Re: Chapter Four

[Ao]

Dwan leers down at the fallen Orc, flailing in the mud as its throat flesh sizzles and cracks like frying pork, in the nauseating spew of corrosive poison.

Artimus maneuvers deftly over them, his boots kicking mud into the eyes of the dying greenskins as he expertly forces his targets backward into the crackling energy building before Emelious...

The sea captain looks up, bracing as the dozen miners crash into their flanks, the whites of their eyes betraying emotion from bloodlust to terror -

- a true horde.

Custer, Dwan and Artimus charge backward, knowing the full fury of Valkur was brewing -

*KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*

Lightning crackles through the air, spreading like a torrent and cascading across the group of men. Mud kicks up, spraying them in the face as blood sprays briefly from instantly cauterized wounds.

The air stinks like a pig roast.

In a moment, Emelious stands in the midst, flanked by Artimus, Custer and Dwan.

Before them, fourteen corpses, and a cadre of dead orcs.

In the adrenaline, Custer looks to the north. There, he can see Kellar charging towards them, Pimli standing over a dishevelled mass that could only be the corpse of the ogre.

Swinging your view to the cave, you can see the six men, bows drawn, standing in shock and horror.

And then - they turn, and run.

=========+=====••=========

Ok guys

Between you guys (art cuss Dwan) the orcs were killed, and Emelious handedly took care of the charging humans

Jesus, that's the last time I rely on a horde to intimidate you

However, six men are charging away. They've got a good 200 feet of advantage on you.... So unless you guys are chasing them off into the underbrush on horseback, it's unlikely you'll catch them.

Let me know if you have any bright ideas. Otherwise, let me know what you're doing

Exp: +625 each for the combat, +25 for posting

Great job guys

[Kellar]

KRAAATHOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!

Kellar instinctively raised his Greataxe to shield his eyes and body as he ran toward the southern flankers. He looked out from behind his Greataxe to see orcs and humans flying through the air. The shockwave had killed them instantly. Poor bastards. The bodies hit the ground and rocks with a THUD! CRUNCH! and SQUISH! The archers at the cave entrance saw the horror of flying bodies and began their retreat. Olufsen had already spied their ranks and said, "Six left, we need to eliminate them before they can alert another post!" The ranger moved forward and drew two arrows from his quiver and fired! Attack Roll= 13+12= 25; Damage= 3+7= 10 Attack Roll= 7+12= 19; Damage= 8+7= 15

Kellar moved to Olufsen's side as he dropped Blood Drinker to the ground. Kellar removed large crossbow from his harness and loaded a bolt the size of a sapling. "I don't know if I can hit them. It's been a while since I practiced, let alone a moving target," he said. The Dragon sculpted maw was pointed high toward the targets. TWOK! Attack Roll= 7+10= 17; Damage= 8+8= 16

The two arrows from Olufsen found their mark, striking two of the fleeing archers, one died instantly, the other still ran, but with a hobbled gait. Kellar's bolt lazily honed in with a CRACK! and knocked the fleeing archer face first into the ground. No more movement, he was gone.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 13, 17

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#2 'D8' : 3

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#3 'D20' : 17, 7

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#4 'D20' : 11, 7

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#5 'D10' : 8

[Dwan Bolduum]

Dwan watches as his allies shoot down the remainder of the humans as they run away.

So much for saving the "prisoners" Emelious.  They must have really appreciated you blowing them up like that...  Dwan glances over with a ghost of a grin flirting across his lips.          Now on to phase two.

Dwan makes his way over to the cart and takes a look at it's contents, Mostly he is trying to see if the group would be able to hide in the back while allowing, one or two of the others to ride along.  

Olufsen, you should probably check on our prisoners to see if they may have gotten loose.  We are going to need them to pose as escorts.

=======================================
Dwan jokes and checks the cart.  **perception 7**

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Dwan Bolduum' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 4

[Emelious Storm]

Emelious kept his shield raised, fending off his attackers, as his compatriots cut down the orcs. His eyes darted back and forth between the two groups readying a charge into their flanks.

Any second now…

Emelious blocked a blow from a pickaxe.

“Now!”

The miners were charging, pickaxes raised. Dwan, Custer and Artimus pulled back as a hint of a storm crackled about the Cleric.

The miners reached him, and-

KRAKOOOOOOOOM.

A wall of thunderous force beat into the encroaching miners, pushing them back and toppling them over. None of them got back up. None of them stirred. Emelious watched as the remaining miners turned and fled, only to be brought down by arrows and bolts. The cleric dropped to his knees. Breathing heavily, and exhausted, he mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to Valkur.

“So much for saving the "prisoners", Emelious.” It was Dwan, “They must have really appreciated you blowing them up like that.”

Emelious looked up to see a wry smile on the Druid’s face. The Half-Elf tried to catch his breath.

“Yah, when they turned out to be servants of the mad god I sort of just improvised," Emelious uneasily surveyed the carnage surrounding him, “I’ve been told I have a knack for it.”

The Dwarf offers the Half-Elf a hand and pulls him to his feet.

“Now on to phase two.”

----

Emelious surveys the area, examining the guards and the miners.

“If we’re going to insinuate ourselves into their ranks, we’re going to need to look the part. So, I guess… grab a pickaxe,” the Half-Elf picks one up, “This one’s mine. I saw it first.”

----

[Perception to survey the area for anything useful: 9 + 6 = 15 ]

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Emelious Storm' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 9

[Pimli Prixus]

*KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*

The deafening explosion of thunder erupts from Emelious sending the miners flying in every direction. Pimli surveys the area, seeing the dead Orcs and Humans strewn about, as his companions finish off those fleeing. As he watches he sees arrows and crossbow bolts bloom in the backs of the runners.

They are quiet good at this, almost machine like precision in the execution, interesting

"Now on to phase two." Dwan says as he walks over to investigate the wagon. Yes that wagon can be most useful

Pimli walks over with Dwan and pulls himself into the back of the wagon bed, keeping an eye on the road to be sure that the guards up the road weren't alerted by the Clerics display of his God's power. He looks up quick to check the road but his mind gets stuck on the task at hand, Pimli forgets all about the possible threat up the road.

Humming to himself as he works the gnome begins the process of investigating the back of the wagon, walking back and forth pacing it off, moving ingots aside with his foot, judging its size and taking mental note of exactly how the wagon bed looks.

