (Knowledgeable)

TheFireMagi fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2018 around 18:01

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.

HP: 7/7 (5 THP) AC: 15 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8

A soft, prickling sensation runs through Glenn as he attempts to pick to warden's trunk. It's magic, then. He backs up a bit. No sense getting blown sky high.

Consigned to the role of burglar, a definite improvement over murderer, Glenn makes a quick sweep of the rest of the room. He pockets the two healing potions, as well as the unknown block, the sealed tube, the petrified frog, and the sundial orb. Magical implements, probably. I'll wager the arcane-inclined among us can make heads or tails of 'em. Never much for magic personally, Glenn does possess a layman's familiarity with the concept, and recognizes the use of the bag of incense immediately. He takes that as well.

The last two things to catch his eye are the engraved lamp and the metal carpet. Despite the carpet's size, it is the lamp that first commands his attention with its intricately engraved map. He lifts the lamp to the light, and for a fleeting moment his face displays an almost forgotten sense of innocence and wonder as he pours over its surface, turning it in his hands. He quickly remembers himself, however, shakes his head, and pockets the lamp. I'll be keeping this, he thinks to himself. He's heard of the fabled city, but doesn't recall much else about it (6).

Finally, his attention falls to the carpet (18). It's fine, metallic design indicates a similar level of mastery as the lamp, and a similar point of origin: the Elemental Plane of Fire. He lifts the corner of the rug, its heft and weight immediately apparent. Well now, well now, you don't come across something like this every day. He allows himself a moment's daydream, taking it and unfurling it in his home, but of course he knows his own limits. He runs his fingers along its surface, then turns to go.

Making a quick check of his belongings, he starts to head back downstairs for the office.

Apr 6, 2012

No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8

Yes... no offense to my latest acquaintance, but I've heard children of less than twenty years make more convincing lies about where the sweets disappeared to.

After a moment passes as we all look at each other, I quickly reach into my pack and fling a vial of Alchemist Fire over Egina's head and right in front of the guard and the hound.

Tossing Alchemist fire for a DC 15 save, 1d6 on both of them.

Save DC: 15
Cantrips: Mage Hand
To Do List:
  • Turn pocketed Lantern Archon into a potion.
  • Investigate Warden's Laboratory
  • Enlist Worm's assistance in matters of the spirit after death
  • Escape Prison

Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado

HP: 7/7 AC: 15 (Mage Armor) Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d6

Salvatrix's heart catches in her throat. She doesn't move, not even to breathe, shocked by the sudden appearance of Halstan's haggard form at the top of the stairs. Sal takes a harsh, deep breath the moment she remembers she can. Hands dart to cover her face, wipe away the few tears that remain as she looks away to the floor for a moment as he implores her to stop crying. It's heartbreaking to see his sincerity. She takes the stairs quickly, confident for now that she was as alone as she could be, though still takes care to remain quiet.

The last words crystal clear and eerily intrusive. They come as an impossible whisper a little too close for comfort. Salvatrix does her best to attend to him as he shares his knowledge through clenched teeth around the copper wire. She's not at all familiar with medicine beyond a bit of common sense and small smattering of practical information gathered from experience over the years. The most she can hope to do is keep him comfortable, and if she's able to, discretely staunch the bleeding. Fluffing a Medicine Check (15)

It's quick work, and likely fairly sloppy, and she's off and away up the stairs not long after he's passed into unconsciousness again. She slips past Vicenza and Excellence without a word, possibly without their knowledge and gets to the door of the Warden's Office just in time to run into Glenn.

Save DC: 14
Cantrips: Firebolt, Friends, Prestidigitation
Prepared Spells Charm Person, Mage Armor, Shield, Sleep, Tasha's Hideous Laughter
Feature: Arcane Recovery: Once per day, recover spell slots after a short rest.
Lvl. 1 [1/2]

GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2018 around 02:26

Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage

HP: 13/13 (5 THP) | AC: 19 | Villain Points: 4/5 | HD: 1 (d10) | Divine Sense 6/6 | Lay On Hands 5/5 (HP)

Excellence stands, performing something akin to a formal bow, saying, "A pleasure. The people of Talingarde know me as Excellence, but that is simply a pleasant fiction for them to consume. I am Lilith bet Rasho bin Zariel." She doesn't bother to explain the name's origin. Either Vicenza would recognize it or she wouldn't. Either was fine for the tiefling. "We'll be making for the rest of the band once the girl and the halfling finish looting your former master's quarters. Tell me, Vicenza, what magic can you muster to aid in our escape?"

Dec 15, 2012

See you in the

Niashé Minai Delacrie

HP: 9/9 AC: 14 Villain Points: 3/5 HD: 1 (d6)

Niashé tries her hand at the safe as well, to no luck. Turning her attention back to the rest of the room, she's sure to take any of the gnome's personal effects that might either relate to her or give her leverage over him, should the worst come to pass and he survive their escape. She takes the war medals, too. No sense leaving behind something that makes him look good - and if it ends up not mattering, she might be able to find an unscrupulous enough collector to pay for them. The rye is stuffed into her pack with the rest. No further comment needed.

