PrP: The Competition
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Name | Race | Class | E Lev| CHP | HP | AC | For | Ref | Wil | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |Younger |HUMAN |Bbn/Rog | 4 | 41 | 41 | 18 | 8 | 7 | 3 | |Achala |HALF-ORC|Ftr | 4 | 40 | 40 | 20 | 7 | 5 | 1 | |Syrivan |DAWN_ELF|Wiz | 2 | 11 | 11 | 13 | 1 | 3 | 5 | |Thistle |HUMAN |Bbn | 4 | 46 | 46 | 17 | 7 | 4 | 3 | |Karl |HUMAN |Rgr/Rog | 2 | 19 | 19 | 18 | 4 | 8 | 2 |
GAME: Syrivan refreshes spells. <OOC> Karl says, "Hey Cejo, can you do me a quick favor before we begin? :D I... have 4 pts of hp damage and 2 pts of strength damage I need to get removed. >.> And if you've +setdm you can do it." Cejo sets himself up as the DM. <OOC> Thistle is down a bit too, HPwise GAME: Cejo damaged Karl for -4 points. 19 remaining. GAME: Cejo damaged Karl's str for -2 points. -2 total damage. GAME: Cejo damaged Karl's Strength for -2 points. 0 total damage. GAME: Cejo damaged Younger for -11 points. 35 remaining. GAME: Cejo damaged Thistle for -9 points. 46 remaining. From afar, Younger has trap-spotter now, just for your info.
You are all gathered at the foot of a cliff, having been gathered, goaded, persuaded, tricked, or simply enticed into being
there. A balding man with glasses and a three-piece suit smiles at you.
"Welcome," he says quietly. "I am Hampton, and I am the one who contacted you. Some explanation is no doubt in order." He
gestures towards the cliff. "Up there is a treasure. My employers hired you to recover it. They don't want it for
themselves; you may keep what you find. However, they wish to ensure that it doesn't get into the hands of your
competition."
Taking a deep breath, he spreads his hands in a kind of shrug, then refolds them across his copious belly. "It may seem
frivolous, but I assure you it is not. We do not know who hired the competition, but we must swiftly assert our claim over
this...area of expertise, yes?" Tilting his head, his eyes scan each of you, as if checking for comprehension, but he
continues. "Reputations are at stake, and a good reputation means future...ahh...business opportunities. And whatnot. Your
service here to my employer will not only allow you to hone your skills- and test them it will- but it will also increase
your own reputation, and that of Alexandros. Plus, you get to keep the damn treasure. Before I describe what it is you
face, do you understand me?"
Achala's arms fold on his chest, as he stares steadily at Hampton. "The treasure'd better not be a little trophy
statuette." He pauses, then smiles at the man, denoting the joke -- the sharp teeth don't help, though. "Yeah, I
understand."
In Syrivan's case, it's mere curiousity. There are certain rumors that this area is rife with hidden caches of information.
And information -- /that/ is what the young elf is interested in. Treasure... that's merely a means to an end, as it were.
His brow rises inquisitively at the man, Hampton. "'Competition'? What sort of competition will this entail?" He wonders
curiously, his low, soft tenor trailing off as he looks towards him. The fellow dismisses reputation with a wave of his
hand, adding, "Please. Elucidate further."
Oh yes.
This isn't suspicious at all, is it?
Karl's gaze drifts up the cliff, and then drops to Hampton, his eyes narrowing a bit beneath the shadow of his hat.
"So this is some sort of... test," he inquires mildly of his theory, "On the part of your-- employers, I take it? And there's another team trying to recover it as well?"
Younger sucks on a cigarette, listening. His eyes are lidded, he looks... altered, somehow. Someone's been dipping into the Sopor Venenum again! "Jus' fuckin' get on wif it. Anyone tries tah come'n get whatever it is we ain't supposed tah let 'em 'ave, we'll fuggin' stop 'em." He looks around at the others, "I dunno 'bout these twerps, but I'm not tryin' tah sit 'roun' jabberin'..." He seems totally unconcerned about tests or repeat business.
Blind Thistle doesn't follow the portly man's gesture as he points up the cliff-face. Instead, her cloudy green eyes gaze steadily into the air just to the side of his head in a slightly disconcerting manner, as though she were watching something creep up behind him, a sliver of a smile on her lips. "Is v'Competition strong?" She asks, her white hair wafting about her face and straying into her eyes.