=======================================
Preception to watch the road for the guards from the next post d20+1=3
Investigation to judge the size of the wagon bed d20+6=17

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Pimli Prixus' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 2, 11

[Artimus DeLonde]

Artimus took a knee, whiping the black muck from his face launched skyward by emelious'  climhazzard of pith and flesh.

With some effort he heaved the heavy crossbow into place and took aim at the fleeing miners.

..Zteady-Zteady..

THWUMP....  

The heavy bolt cabered through the air, pegging a scampering muddy form square in the back, sending it to the ground.

Artimus loaded the device hurriedly for a second attempt at damning the miners escape.

THWUMP....  

The second missle flew , curving in air lazily, like a man rising to please his lover a second time- Less true than the first shot- but it was enough - the bolt of wood penetrated a second form lodging itself deeply in it's hips.

the edges of Artimus' eyes crinkled as a slow smile creeped onto his face leaning further to the right than the left.eep lines emerged around his chin.

A small victory in a dangerous land

===========================================
1d20 19 hit
1d20 13 hit

7 damage on one target
5 damage on the other
sorry I'm I don't know who's alive, but two of them are not happy

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 19, 13

[Custer Thickett]

Cuss huddled close to the ground and pulled his cloak tight over his face as bits of gore splattered around him.  He was thankful most of the bodies flew in the other direction, else he might find himself under one.

After the air settled, he rose and laughed to join Dwan and Emelious's conversation.  "This one knows dwarf magic better than a dwarf.  Heh, just like Dwan knows Anna's magic better than an Orc."

"Might be they heard us, yeah?  Me thinks they'll be coming this way to see what happened."

Cuss turns to look back toward the sound of thrumming bow strings.  He followed the flight of several arrows and quarrels as they felled the fleeing enemy.  The distance was incredible, leaving Cuss to wonder if he were outmatched among his friends when it came to long range accuracy.

He turns back and tilts his head while he stares at Emelious hefting 'his' pickaxe.  His eyes widen.

"We ought to wait for em claiming to be survivors.  We can say the attackers retreated back into the cave, no?"

Cuss glanced back to the fleeing enemy.  Two were hobbling injured, but still alive.  He contemplated not taking a shot, as missing would be embarrassing.  The selfish thought was a fleeting moment, as he quickly realized he'd draw more scorn for not taking the shot than if he simply misses.

He knelt and laid Olc and Maith on the ground beside him, then drew his father's old worn, 'cursed,' light crossbow from his over his shoulder.  He calmed his breathing as he flicked the safety plug free with his thumb, and tried to line up the long shot with the direction of the alpine wind.  Might be needing some help with this one, me Lady.

The quarrel almost immediately bent in the wind.  Cuss didn't watch it fly, and rather concentrated on the quick reload and release of a second quarrel.  That one he watched as he lowered the crossbow to rest.

10 and 16

He smiled as one of the limping miners collapsed. "Got one," he announced.
...

If any are willing, Cuss will offer to assist with disguise and deception to planning to make the party appear as survivors of the attack.  Rolling with advantage due to having a little time and possible assistance.  +8

22

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 14, 8

[Custer Thickett]

[Sorry for clutter, didn't notice two might make it until after I posted. +6, disadvantage for range.]

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 4, 17

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#2 'D20' : 20, 10

[Kellar]

Olufsen squinted again, and saw a couple of the rangers were still trying to escape. "Looks to be a couple left, let's finish them off. Osvald, what's the problem?" The ranger waited for a response and drew two more arrows and fired them off into the distance. Attack roll= 6+12= 18; Damage= 7+7= 14 Attack roll2= 6+12= 18; Damage= 5+7= 12 Both arrows found their mark in Olufsen's prey. Both were hit simultaneously and fell face first into the dirt. They remained still. "Never the matter, these ones are done for. What paln do we have now?"

................

Kellar saw a couple archers still plodding along in the distance. He moved closer to attempt another shot at them. "How many remain? Two? Three? I think I got this one," he said as he lifted the slide of his crossbow and locked it in place. Kellar removed another sapling sized bolt and loaded it. Again, the Dragon's maw arched slightly. TWOK! The bolt flew. Attack roll= 13+8= 21; Damage= 5+8= 13 It found the mark. It hit the fleeing archer in the right shoulder and sent him cartwheeling into the rocks. Orbaugh, look around for anything shiny.

Orbaugh started sniffing the air and looking about in a focused manner.

Kellar stowed his crossbow and returned to the others. "So what's the plan?"

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 16, 6

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#2 'D8' : 7

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#3 'D20' : 14, 6

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#4 'D8' : 5

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#5 'D20' : 14, 13

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#6 'D10' : 5

[Custer Thickett]

While Cuss laughed at his own satisfaction, one miner still hobbled further away.  Cuss glanced a smile towards his friends with bows and crossbows.  He looked back to the target.  The distance was nearing impossible for his bow.  One more shot would be all he could get off, but by the look of the man's stumbles, one is all it would take.

He ran his hand along the stock of the old bow, grasping the metal ring fashioned into his drawstring.  He jerked it back as he shoved the stock at a down angle, providing more leverage.  The string snapping into the trigger almost effortlessly as observed by others.  He then ran the underside of his leather bracer along the flight groove, hooking a quarrel.

Cuss judged the alpine windspeed, then shouted, "Five gold to the one that drop's em.  One shot only, yeah?"

Then, he loosed.  His quarrel arching high into the air and wind almost simultaneously with the missiles of his friends.

[Disadvantage for range on light crossbow, +6]
16

Custer bit his lip as he watched them fall toward the target.  He saw that his might fall short, dipping before the others.  He brought his left hand up to his lips and whistled.  The miner glanced back and stumbled on his injured leg, falling to the ground.  He saw the incoming shots and brought up his arm in a futile effort to shield himself as he screamed, then...

....

[Forwarding the 22 roll.]

Walking up the wagon and those in it, Cuss laughs off the results of his macabre entertainment.  "What?  Got to have some fun with it, yeah?  It's all so depressing otherwise."

He folds his hand crossbows and stows them on his hips.  Then he rest his arms in the loops of his belt and looks around the camp.  The true scope of the carnage set in.  He remembered the flying bodies at the gate of Esmeltaran, then the twitching dying bodies of his friends.  His face contorted into anger and he spat upon the ground.  "Me thinks they were all at Esmeltaran, no matter what that Duhrz says, yeah?"

