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[D&D 4E PbP] Dark Sun: Freedom IC, CHAPTER 1: Workshy
Owen Edwards
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
Free to make a destiny. Free to make a fortune. Free to travel the vast, untamed wilderness.
Free to die.
Where the red sun bleeds, turning the sky a sickly lavender. Where life is cheap but slaves are a valuable commodity. Welcome to Athas, the world of...
DARK SUN
A sample game post, including vital game information:
Cast and Scenes:
Free to die.
Where the red sun bleeds, turning the sky a sickly lavender. Where life is cheap but slaves are a valuable commodity. Welcome to Athas, the world of...
DARK SUN
A sample game post, including vital game information:
Owen's Example Adventure
Rajaat howled, smashing once more against his bonds (Melee Basic Attack). The inky darkness shuddered about him. He took a moment to analyse the damage done. Not worth the effort. And he howled again.
The first two to-hit rolls I made came up as natural 1s. That's how bad my rolling is. Incidentally, put OOC notes in this colour. Link to your rolls at invisiblecastle or orokos, with any action described alongside its associated roll.
The underlined title at the top of the post describes which plot thread the post relates to - Freedom has several, so we have to keep track, for our sakes and for any readers!
Most chapter threads will also have character info (names, precis, link to sheet etc) at the top, but this Prologue won't. So there. I have my reasons.
I expect one post a day if your character is active., though I understand that won't always be possible. Just keep me up to date.
In addition to IC, OOC and Turn Order (see below), there will also be statistic records and a map for encounters. For monsters, I will post HP, Defenses and any status effects, so you know what you need to hit, etc.
Next Up: Borys
Then: Neil the Avangion
Rajaat howled, smashing once more against his bonds (Melee Basic Attack). The inky darkness shuddered about him. He took a moment to analyse the damage done. Not worth the effort. And he howled again.
The first two to-hit rolls I made came up as natural 1s. That's how bad my rolling is. Incidentally, put OOC notes in this colour. Link to your rolls at invisiblecastle or orokos, with any action described alongside its associated roll.
The underlined title at the top of the post describes which plot thread the post relates to - Freedom has several, so we have to keep track, for our sakes and for any readers!
Most chapter threads will also have character info (names, precis, link to sheet etc) at the top, but this Prologue won't. So there. I have my reasons.
I expect one post a day if your character is active., though I understand that won't always be possible. Just keep me up to date.
In addition to IC, OOC and Turn Order (see below), there will also be statistic records and a map for encounters. For monsters, I will post HP, Defenses and any status effects, so you know what you need to hit, etc.
Next Up: Borys
Then: Neil the Avangion
Cast and Scenes:
Chapter One: Workshy
The Great Escape
Nikela Thesia, an Evil Human SK-Pact Warlock (Templar), is a Nibenese spy currently undercover as a junior Tyrian Templar, overseeing the construction of Kalak's ziggurat. At present she struggles to put down a slave escape attempt.
XP:
Elf Trouble
Amdir Belecandros, a Good Elf Shaman (Elemental Priest), is an outcast desert rat who is being beaten up by some elf thieves after trying to help a wounded half-elf. He currently cowers behind his spirit companion in an alley in Tyr's Warrens.
XP:
Harmonica
Alastor is going through the motions at his desert cabin when three silt runners arrive on the scene, their leader wounded.
XP:
Preservers
Tiron, a Good Deva Avenger, is the last servant of the echoes of the dead god Pelor. He is currently in a wine shop in Tyr, trying and failing to talk his way out of arrest by Templars. He managed to dig his own grave after protecting Kaala Orlon - no wonder the gods lost.
Shaan Orlon, an Unaligned Human Brawling Fighter (Veiled Alliance), is Kaala's brother, and has rather pragmatically decided to leave Tiron to his fate whilst he considers alternative escape routes.
XP:
Convoy!
Severin, a Good Human Guardian Fighter, and Kk'thkk, an Unaligned Thri-Kreen Spiritbond Seeker, have been hired to guard a one-cart convoy from an outlying client village back to Tyr, under the aegis of House Asticles. The cartmaster has just been killed via chatkcha, the crodlu mount has run off, and Severin's Perception check was awful. Happily, Kk'thkk isn't useless. Now to discover: whodunnit?
XP:
Serious Offence
Jaren, a Good Mul Wild Warden (Primal Guardian), has just been involved by members of a slave retinue in a public fracas. Does he crack heads, or appeal for assistance from the owner of the slaves?
XP:
Shanghai'ed
Targan Three-Eye, an Unaligned Human Psion (Dune Trader), and K'tac, an unaligned Thri-Kreen Sharpshooter Rogue, have bonded over the poor food served at their hostelry. Their innkeeper is a slimy shit, and must have an angle of some sort: but what is it?
XP:
Shrakk, an Unaligned Gith Monk (Wilder), Alakka, an Unaligned Halfling Euphoric Ardent, and Thorek, a Good Human Psion (Noble Adept), are waiting in the wings, about to start their scene.