Hampton smiles, looking between the members of the group confidently, he listens, but when he speaks, he answers no one directly. It's as if he's reciting, providing the small print, as it were. "So, what lies before you, in short, is a race. As I said, this is about reputation, more than anything. So, when the signal flare lights up the sky, you will begin your race to the treasure, which is up there." Again, he points up the steep slope, or maybe you could call it a cliff. "The other team will leave at the same time. This is going to be...observed. To get the prize is one thing, but HOW you do it is perhaps even more important. You should be fast, but also efficient. You should demonstrate teamwork, but also leadership. You should show ingeniuty, but also style. Cheating is encouraged, but to do something the hard shows more character. The...people watching this...they...are clearly bored, and have way too much money on their hands. Do entertain them, eh?"
"Oh, and a word on your competition: it includes a cross-country runner, a porter, a wilderness guide, and a philosopher. There's a good chance they beat you to the top. Should you encounter them there, it is entirely up to you how to deal with that. But remember. Speed and efficiency; teamwork and leadership; ingenuity, and style; cheat, but don't take the easy way." His smile is unctuous. "You may now ask me one question, between the five of you, and I will answer if I can." Hampton, for his part, seems totally unconcerned about anything at all.
Achala considers. "Does it matter if they actually start climbing?"
"Uh...huh." Syrivan's tone is dubious, before shrugging. He'll try his best: that's all he can do. A glance towards the others, and he says, "Shall we then? So we're ready when this beacon lights?" He asks the others in his soft voice.
Younger stills sounds unimpressed. Taking a long pull from his cigarette, "Cheatin', you say." He mutters, finishing his cigarette and flicking it. "Well, le's do this, I suppose." He cracks his knuckles, and takes knee. He begins assebling his climbing gear. Turns out the little foul-mouthed Low Man is also a climber. Who knew?
Karl opens his mouth to say something--but he's cut off at the pass by Achala, who asks their one question, and he grimaces slightly as he hears it. "Well, then," he allows, bringing a hand up to push the edge of his hat back as he looks up the cliff, "S'pose we should get moving." Waiting for a signal flare? Who's waiting for a signal flare? Nobody said they had to wait here.
Hampton tilts his head. "They will be running through a similar gauntlet, on the other side of this mountain. If they don't climb, they will not reach the top. However, they realize this, and will no doubt start climbing immediately, knowing, as you do, that the opposition is, at the start, out of reach. Of course, every mountain narrows, does it not?"
Achala nods. "Let's go."
GAME: Karl rolls Perception: (18)+6: 24 <OOC> Achala will aid Younger's climb <OOC> Syrivan will aid another one of the others. <OOC> Cejo nods. <OOC> Syrivan also takes 10, so 14. ;) GAME: Achala rolls climb: (14)+7: 21 GAME: Younger rolls climb: (1)+11: 12
You paged Karl with 'It takes you a little while, but you manage to find what might be a goat path that zig-zags on more oblique angles. It's still steep, and it'll take a little longer, but you're pretty sure it would be manageable.'
<OOC> Cejo says, "Syrivan, are you aiding Karl or Younger?" <OOC> Cejo says, "Ie: aiding in the search, or the climb? :)" <OOC> Syrivan says, "Search." <OOC> Syrivan says, "Climb is not my thing."
You paged Younger with 'Ok, the handhold that Achala boosts you up to crumbles in your hand. You fall back down. You may have bruised something, but it might just have been your dignity. ;P'
Hampton nods at the group and steps back as they prepare to climb. "Well, good luck, then."
Examining the cliff, you see that it's rather craggy, and does have something of a slope to it, though really not enough to be a comfort. Care will need to be taken, but then, this is a race. It appears to be roughly 150 feet to what appears to be a fairly level place. You manage to get your climbing gear all in order, and are actually a few feet up when the signal flare blooms into the sky, a red, smoky streak that bursts into a bright light directly over the mountain top.
Younger gets a boost from Achala, who basically heaves him up, but as he reaches for a handhold....
Meanwhile, Karl and Syrivan begin a search, scouring the landscape.
You paged Younger with 'ie: You BARELY missed.'
"I found a goat path," Karl's voice calls back from where he's wandered in his search with Syrivan, craning his neck to look up along the face of it, "It'd take a little longer, but it's a little less risky... I'm heading up this way, see you at the top if you go straight up the face!"
That called, up he goes, stepping up to start clambering along the goat path.
...The god-damned face crumbles away, leaving Younger with no hand-hold. As he falls backward, "Sonuva--!" THWACH! His head hits the ground, rebounding harshly. His face makes a scrunched painful look, but as soon as he hits the ground he is already pushing himself up. He brushes himself off lightly, "Well tha' ain' no fun." His head looks a lttle scratched, but nothing permanent. He doesn't even seem to notice it. "Back at it, chaps." He goes back to climbing...