Then he looks over the wagon and his friends efforts.  Smiling, he gives words to his ideas.  "Mayhaps we put some ropes or chains on the back here, yeah?"  Custer points, "An we make it look like a couple of us are tied up as felled prisoners, yeah?  Dwan and Kellar would do.  One said they had no Dwarfs with them.  We just don't actually tie the knots, and we lay your axe and lance in the back and covered with a big cloak."

"Then, we lay the Orcs in the back like injuries in the fight.  I can be up on the front with my symbol and a story.  An, Pimli.  Hmm."  Custer scratched his chin, then looked over at the ogre.  "Can you look like that?"  He points at the giant corpse.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 15, 10

[Ao]

[…Along the main road]

The wagon trundles roughly along the jagged ground, rolling through well-worn grooves in the earth that bleed mud and sediment as the wheels splash through.

Custer sits, guiding the horses in the front of the carriage as a lantern clangs loudly above his head. With each bump, the poor-quality iron light clangs against its iron brace obnoxiously. The sound is grating, against the silence of the dead wind that blows through this earnest mountain valley.

The air is thin, and Artimus sits quietly beside the halfling. The captain’s blond hair is caked with mud, a decidedly grimy look about him decidedly out of character. He surveys the landscape, looking off into the cavernous woods that blend harshly with the sudden changes in elevation, and the rocky terrain.

Eventually the trees become more sparse, and the road begins to wind along a shimmering stream that snakes slowly through the mountainous landscape. Here and there, you can see vestiges of civilizations or peoples’ past - an archway here - a stone pillar there. Clearly this is no mundane pass… others have lived and died here, many times over.



A flock of birds break from the cloud cover overhead, and Emelious can see them swoop low over the stream from the slitted window of the wagon. With him, Osvald and Olufsen sit a mock watch over Dwan and Kellar, who pose casually as beaten prisoners. Pimli hangs quietly near a pile of discarded clothing and burlap satchels, ready to disappear nimbly at the first time of trouble.

The ranger looks through the same window, speaking quietly to the cleric.

“This pass was home to the elves once, you know. Are you of Amn, Emelious? Perhaps your ancestors.” He muses idly, perhaps not expecting an answer.

Another shriek of terror from the orc prisoners nearly deafens you, the creature shaking and gasping in a feverish state of psychedelics. The torturous mushrooms have silenced the other one, who sits in a near coma, staring out from watery, red eyes into the light of a candle that burns atop a barrel.

Olufsen turns from the sight, staring out at the horizon.

The setting sun finally breaks through the dense cloud cover overhead as the wagon trundles across the river. It is here that you can see a large castle tower rising up in the distance, at the narrowest part of this pass. In the late day light, you can see lanterns shining through the windows in its’ upper floors. Clearly, the guard post.

[…]

The wagon pulls up closely, and Custer can see the guardsmen striding towards you from out a wooden door. Above them, on a walk path circling the upper floor of the tower, two men stand idly with bows in their hands.

The guards, a man and an orc, walk casually to the wagon, looking up at Artimus and Custer.

“Back from the mountain’s feet?” says the man, a portly fellow with a nasty scar in the corner of his mouth. His bald head betrays a fat face, terminating in a set of jowels that wobble as he speaks.

The orc stares sullenly at you, as the man speaks.

“We weren’t expecting anyone until tomorrow. What business do you have in the Twin Towers?”

He looks up at you, waiting for an answer.

==================================

Ok guys, you’ve arrived at the first guard post. Custer and Artimus are riding in the front, atop the wagon. The rest of you are in it.

This is not the Twin Towers of the Eternal Eclipse, by the way. Just a guard post tower, made of stone, in the middle of a narrow pass.

The orc and the fat man are standing on Custer’s side of the wagon, while you can see two other men standing atop the walkway outside the tower.

The tower is relatively large, however, and its likely that there are more inside.

You need to pass through a portcullis (currently raised, not lowered) set into the tower about 50 feet ahead, in order to pass to the other side.

Those of you in the carriage, the shrieking is becoming louder from the one orc that’s severely hallucinating on the mushrooms. He’s beginning to rattle his manacles and shake his head violently.

The sound will likely be able to be heard outside in a moment.

Definitive actions guys, wanna keep moving forward at a brisk pace.

EXP: +25 for posting. +100 for pegging those last 5 guys.

[Custer Thickett]

At the tail end of a long drawn out sigh, Cuss comments, "Wagon's not so bad, no?  Me thinks it better than that old ass I was on out of Imnescar."  He looks up to the Captain for an answer, smiling at the mud covered man.  

"Now that I think about it, ya kinda favor her, DeLonde."  Cuss uses his left hand to motion as if he were stretching his nose into a snout, "Right here, yeah?"

He winks and his smiles broadens, to lighten the jest.  

After a laugh, his tone turns serious.  "I need a favor, Captain.  Might Pelegar have another Fist?"

Cuss turned his attention forward as he explained the purpose of his question.  His dialect was more refined than normal.

"I need to get one to somebody I can trust in my House.  Word from Pelegar is that my sister is still missing, along with my father."

"With no Thickett in Esmeltaran to tend to the estate, I fear that it is only a matter of time before everything Lincoln Thickett built is plundered to ruin."

"He'll never let me find peace if that happens."

...

Cuss nods at the portly man.  "He say bring these two up from the poisoner's pins.  Say they know things Grol want to hear, yeah?"

[Decption +5]
13  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 8, 4

[Emelious Storm]

Emelious sat in the back of the wagon. His shield laying face down at his feet. The men they would encounter probably wouldn’t recognize the symbol, but the Cleric’s risk taking quota was decidedly filled for the day.

Instead, he loaded up his hand crossbow, and set to faux guarding their “prisoners”.

“This pass was home to the elves once, you know,” It was Olufsen, “Are you of Amn, Emelious? Perhaps your ancestors.”

“Maybe… I myself am not. But I think I’ve heard of a relative a few generations past. The Storm family is known for it’s shared Elven and Human heritage. My mother and father weren’t the first.”

--

“Back from the mountain’s feet? We weren’t expecting anyone until tomorrow. What business do you have in the Twin Towers?”

“He say bring these two up from the poisoner's pins.  Say they know things Grol want to hear, yeah?"

Good lie, hopefully they’ll believe it.


----
EDIT:

If they don't appear to believe Custer, Emelious will interject.

"Hey, do you really want to be the reason vital information is held up? I know I wouldn't. Get out of our way."

[Deception: 19 + 6 = 25 ]

----

Sorry for the short post, have to get to work!

