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[D&D 4E - IC] GIANT ANTS : "Ants aren't just for pants anymore."
tastydonuts
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◄G I A N T ¤ A N T S►
ITS FRAKKING ANTS, MAN: THE IC THREAD
¤ CAST ¤
Baern (Invoker, Divine, Dwarf, Controller) [Dortmunder] (Sheet)
Calls down divine light to kick ass in the name of Moradin... is anything else necessary?
Fruggle (Swordmage, Arcane, Gnome, Defender) [feeddannow] (Sheet)
A gnome's gnome, this little fellow compensates for his small size with his big heart. Don't ask him why his eyes are white.
Ginnaletha (Artificer, Arcane, Eladrin, Leader) [Cleonicus] (Sheet)
Character Summary.
Quinnten (Sorcerer, Arcane, Human, Striker) [SnowSquall] (Sheet)
Once a farmer, now a sorcerer, beware his frosty dragon breath.
Yarek Ironheart (Ranger, Martial, Dwarf, Striker) [Mike Danger] (Sheet)
Every group has a crazy survivor of some unknown horror that doesn't make sense at all. Yarek's entire village was killed by giant ants. Ridiculous, huh?
With
Dorin Elinanor (Bard, Arcane, Half-elf, Leader) [SniperGuy] (Sheet)
Enjoys women in three different flavors: good, unaligned, and evil.
[tiny]And hundred or so others…[/tiny]
¤ ¤ ¤
ITS FRAKKING ANTS, MAN: THE IC THREAD
¤ CAST ¤
Baern (Invoker, Divine, Dwarf, Controller) [Dortmunder] (Sheet)
Calls down divine light to kick ass in the name of Moradin... is anything else necessary?
Fruggle (Swordmage, Arcane, Gnome, Defender) [feeddannow] (Sheet)
A gnome's gnome, this little fellow compensates for his small size with his big heart. Don't ask him why his eyes are white.
Ginnaletha (Artificer, Arcane, Eladrin, Leader) [Cleonicus] (Sheet)
Character Summary.
Quinnten (Sorcerer, Arcane, Human, Striker) [SnowSquall] (Sheet)
Once a farmer, now a sorcerer, beware his frosty dragon breath.
Yarek Ironheart (Ranger, Martial, Dwarf, Striker) [Mike Danger] (Sheet)
Every group has a crazy survivor of some unknown horror that doesn't make sense at all. Yarek's entire village was killed by giant ants. Ridiculous, huh?
With
Dorin Elinanor (Bard, Arcane, Half-elf, Leader) [SniperGuy] (Sheet)
Enjoys women in three different flavors: good, unaligned, and evil.
[tiny]And hundred or so others…[/tiny]
¤ ¤ ¤
The Party
Chapter 1: "That Sinking Feeling."
Saccharine Plains - Western Road (Midday)
Where the Saccharine Plains kiss the Windhelm Mountains lies the town of Ambrose Hills. This town grew rapidly from its simple origins as a rest stop for merchant convoys making their way through the mountain range. Plagued by frequent bandit attacks, merchants of the convoys united to build this town, trusting each other with the safeties of their families. In time, more individuals would call the place home, and under the watchful eye of the Vespoidean Empire the town grew rapidly.
Today, the town is well known for its open-air marketplace, which is fed well by the gleanings of the three major trade routes that intersect there. Many visitors come and go, as do merchants seeking to sell their wares. Be it for trade, a job, or riches, the journey was long but your destination was in sight…
"Ambrose Hills, Vespoidean's wallet! I, for one can't wait to get there. Every time I run this convoy out, I say to myself, 'I'm gonna settle down this time and never leave!' And you know what happens? I'm back on the road! But this time is going to be different!" Dario the halfling ranger and convoy master says, while revealing his large teeth from behind his bushy handlebar mustache. It was the sixteenth time he'd repeated this exact conversation.