The Great Escape
Nikela Thesia, an Evil Human SK-Pact Warlock (Templar), is a Nibenese spy currently undercover as a junior Tyrian Templar, overseeing the construction of Kalak's ziggurat. At present she struggles to put down a slave escape attempt.
XP:
Elf Trouble
Amdir Belecandros, a Good Elf Shaman (Elemental Priest), is an outcast desert rat who is being beaten up by some elf thieves after trying to help a wounded half-elf. He currently cowers behind his spirit companion in an alley in Tyr's Warrens.
XP:
Harmonica
Alastor is going through the motions at his desert cabin when three silt runners arrive on the scene, their leader wounded.
XP:
Preservers
Tiron, a Good Deva Avenger, is the last servant of the echoes of the dead god Pelor. He is currently in a wine shop in Tyr, trying and failing to talk his way out of arrest by Templars. He managed to dig his own grave after protecting Kaala Orlon - no wonder the gods lost.
Shaan Orlon, an Unaligned Human Brawling Fighter (Veiled Alliance), is Kaala's brother, and has rather pragmatically decided to leave Tiron to his fate whilst he considers alternative escape routes.
XP:
Convoy!
Severin, a Good Human Guardian Fighter, and Kk'thkk, an Unaligned Thri-Kreen Spiritbond Seeker, have been hired to guard a one-cart convoy from an outlying client village back to Tyr, under the aegis of House Asticles. The cartmaster has just been killed via chatkcha, the crodlu mount has run off, and Severin's Perception check was awful. Happily, Kk'thkk isn't useless. Now to discover: whodunnit?
XP:
Serious Offence
Jaren, a Good Mul Wild Warden (Primal Guardian), has just been involved by members of a slave retinue in a public fracas. Does he crack heads, or appeal for assistance from the owner of the slaves?
XP:
Shanghai'ed
Targan Three-Eye, an Unaligned Human Psion (Dune Trader), and K'tac, an unaligned Thri-Kreen Sharpshooter Rogue, have bonded over the poor food served at their hostelry. Their innkeeper is a slimy shit, and must have an angle of some sort: but what is it?
XP:
Shrakk, an Unaligned Gith Monk (Wilder), Alakka, an Unaligned Halfling Euphoric Ardent, and Thorek, a Good Human Psion (Noble Adept), are waiting in the wings, about to start their scene.
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Nikela was trusted. Her husband, the great Nibenay, trusted her. It was a magnificent feeling. She had only met him twice. The first time had been when she had been made a Templar, infused with arcane power – the power of true Gods! It had been her wedding day. She had worn the flowing purple nuptial cloak of a templar-wife as High Consort Siemhouk presented her to the King – His Magnificence – on that most auspicious of days. Oh, he was not handsome, no – she could not deceive herself on that, her naturally acute mind would not be deceived by love on that mark – he was, in fact, old. So old. But such wise eyes. He had spoken a few gentle sentences to her as the ritual was prepared. He asked after her family's health, and complimented her on the exquisitely rare bronze bracelet she wore (a gift from Siemhouk).
Then the ritual was enacted, and she left the Secret City a royal wife.
The second time had been a year later. She had worked dutifully in the Temple of the King's Law for a year, punishing those who dared defy Nibenay. Nikela had no great passion for the cruelty inflicted by her fellow Templars – it seemed such a waste of energy. She had taken a different route to power – efficiency. She broke up slave rebellions, hunted down rogue templars and rooted out scum in the dark corners of the City of Spies. Then Siemhouk had called once more.
That magnificent woman – one of the few fellow Templars Nikela had any real respect for – had invited her to a light lunch at the Temple of Thought. It was a most peculiar request, but there was no denying a High Consort her wish.
“My darling – my little sparrow – I hear such things of you! How you slew that traitor Irana as she fled to Raam with most sensitive information in her silly pretty head. His Magnificence has asked me to arrange an interview with you,” Siemhouk drawled, peeling an orange with one nail.
Siemhouk, Nibenay's favoured – who saw that great man once a month!
She continued, after delicately eating a segment of the juicy fruit, “He said to me 'Let me see that beautiful wife of mine, who has saved me from profound embarassment!' You know, my darling, I believe he has a mission for you. Today you leave your former life and become an agent of the Temple of Thought. Tomorrow His Magnificence meets you, and you leave for your mission. Oh, here – take these oranges. I am afraid I do not remember if you have family remaining to you – if so, give them these treats with Nibenay's compliments!”
Six oranges – Nikela had never seen so many oranges in one place before!
And here she was, gazing over the vast slavepens. Behind her, the massive black ziggurat, almost completed. She had to admit, though Tyr was an uncivilised waste, the ziggurat was impressive. Perhaps that lunatic Kalak had some taste after all.
In her peripheral vision she saw a billowing red cloak. A fellow Templar of Kalak, she thought with a smile. Here to discuss the merits of “their” glorious master. As she turned to greet the newcomer, she noticed, appalled, that the red cloak had a purple trim to it. A High Templar.
“You – Templar – I am afraid I am not familiar with your face. I see you taking the watch over the Northern Pens, yet we have never met. Has the great Kalak” - you sense a slight strain on the 'great' - “ordered you here from another department of this most glorious City? I sometimes manage to be left out of the paperwork involving this project, you see.”