[Artimus DeLonde]

"At the tail end of a long drawn out sigh, Cuss comments, "Wagon's not so bad, no?  Me thinks it better than that old ass I was on out of Imnescar."  He looks up to the Captain for an answer, smiling at the mud covered man.  

"Now that I think about it, ya kinda favor her, DeLonde."  Cuss uses his left hand to motion as if he were stretching his nose into a snout, "Right here, yeah?"" - Custer

"Heh"- Artimus tittered abruptly, his eyes closing as he let out a single chortle.

"I zhink in my ztate, Not even your azz would have me mon ami."

"Besidez, an azz iz a beazt not to be taken from the Znout, but from behind non?"

The Mariner let the vulgar double entendre hang in the air, a wry smile crackling some of the dried dirt on his chin.

"I need a favor, Captain.  Might Pelegar have another Fist?" - Custer

Custers words chimed with a genuine concern rarely expressed so openly by the wry Halfling. His tender heart was shaded in a cloak of sarcasm, quips and sometimes anger. Traits understood clearly by the mariner, enjoyed, even. Custer had never in their time together asked anything of him- the mariner was inclined to listen. Custer had earned his favour.

"Hmmmmm In truzh zhiz would be normally be impossible, but I rezpect you doing what you can to keep your fatherz holdingz togezher. You have knowingly rizked zhat to be on zhis mucky road with uz---"

"Saving the world" Artimus said a playful sarcastic tone twirling his hands about in jest.

I muzt admit, I have an zelfish interezt in the zuccesz of zhe Zhickett Empire, You Cuzter and Your resourcez and your connectionz are powerful indeed and would erve us all well zhould they ztay ztrong.

Zo Who do you have in mind -?

=========================


At the Guard tower
----------------

Artimus eyed the portly man. despite the man's weight The scar on his face wasn't from an over ambition bid at a fresh pork chop.

He had seen battle.
Artimus raised a hand, "Enough."

"Zhis fine fellow doezn't know the zeverity of our zituation. He look like he can take the truzh.

We can truzt you, non? - to keep this quiet, we do not need a panic.

In zhe minez, zhe workerz have un covered a ztrange muzhroom.

Zhey zhought nozhing of it at firzt, -- zhey were wrong."

"All zhat come into contact wizh the capz become quite mad, wracked with pain and fear,  we have two that were exposed to the spores with us, in rear.  

You can hear them now. writhing in a world of confusion and pain.

We have zome of the grey funguz too... you would like to inzpect zhem, non?"

Artimus continued enthusiastically, motioning for someone to pass the deadly polyps forward.

===================
deception 1d20+3 = 22

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 17

[Custer Thickett]

With a renewed smile, he looked back up at the captain. "Thank ya for hearing me out, yeah?" Then he scratched his chin, "I'm still working it out. Donal can be trusted, but he's too quick to anger in a tight spot. Thinks he can solve any problem with his hammer, no? Skinny Pee is much more level in his approach, and knows damn near everybody in town. He runs, uh, ran our tavern, Badger's Borrow. Thing is, he can't be trusted. Big mouth, yeah?"

Cuss sighed and turned back forward, "If not for the gate, I'd know just who." He tried not to get stuck thinking about Erlen, and focused on others in town that had worked with the family. His father had always encouraged him to trust nobody, and most of the drama that marked Custer's past supported Lincoln's reasoning. His dreams often reminded him of those betrayals.

He wrinkled his nose and then swallowed hard. It might do best to just have somebody serve as an embedded messenger. He knew who he wanted it to be, but he also suspected Artimus would not like it.

"Ya said the Trios Pistoles was headed back to Esmeltaran, yeah?"

"Might be Ara is the best for this. He knows the city, and..." Cuss stopped himself. "No, no they might think he's a puppet for the Shadows when they find out he was their padfoot."

Cuss sighed again. "Cecil then. He'll tell Donal and Skinny Pee that he's in touch with me, and I told him to be the go between until I get back to town, no? The boy's weak, sure. Might be that'll keep him alive among mine. They'd see him as too scared to double cross or steal."

"Truth be, might be ya know better than me. I know me people, sure, but I spent most me life taking orders from me father. I've never led a group larger than this one, and it was always for his purposes."

[Kellar]

Kellar laid down in the wagon, his lance next to him. He was ready to act if something happened with the guards. He could barely make out the conversation over the two orcs gone mad. He laid as still as he could on the wagon, he concentrated on the scales remaining hidden from sight while Custer and Artimus hustled their way through. Kellar felt Orbaugh shiver and snort on occasion. The pseudo-dragon had fallen asleep on their cart ride. He looked at Pimli.

"If it sounds like there is trouble, look for the sentries near the top. I'll focus on the door in case there are more inside," he whispered.

Stealth Roll= 18+6= 24; Success!

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 18

[Ao]

[Deception results, Artimus & Custer]

The two guards look up at the swashbuckler and his halfling companion, eyeing you incredulously. The sun burns on the horizon, the peaks of the Small Teeth illuminated brilliantly in this mountain valley. The air is crisp, and the sentries above on the tower walkway pay a cursory amount of attention to the altercation fabricating below.

The human guard purses his lips together, recoiling slightly as Artimus presents the foul fungal spores.

“Bloody gods of Toril!” he shouts, leaping backward.

“I know wot that is! Keep it away from me you lout. Go on then, get on with you!”

They turn around and head back for the tower, as you trundle past them…

[…]

The main road is situated snugly between two perilously steep and jagged valley walls, and you instantly know that this means of passage would be far less treacherous than trying your hands (and boots) at the wilds around it. As you bump along the ridge, vast canopies give way to panoramic landscapes of harsh and murderous territory, where elevation changes near instantly, and thick underbrush chokes every path.

It is a beautiful sight, dotted with vibrant, verdant greens and the purple mists of late day. But tracking through such lands would be a feat befitting only the most legendary of rangers.

You roll through the second guard-post as effortlessly as the first. It seems more of an outpost for hunters than a proper checkpoint, and they wave you through nonchalantly, assuming the previous gatehouse accounted for the more serious bits of your credentials.

The third is much the same, another gatehouse with a similarly receptive group of black-cloaked guardsmen.

A one-eyed troll stares at you as you rumble past. His mouth curls up into a sneer, but lets back down as soon as Custer is out of sight…

[…]

The fourth and final gatehouse winds through a high pass, only a small cabin with a single black-helmed steward. The air has gotten significantly colder at this high elevation, and as your wagon comes to a halt you find yourselves wishing for a warm, fur cloak.