<OOC> Achala just starts climbing this time :) GAME: Achala rolls climb: (5)+7: 12 GAME: Younger rolls climb: (3)+11: 14 <OOC> Younger says, "..." <OOC> Karl says, "Need a climb roll for the goat path?" <OOC> Cejo says, "No, Karl. It will, however, take some time." <OOC> Karl says, "It seems like it'd take less time than the repeated falling method. ;D" <OOC> Younger says, "Well, if I could roll over a 5 on the dice..." <OOC> Younger laughs.
"I'll take the goat path. I don't think I'd do a good job climbing the cliff," Syrivan says. He turns and heads up the path, moving as quickly as he can without falling on his face. He's a thinker, not a ... well, athlete, really. His footsteps are rapid as he follows Karl up the path, looking back, and wincing at the fall. "This could be painful," he observes to the other man.
"Don't worry about it," Karl replies blithely as he heads up the rocky but far more stable path, winding up the cliff-face, "Younger's head can take the fall. It's bone all the way through. I'd wager he could kill an orc with a headbutt."
As Karl sets foot on the goat path, Younger and Achala take a new tact: they each start climbing at once. This must be a sandstone cliff, though, because together, they manage to rip a chunk of rock free. Neither of them falls, but at this rate, Karl and Syrivan will be on the first switch-back before they get more than 20' off the ground. Of course, there are at least 4 switch-backs to the top...
The glowing embers from the signal flare twinkle out as they descend through the sky, leaving only the competition.
GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+7: (2)+7: 9 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22
Achala starts with the independent climbing, then stares at his hands, scowling. "Oh. This isn't good." He looks over at Younger. "Let's try that again."
<OOC> Achala says, "THis time, he aids Younger again ;)" GAME: Younger rolls climb: (11)+11: 22 GAME: Achala rolls climb: (14)+7: 21 You paged (Karl, Syrivan) with 'You guys can choose to hustle up the goat path if you choose.' You paged (Karl, Syrivan) with 'You think you could keep your footing, but it'd be some good cardio. :D' From afar, to (Cejo, Karl): Syrivan will hustle as fast as I can without a risk of falling off. :) To (Cejo, Syrivan), Karl pages: We jog! Hustle jog hustle. To (Cejo, Syrivan), Karl pages: We will be the tortoise to the hare. Slow and steady wins the race! To (Cejo, Karl), Syrivan pages: Exactly. :)
Younger begins to fly up the cliff-face! He literally just walks up it, just about, and as he uses his climbing gear to set pitons and run rope, he makes it all the easier now for Achala to follow him. Though, the orc is having no problems, either, and seems to disdain the rope, at least for now.
Meanwhile, Syrivan and Karl notice this, and begin to jog along the goat path. Who ever said competition is a bad thing?
<OOC> Cejo says, "We're going to do one more roll! Climb checks for the climbers, and constitution checks for the runners :D"
Achala swarms up the face, at a similar pace to Younger, having found his rhythm and is actually moving pretty smoothly. He slides over, closer to Younger's rope -- just in case.
GAME: Achala rolls climb: (13)+7: 20
"Ain' a thing, once ya get goin'." Younger says, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Ya'll need help?" He calls. Looking down at those climbing, he keeps an eye out. "Supposed're beat these other nancies, when ya cain't even climb a li'l hill?" He laughs.
GAME: Younger rolls climb: (15)+11: 26 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+5: (15)+5: 20
Syrivan isn't really athletic. He's remarkably fit for a scholar, but he's not very strong and kind of light. He continues to run up the cliff face, idly gesturing with a hand as he runs. It grows cooler for him. Not enough to freeze anything, but hey. Anything to keep him cool, right? The chill air helps to vitalize him a bit!
Karl moves swiftly along up the switch-back trail; hopping over a few rocks and continuing up with a deft pace. "I don't trust our employer," he hisses out to the scholar as they head up together, "Keep an eye out for anything... worrying."
GAME: Karl rolls Constitution: (11)+2: 13 <OOC> Cejo says, "Just roll it Syrivan, we'll see if it helps :D" GAME: Syrivan rolls Constitution: (12)+1: 13 You paged (Karl, Syrivan) with 'Roll perception, please :)'
Younger laughs, wheezing out a cough, "If it 'elps yew any, I don' trust 'im neither." He comments, huffing as he climbs. "If'n he's double-crossin' us, you can be right sure I'll learn 'im the what-for about 'is please'n'thanks', aye?" He laughs again.