It is Tithian, High Templar of Works. He is tall, youthful, handsome in a cruel way.
Your move, licwidcake.
Far to the north of Tyr – far, far to the north, a land apart, a land shining with white dust – is a cabin. It's a temporary hideout for a man going through the motions. It is one more place to do the job in peace. The cabin's dull brown-black wood was riddled with insect tunnels, tanned by the relentless desert sun, warped by burned dew.
The spirits, the long-departed, thrummed in this place. Once – once – he knew this place had been beautiful. Green, kind, a village of laughing children. A half-remembered paradise. As close to home as he might ever get.
He dribbled a little water from the dew-reaper onto the tiny scrub bush by the entrance to the cabin. Its brittle twiggy branches seemed to move to the water – and a tiny whisper of thanks reached his heart. A living whisper, living, not dead yet. On this dead world.
A sudden flutter of something brought him to full alert – a flutter in the distance, an insect moving in alarm. Insects – he wasn't a great fan of maggots and grubs but the beasts themselves were alright. The thri-kreen less so, arguably. What was it scared of? Then, coming up over the lip of the ridge the cabin sat on, from the ravine below – three little bipedal lizards.
They had seen him too. He knew the look in their eyes, the look of a desperate kirre starved for two weeks straight. One – the leader, he judged – looked wounded. Probably tareks. These would be the survivors of a larger band, ambushed by those loathsome beasts for food.
What to do to these deadly creatures, on this death-filled day, on this dead world? Decisions.
Ironblue, your move. I can put up a map next post if needed.
The Warrens of Tyr heaved with determined poor, like a sigh, a gentle refusal to surrender. In this city of slaves, those below even the shackled lived in the Warrens – elves, refugees, tarek thugs, wanted criminals.
Amdir Belecandros wandered through its honeycomb streets. A watcher with the Gift would have seen him for what he was: a microbe drifting through dead blood vessels, striking petrified nerves. Here where nothing grew, nothing answered his call but the spirits of the stone and sirocco breeze, distracted, alien presences in this defiled place.
Perhaps he longed for the spirits of the scrub brush, or the lichen, or the blindingly pale crystals of the great rock needles. Or perhaps he was just lost – these things are not always entirely clear. Either way, he stopped briefly, pensively, at the height of the Elven Bridge, an ornate, ancient monument. It passed over a dry, cracked channel 30 feet wide and 8 deep. Down there, in the shadowed recesses of the channel, all the scum of Tyr met and cajoled and agreed and betrayed.
The Elven Quarter, on the other side of the bridge, glittered in gaudy poverty. From an alley, a battered half-elf staggered towards the bridge. Catcalls followed him.
“We ought to cut your ears off, you filthy shen whelp!”
“Come back here and lick the blood of my cloak, scum!”
The half-elf collapsed to his knees in front of a great, worn winged statue on one of the corner balusters of the bridge. His eyes had rolled back in his head, but he was conscious, just.
Three elves came out of the alley after him, hurrying but not quite running. Two seized the half-elf under each arm and started dragging him down dusty marble stairs leading down to the channel. The bridge and the street had suddenly cleared. The third elf suddenly noticed Amdir.
“Move on, cousin,” he growled coldly, “Or would you us to notice you as well as this erdlu shit?”
Your turn, Fondor_Yards. I'm feeling increasingly lonely in this thread. My friends ARE coming, I promise...
I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got noticed...well this was expected so don't blow you're cover now.
Nikela smiled at the man approaching her and bowed slightly in respect.
"Yes sir. Our lord had me repositioned here after taking missions abroad. My orders were not specific so I came here to try and make myself useful watching the rabble. Was there something else you had in mind?"
Nikela looked out again over the slave pens and tried to put an appropriate look of distaste as she did so.
Owen did you need a bluff check on any of that?
"Having met you two minutes ago, no," he smiles slightly, a surprisingly gentle smile, "I have no better ideas. You do more work than most of the layabouts around here. For instance, these fellows..."
Four human guards - royal guardsmen, by the look of them - had caught up with the man they were supposed to escort. They all looked a little out of breath.
"Thankyou for joining us, Sergeant. Ten laps tonight for each of you, I think. Must keep fit!" - and the cruel sneer was back.
Suddenly, there was a massive splintering sound down in the pens, from which the Templars had been distracted by their conversation. Looking back, they could make out a large group of slaves having just tumbled a mekillot bone-built guard tower set into the thorny 8-foot high bushes that served for a fence round the Northern Pen.
"You know, Templar, I may have a different job for you after all. Take these two," he gestures to the two most out-of-breath guards, "and deal with those criminals."
As the dust settles from the tower's destruction - its former occupier flopping to the ground, quite dead - it becomes apparent there are eleven emaciated slaves armed with worktools - 6 humans, 2 half-elves, an elf and two muls - led by a wily-looking halfling who is directing their movement.