What about you, huh shortstuff? He would say next. It looked like it was the gnome's turn to hear it this time. All fifteen others in the convoy waited in anticipation. The road swung in close to a large hill up ahead. The trees on top stretched their branches far and wide into the sky. Off in the distance to your left lay impassible mountains, part of the reason why Ambrose Hills was so crucial. It lay at the entrance of the only pass through the Windhelm mountains. Once you got past the hill ahead, there would be nothing but endless plains to your right, yet again. The town's western fort lay several miles in the distance.
"What about you, huh shortstuff?" Dario says to Fruggle, as you all move along.
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
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"Bloody fool," Quinnten cursed to himself, loudly enough for others to hear. Here he was, in some sort introspective trance like some fool adventurer when he could have broken his damn, fool neck from tripping over some bloody piece of rubble. Snickering, Quinnten shook his head, bringing back his old sensibilities. He was focused right back on the here and now. He remembered why he was here and hoped that this time he might find something to end his curse. Then he could finally go back to his farm and his old life. That thought brought a bit more spirit into his step.
Quinnten noticed that small halfing in charge was reciting his same conversation to Fruggle, a rather interesting Gnome, for an adventurer of course. At the very least Quinnten, managed to somehow avoid having the question to put him, this time.
Shaking the cobwebs off, and smiling in an attempt to conceal the fact that he had tuned out the ranger, he replies with cheerful aplomb. "Oh I suppose it would be nice to get back home and enjoy a nice proper meal at the Hotel Inn... But honestly, Dario, I don't know why anyone would want to settle down." Fruggle entwines his fingers together and puts them behind his head, which he cranes back to look at the skies above.
"Out there is where all the excitement is. Adventure... damsels in distress... great big dragons... it calls to me. I know someday the bards are going to write songs about me. I just know it. Right, Dorin?" He gives the half-elf the all-to-familiar pleading look he always had during the trip ... usually to beg out one more song or one more bawdy tale before everyone turned in for the night.
He pauses his peeling as Dario opens his mouth again. Is that little fool going to do it again? he wonders.
As the halfling asks the question for the umpteenth time, the humor of the whole situation finally catches up to Yarek and he laughs openly and turns to Baern. "Father, wha' have we gotten ourselves into?" He slices the pear down the middle and hands the other half to the priest.
"Why wouldn't anyone want to settle down?" Dario looks around with mock surprise. The others in the convoy look away, for fear he would talk to them. A married couple's eyes linger on the ranger for just a moment, the husband standing between his mate and Dorin…
From his seat on the back of the wagon he straightened himself, blinking the sleep from his eyes and clearing his throat. It had been such a nice dream too...
"My son, I have spent the past few hours in deep conversation with the Maker himself! Put yer faith in Morradin and don't ask too many questions." He paused to scratch his beard. "And please refrain from interrupting my prayers in the future."
Baern lowered his head, closing his eyes and murmuring soft words which the ranger could not hear. After a few moments he cracked open one eye to make sure Yarek was no longer watching him, he smiled to himself, shut his eyes and leaned his head against the side of the wagon once more.
Still another hour at least. Now where was I? Oh yes....
Baern snored softly. Yarek politely pretended not to notice.
Fruggle smiled then, genuinely. Here he was, a hero (of sorts) on a triumphant return (of sorts) to his hometown. Visions of hot, sweet buns and complimentary bedding at the Hotel Inn danced in his head. If he just cocked his ear this way, he could almost imagine the throngs of adoring admirers cheering and calling out his name in a frenzy of awe and ... respect. He walked on a few more steps before once again coming to his senses. Feeling the odd stare that Dario had oft employed before in similar situations, Fruggle composed himself, but couldn't hide his beaming smile.
Sure, it's just a caravan. Sure, I'm just a guard. But look at these people ... they depended on me for protection, and I didn't let them down. And that one's a bard! That has to be a good sign! Avandra, thank you for this wonderful homecoming... nothing could be better!