GAME: Younger rolls climb: (9)+11: 20 GAME: Karl rolls Perception: (3)+6: 9 GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (13)+4: 17 You paged (Syrivan, Karl) with 'You both see what looks like a closed door, a fallen tree, a saw, and an axe.'
Achala climbs with grim determination, though he grunts out: "Well, double-crosses are exciting theatre, right?" He grunts to Younger, and keeps hauling himself up.
You paged Syrivan with 'You notice what looks like a big tile in the middle of what is otherwise stone.' Syrivan pages: Anything on the tile? :) You paged Syrivan with 'You barely even noticed there was a tile. :D'
Karl and Syrivan make it to the top first. But when they get there, they're both panting pretty hard. They're fairly certain they couldn't keep running for much longer. Those goats are badass, apparently.
By the time Younger and Achala reach the top, they've mostly caught their breath, and have just had a moment to get their bearings, looking around the landing. It is relatively small, roughly twenty by forty. A fallen tree dominates the area,
which is odd, seeing as how there aren't many other trees growing.
"The fugg're you talkin' 'bout?" Younger demands, in return.
"Odd," Syrivan says, looking over the objects. He points to the tree, as well as the saw, axe, and closed door. "I think I see a stone tile over there..." He begins to say, even as he moves towards it to get a better look.
Karl pages: ...what is this door attached to? You paged Karl with 'The stone :)' You paged Karl with 'I mean, yeah, I guess there's a frame.' Karl pages: I mean, is it attached to a wall, or just free-standing in the middle of the clearing? :) GAME: Younger rolls perception: (1)+9: 10 You paged Karl with 'Oh, no, it leads into the mountain :D' You paged Karl with 'My bad.' <OOC> Cejo says, "Do it up" GAME: Achala rolls perception: (11)+3: 14
It takes Karl a couple of moments to catch his breath once they reach the top, bracing a hand against some rocky outcropping. "Well... at least... we're up." A hard swallow, and he looks over the landing, lips pursing in a frown, "Hm."
The door seems to be built into the side of the mountain.
<OOC> Cejo <.< <OOC> Cejo says, "For clarification."
Achala hoists himself up, looking around with a scowl. He blinks. "What tile?" He follows, looking nowhere useful.
Younger brushes his hands off, putting his climbing hammer away. "Watch fer traps," He calls to Syrivan. "Lemme take a look, for you go gettin' yerself ah gapin' hole you didn' gambler fer, aye?" He starts to light a cigarette, puffing on it after a moment. He doesn't even look particularly winded. He walks over to take a look...
You paged Syrivan with 'Roll whichever is highest for you:' You paged Syrivan with 'Knowledge Engineering, Dungeoneering, or Nature' <OOC> Syrivan says, "Diviner's Fortune. :)" GAME: Syrivan rolls Knowledge/Dungeoneering+1: (17)+10+1: 28 <OOC> Cejo says, "Ahh, interesting :)" <OOC> Younger says, "Wow, big brains!!" You paged Syrivan with 'You're almost certain this is a pressure-plate, of the type that will more than likely open the door in question. As with most pressure plates, though, the door will more than likely shut swiftly should the pressure be released. Also, you know that for some reason, those who concoct such banal contraptions tend to make human body weight the standard requirement for adequate compression.' You paged Syrivan with 'Dungeon-masters. ^^ Right? ;P' You paged Syrivan with 'Please feel free to brainstorm with the others in RP2 after you pose your findings :D' You paged Syrivan with 'Unless you just outright figured it out ;P'
"Looks like it's a pressure plate. I bet it'll open the door." A pause, "And unless I'm wrong, it needs a specific weight
range, probably about the size of one of us. After all, this is supposed to be a competition. Puzzles make sense, yes?" His
voice is dry. "If so, then perhaps we could saw the log there to the proper weight, or thereabouts..."
"The saw it is, then... Younger, you want to take the axe?" Karl steps along over to the fallen log, looking it over, then glancing to Syrivan, "You've got the brains here. About how much would you say would weight like one've us?"
Achala heads for the saw, as well. "Two people on the saw, for speed?"
It does appear to be one of those saws that two people can use. Whatever they're called.