Beyond this pass, you can see them. The Twin Towers of the Eternal Eclipse.

They are nestled perhaps two miles ahead, down the main road that disappears into a ring of tents and wagons that spans out from the towers in all directions. A town of brigands and worshippers of the dark god.

“What’s your business, then?” asks the guard, standing from his rickety wooden chair. He holds a hooded lantern in his hand, giving off a good deal of light in the fading day, as the sun disappears beneath the horizon.

The towers are illuminated brilliantly. Tall, black structures, made of impossibly smooth surfaces. They stand a few hundred meters apart, mirror images of one another. A single, long bridge connects them at the highest floor.

“Your business?” Says the man again, as you stare off into the distance.

*SWOOOOOOOP*

Your breath is nearly taken away as an enormous black blur swoops impossibly quickly over the carriage, flying at breakneck speed towards the towers.

It is a huge, winged creature, bearing a rider that hoists a lance at its side. At first, Custer thinks it is a dragon. But the wings are more batlike, and the body like that of a lion.

“Ah, haven’t spent much time up here I take it.” says the guard, relaxing slightly as he watches the beast become smaller and smaller, finally landing atop the bridge between the two towers.

“You’ll get used to those. The manticores. Lord Keisan keeps a half-dozen of them for his high priests. And Lord Grom of course. Could barely find a beast large enough to hold up that tower of an orc, to be sure.”

He pauses for a minute, surveying the landscape. Then he turns back to you, his face softened. In the excitement, he seems to have forgotten that you did not answer with your intentions.

“What’re you carrying, ingots? If you’re headed to the forge, ye’ll be taking the northwest trail. Takes you along the western fringe of the tents, down into the caves. Don’t drive the damn wagon past the boulders though, for Cyric’s sake. The last idiots that did killed a half-dozen blacksmiths. Leave it, and let the trolls carry the burden down.”

He looks past your wagon. Your eyes follow his, and you can see another wagon is following behind, perhaps two or three miles back down the path.

“If yer dropping anyone off in the tent barracks, take the north trail. Right down the middle, continuing on the main road. Take you right into the tents, and you can report to Zolusar. He’ll get ye to work detail.”

Under his breath, he curses. The wagon behind you is having trouble navigating the road, and it’s edging perilously close to the chasm.

“Those fools are gonna kill themselves. Bah. When you’re done with yer horses, make sure you drop ‘em off at the stables. That’s along the northeast pass. Don’t just dump the damn wagon for the orcs to figure out. That’s how they get loose, an’ then we gotta chase em into the wilds. An’ if Lord Keisan finds out we lost another beast, the laughing god’ll be dining on all our souls tonight.”

He palms his face, watching as the wagon behind you stops moving.

“Idiots. Probably lost a wheel. Go on with you then, I’ll have to walk down and give them a hand.”

With that, he waves you on.

======================

EXP: +100 each for Cuss and Art’s great deception

Ok guys, here you are. The mountain pass of The Twin Towers of the Eternal Eclipse. The seat of Lord Keisan.

The two towers are in the midst of a “town” of tents and wagons. Hundreds - if not a thousand - of them circle round the towers in the rough landscape.

Only a few scarce copses of trees and ponds interrupt them, in fact. It’s clear that Keisan’s force is formidable.

The guardsman told you of the different routes into the camp and around it.

Northwest - to the ‘forge’ - whatever that is
North - to the ‘tents’ - right into the heart of the camp
Northeast  - To the ‘stables’

Pick a path, let me know how you plan on proceeding. Let’s have a big week, fellows.

Ao

[Dwan Bolduum]

After the orc leaves to investigate the broken cart behind them, Dwan looks around to verify that there is nobody in listening distance.

Now, I know I wasn't with you all when you first had to deal with Keisan, is there anyone in this camp that could identify any one of you?

(if no)

I suggest we take the center of the camp, we'll be closer to the entrance of the towers and we could continue this prisoner's farce to get us into the tower.  

(if yes)

Damn... we should take a round about way to the towers. I'm not liking the idea of facing of with several manticores, maybe we should have a chat with one of the keepers at the stables see if they have some way of subduing the creatures.

(regardless)
Dwan recalls his knowledge of manticores and relays what information he knows to the group.  (nature roll - 6)

We should move with haste, every moment we spend out here is another moment that we can get caught.


================================

If nobody would recognize group Dwan votes tents. If someone might be recognized Dwan votes stables.
Dwan spouts off his minimal knowledge of manticores. 6

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Dwan Bolduum' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 3

[Kellar]

Kellar laid motionless under the pile of ingots and tattered odds and ends. The manticore passed over them. His heart raced. Not deep enough to be a dragon. He heard the guard mentioned the beast, and Grom. He was at Esmeltaran, riding the dragon... The guard left them after explaining the different areas for them to go to. Kellar spoke from his hiding place. "We have the ingots, I say we venture there to see what they're making. Plus it may be expected that fresh supplies are to be arriving."

Now, I know I wasn't with you all when you first had to deal with Keisan, is there anyone in this camp that could identify any one of you?

Kellar thought for a moment. "I don't think there would be any here that would recognize us. Although I don't know how many here were at Esmeltaran when it fell. I would suggest that we remain near the perimeter of the camp, and assume smaller roles instead of walking through the very heart of the camp." Kellar shifted slightly in his spot in the wagon.

"Is it agreeable? Make way for the forges (see what's being made), then see what the stables can provide? It keeps us out of the heart of the camp and reduces the chances at being spotted or recognized by others," he said.

Actions:

Kellar will suggest remaining on the perimeter of the camp.
Kellar will want to check out the forges to see what the ingots are for.
Kellar will follow a better alternative.
Orbaugh will keep an eye out for threats or other points of interest.
Kellar will try to blend in as best he can. (Kinda hard being tinted blue)

Perception= 17+4= 21 (Orbaugh)
Stealth= 12+6= 18 (Kellar)

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 15, 17

--------------------------------

#2 'D20' : 12

[Artimus DeLonde]

The Mariner squinted as the burning sun peaked between the two ebon towers. The burning orb warmed his skin, a reprieve from the cold dry air that cut thought narrow paths routing through the deadly peaks.

The kindly face of the black cloaked road warden was off-putting. In a sea of Cruel sneers, blackened Murderous eyes and orcish figures that toiled under menacing Ogres, this man stood out from the rest.