"You don't understand. There's this woman, Fruggle." He twirls his slick animated mustache between his fingers, as he thinks about her. "Ah, my fair Sharalahasha!" The deva hostess of Hotel Inn. Dario proceeds to talk about how her legs go all the way up, but you recall after one drunken night of revelry her revealing to the group that she was a man in two of her past lives.
A rather large divot in the road jostled the wagon and sent a hammer clanging to the floorboards. Baern woke with a jump that nearly sent him to the hard-packed dirt road before he caught himself on the edge of the wagon's sidewalls.
Alright, alright, you've made your point.
Sighing heavily, he hopped to the ground and paced alongside Yarek, eyeing the pear that the ranger had just finished peeling.
"Did you know, my son, that the Great Smith looks favorably upon those who give of themselves in order to help others? A truly remarkable policy that elevates dwarfkind above the other races."
He muches on his pear quietly and looks back over into the woods again.
It was an enjoyable scene, for everybody but Yarek. He feels that weird, but familiar sensation yet again. Was it the normally undetectable hum of the enemy? His past experiences fighting their hordes had given him a sixth sense for such things. Sure, nobody had ever seen or heard of a giant ant before aside from him. But the scars he carried and ant blood he'd shed spoke a different tale. But what if it was something more sinister? The yammering of those around him grows muted as he starts to relive the struggles. Was he too late? Was it happening now?
"and I'll be the co-owner!" Dario says from the front of the convoy. He's talking to himself at this point. "Wait... did you feel that? It seems like the ground just shoo—"
If you'd like to RP it up with your roll, the ground beneath the entire convoy just collapsed to form a rather huge sinkhole.
Too slow, too slow, too slow! he thinks, as his feet stumble and he whacks his head into a cart.
Baern grabs hold of the nearest wagon as the earth heaves, tossing dust and rocks into the air.
I should have stayed in Gravelmint!
1d20+1 = 13
Our approach is so mighty, its as if we rode atop giant magnificent beasts. So wonderful is our power that the ground itself buckles before us! Wait a moment...
The pint-sized guard curses himself silently as he notices all-too-late that this is not a part of his idle musings, but instead some real danger. His self-abasement doesn't last for too long, however, and in the same split second, his anger turns into excitement.
Finally! A chance for real heroics! No doubt it's a dragon... a burrowing dragon!
Even as he scrambles, perhaps a little too late, for safety; wholly new images of a glorious combat begin to fill his active imagination. "How exciting!" shouts the gnome, in a maddeningly cheerful tone.
Chapter 1: "That Sinking Feeling."
Saccharine Plains - Hole in the Western Road (Midday)
The cave-in is quiet and sudden, its only warning being the ground shuddering for a moment. Viewed from a distance, it would as though you all just vanished instantly. The only sounds heard as you fell into the hole were your collective screams followed shortly after by the snapping of wood and glass breaking. All this was barely heard over Dorin's lovely singing voice as he graciously lands on his feet, unlike everyone else.
It was the Saccharine plain's moist and nutrient rich dirt hidden below the road's surface that spares the others a rather painful fall. The brittle and tightly packed road dirt jabs the rest of you in your backs and sides as you lay on the ground. Things were worse for Yarek though, the lower half of his body vanishing under one of the broken wagons. But even this seemed to be just an inconvenience to the sturdy dwarf.
Looking around from the bottom of the crater it appeared as though you fell 30 feet (6 squares) down. It was a peculiar void, and the only way out seemed to be to somehow climb up the walls. The other members of the convoy struggle in vain to do just that. The same soft dirt that broke your fall crumbled as they tried to scramble up the steep walls. They stop after a fairly large clump of dirt falls loose and buries one of them. (PNature [Crazy Survivalist] - Yarek: Success) Even as the stars leave his eyes and the realization settles in that he's pinned under the wagon, Yarek knows that this may just have been part of a storage chamber that could be used by the ants. The instability of the room's ceiling lead the ants to abandon it in their subterranean architectural genius. There were no openings or tunnels down in the hole.