When Hriss says his piece about contacting the others, Niashé opens her hand to reveal a thin copper bar from one of Blackbriar's medals. "One step ahead of you." She gives him a wink. Then, clasping the bar, she speaks a trio of messages that make their way around the prison, if they can reach, to certain of her compatriots. First, Excellence, as the tower team has been away the longest and would be most in need of catching up. She wouldn't mind hearing the tiefling's voice, either. Second, Gertrude. While she has no illusions about the old woman's acuity, the act of desecration can take as long as the imagination runs, and Niashé isn't about to wait around for them to put the finishing touches on some grand oeuvre. She saves Egina for last, figuring her and Pharom the most likely group to hurry. To each of the three, the message is the same:

"It's Rêve. The path is clear for now, but the guards are on edge. We must act now. Meet me in the mess hall immediately."

Giving the room one last once-over before she leaves, Niashé notices one thing left to attend to. She walks over to the gnome's wardrobe. There's a plumed bycocket hat there that perfectly matches the colour of the tabard she's wearing - she takes it and fits it, at a jaunty angle, over her head. She looks dashing in it, if she might say so herself (and she certainly might). Taking a second one, she walks over to Hriss. She has to stand up on her tip-toes to reach, but she places it atop the somewhat bemused lizardman's head. "For luck," she offers, a twinkle in her eye. As the four groups converge, a sense of finality comes over her. The moment nears. They're about to make their escape.

"As much as I'd like to ambush the sergeant, should the alarm be raised and he come running for his weapons...we should probably go to meet the others." Niashé heads thusly to the mess hall, all smiles but eyes focused, ready to act the very moment anything changes.

Wisdom check for the safe: 6

Let me know if I should spend a VP for the "copper wire" and I'll mark the expenditure.

Cold iron dirk; Rose stiletto; Black rose (100gp petal remaining); Copper wire
Backpack; Nice hat; Prisoner's clothes; Ration days (2); Skarrian rye (3); Tabard
Blackbriar's Effects: Embezzlement evidence; Richter correspondence; War medals

Wol fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2018 around 10:47

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.

Salvatrix stops just a couple of steps off the fourth floor landing. She's staring up at Glenn for a moment, giving him a once over. She squeezes her wand, lifts it outward, and with a flick of her hand the blood stain on his shirt disappears instantaneously. She proceeds to kind of, brusquely slip past him, mutter quietly to him as she passes. "That wasn't fair."

She crouches at the side of the bed, looking back to Glenn for a moment before leaning down to peak under the bed.

Fair? Glenn shoots the girl a strained glance as she passes. Why couldn't they all be like Hriss? Coordinated, discrete, speaking only when they needed to. He sighs. That's right, that's right, she's human. Around the age of the boy downstairs, I should think. Takes their kind a lot longer to mature. Summoning up his reserves of professionalism, Glenn swallows his reservations and calls out to the witch in his best customer service voice, with just a twinge of irritation. "Can I help you with something?"

She shies away at that, though she seems to feel obligated to answer."I'm just looking around. Call it intuition." Salvatrix sticks her head under the bed only to come face to face with the fluffy white cat underneath. She begins to whisper to the cat, feigning a sort of sweetness that seems all too uncharacteristic of her to be real. "Come here, baby. Come. No need to be under the bed."

The cat gives one of the kind of howling hiss that any intelligent predator would key in as a threat right away, but Sal reacts with all the foolishness muster she can give as she meekly speaks the command word in her defense, "Sadikh." There's another hiss and a thump as Sal reels backwards bumping her head on the undercarriage of the bed. The girl is cursing a storm as she pulls away clutching her wrist. A long, bleeding shallow gash is present on her forearm, probably one of several. She's not severely injured but certainly in pain.

"Did you," She sucks the air in through clenched teeth. "Did you find anything interesting in here?" Her eyes immediately catch the rug, but she's having difficulty placing it.

"I found a cat," Glenn says, flatly - holding back a look of amusement. Rather than struggle to keep up appearances, he resumes his baseline tone, curt and coarse. "And a few other things. Magical odds and ends. Might be useful or, failing that, valuable." He notices her glancing at the rug. Perhaps a thing to mention, only...later. Instead he says, "I also found that," and points to the trunk at the foot of the warden's bed. "Locked away, and faintly magic. Might take a crack at reading the enchantment."

Salvatrix rolls her eyes as he shares some already far too familiar knowledge. She doesn't speak out of turn but listens with an ever so slightly annoyed look on her face. "The trunk, huh?" She crawls forward and leans over, examining the inner workings of the lock. (14) Her eyes widen as she recognizes the components, stumbling back in a bit of shock onto the rug itself.