<OOC> Cejo <.< <OOC> Syrivan says, "Wait." <OOC> Syrivan says, "How big is the door, and how big is the log?" <OOC> Cejo says, "Hmm....roll intelligence." <OOC> Cejo says, "No diviner tricks! ;P" <OOC> Cejo says, "JK" <OOC> Cejo says, "If you got 'em, use 'em I say ;P" GAME: Syrivan rolls Intelligence+1: (4)+5+1: 10 <OOC> Syrivan snorks :) You paged Syrivan with 'The log is huge. It's basically a fallen tree, about three feet in diameter and taking up the length of the landing. The door is fairly small, by comparison, but seems to be made of a dark wood you're not familiar with at first glance.' Syrivan pages: The question is... will the log fit in the doorway? :) Syrivan pages: Just the end of the log. Syrivan pages: Not the whole thing :) You paged Syrivan with 'I mean...if the door wasn't in the way, yeah ;P' Syrivan pages: Cool. :) You paged Syrivan with 'About a regular door size...so...yeah, the tree would fit. Snugly.' You paged (Younger, Karl, Achala) with 'If you have any thoughts, contribute them :D' You paged (Younger, Karl, Achala) with 'I'm stepping back but I don't want it to seem it's all in Syrivan's hands'
Younger shrugs, "Ah'll take it." He talks over, cigarette smoking. "Le's jus' get da door open, so's I kin kick these nancie's asses an' make us off wif all tha' loot."
<OOC> Younger says, "Sounds like a fair plan to me."
"I'm not an expert," Syrivan says with a shrug, "But I recognize this from something I read once." He considers, "Okay. As I recall, the easiest way to judge the weight of this would be to saw off sections. I doubt the weight is exact, so within say fifty pounds is likely adequate. They couldn't be sure that they'd get a person of the proper size after all. Anyway. We'll saw off a section, then add more if we need. Better to be too small than too large. And go from there. I will guess that this much..." He measures it out with his hands, "Might be about right for a person's weight..."
Karl pages: What's the door made of, anyway? You paged Karl with 'Roll either Knowledge Nature or Knowledge Engineering' GAME: Karl rolls Knowledge/Nature: (2)+5: 7 You paged Karl with 'Some kinda wood :D' You paged Karl with 'It's pretty.' You paged Karl with 'And dark, and not like anything you know.'
The saw's regarded, the log, and Karl nods to Syrivan's words... and then he glances to the door. "You know," he points out, "The door's made of wood. Would it be faster to just cut through the //door// rather than the tree?"
"I actually considered that, but I don't recognize the wood. Certain woods are very, very tough," Syrivan says. "We have multiple parties. how about someone try to chop through the door while two others cut the trunk. That way if it's as simple as that, we get it done while if it's not, the other is being worked on?"
Younger clicks his tongue at Syrivan, nodding, "Soun' thinkin' der, chap." He grins, hefting the saw. "Le's make this happen, wot?" He looks around for his partner in chopping.
GAME: Younger rolls strength: (20)+3: 23 GAME: Karl rolls Strength: (9)+2: 11 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+4: (20)+4: 24 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+1: (8)+1: 9 GAME: Achala rolls strength: (15)+6: 21 <OOC> Younger says, "Blammo." You paged (Younger, Achala) with 'You guys can pose yourselves chewing up that log.' You paged Karl with 'You can pose yourself hacking away futilely at the door.'
Achala takes up the saw, and looks over at Younger. "Y'ready?" Then he sets to work, sawdust flying!
GAME: Cejo rolls 1d100: (32): 32
Thunk! Thunk! The axe in Karl's hand works against the door, but there's no real progress made.
Younger looks across the saw at Achala, his work-gloves pulled on over his hands. This is Younger's element! "Bern ready, nancieboy." He asserts, helpfully. He spits to one side, and nods, setting his hands. When Achala begins sawing, Younger works with him. The two of them together are a vision of physical prowess, chewing the log up as if they were 'bern ready'.
Syrivan simply watches the work, leaning in. He winces at the thunk, brow rising at Younger's comment. He looks amused.
That's all.
The log breaks away from what is in all honesty, basically a tree. It hits the stone with a heavy thud, and hardly moves.
Syrivan estimated the size, but....who knows how heavy this thing will be? One thing's for sure, it's almost definitely not going to be too light.
The door, in the meantime, turns Karl's advances away. It seems literally impervious to the axe, though, it doesn't help that it twists every time he hits. Maybe he just needs to adjust his grip? But then...the log IS ready....
You paged Achala with '....holy shit. I'm embarassed.' You paged Achala with 'I never thought of rolling the log ;P'
"Now we just roll it onto the pressure plate. And hopefully it's in the right area. If not...well. We'll have to add or subtract weight. But hopefully not," Syrivan says. And will begin to laborously push, adding, "I, ah, might need a hand here."
Achala moves over to help Syrivan, setting his shoulder to the log, to help roll it over.
You all find that rolling the log is really the simplest thing ever. Whoever thought this trap up was an idiot.