Dario looks around as well, trying to see if there was some way out.
"Are you ok down there?" A gruff voice calls down to you from above.
We're into the weekend, so you can post now or wait. Updates on Saturday tend to be unreliable, but I do usually do a few on Sundays.
It took a few moments before he could collect himself mentally. He understood that he'd taken a rather long fall and landed hard on his back but was relatively unscathed for the most part. Although he still was in a world of hurt. Thankfully, in his fall he managed to keep his staff in hand and kept it from causing him any extra damage to himself. He positioned the staff upright and used it to help pull himself up. He was hurting a little bit everywhere, but nothing seemed to be broken.
Dusting himself off as best as he could--not that he minded having some dirt on him, but there's an awful lot of it--, Quinnten tried to take stock of what happened. The convoy had fallen into some sort of hole, but it seemed that no one was all that injured. That's when Quinnten noticed that Yarek was pinned under a wagon. Now here was a task that a man of right standing should be doing, not chasing around some strange land after some equally strange object, or something or other. Quinnten didn't seem to hear the person yelling from above as he can completely focused on helping out Yarek.
Quinnten, walks over to the wagon and proceeds to try to help to lift the wagon enough for Yarek to squirm out.
Athletics: 1d20+9 = 27
Strength: 1d20+4 = 5
"Are you ok? You look ok... let me find something to lever that wagon off of you..." Fruggle, who possessed considerable strength of mind, knew better than to try to take the weight of the heavy wagon by himself. Quickly, he set to the task of freeing his pinned travel companion.
If it's a burrowing dragon, it's probably a small one.. but we'll need every hand we can get to fight it off... Maybe it's mole-people... Fruggle stops momentarily in his search for a suitable lever and eyeballs the room for signs of mole-people occupation... probably not though.
Fruggle would try to Aid Another with the rolls (Rolling both, just in case)
Athletics (1d20+7=23)
Strength (1d20+1=15)
Dorin begins humming as he walks over to try and assist Yarek out from under the wagon.
"Ants, ants, goddamn ants," he moans. "We've got to....unnngh...."
Baern slowly opened his eyes. His entire body ached as if he had been the anvil in some overly-enthusiastic blacksmith's shop.
Sunlight gleamed down through the dust far above, and he could barely make out the silhouette of someone standing over the rim of the pit, calling down to them. The ringing faded.
Not yet then.
"Aaaarrrrrrrrrr!" he groaned as he slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, sharp rocks digging into his arms and hands. "What in Morradin's balls was that?" he asked to no one in particular.
Seeing the others gather to lift the wagon off Yarek, Baern scrambled to his feet on the loose stone and dirt and dusted off his robes with the palms of his hands, leaving small trails of blood.
"Blast!" he spat into his calloused hands and rubbed them together, grimacing at the familiar pain.
No one seemed to be seriously injured. Baern gathered up his pack and walked over to where his friends had gathered, using his Rod of Time Distortion as a cane to help navigate the scree that blanketed the bottom of the pit.
"Alright, all together now lads. Heave!"
"Ants? Must have hit his head pretty hard to think an ant can do something like this… Even Fruggle over there is bigger than an ant, " Dario says. Sensing that his help isn't necessary he takes a look around.
"Hm. There we go," he mutters, before walking over to the southeastern corner of the hole.
"I GUESS YOU'RE ALL DEAD. SEND THE QUEEN MY REGARDS." the voice up high says.
The remnants of the wagon's contents shift inside as it is slowly lifted by the group. You find that as you push off the dirt underfoot gives, but Yarek is ultimately freed.
A section of text in an update tagged for an Active skill requires an posted check to be made in order for its green text to be aware/known to your character, assuming your character can do the check. If it's marked with an "[Any]", anybody can attempt the appropriate check to be aware/know what the green text states. If the same skill appears more than once, ya gotta roll for each one.