He wanders a little way backwards with the two other guards, whilst the two assigned to Nikela move into a standard escort position for a Templar: in front on either side. They are equipped with crossbows and iron-tipped halberds, from the indescribably precious iron mines of Tyr, the most lucrative source of that rare metal in the entire region. Nikela realises she has a moment to order her new detachment before a battle begins with desperate slaves.
Map in spoiler below. Hope it's clear. Black line is the thornbush fence - it counts as total concealment and is impassable without Athletics checks. Green is light scrub, brown rocks, yellow is clear ground - scrub and rocks are difficult terrain and provide light cover.
You can give orders to the guards, who I will be "playing". In your post, give orders and roll initiative for Nikela. In my next post I'll announce initiative order and post a stat summary for everyone
Re: Bluff, my general sense is to play it by ear. I prefer roleplaying through Charisma situations to rolling them, but in the end it's up to you - sometimes you might prefer to roll, if you're not as confident with your roleplaying. Your choice
Game on.
Nikela readies herself for a moment while she draws her wand and mace.
This came at an opportune time. If I can quell this quickly I might be in a better position to gather information than I could on my own.
"Don't just stand there!" She barks to the guards, " Rush up and meet them as they come out of the gate! I will pick off any that get past you."
Everything becomes a blur. The halfling, who seems to have sized up the situation quickest, hangs back, ordering his followers forward to fight the hated guards and Templar. Within a split second, the two guards stride forward, and strike down the nearest slaves from a distance with their halberds – but months of work on the ziggurat have toughened this lot, and they manage to stay on their feet for just a little longer, intent on avenging themselves with their dying breaths.
The slaves at the front of the breakout are quick to respond. Two move up to flank the guards, and both take advantage of their opponent's unwieldy weapons and smack down hard with their clubs. Next, the two fatally wounded slaves stagger forward – the one attacking the guard to Nikela's left manages a brutal hit on his target, aided by his allies mobbing the suddenly vulnerable guard, whilst the other is ineffective.
Yet another two slaves charge forward through the sparse wreckage of the tower into flanking positions – though the guard to Nikela's right again wards off the mobbing of the slaves, his comrade takes another hit, causing a yelp. Though not yet reeling, the makeshift hammers and mattocks have made their mark.
With their last vengeance complete, the two slaves who led the charge, a mul and a human, drop dead.
Finally gathering herself fully, Nikela prepares to act.
The halfling Delayed. Please update the stats block and mark movements clearly so I can update the map as we go
STATS:
Guard 1 (J3-K6) 42/47HP, AC 18, Fort 16, Ref 15, Will 14 (Reach 2)
Guard 2 (L3-L6) 27/47HP, AC 18, Fort 16, Ref 15, Will 14 (Reach 2)
Slave 1 (I9-J6) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
[strike]Slave 2 (K8-K7) 0/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11 [/strike]Killed by Guard 1
[strike]Slave 3 (L8-L7) 0/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11[/strike] Killed by Guard 2
Slave 4 (N9-M6) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 5 (K10-J7) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 6 (L10-M7) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
All have Labourer's Resilience, and stay standing for a turn after being “killed”. All have Strength In Numbers, and gain +1 to damage rolls for each ally adjacent to target.
Nikela (K1) 32/32HP, AC 12, Fort 16, Ref 12, Will 14, Surges: 11 (value: 8), AP: 1
Slave 7 (I11) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 8 (J10) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 9 (L12) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 10 (M10) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 11 (N11) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
All have Labourer's Resilience, and stay standing for a turn after being “killed”. All have Strength In Numbers, and gain +1 to damage rolls for each ally adjacent to target.
MAP:
The cart driver smiled to himself. This was the perfect trick. A single, small cart, two hired guards, not riding in caravan – a sitting duck! But no-one round here ever attacked the sitting ducks. Sittings ducks carried nothing of value. (He shuddered as he remembered hearing tell of a small garments caravan being butchered as it passed out west past the Forest Ridge, not for their goods but for their flesh – halflings, monsters the lot of them!)
AND they were just over a mile from Tyr. Almost home. The “discrete” cargo House Asticles had hired him to convey from a client village of the noble family barely filled the small, scale-canvassed cart. Only a few boxes of old gossip pamphlets, full of the news of the day and rules for strange party games, peculiar to the nobility. What time they had to waste on frivolity!
The crodlu was still going strong – the benefit of investing in thoroughbred. 18 hands high, the great bipedal reptile was a noble beast – quick-tempered and proud, but tough as all Athas' burning sands.
Beside him on either side were the two hired guards – both natural wanderers, he could tell. They'd find a new job in Tyr, and then one in Draj or Raam or wherever, over the Tablelands again and again – until they found what they sought, if they even knew what that was.
The human was a quiet easterner, with that accent the Tyrians called “silty” - from Balic, perhaps? He was calm, collected and quiet – and had turned down a mercenary job offer right before accepting this convoy guard. Scruples. Rare.
The 'kreen – by the Dragon, they crept him out – was also a pretty quiet type. It was dull work, sometimes, with these hire guards. They were always so...broody.
“So, you two – you got any plans once you get to Tyr?”
For Warabit and Snowdown. RP a little here and warm your characters up!