The door flies open! The hallway beyond is gloomy, but visible. There are torches, for some reason, and they illuminate what looks like a short entrance to what would be in a normal home a mud room or a landing. With another door facing directly at you.
You paged Younger with 'Roll your auto-trap guy.'
"That was easy. Some part of me wants to say too easy," Syrivan says to the others. He looks over at the other door and heads towards it, "Let's hope there's a way past /this/ door as well," he tells the others.
GAME: Younger rolls perception: (12)+9: 21 You paged Younger with 'You see a trip-wire. It doesn't seem to be a very complex trap, but who knows what kind of firepower it has behind it?'
"Oh. Well." The axe is dropped back to the ground, forgotten, and Karl peers down the hallway with a slight frown. "That wasn't exactly hard, but it took awhile... we should keep moving."
Achala hangs back, peering down the tunnel suspiciously. "Maybe the axe?"
You paged Younger with 'It's literally right beyind the entrance.' You paged Younger with 'If anyone were to enter, they'd be had...somehow.'
Younger walks over toward the door, glancing over it. He suddenly stiffen up, "'Ooollly shit." He whistles, kneeling down. Looking over his shoulder, "Look'it this 'ere. Trip-wire, hey?" He laughs, "Good try." He mutters. He cackles, "Stand back naw, I'm gonna disable 'er right quick."
GAME: Younger rolls disable device: (18)+9: 27 You paged Younger with 'You disable it with style!'
Syrivan stops at Younger's words, saying dryly, "That's not something I know a great deal about. Thank you, sir," he tells him. He waits patiently, and runs a hand through his hair, watching curiously.
"I'll... well. I s'pose I'll wait for you to be done, then," Karl says, dropping back a step and craning his neck to look around back off the edge of the landing.
Achala waits, taking his rest as the other man works.
Younger runs his finger along the trip wire, grinning like a maniac. He /lives/ for shit like this. Quivering, he laughs, looking back at the group with a manic smile. "So excitin'." He cackles with glee, turning back to his work.
Following the wire to it's source, using a tiny implement he pulls from his belt a moment, he then snips the wire and steps back, brushing off his hands. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and the elongated ash that accumulated on his cigarette fallds down the front of him. "Le's fuckin' go, what's you waitin' for?" He barks, clapping his hands twice.
<OOC> Cejo grins.
The trap disarmed, the way is free. You pass through the short hallway and into what is kind of like a vestibule, twenty feet by twenty feet. Before you is a door. SUDDENLY!
A mouth appears.
"Three riddles I will ask, if you are dull. Answer two, and you shall pass."
Clering its throat, the door intones: "I go so fast a roar is often heard. Yet even thieves wish they were as silent as I. What am I?"
Achala winces, visibly. He stands there, and looks around for the smart one.
<OOC> Cejo says, "BTW, you only get one answer." <OOC> Cejo says, "So PLEASE discuss :D"
Younger stops when the mouth appears, frowning. Stepping aside, he snorts, looking at the floor and shuffling his feet slightly. After a moment, he looks around...
Younger grunts, rolls his eyes, "It's the breeze."
"Oh dear. Riddles," Syrivan says. "Sometimes I'm really good at them. Sometimes..." He pauses, "...not so good." He wrinkles his nose. "Hmmm. Yes, Breeze or wind fits very well."
The door frowns, then puckers its lips. "The breeze or the wind? Which?"
Younger growls, takin' a step toward the mouth, pointing, "You 'eard me, pal. I said breeze."
Achala growls with irritation. "Same damned thing, aren't they?"
A soft sigh, "Great. It needs a specific phrase, even though they're the same thing," He says to the others. Syrivan sounds dry.
The door's mouth goes blank, for a while. A very neutral pose. "Hmm...I guess it'd depend where you were from. But where /I'm/ from, no thief wants to be silent as the breeze. They want to be silent as the /wind/. And where I'm from, a breeze doesn't roar, it sighs. Only the wind roars." He takes a deep breath and sighs. "We'll see how the next one goes: 'If you let me drop, an awkward silence usually ensues. Should you carry me, people will want to dance. What am I?'"
Achala opens his mouth irritably, then grumbles something about lippy sphincters. He then just says: "A tune. Don't split hairs."
Younger nods at Achala, signalling his appreciation. Shifting irritably, the crazy little fireplug seems antsy to keep moving.
Syrivan's about to answer, when Achala does. He nods, "That fits the criteria," he agrees.
The mouth laughs. "I was thinking 'a beat.' But I agree with your answer." The mouth smirks, "Let's do one more, just to finalize it, eh?"
"What do I have in my pocket?"