How did men distance from their mind the vileness they pledged their fealty to?

It was a questioned that plagued the Cormyrian. It was a hysteria he knew too well.

Artimus could not condemn them entirely; he was guilty of the same sin. Blinded by a lust for freedom and fame. It seemed an age ago, that man seemed a stranger. But even now he knows that a young, selfish, angry man still lurked in his psyche.

Uttering quiet self-indulgent whispers. The ungenerous voice of a mercenary.

The narcissistic voice of a killer.

A voice that Artimus was committed to giving no heed to. Yet there it was, speaking is raspy hushed tones emanating from the dark cavern in his chest that kept him anchored in that black beyond that waited from him in death.

Was it even his voice? Or another’s?

How could he know?

It didn't matter what was true, only what he did.

Who he chose to be.

The bowl shaking cry of Manticore tore Artimus from his deep musing. A shock of cold fear ran from his feet to his manhood, causing his ingots to retreat into his abdomen.

As the covered wagon trundled into the camp, whispers between the drivers and those in the cabin shot back and forth.

“I agree we zhould make for zhe ztablez- It may zeen prudent to try and hide however often it iz bezt to hide in plain zight.. 'Act like you belong and no one will queztion you'.”

“While we try to find out more about zhe Manticore perhapz we can alzo find out who comez and goez from zhe tower.”

“We muzt azk ourzelvez, what iz our aim here.- if it iz to try and obtain zhe compazz, and we believe it iz in zhe tower perhapz a reazon to approach zhe tower would be enough and maybe a diztraction to lezzon any attention we might receive. “

“Perhapz we looze every horze in zhe ztable....”

=========================================
Artimus is game to head to the stables and will try and cautiously gather information about who comes and go from the tower
Some roles

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 17, 13

[Custer Thickett]

Cuss turns his head to whisper back to Dwan, "The way Duhrz tells it, most we know from the Soulwood are at the other camp with Kurn.  Grol would know us, though.  Might be he flies over and recognizes us when we are out on the ground, no?  Be that as it may, best we take the ore to the Trolls and find some way to rid ourselves of our paralyzed passengers, yeah?"

He flicks his wrist to snap the reigns, and the wagon lurches forward.  Cuss glances to Artimus and mumbles something about manticores.

[Ao]

The wagon rolls out of the camp, travelling for a time before the ground begins to level out, and the northern road splits into three distinct trails.

At this juncture, you can see the towers silhouetted beautifully across the dusk sky. A ring of fiery red hugs the panorama of the mountain tops, the sun all but gone. The first stars begin to twinkle in the sky, while lanterns from the sea of tents begin to light the distance like fireflies.

Olufsen coughs, knocking three times on the inside of the wagon to slow you to a halt.

The ranger exits the back of the wagon, followed by his nephew Osvald. He stretches, slinging his bow across his back and moving swiftly to the front.

“Friends, it would behoove us to travel in smaller groups. There are already eight of us. Osvald and I will depart, taking the poisoned orcs with us. It’s likely that we can dope them up a little further, and dump them somewhere outside of camp.”

Osvald nods alongside his uncle, the silent ranger staring broodingly at Custer. He pushes his greasy locks out of his face.

Olufsen continues.

“Osvald and I will infiltrate the stables. It’s a good idea, captain Delonde. In an hour, we should have made our entry. As soon as the moon rises fully above the mountain’s teeth, we’ll loose the distraction. Hard to say what kind of impact you can expect, but we’re not above burning the whole thing to the ground to buy you some time.”

He coughs into his arm, pulling his cloak up over his head.

“Death follows us all, fellows. If we do not see you again, then it has been good serving the gods of light alongside you. Osvald and I will make for the tower as soon as the calamity begins. If we can, we’ll slay Keisan and recover the compass. I hope that we shall meet in that dark place.”

He turns around, disappearing down the trailside into a copse of trees. Osvald lingers for a moment, looking sullen.

“Luck be with you, fellows.” he says quietly. And then follows after his uncle…

[…]

Artimus and Custer sit atop the wagon, navigating down the darkened path towards the forges. To your right, you can see the edge of the tent-town surrounding the tower. The glimmering of lanterns catching your eye.

The path leads downward into a small valley, lined with hotly burning torches and braziers. And now, you’re looking upon a rocky clearing where a dozen wagons are parked, trolls hauling bags of the black ingots from out their carriages.

Perhaps two dozen or so human and orc labourers walk about, or sit casually against the wagons as the trolls work.

Beyond them, there are four rectangular entrances borne into the mountainside. The trolls are walking into and out of the doorways, depositing their satchels full of ore.

A fat goblin is speaking to you now, however.

“SLOW DOWN I SAID!” it screeches in an unholy, common tongue. The beast is cloaked in what looks like a black tablecloth, with an enormous brown belt too big for its small body cinched awkwardly around a fat gut. The goblin is flanked by a large troll, who carries a club slung in its belt.

The goblin approaches.

“Wagon thirteen? You weren’t due for another hour or two. What have you got for us - half a wagonful?”

He and the troll walk around aggressively, peering into the back of the wagon. Kellar, Dwan and Pimli hold their breaths as they look in…

[Perception; failed]

They walk back around the front of the wagon, the goblin tittering.

“Where’s the rest of your crew? Those lazy louts head back to tent town already? Gods, and you humans call goblins lazy. LAZY! Imagine that!”

He spits, motioning down the hill.

“Park the wagon, and don’t go far! Won’t take these trolls longer than a quarter-hour to unload this miserable payload you’ve brought in. Lord Echthroi will hear about this, wagon thirteen!”

His teeth twist into a nasty grin, the blackened mouth dripping saliva.

“On with you!”

And he turns round, waving his torch defiantly.

==========================

Ok guys, you’ve come into an unloading area for the forge. There are six other wagons parked in this 100-foot wide clearing, which is rocky and bouldered.

The other drivers and wagon teams aren’t doing much. Some are moving supplies about, but most are talking and socializing as the trolls pull out bags of the black ore and walk towards the four entrances.

Actually…

You see that once of the entrances is not being used by the trolls, as you pull in. There appears to be some damage to it, as well. As if a wagon ran through it. Perhaps the same entryway that the previous guard on the mountaintop was alluding to.

Two trolls are pointing at your wagon as you come in to park. Looks like they’ll be coming over to unload. How do you plan on proceeding?