Salvatrix eyes the box wearily, betrayed by the death trap disguised as a somewhat humble addition to the warden's ostentatious decor. "I wouldn't." She slowly rises to her feet, cautiously, until some dark eureka moment comes to her. This terrible, devilish grin crosses her lips and she laugh, a single stark note. Her eyes full of recognition.

"It would be a shocking surprise."

"Hmm." Glenn scratches his chin, eyes shut in quiet contemplation. A lightning spell, then? Then something clicks. The trapped chest, the incense, the cat. The cat. He might not know much about magic, but he knew this.

He nods sagely.

"Well then," he says, trailing off. His eyes snap open. "Oh dear, you've been hurt!" His voice betrays unexpected concern, an almost alien sympathy. It's a little uncomfortable (for both of you). "Let me look at that," he steps toward Sal, taking her hand in his, gently easing her down to his level. Face to face with the witch, he whispers, "I think that cat may be a familiar."

Salvatrix is no more comfortable with Glenn’s concern than he is. It takes her a moment to accept Glenn taking a look at her arm and even then it’s hesitantly given.

“Probably.” She admitted with no small amount of embarrassment.

Reaching into his pack, he uses Gertrude's kitchen knife to cut off a small section of the bed sheets he'd nabbed earlier, and wraps it around Sal's hand. It's not a particularly convincing bandage. He fiddles with it awhile, whispering still. "Rug's also an oddity. Metal fibers, Elemental Plane of Fire. Bit heavy, but may be of interest."

He clears his throat and backs off.

"There you go," he announces, a little louder than necessary. "Should keep you shipshape till we find a proper doctor in," he names a far-off town, definitely out of their way, and certainly not where they're actually going.

Sal keeps an eye on Glenn through the whole of the process, clearly not entirely sure she wants to let the knife wielding halfling close enough to gut her. Her mood shifts at the mention of the rug, as does her attention, and she only waits long enough to give a loud nervous laugh and answer in the most awkwardly vague agreement to the halfling thief's strange little ploy before she quickly shuffles on to the rug.


The rug stirs, at that, as though life suddenly flows through the thing, and it begins to levitate just a foot off the ground with Salvatrix awkwardly shuffling a but for a more suitable seat on top of it. She would have celebrated that good fortune if not for distant sounds of the raised alarm, orders being barked and guards rushing about, alerted them to the fact they had clearly been found out.

"Oh hells."

Glenn wants to be amazed at the carpet taking flight - and, for the briefest of moments, he is - but the sound of the alarm disrupts his awe-struck wonder. His expression dulls, a mix of disappointment and acceptance.

"....Ain't that always the way. Cat's outta the bag I guess. Come on. Bring your friend."

He runs down the stairs. Problems. Violent problems. Excellence. She's a military woman. Might have an eye for violent solutions. Should probably provide her with one of these potions.

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Apprentice Quarters, Warden's Tower 3F

"It seems we have something in common, Domina bin Zariel."

Vicenza seemed promisingly astute when it came to matters of such evil import. She not only recognized the meaning of the old tiefling nomenclature, but also the name of the archdevil Lilith claimed descent from. Then again, the Lucidoreans had a long memory, still using the old title of Dominus or Domina instead of Lord or Lady, as was done in the time of the Dominion, though either is often shortened to Don less formally.

"We are both cut from second rate nobility."

She was able to piece it together. Most of the old tieflling clans, the old nine, claimed descent from Asmodeus, whose blood pact was made physical in the world through the curse of most tieflings. He did not allow any other to take a lineage, except his favorite (at the time), Archduchess Zariel. She is no longer his favorite, of course, and even then, they were always second-rate, the knights rather than the nobility. Equites rather than patricians, even when their families flourished and gained power, such that today they are better off than many of the Asmodean clans.

For the first time, though, there is a little bit of understanding. Elves are despised in Lucidor, for a variety of reasons. Being both quisling collaborators with the dragonborn occupiers for one, having for centuries tried to assert their own cultural influence, and just for being elves. And yet there are an uncommonly large amount of Lucidorean half-elves for such xenophobia, just as there are among the nobility of other peoples. They are just treated with far less pride. And to Lucidor, pride is everything. Perhaps there was potential in her yet.

Shame about the attitude.

"... What was that?"

There was the distant sound of shouts, and then soon, bells. Soon there was the barking of dogs and men gathering in the prison yard. With a arcane hum, from one of the watchtowers, the lighthouse, the reflective mirror was charged with energy and fired down a searchlight that began to scan through the yard, searching for any escapees. The alarm had been raised. The jig was up.

Now as the time for action.