Just how well the roots could support you is more of a nature check, btw.
"Ants," he says immediately, spitting. "This is the work o' the ants. We've got to get out of here before they decide to come looking for us, and then we've got to warn the town. They're all in mortal danger. Every second we dawdle may be another household that sleeps in the bellya the Queen tonight."
Yarek looks around the hole for a way out, but doesn't spot anything, his head still dizzied from the pain.
"Make yerselves useful and throw down a rope!"
"400 gold! No better yet, 600!" He responds. The voice seems familiar to Dario and Fruggle, but who or why the two were unable to determine.
Quinnten wasn't sure that he believed him. Ants could be a problem if each started to nest about in one area, but they were no more than a hassle really. Unless, he was referring to some sort of different adventurer type ant, then...Quinnten shook his head again, cursing under his breath.
Perception: 1d20 = 9
DC 20: Fail
Dorin yells upwards, "And we're not dead at all! Get down here and help out! Or at least get a rope down here!"
The Gnome watches curiously as Yarek clambers to his feet and listens with an equal curiosity about the ants that the dwarf keeps going on about. "Are you sure it's ants? I mean... they're usually quite small. Smaller than me, even, and I'm short for a gnome. I know a lot about being short, but maybe an ant could tell me a few things. Know what I mean?"
As he talks, trying to be friendly and establish a rapport with this curious and obviously world-weary dwarf. He's seen a lot of action in his day, but he doesn't seem the sort to go out and look for it. Maybe I can learn something from him...
"What are you looking for, a way out? That's a silly question, I guess. Unless you were looking for mole-men. I thought this might be the work of mole-men, and not a dragon, because dragons are generally too big I imagine to make a hole this size...."
Distracted by his own talking, and perhaps driving Yarek to distraction as well, Fruggle doesn't notice the roots, however he does pause at the sound of a very familiar voice...
Streetwise (1d20+1=20)
Edit to add the streetwise roll.
Baern does a double-take at the voice from above.
600 gold? This is no time for jokes...
"What the..." he turns back to the traveler, "What do you mean not well?"
Meanwhile, whoever is up top dangles a rope well beyond any of your reach. It seemed that they were on top of the hill. To the east, there is the sound of laughter now. There were others above, and you had the feeling that they weren't good Samaritans.
"We'll gladly help you. For 600 gold. Come on, we know you have it!" he answers Dorin. If they weren't going to help out, the roots would be the best option. Though he realized that the roots would maybe support the weight of one person at a time, if they were really light.
"Just you wait until I get out of here!" Dario yells up as the rope is tossed about.
You could try to convince the people above to help you out, or try and climb yourselves.
"You think this is funny? Do you? Dangle a sausage over a hungry dog and see if you don't get bit! And if that is who I think it is up there, how will your poor mother think about you when she finds out - and She Will Find out - that you coerced some hapless travellers out of their hard earned money before helping them?" Probably to the great suprise the wee man's carry a threatening edge to them, almost matched to the edge of the gleaming scimitar he carries in the belt-slung-scabbard at his waist.
"Now lower that rope - or so help Avandra, who protects the wayward wanderers - I will see how you like being cut down to size!" He crossed his arms then, and glaring up at the hole above, he waited for their reply.
Intimidation Attempt (1d20+6=19)
Yarek looks upwards at the speaker and then whispers in Fruggle's ear. "How are we supposed to pay them 600 gold from the bottom of this pit? I don't like this at all."
The dwarf looks around in exasperation, not having seen the roots that may lead to freedom, and begins pacing about, waiting to hear what those above say. As he walks, he tries his hardest to think of who might be up there--and what their aims, beyond the obvious, might be.
"I do my best to get along with all folks, of all types - some of them probably don't deserve it. But I can't stand it when people try to take advantage of other's misfortune. Sweet blessed Avandra," he remarks to the pacing dwarf, "I get ever so impatient with the likes of them."