Severin looked at the cart driver then continued to scan the land on his side of the road. His left hand resting on the hilt of his sword which clung to his hip.
"I hadn't really thought about it. Maybe Balic, it has been many years since i was there last." I wonder how much has changed. "Something always seems to come up when i plan to go."
Severin liked these kinds of jobs. Walking the land, hearing and seeing new places, and they often covered his travel costs. "For now, I'll just enjoy the journey"
Amdir sighed quietly. Trouble seemed to find him more often then the spirits these days, especially in this city. He wasn't even sure why he was here in the first place. It had been many so years since he had set foot in Tyr the first, and up until now, last time. That seemed like a different lifetime, working as pathetically bad thief and runner for his clan. His path had lead him here again, but for the life of him he could not tell why.
The very ground itself seemed poisoned. For all the water and fertile farmland around the city, there was something deeper he could feel. The king's magic had wrought a terrible price for it's power, it was almost as if he could taste the defilement on the air. He could certainly feel it on the few spirits still around.
He wandered through the Warrens, Amdir found himself in the middle of a bridge. Here, the spirits whispered promises of death for any who lingered too long. Not from them, they cared little of the passing of the mortals around them, but from the locals, desperate as any waste raider.
From the other side of the bridge in front of him, a man, bloody and bruised, wandered from an alleyway. Snapped out of his revere, he makes his way over to him. But before he could reach him, 3 men, fellow elves it seemed, reached him first. Amdir doubted they were going to help him. Looking around, he noticed the other locals walking by quickly cleared out. He was honestly impressed by they seemed to melt away into the very walls. Amdir sighed again, trouble sure did like to find him, and knew which buttons to press to get him to respond.
"I think he's had enough for tonight, perhaps. You won't get anything form him at this point, just let him be."
3DS Code: 5043-2172-1361
Xbone Tag: Salal al Din
Kk'Thkk kept to himself for most of the trip. Caravans, or in this case a merchant cart, gave him the opportunity to both make some extra scratch and to experience the glory that is Primal Athas. It was ironic to him that he was hired on so many expeditions. Most caravans thought by having a Thri-Kreen among them they could prevent attacks from nomadic packs. Little did they understand that a pack attacked out of necessity. A member of their own race would do little to sway their actions.
Among this temporary clutch, Kk'Thkk held in highest regard the maginificent beast that was the crodlu. A beast of massive proportions, a prime specimen of his species, Kk'Thkk admired his power. Unlike most of his domesticated breed, this one still held in him some of his spirit, the fire that made him primal and wild. It was blasphemy that this one was being used as a beast of burden by such an ignorant soft-flesh.
Kk'Thkk spent most of his time outside his duty attuning himself to and caring for the beast. Sand rubbing his scales to cool and clean them.
The attempt of the "cart master" to connect with his guards nearly at the end of the trip felt odd to Kk'Thkk. Though admittedly no matter how much time he spent among them, much of human behavior seemed odd to him. They had barely spoken since hired on as a guard, other than when necessary.
Kk'Thkk kept his dejada held in one of his forearms as he walked, the smooth stone it used as ammunation nestled securely in the curved channel of its release. The great bone spur that served as his close quarters weapon was slung across his back.
Kk'Thkk focused his large shiny eyes on his employer, "Kk'Thkk will consume, and look for employ. Yes, does not like the cities much. Not good to stay still, must be free."
The wine shop was quiet, dark, private. It was why the two strangers had visited it that night, for quite different reasons.
Tiron's ritual mask – the mask of an order of primal mages, feared and respected by those that knew what it represented – glinted dully, the dark wood polished by sandstorms and the vicious sun. He sat near the door. A quick exit, he was learning, was sometimes necessary. A sudden flash of memory – memories – came to mind. Fleeing from a burning city; sneaking away from a monster in the form of an old man, a man named Gallard; being caught, dying, dying again, dying over, and over.
Not his memories. Not this time, anyway. He shook his head to clear the sudden fog.
Shaan sat at the back of the wineshop, fretting worriedly. She had said she'd be here at 8 – and it was 8.15. He knew he should have made the rendezvous himself, he always did – but somehow Kaala had convinced him. Something about it making more sense – Tolog knew her, trusted her. Damn her logic!
The flimsy wooden door flew open. Kaala! She darted in, her eyes wildly searching for something. A heavy clomp-clomp could be heard behind her. She seemed to make a decision, and darted to the robed figure near the door.
Tiron looked up as a woman – a girl, really – all but leapt to his side. She smiled, the panic still apparent in her eyes.
“Ah, old friend! Sorry I am late!” she said hurriedly, “I just HAD to get some dye for a new dress I am making – and the shipment was only allowed through the Caravan Gate an hour ago.”
Half-way through her monologue the clomping had stopped.
“SILENCE!”
A templar, wearing the flowing red cloak of Kalak, stood in the doorway to the wine shop. A mass of soldiers could be seen behind him.
“A vile traitor to this city – a danger to our safety – has been seen in this district!” he barked, his features cold and proud, “I speak of a Preserver! You know who they are – those who seek to take King Kalak's magic for themselves, and therefore put our great city at risk!”