Stage:
Half a dozen wagons
100 foot rocky clearing
about two dozen drivers and wagon teams
about ten trolls unloading black ore
four mine doorways the trolls are disappearing down

To turn around and leave, you’ll have to go back through the goblin ‘checkpoint’ again

Let me know what’s next! If you end up in a fight, Ill stat out the whole clearing.

EXP: +20

Ao

[Emelious Storm]

Emelious enjoys the cool breeze of the wagon ride. It feels good just to sit outside of a cage for once, even if it is through enemy territory surrounded by hundreds of potential hostiles. Orc, Orc, Orc, Human, Orc, Troll, Goblin… at least the Mad God didn’t discriminate.

The Cleric looked over his new found comrades, odd to think that he had just met them earlier that day. And now here he was, in the middle of an enemy war camp, trying to save the world.

Emelious imagined how things would have been different if the caravan had made it to Tethyr. Where would he be, meeting with Tethyrian captains, sharing a drink and a laugh aboard their ships? And where would his new friends be? Would their journey have been harder without the Wizard and the Cleric? Would they have been able to complete the mission that was set before them? The Half-Elf scanned over the group’s faces. There was a wariness there, but also determination and courage. These men… they would see this to the end.

This wasn’t something Emelious thought, but instead something he knew.

And he would be right there with them.

[Custer Thickett]

His eyes glanced about left and right as Olfusen explained that he and Osvald were leaving.  Cuss would have been upset if not for their taking the Orcs.  At least somebody has a plan in all this, no?

Cuss caught Osvalds glaring stare out of the corner of his eye.  It drew his attention.  He wondered if his friend were mad at him.  It probably wasn't the first time, but here?  Now?  Cuss winked at him, and pursed his lips in a mock kiss.  It was a gesture that had nearly gutted him one drunken night at Bashful's, and as he did it he wasn't sure how Osvald would respond.  That was the point really.

Death follows us all, fellows.

"That's the damned truth." Cuss blurts out.  Olfusen doesn't pause, and as he turns to walk away, Cuss turns to fully face Osvald.  "We'll be there, Lord Hale.  Take care of yourself, yeah?"

Luck be with you, fellows.

Cuss turns back forward and flicks the reigns with his wrist.  As the wagon lurches, he mumbles in Halfling, "Is dúthracht an máthair go léir luck maith (Diligence is the mother of all good luck.)"  He grips his symbol of Waukeen and quickly plants a kiss upon it before tucking it under his armor.  

He dropped the symbol of Cyric over his head, and rested it upon his chest.

...

“SLOW DOWN I SAID!”

Cuss's face contorts and head bobs from side to side as he mocks the Goblin, mouthing 'slow down I said' in the same fashion as an annoying human teenager.  Matching the demeanor of his target was almost second nature.

Wagon thirteen? You weren’t due for another hour or two. What have you got for us - half a wagonful?

Cuss laughs and starts to tell a story loud enough for all the wagons to hear.   He stands up and looks down at the Goblin.  "Aye, ya be surprised how much faste it goes with a light load, no?"

Gods, and you humans call goblins lazy. LAZY! Imagine that!

"We lucky we saved what we did.  Nasty fight up there between the Orcs and Humans.  Should have known it was going to happen."

He jumps down from the top of the wagon to land beside the Goblin and his Troll.  He stands straight and puts his hands crossed on the front of his belt as he continues.

"This one scrawny Human had a big mouth, an started asking on when he was going to get paid.  Another said he'd find no tavern to spend it on whores up in the peaks.  There was a big laugh an that should have been the end of it, no?"

"This other fella, though.  He never talked that I saw.  He just dropped his pick axe and strutted over to a big rock near the edge.  He sat down and pulled out a pipe to smoke.  I suppose it wasn't his turn for a break, but he was a big o' boy so none of the other Humans said anything."

Cuss moved his hands to cross his arms across his chest as he went on.  His body framing the symbol of Cyric hanging from his neck.

"Orcs didn't like it much.  The one that kind of led the others bellowed in anger as it stomped over to this guy.  It reached for the pipe, but this Human was fast.  He dropped the pipe from one hand and caught it with the other.  Then he caught the Orc's wrist and pulled as he planted both feet on its waist.  He sort of fell backwards as he threw the Orc over the top.  It was a wonder they both didn't disappear, but the Human caught himself as the Orc tumbled down the slope and dropped over the ledge."

"The entire camp fell silent, and the sumva' bitch just sat back down and kept smoking his pipe."  Cuss shakes his head.  "I don't right know what happened after that.  I was at the wagon and could see it all, but the entire camp seemed to erupt in a brawl at once.  When Thud started stomping over, we thought it best to go ahead and get on over with what we had before he ate us all, yeah?"

Lord Echthroi will hear about this, wagon thirteen!

Cuss laughs again.  "I spect the whole camp will by the time it's over, no?"  Then he climbs back up on the wagon to negotiate it to the spot the Goblin pointed out.  He looked over at Artimus and winked.

As he brought the wagon to a stop, Cuss leaned forward to look past Artimus at the wagon beside him.  He nods at the driver on it as he says, "Oiy, where's the privy at 'round here.  Might be I need to visit it before I drink meself too stupid to stand, yeah?"  He laughs and slaps Artimus's arm.

When he leans back with a satisfactory answer, he reaches inside his armor to feign a scratch, but touches his Fist to think to Artimus.  It is a big camp, Captain.  Mayhaps I get the poisoner's gifts to them so as to face less when we come out, no?

He then turns his head to whisper into the wagon, "Are we splitting up?"
...

Cuss is trying to start a rumor to stoke discontent between the Humans and Orcs. Deception roll 18.

Cuss asks a wagon driver where the toilets are, then he ask where drinks are had.  He figures the two would be popular locations in the camp as night falls.

Cuss will also try to find out where the water is stored or gathered.  

He would like to investigate the tavern and water supply to see which would be a better target for poisoning with what was recovered from the brass temple.  He is looking to compare both the ease of getting the poison in and which will be the most lethal to the camp as a whole. I'll put in rolls for that when he moves into the camp.

[Custer Thickett]

[Adding deception roll for rumor effectiveness +5]

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 13

[Ao]

[Cuss, quick distinction. The camp is a ways back, up the road. Right here, you're only in the company of the waggoneers and the unloading trolls. Youll have to leave this area (the forges) to get back up there, if thats the direction you so choose)]

Ao

[Custer Thickett]

[Understood. I'm hoping to spread the rumor among the wagons in hopes it makes its way back to camp and the other dig sights.]