"You don't have a pocket," Karl points out dryly, "You're a bloody door."
The door beams. "Exactly!"
Achala raises his fist, then lowers it. "Let's go, then."
With that, the door opens, swinging grandly inward, as if bowing and holding a white towel over its tuxedo.
"I was going to say 'a keyhole', but I'm not sure the humor would have done well," Syrivan says as he follows the others into the doorway.
Younger snaps his fingers, whistling a little ditty, "Very well, aye?" He makes a smooth-looking gesture.
You all go through the door, only to find a chasm. It's at least 50 feet. BUT....on the other side is a silhouette of a torso and a head, like what you'd practice on if you were at a shooting range.
Achala stares. "I /hate/ these asshole voyeurs."
"Hmm. Well, this looks simple. Looks like we're supposed to shoot the target, maybe. Anyone good with a bow? I have a crossbow, but I'm not very good at it," he admits to the others. Syrivan looks embarassed.
"Hm." Karl steps through the door with the others--reaching out to give the wood a slight shove as if to punish its impertinance--and he squints across the chasm at the dummy silhouette on the other side. After a moment, he says dryly,
"No, Syrivan. I carry this big metal tube on my back because I'm an avid //smoker//."
You paged Karl with 'Roll to hit, if you miss, we'll assume you then take 10'
A blink, and Syrivan looks towards Karl again. "Hey, I carry a crossbow but I'm not that good at it. I didn't want to assume," he says with a shrug.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+5: (7)+5: 12 You paged Karl with 'Honestly, at this range, you hit!' From afar, Karl laughs. You paged Karl with 'It's not pretty, but it's a hit!' You paged Karl with 'Pose it to your heart's content.'
"It's just a matter've practice," Karl replies with a shrug as he unlimbers the rifle; already loaded from earlier, since he wasn't about to go into some mysterious meeting without a loaded weapon, and he brings it up, sighting along the barrel.
The //crack// of gunpowder echoes through the chasm as he fires, the bullet striking the silhouette--not dead center, smashing into the shoulder area, but hey. It's a hit.
A hit indeed. And as the bullet hits, a bridge appears across the chasm, made of the same material as the rest of the surroundings. The target disappears and ahead is an entrance into some darkened room. Dark except to Achala, that is.
"Let's go," Syrivan says, nodding as he adds to Karl, "Good shot. And I guess. I prefer reading, though." He murmurs a few words, and the tip of his staff begins to glow brightly.
GAME: Syrivan casts light.
You paged Achala with 'You see a podium, surrounded by the other team. There are four of them, and they seem to be reaching for a chest. They've won! For now.'
Achala snarls. "Get your weapons ready. THey're there."
Younger looks around, nodding his head as his new-found vision. "Righteous." He admits, and heads off, leading the pack.
"They?" He looks toward Achala, grinning. He takes his club out, running a hand along the polished but freshly scarred facade. The same simple weapon he used to smash a Bearded Devil just a fortnight ago. "You keep sayin' tha'."
The other team doesn't know you're there, until the light flares up. While it illuminates the situation- the other team is currently lifting the treasure- it also reveals your own team.
"They're just... competition, so unless they try and kill us," Karl says in quiet, tight tones, reloading his rifle and then shifting it to his other hand as he reaches down to grab a bundle of folded rope from his belt, "Try not to kill them either, eh?"
Karl rolls initiative: Roll: 11 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 15 Syrivan rolls initiative: Roll: 6 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 10 Achala rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 5 Younger rolls initiative: Roll: 4 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 7 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20-1: (14)+-1: 13 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20-1: (4)+-1: 3 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20: (10): 10 GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+1: (6)+1: 7 <OOC> Younger says, "I'm using my club, but I'm doing non-lethal damage." <OOC> Cejo says, "Ok, Karl acts first. There is a skinny guy at the podium who has just taken the treasure chest for himself. There is a person behind him, and a person flaking him on either side. You are roughly 30' from them."
Initiative
===== Current Initiative Order ========= ---------------------------------------- 15 Karl ---------------------------------------- 10 Syrivan ---------------------------------------- 7 Younger ---------------------------------------- 5 Achala ---------------------------------------- ======================================== From afar, Karl considers--can I get up to within 10' of the skinny guy without getting in range of being hit by anyone? :) You paged Karl with 'Absolutely. He's front and center.' From afar, Karl moves up, tosses the net at him! You paged Karl with 'He's flanked on both sides, and to the rear.' You paged Karl with 'O.O Net ;P' You paged Karl with 'Roll it.' GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6 <OOC> Karl says, "..." <OOC> Cejo says, "You miss :D" <OOC> Cejo says, "Everything." <OOC> Cejo says, "The philosopher acts!"