He strode in a few feet, two other templars following. A squad of muls remained outside. The shop's few regular customers stayed silent and kept their heads down. The bartender stood tensely, his cleaning rag clutched tight in his fist. His eyes leapt quickly to the girl, but he didn't say a word. As he looked back to the Templar, a look of loathing filled his eyes – but he stayed silent, motionless, terrified.
“There will be a reward for any information – but beware,” the lead Templar intoned wheedlingly, “if I feel you are withholding information, you will all be punished – with enslavement.”
Zed and Cerb, your go.
Overcome with concern for his sister, who is obviously the individual sought by the Templars, Shaan contemplates rushing the group to cover her escape. When his wits return, however, he knows this to be a foolish plan with no chance of success.
Instead, he concentrates on the crowd around him. His sister's would-be accusers. Which of them might be the one to betray her to the Templars? He quickly scans the faces he can see for those who might be unscrupulous or opportunistic, or simply craven, enough to put her life in jeopardy.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Shaan looks around the bar, apparently nonchalantly. The bartender regulars all look terrified, but they hate the Templars - these are are proud folk, battered but not broken.
You cannot see the robed figure's face.
I remain seated. I examine the girl seated next to me, seeing the fear and panic in her, yet also seeing some sense of exhilaration. My breathing slows. Calm, deep breaths. My body and mind focussing and preparing for what seems all but inevitable.
Without even asking her, I know who she is really here for. I look over at the tall man in the corner of the shop. A fighter. Most people might not notice, but the way he carried himself betrayed his strength. Hopefully he will be able to calm himself. His nervous demeanor might give him, or the young lady next to me away. Although it seems unlikely, it is possible that the Templar's might be persuaded that the "preserver" could be found elsewhere.
I look around slowly, sizing up the three templar that walked in the shop. I try to get a feel for them, assessing any particular strengths or weaknesses. After all, knowing your enemy, is half the battle.
i look back at the girl next to me, trying to give her a reassuring look, trying to keep her calm. I have learned one thing for certain about this world from my memories.
Panic only gets you killed.
Tiron takes a quick, professional assessment of the Templars.
For Tiron:
Nikela tried to end the battle quickly and decisively by concentrating her defiling magic to gather at her wand. The power was there but she could not quite get it focused enough to do what she wanted to.
Shit! I must not be accustomed to Tyr yet! Well time for plan B.
Moving into a flanking position to the side of the wounded guard, shadows seemed to gather around her, making her outline hazy like a heat mirage.
She then raised her hand and one of the slaves pressing the guards and launched a black cloud of energy at him. Still out of sorts from her attempt it goes wide.
Well, shit. That could have gone better.
Stats:
Guard 1 (J3-K6) 42/47HP, AC 18, Fort 16, Ref 15, Will 14 (Reach 2)
Guard 2 (L3-L6) 27/47HP, AC 18, Fort 16, Ref 15, Will 14 (Reach 2)
Slave 1 (I9-J6) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 2 (K8-K7) 0/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11 Killed by Guard 1
Slave 3 (L8-L7) 0/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11 Killed by Guard 2
Slave 4 (N9-M6) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 5 (K10-J7) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 6 (L10-M7) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
All have Labourer's Resilience, and stay standing for a turn after being “killed”. All have Strength In Numbers, and gain +1 to damage rolls for each ally adjacent to target.
Nikela (K1-O3) 32/32HP, AC 12, Fort 16, Ref 12, Will 14, Surges: 11 (value: 8), AP: 0, Concealment from shadow walk
Slave 7 (I11) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 8 (J10) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 9 (L12) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 10 (M10) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
Slave 11 (N11) 1/1HP, AC 13, Fort 15, Ref 13, Will 11
All have Labourer's Resilience, and stay standing for a turn after being “killed”. All have Strength In Numbers, and gain +1 to damage rolls for each ally adjacent to target.
That's a rule - from now on, PCs are to describe actions taken in OOC at the end of their posty
The elf who had spoken to Amdir smirks slightly.
"All alone, cousin? Outcast, perhaps? Or was your tribe slaughtered? Or have you left for a holiday, to return with real Tyrian steel trinkets?"
The smirk disappears, and his fists go up. There is a groan from the dry channel - the half-elf has staggered to his feet, and looks to still have some fight in him.
Roll initiative, plus any diplomacy/power/etc based attempts you might want to make to forestall the fight. The half-elf is, more-or-less, a friendly.
Map:
Grey is the bridge - the dotted grey are the balusters, which now a DC 10 Athletics check to climb - it's 2d20 if you fall to the channel below. The black squares are slum houses and impassable - the alley passes between them.
The black line is the steeper part of the channel wall - DC 15 Acrobatics check to descend safely, 1d10 falling damage if you fall. There are gentle steps in M5, by the entrance to the channel.
"I am not here alone, perhaps you should leave before my friend shows up."
The trio looked at each other, then laugh at his pathetic attempt to scare them. "I've seen scarier babies than you. We're going to give you a nice old fashioned Warrens welcome. Hey you hear me wastelander?"