[Kellar]

Kellar sat up in the back of the wagon and shifted a bit after the goblin left. Olufsen and Osvald were ready to depart.

"Good luck, Lords of Hale. I cannot say that we'll meet again, but I am hopeful," he said. Orbaugh, there goes two friends. Wish them well.

"Are we splitting up?"

"Osvald and Olufsen are taking their leave to cause a distraction. And the prisoners are going with them. I am interested in what they are making with this ore. Pimli or Dwan, would you want to accompany me for a quick jaunt to have a look-see? Keisan is having things made of this material. I am no smithy (I wish Kilik was with us). I will save a few of the ingots for myself. If you prefer that we stick together I understand," he said.

If no one wants to go with Kellar, he will stay with the main group.
If someone wants to go with Kellar, he will go with them and quickly scout the forges.

"If they're making unique weapons and armor, it may come in handy to have that intelligence and spread it across the Fist."

Actions:
Stealth Roll= 4+6= 10 (ugh...)
Perception Roll= 18+4= 22 (yay!)

Kellar will pretend to belong as he moves down to the work area of the forges, he'll carry some ingots as cover.
Orbaugh will be peeking out from under Kellar's shield to look for shiny stuff and things he feels would be important to Kellar.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 4

--------------------------------

#2 'D20' : 18, 6

[Ao]

Custer leans leisurely against the side of the carriage, spinning his web of idle lies between the denizens of the unloading point.

A troll stomps by, blinking its' eyes as the smoke from a nearby torch waters them. It sneers, hoisting the sack of ore from the back of your wagon onto its shoulder and marching on.

"Just like a filthy fucking 'ooman to pull somethin like that. They ain't got the sense to know that orcs murder for breakfast."

It is music to Custers ears. He watches as a pair of orcen wagoners walk past, talking too loudly to one another.

"Oi, GREENSKINS!" - the crescendo that the halfling could see was coming. A quick glance to the right, and Custer watched a group of five miners, pickaxes over their shoulders, staring down the orcs.

"Wot wiz that you had to say abet fuckin humans? You lot should watch those ugly black mouths o yours. The laughing god got no need for smiles as ugly as those."

The other humans laugh behind their unkept leader, his hair tied into three haphazard tails in a big nest behind his head.

Both orcs stop moving, mere feet in front of your wagon.

"You'd like to say that over here, human?"says the tallest of the two greenskins, holding his arms out.

"An wot of it?" Responds the miner, gripping his axe and walking purposefully towards you, followed by his posse...

Once again, Custer's silver tongue had done it...

[...]

Kellar stands before the four large doorways into the forges, reinforced by thick wooden beams lain into the side of this rock mountainwall.

Oil lanterns are strung up on rope, guiding the trolls that walk to and fro the depths of the tunnels.

The dragoon walks in fifty paces or so, the temperature rising in this underground walkway.

The tunnels all emerge at a similar spot. It's a long, wide chamber piled high with mountains of ingots cast into great heaps. The chamber echoes loudly with the sound of trolls and orcs toiling, emptying satchels and moving them around the room with enormous mine carts.

As Kellar emerges, he can see that all the ingots are being loaded into enormous cages, larger than two wagons side by side. There are four of these cages, which are being loaded and then lowered, through a winch and pulley mechanism, into the depths beneath where you stand now.

Three of the cages seem operational, though a fourth is missing. Only its rope hangs down into the darkened depths, unattended or in proximity to any ore.

"Ey!" Kellar is distracted by the sights, but is being approached by a burly Orc with black bramble tattoos up and down his arms.

"No wagoners or miners allowed in 'ere! Wot detail do you belong t-"

The orc is cut off as another greenskin bearing a torch in his hand dashes into the loading facility.

"RAGH! ANASH GALOR TRET SAMBRANGRA!" It shouts earnestly, the trolls and orcs dropping their work in seconds, and charging out toward the wagon area.

Kellar is forgotten.

==================

Ok guys. Custer - you've incited a bit of drama here. I'm going to ask you to 'write what happened' between the orcs and the humans. Make it reasonable based on your roll of 18

Regardless, it creates a calamity that empties the loading zone of furious orcs and trolls

What's your move, lads?

Exp:+25

[Kellar]

Kellar was approached by the orc. He was about to reply with, "I'm new here, I didn't-" But he was cut off by another orc that approached and they began leaving the forge. Orbaugh peeked his head out and sniffed the hot air. Warm! I like! He shifted onto Orbaugh's shoulder and began looking around. "Orbaugh, we need find out where the ore is being deposited. There is a lot of it. Let's look over here." He and Orbaugh moved to the vacant shaft and peered down into the darkness. What do you see? Perception roll= +4

If the bottom looks clear, Kellar will descend.
Kellar will descend and look for anything that looks like a weapon or armor and will attempt to disable the forge.

If the bottom is not clear, Kellar will not descend.
Kellar will look for a storage area that contains whatever the forge is making as well as an alternative way down.

Actions:
Perception: 7+4= 11
Stealth: 20+6= 26 (Not even here...)

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 7, 1

--------------------------------

#2 'D20' : 20

[Artimus DeLonde]

Osvald

Artimus bid farewell to the Brother's Hale, Shaking both of thier hands.

Don't get yourzelvez killed mez renardz argentéez, we need zomeone to guide out of zheze beautiful, deadly mountainz, yez??

He jested, a tone of concern piercing through the levity offered against the servre backdrop of their surroundings.



======================
trundling down into the into the area where the wagons we're gathered artimus took into the rows of wagons and the smattering of orc and men that attended them.


"Wagon 13" Artimus muttered- "Muzt be lucky, non?"

Artimus cocked his head back facing custer, so his voice could be heard in the back of the wagon.

"I expect zhey're forging implementz of war, but we need to be zure. I can cauze a diztraction if it will help one of youzlip in unnoticed. Once we know what being crafed, it would zerve uz to impede zhem if we can do zo clandeztinely, perhapz barrel of fuel moved too cloze to zhe back of zhe forge...Whatever you do, try and make it look like it'z an accident we don't want zhem knowing zhey have zabatuerz in camp. "

Hopped down off the wagon and boldy sauntered over to goblin that seemed to be in charge.

With a puffed chest he addressed the goblin in his best Atlathkan voice.

"What we we waiting for, those bumbling ogres can't handle the wagons? well we can't babysit, I havn't had a crumb since morn yestday. Whats taking so long?~!"
=================

Create distraction

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 14

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