A net goes twirling off into the midst of the competition, clearly aimed for the man with the treasure chest... and keeps on going, landing apropos of nothing at all. "Damn it," Karl hisses under his breath, releasing the trailing rope.
<OOC> Cejo says, "by slinging a stone at Karl." GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20: (9): 9 <OOC> Cejo says, "He misses!"
As a net flies off into nowhere, the philosopher responds by sending a stone off into nowhere. It might have been aimed at the thrower of the net, but who knows.
<OOC> Syrivan says, "Reflex Saves. DC16." <OOC> Cejo says, "OK!" GAME: Syrivan casts Grease. <OOC> Cejo says, "Are we biasing right or left?" <OOC> Cejo says, "To the right..." <OOC> Syrivan says, "Biasing so they can't run back, so whichever direction that is. T hey have to go towards us or go through the grease." <OOC> Cejo says, "Well, sure." <OOC> Cejo says, "But there is a muscular looking guy to the right, and a wild-looking one to the left." <OOC> Cejo says, "You're going to get three, but which three?" <OOC> Syrivan says, "Oh. Let's say muscular. :) Long as I get the guy with the chest."
As a net flies off into nowhere, the philosopher responds by launching a stone....also into nowhere. He stands directly behind the relic-getter.
GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15 <OOC> Cejo says, "Chest-guy fails." GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20-1: (6)+-1: 5 <OOC> Cejo says, "Muscular guy fails" GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20+3: (1)+3: 4 <OOC> Cejo says, "Philospher fails" <OOC> Cejo says, "They are all fully greasified :D" <OOC> Younger says, "Anyone left standing/" <OOC> Cejo says, "There is one dude who looks kinda of like Cejo ;P" <OOC> Younger says, "I'm gonna go knock his lights out." [Ed: Psych!!]
"Competition or not, let's not do anything too violent," Syrivan says to the others. He murmurs a few words, crushing a square of fabric in his fingers. Grease oozes out. Then, over on the other side, it begins to /rain/ grease, viscous iridescent fluid raining downwards. It catches three of the people in its aegis, and all three fall, including the one carrying the chest.
<OOC> Younger says, "I'm charging him, raging." <OOC> Younger says, "Charging the dude, doing non-lethal with my club. No rage." GAME: Younger rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13 <OOC> Cejo says, "You also pull an attack of opportunity." GAME: Cejo rolls 1d20: (9): 9 <OOC> Cejo says, "But you're going against the inept." <OOC> Cejo says, "The runner now gets to his feet and runs. Provoking an AoO from Younger." <OOC> Younger says, "I want to try and trip him." GAME: Younger rolls 1d20+6: (10)+6: 16 <OOC> Cejo says, "Yeah, you hit :D" <OOC> Cejo says, "He's on his face. Pose that and your other attack."
Younger growls, "Damned rock throwin' scoundrels." He snarls, and charges toward the punchy-looking fellow. Swinging his club to subdue, he barely misses. "Don' fugg aroun' an make me angry, nancy. Give up da loot're I'm gonna break yer fuggin' head. That goes fer all ah you!" He threatens, pointing at the guy, and then his floundering companions.
When the runner makes his move, Younger doesn't miss a beat, sticking his foot out smoothly to trip the fellow. Pointing, he commands, at the runner, "Stay down. Don't. /fucking/. /move/." His words take on a clear Trade Common, free of his usual lilt.
GAME: Achala rolls 1d20+12: (11)+12: 23 <OOC> Cejo says, "That's a hit :D" <OOC> Cejo says, "The guide, the wilderness-looking one." GAME: Achala rolls 1d3+6: (1)+6: 7 <OOC> Younger says, "Grr." <OOC> Cejo says, "He's still up, pose it."
Achala goes plowing forwards, angling to avoid the greasy patch and Younger's made-terrain. He announces his arrival with a lunging kick at the scruffy outdoors-type!
While his companions go down, the porter picks himself up and raises his hands, backing away. "I'm just here to carry things! Mercy!"
The rifle in Karl's hands is locked together with a sharp -clack- as he closes the breech loudly, and he brings it up in a casual gesture towards the 'competition' that sweeps the barrel through the air. "Then carry that chest over here, kid," he calls over, "And maybe we won't feed you to that drooling guy beating on your friends."
The runner looks around, eyes wide. He shifts on the balls of his feet, then gulps. "I didn't...I mean...we were just...err...." Shaking his head, he drops the chest. "Listen, I don't even care. Just take it. But just...don't kill us."