Amdir closed his eyes and muttered a few words under his breath. All three elves cry out a snarling, ghostly Inix appears in the middle of them. The lead man attempts to back away, but feels a prick on the back of his neck. Turning, he sees Amdir's spearhead at his throat.
"I won't repeat myself again."
Initiative: 1d20+1: 15
Intimidate: 1d20-1: 3 Hm I don't think this will be enough by itself... so
Minor: Call Spirit Companion at N5
Move: To N2
Minor: Draw longspear
I've never played a shaman before, can they change what their spirit companion is each time they summon it? It says you can chose what type it is, but not if it can change.
3DS Code: 5043-2172-1361
Xbone Tag: Salal al Din
Assured that his sister's secret is safe, Shaan once again scans the room, this time looking for potential allies. Or patsies.
It's wouldn't be the most honorable thing he'd ever done, but better a stranger be carried away than Kaala.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Shaan looks carefully at the other inhabitants of the wine shop.
There are three regulars plus the bartender; all share the same look of sullen loathing for the Templars. They will all know each other well.
The masked man, having seemed to accept Kaala to his table, is probably a relative stranger to Tyr; the mask is one unfamiliar to him, he carries no steel weaponry, and his striking appearance would probably have attracted more attention if he was a regular visitor. The Templars might well take him seriously as a patsy. Equally, he has shown himself friendly to Kaala so far.
The elf leading the gang leant back hurriedly as a cry came from below – the half-elf had swiftly drawn a dagger and taken a stab and at the elf who had been holding him, but missed completely, the sudden movement overbalancing him and leaving him almost defenseless. The elf on the steps had responded by drawing an obsidian dagger, and presently he takes his own chance, cutting deep into the half-elf's shoulder (5 damage).
The inix spirit turns steadily from a misty outline to a solid shape, and the third elf draws his own dagger and takes a swipe; he rapidly discovers his weapon poses no threat to the spirit, and moves rapidly to Amdir's flank.
The elf boss shifts forward, negating the reach of the spear; he then takes a swing with his right fist, crunching a massive straight to Amdir's face (Crit for 6 damage), before dropping his hand to his dagger. He draws it in a flash.
He proceeds to slash at Amdir's leg, drawing blood (for 6 damage). He grins viciously.
“What sport, cousin! Your parlour tricks might impress tareks, but I see more horrifying things in my soup every day!”
The half-elf regains his balance, draws away from his opponent's dagger and slides under the parry, nicking the thug's leg (5 damage). The elf responds by butting the haft of his dagger into the half-blood's chin (3 damage).
NEXT UP: Amdir
ON DECK: Elf 3
Stats:
Elf 1 (N4-N3) 39/39HP, AC 15, Fortitude 13, Reflex 15, Will 13
Elf 2 (M5) 34/39HP, AC 15, Fortitude 13, Reflex 15, Will 13
Amdir (M2-N2) 28/28HP, AC 13, Fortitude 14, Reflex 11, Will 15, Surge: 10 (value: 7), AP: 1
Spirit Companion (N5) (when shaman moves, may move an equal number of spaces)
Elf 3 (O5-O2) 39/39HP, AC 15, Fortitude 13, Reflex 15, Will 13
Map:
The cartmaster grunted.
“You know, bug, that might be the first thing I ever agreed on with a 'kreen. I ain't never understood the appeal of sititng in amongst all those high walls. Out here's the place to be.”
He turned to Severin.
“I've run in caravan down to Balic before. A democracy! What a crazy idea. Not a way to run business, that's for sure.”
He smiled happily. A short journey, good weather, under the radar.
“You know, best thing about running solo is that those damned long-sighted elf bastards ignore you. They guess you must be some Templar rider, and there's no bottom line in getting fried by Kalak's boys. You know, this one time out in the Ivory grrrrrgl....”
The fat man slumped forward suddenly, his wide-brimmed cap slipping off to the desert below. The reins slackened, the crodlu turned suddenly, and seeing its master dead, shook the traces off as if they were gossamer.
As the great beast ran off into the great white horizon, the cartmaster fell from the cart onto his back, spreadeagled. In the middle of his throat was a chatkcha.
1) Make any swift investigations you want. 2) Roll initiative. You know, just in case. Right now, you're in an apparently empty expanse of desert with a mount-less covered cart. Severin is on the buckboard, 'kreeny's walking beside. I'll post a map next post in this plot thread.
Cursing his luck, he stumbles back and orders his companion to strike the lead man. Perhaps being in this city had already effected it like it has the other spirits, and it's strike goes wide. Even when it quickly sweeps it's claws back again to try once more, it's blows go wide.
Opportunity Action: Spirit's Shield vs Elf 3 Reflex
Attack: 1d20+4: 11 Miss! Half-Elf regains 4 hp.
Move: Shift to O1, Spirit Companion moves to O3
Standard: Certain threat vs Elf 1 Reflex
Attack: 1d20+4 10 Miss! And that was decent damage too.....
Free: Eleven Accuracy Re-roll: 1d20+4: 11 Miss!