Fuming and watching his travel companions and friends stuck in the hole, he seems to reach some internal decision. With a stamping of his tiny-booted foot, he declares "Fellows, would you mind giving me a boost... I'm going up there ... and by the wayfaring goddess, either that rope will come down ever so kindly - or they will. Without the kindness."
A determined look on his face, Fruggle sets to climbing the sheer wall, counting on a boost from his friends.
Anyone interested in Aiding another?
"Morradin has a special punishment in store for those who take advantage of others." he growled.
He nods to Fruggle "Go lad, do yer best. I cannot help you climb, but perhaps I can assist in other ways..."
Baern closed his eyes and grasped his holy symbol, a copper and tin hammer superimposed by a flaming anvil.
Hear me O' Great Maker, Master of the Adamant Forge, Father of Creation. You have tasked your humble servant to punish those who place themselves above your children for their own benefit. They are here Morradin, and they await your judgement. Grant me a boon so that they may know your wrath.
Baern raised his head and opened his eyes but quickly shut them once more.
Please and thank you.
Quinnten saw that Fruggle was going to try and scale the hole in an attempt to get that rope back down there. Quinnten's gut feeling was telling him that this situation wasn't going to resolve itself easily. Deciding to try and help out by distracting the folks above.
"So 600 gold you wanted," Quinnten yelled up above. The years of yelling across a field worked for him here as his voice was easily carried, "Now, what would that price entail? Is that for getting all of use out of there? Does it include the belongings that fell in the convoy? Will the payment to be before, during or after? And how will that be handled? Any particular pressing of coin preferred over another? And what of our passage to Ambrose Hills? Will that include safe passage?"
Quinnten hoped his flood of questions would be enough to distract the peopl above the hole so that Fruggle could get a better position to assess what's going on. Quinnten then waited, hoping to head or gleem some information from the group as he waited for the response.
Bluff: 1d20+5 = 20
Insight Check
Insight: 1d20+5 = 9
Off to the side as the nervous Yarek paces about, another of your fellow convoy travelers whispers to him. "Look. There's another way up back there." He points out another chunk of climbable roots and rocks that seemed to lead into an opening atop the hill on the southwestern corner of the hole.
"Gods damned every time I let you run the show you go and say or do something stupid!" his question is responded to by an extremely agitated woman "KRONG, THROW A DAMNED BARREL NOW!"
It was then that Fruggle and Dario realized why the voices sounded familiar. It Spencer's gang, a band of bandits that performed hit and run attacks on convoys. With you guys here, they wouldn't have bothered to risk an attack, but your predicament has given them new-found courage.
As Fruggle climbs the wall he sees a barrel held by monstrous looking hands, appear above the very top of the hill's edge. Then the face of an half-orc, Krong. "GNOME!" He shouts, then hurls the barrel down into Fruggles face. The poor gnome falls to the ground, and the barrel bounces towards Dario, who attempts to vault over it. He would have made it, if it hadn't exploded just as he was clearing it. The halfling ranger vanishes in a sphere of flames.
The explosion's shock wave ripples through the area, and causes more of the hole's wall to fall down. Fruggle is barely able to roll out of the way of several large hunks of dirt and rock from the upper level. The situation had gone from bad to worse.
"Alright! Listen up," A redheaded woman, peers over the highest edge. "Put all your coin and valuables in that front wagon, then move away to the back. You do that and nobody else gets hurt!"
The faces of at least ten leering thugs look down towards the lot of you. The civilians of the convoy begin to cower and move towards the west.
I didn't want it to damage you.
Basically he threw an exploding barrel down and hit Fruggle. It bounced off the gnome and Dario tried to jump over it but it exploded.
You can still try and negotiate or talk and try to set things up for the fight (Yarek was told there's another way up), or you can outright refuse. I'd recommend deciding your course of action in the OOC thread, and then running from there.
"I think he's hitting on your wife" Krong whispers.
Stealth (1d20+8=21)
Athletics (1d20+7=15)