"The Gang Escapes From Branderscar Prison" — Laboratory, Watchtower B

The crystal phial careens in an arc, and the dwarf tenses, pressing down upon the trigger reflexively while the rottweiler bristles, leaping to try and catch the item in its jaws, but flailing and missing. There is the whistle of the released crossbow bolt let flying, which sinks into the left side of Egina's chest, dangerously close to her heart. Blood begins to gush from the wound and her vision dims, before suddenly a flash of chemical fire before her comes alight and washes both the guard and his dog in bright, incandescent flame.

Most of hits the armor and nape of the dog's fur, so the damage is minimal, but the fire is persistent. It spills across the floor of the lab, reaching outward. The dwarf bellows out a warning, his Gebroan accent now far more noticeable in his panic, "Achtung! Guards! The prisoners have escaped!"

He cocks back another bolt, and lets it fly, but it fires wide as both Egina and Pharom start to move and close in. "Raise the alarms! We mu-GACK!" His stomach is pierced by the half-orc's spear like meat upon a spit, while Pharom catches the snapping jaws of the rottweiler with a small vial of acid that burns through the soft tissues of its mouth and throat in a horrific way, as it whimpers and dies, clawing at itself at the smoking substance burning it from the inside out, twitching on the ground.

With their assailants dispatched, the laboratory, such as it is, is available to them, but guards will be there shortly to investigate. Soon enough, they hear the ringing of bells from one watchtower to the next, and they can see at the very top of this watchtower a sudden flaring of light, almost arcane in nature, as the reflective mirror is charged with a spotlight like beam to be turned down upon the prison yard.

You swipe what you can, but it's not really enough to fully appreciate what might be found in the lab, which is actually quite impressive. You also find the still hidden behind some crates under the stairs, actually hidden behind some loose boards in an alcove in the wall.

Plunder posted:

You find enough alchemical reagents and materials to be sufficient for Pharom to, over the course of a few days, make his own alchemist's satchel once the temporary one he has been gifted is expended.

A set of alchemist's supplies.

An arcane focus in the form of a amber tipped rod.

A crate of cheap moonshine, worth about 25 gp in total.

A glass set of figurines of remarkable detail, of various monstrosities that are mostly extinct in Talingarde such as basilisks, cockatrices, and gorgons, worth about 250 gp.

A potion of greater healing.

A potion of hill giant strength, which is in a metal flask with big, round and ugly ogre-like faces on it.

Your options are this: Toss the place, or attempt to rendezvous with the rest. You can absolutely take time to heal up, but to properly destroy everything here, speed down the destruction of the watctower, shut down the searchlight, or see if there's anything hidden, that will take the second Tick.

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2018 around 17:29

Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage

HP: 13/13 (5 THP) | AC: 19 | Villain Points: 4/5 | HD: 1 (d10) | Divine Sense 6/6 | Lay On Hands 5/5 (HP)

Excellence presses her hand to her ear as the mysterious femme fatale, Rêve, magically whispers a message to her ear. She says in response, magic carrying her message back, "Indeed. It seems we're out of time. We're on our way, but the sooner we strike at the gatehouse, the better." She looks up at the collection on the floating carpet, as well as the dour half-elf apprentice. "That's our signal. We rally at the mess, then strike forth for the gatehouse."

Her mind spins with the tactics appropriate for the situation. It seems clear that speed is of the essence, but even more important was the prospect of a pincer attack. The carpet could surely spirit a small group to attack the gatehouse from above, while the rest press in from below. The unstoppable paths of carnage will then surely meet in the middle. With herself and Hriss leading a team... this can work. This will work. All that is left is the doing.

Taking the potion, then urging the group to meet at the rendevous in preparation for a strike.


Apr 6, 2012

No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8

Wrinkling my nose in disgust as I step over the hound's body, I size up Egina' s wound. It... isn't looking too good for her. Honestly, that dwarf had her dead to rights. It's lucky that he missed her heart.

Still, I have just the answer. I dig around in my satchel, saying, "I didn't gather these reagents myself, so I make no promises on the taste. However, this stimulant will take care of most of the damage." Then, I hand her a vial with a translucent, silver liquid with flecks of green and black suspended in it.

Then, I cast my eyes over the rest of the lab, scanning for anything of value before we head back.


After we grab anything that looks important, I look longingly at the lab equipment for a moment before sighing and heading back to the trapdoor.

Taking the alchemists materials, alchimst supplies, the arcane focus, the glass figurines worth 250g, the greater healing potion, and the potion of hill giant strength.

I fed Egina my alchemists healing potion, and she was healed for 6. I'll make another and give her the healinf potion from the rose.

I believe she is also taking the crossbow and bolts

Save DC: 15
Cantrips: Mage Hand
To Do List:
  • Turn pocketed Lantern Archon into a potion.
  • Investigate Warden's Laboratory
  • Enlist Worm's assistance in matters of the spirit after death
  • Escape Prison

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