Oh come on, 2 7s and 1 6? Looks like I'm paying for my good rolls...
NEXT UP: Elf 3
ON DECK: Half Elf
Christ first encounters in Dark Sun have not been nice so far...
3DS Code: 5043-2172-1361
Xbone Tag: Salal al Din
Everyone in the shop seems to be sizing up the templars, same as me. It seems like no one wants confrontation, and so no one is willing to step up.
Unfortunately, it seems as though talking our way out of this situation, or leaving by some other means, will be the only viable solution. The templars appear much stronger than I had originally anticipated.
I close my eyes and quickly and SILENTLY offer up a quick prayer to Pelor, asking him for protection for myself and the other patrons of the shop.
After offering my prayer to Pelor, i take a deep breath. If no one does anything, everyone in here will be punished, and that is something I cannot allow.
"Sirs, I believe the one you are looking for ran out the back entrance." I lie. "She was in quite a hurry, and looked rather terrified."
I realize quickly that my bluff was shaky at best, and could quite likely get me into trouble. However, I remember the oath I took, and breathe calmly, praying silently that others will chip in to back me up.
Severin immediately drew his sword from its sheath and lifted his shield while trying to figure out where the attack originated from. "You have anything over there, Thri-Kreen?"
Initiative Check: 1d20+1 9
Severin gets a sense the attack probably came from somewhere, yknow, nearby. Somewhere within the square acre or so. Maybe. He's not so sure.
I lied about the map. After the 'kreen has posted.
Shaan watches the stranger's fumbling bluff to the Templars with great interest.
If this fool wants to get himself taken in, that's just fine. He'd best just leave Kaala out of it, though.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
The lead Templar eyes Tiron suspiciously, plainly unconvinced. Behind him, a couple of the muls enter, fanning out to the sides, wielding powerful warhammers.
"Would anyone else care to support this fellow's statement?" he says, a note of high-pitched mockery tinging his voice, "No? Well, I suppose everyone shall have to come in for questioning. Especially you, masked man. I will also require employment papers from all of you."
Yeah, so you don't have employment papers. Take a Streetwise check for more information on what they might be and what the consequences for not having them might be.
Shaan laments his lack of proper papers, and his sister's involvement with those accursed magic users.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Both Shaan and Tiron have some knowledge of the employment paper red tape. King Kalak recently introduced it as a bit of a fix - only nobles, merchants and favoured others are ever actually issued with these passes, which are magically recorded. There's been no known successful forgery so far.
There is no "punishment" for not holding employment papers; however, insomuch as it renders one "unemployed", King Kalak (in his beneficience) reserves the right to employ the "poor of this great city".
Right now, that means indenturement, building the ziggurat.
Cursing under his breath, Shaan wracks his brain for a rear exit or some way out of this establishment without going through the front door and the Templars.
As he does so, he moves slightly toward his sister, keeping to the movement of the crowd so as not to give her away.
They tried to bury us. They didn't know that we were seeds. 2018 Midterms. Get your shit together.
Amdir leapt back nimbly, but immediately had to defend himself against a jab from the elf now in front of him. Though he parries the blow, the force jars his arm heavily (3 damage). He looks behind him quickly - there is a high pile of rubbish and waste blocking most of the street behind him.
Meanwhile, the half-elf, rejuvenated by energies from the spirit inix, feints with his dagger before viciously kicking his opponent's knee (4 damage); in consequence, the elf's own thrust passes well wide.
The elf leader taunts Amdir, slashing at his face mockingly (3 damage), only aiming for the trickle of blood it produces.
Things are looking bad.
NEXT UP: Amdir
ON DECK: Elf 3
Oh man. I'm tempted to roll on Orokos and post my results here, as I swear, every elf hit has been on a 16+ roll.
Stats:
Elf 1 (N3-N2) 39/39HP, AC 15, Fortitude 13, Reflex 15, Will 13
Elf 2 (M5) 30/39HP, AC 15, Fortitude 13, Reflex 15, Will 13
Amdir (N2-O1) 10/28HP, AC 13, Fortitude 14, Reflex 11, Will 15, Surge: 10 (value: 7), AP: 1 {bloodied}
Spirit Companion (N5-O3) (when shaman moves, may move shaman's speed)
Elf 3 (O2) 39/39HP, AC 15, Fortitude 13, Reflex 15, Will 13
Map:
Backed up into a corner, Amdir quickly runs to his left, leaving his flank open to one elf so he can reach the relative safety of the narrow alley. Finally spurred into action, his Inix companion strikes his target.
Move: R2, provoking an OA from Elf 1+3. Spirit Companion moves to P2.
Standard: Defending Strike vs Elf 3 Reflex
Attack: 1d20+4: 15 Hit! By the skin of my teeth but it's still a hit!
Damage: 1d8+4: 7!
Minor: Healing Spirit, regain 7 hp to 17 total, before damage from the OA.
Now let's see if my luck can hold out on the OA and I can live through the dam prologue.
NEXT UP: Elf 3
ON DECK: Half Elf
3DS Code: 5043-2172-1361
Xbone Tag: Salal al Din