[User]
 A cold wind was blowing through the town of Vlastov, cold enough to turn your waterskin into a hulking block of ice. Most people were staying indoors. Comfortably idling by their days talking and telling stories by a warm fire. But one Bard was wandering the mean streets of Vlastov. She was on a mission, a mission to discover information about a noblewoman named Vexx. She was a great enemy of another nobleman named Kriegbrecht. Kriegbrecht was the lord of these lands and had parceled a chunk of his territory off to one of the Bard's friends, specifically a good-hearted man named Halbrecht. Kriegbrecht's enemies were Halbrecht's enemy and anyone who opposed Halbrecht was surly the Bard's enemy as well. With that in mind, she had decided to leave the company of her fellow adventurers and seek out any and all information about this Vexx woman. Better yet, the Bard hoped to one day join Vexx's court. Keep your friend's close and your enemies closer. It was a popular phrase in Blackvale. All the good it did them, really.

The Bard known as Ash had come to the Yellow Mug. Ash had come here because she heard some disgruntled mercenaries who once worked for Vexx frequented the Yellow Mug.  It was a small tavern, designed for locals. Unlike most taverns she had seen, this one did not come equipped with an inn. People still slept here, as evidenced by the stash of hammocks in the corner but those were likely designed for people too drunk to make it back home in the frigid cold before freezing to death. The building was small, only one floor. The one room building was roughly divided in half, with two long tables on the left and an assortment of much smaller square tables to the right. The innkeeper is an old man. His arms look like they once possessed powerful muscles but have turned to flab with age. His plain-looking daughter dotes on him, giving him kisses on the cheek and twinkling her eyelashes at him. He seems almost oblivious.

It's early morning, probably too early for drinking for most folks. Especially mercenaries (probably). Only three patrons are present - an elf wearing furs and skins stands at the bar drinking a pint of ale. His face is painted to look like a white skull. His long, fiery-red hair is braided. A female halfling sits alone at a table near a window. She looks longingly outside. Most likely, she is expecting someone. They're probably late. Her green tunic and brown skirt are both simple and a bit worn. A male human its as far away from everyone else as possible. He is writing feverishly in a book. His clothing is fine, blue dyed wool and sturdy woolen trousers. His head is shaved but looks like he missed a day or two, as the salt and pepper stubble is snowing through. From the looks of it, he has a pronounced widows peak and a massive bald spot. No wonder he shaves.

[User]
 Ash

Ash's gaze swept the single-room tavern as she entered, noting the handful of occupants with a critiquing eye.

  Ah, the joys of rural taverns and their patrons...

The warmth of the tavern's interior reminded the bard of just how cold it was outside, causing her to shiver as she stepped through the door. Striding over towards the bar she ordered a drink before leaning back casually against the top of the counter. Noting the presence of the elf a few feet away, Ash decided he was as good a place to start asking around as any and turned to face him.

 "So, is it always this cold around these parts? I guess you could say I'm a recent arrival and well... I haven't exactly had to worry about something like a waterskin actually freezing solid before."

She laughed a bit as she held up the ice-encased container and tapped it against the countertop in a (both metaphoric and literal) attempt to break the ice.

 Spoiler

General diplomacy check to hopefully get on his good side. +1 more for charming if he'd be attracted to Ash.
 (1d20+15)[ 26 ]

[User]
 'Y-you say it's cold outside...?"   The old man leans to one side to look out the window,   "Looks warm to me. It is summer after all. You must not be from around here.  " He pours Ash a piping hot mug of cider,   "Why have you come to this fine little town, young one? Are you interested in marriage? My son is a lawyer, you know. One of the best, so I hear. He's a lonely boy, never had much luck with women. He had a fiance but she was killed by those damn Bloodpaws."   He trails off for a moment obviously deep in thought.

The elf with the skull painted on his face sets his drink down and sighs,   "I too hate the Bloodpaws. They killed my family. The Elmfur tribe, my tribe, have sworn an oath of vengeance against them. The old Baron of Westbow did not approve of our war. He went to great lengths to prevent us from doing what our ancient traditions demand of us. I am glad he is dead."

The old barkeep stumbles backwards,   "Don't say such things, Keveber! The Baron was a stalwart man. He tried his best to keep the peace."
  "The peace does not bring my family back... Or your son's fiance."
  "We need peace though, war is brewing between Onyxeye and Eaglemane."
  "I care not for your human wars. I have lived here for five hundred years. Humans war with one another on a daily basis. If it is not about one slight, it is about another. Thousands die, the ravens feast."    He takes a few big swigs of his cider before changing the subject, slightly.   "I saw a few moosemen and humans bearing the heraldry of Ironwidow in and around the Tirnan last week. I did not have the time to watch them but they looked to be headed towards Ft. Shieldtrap. If I were the new Baron of Westbow Lake, I would certainly keep my eye on Shieldtrap."
 "Perhaps you should tell the City Council..."
  "The council and I... Do not care for one another."

[User]
 Ash
  Hmm, that's interesting. That's Hal he's talking about isn't it... Though it wouldn't do to jump on that topic too quickly...

Hoping she had correctly picked upon the elf's tone, Ash decided to tangentially pursue the current course of discussion and find out as much as she could about the current political climate.

 "Soooo this Council? Doesn't do much or something? Sounds like there isn't a whole lot keeping things under control around here?"
  Let's try to steer the conversation towards this Vexx character... Just gotta remember to not seem too eager to do so...

[User]
 The elf practically spits,   "The council is lorded over by the hereditary Mayor. She cares only for money and killing gnolls. Her chief rival cares only for easy money and ensuring nothing goes wrong with the shipments of her brother's mine. I despise greed. Especially naked greed. They, and the nobles of Westbow Lake, give little thought to the lives they needlessly ruin. So long as their precious farms and their precious towns are kept safe, nothing else matters. No one thinks of the elves who live here. We have lived here in Westbow for thousands of years, yet we have no say in what goes on here. We are at the mercy of the greedy people. It disgusts me.

The barkeep stays quiet. He nods his head and then says,   "But at least you have land to call your own..."

  "The so-called charity of invaders is not what we deserve, nor what we need."

[User]
 Ash
  Right soooo.... sounds like small-minded local politics for the most part. Fun.

As the mental commentary ran through her mind, Ash nodded at the elf.

 "Well, certainly sounds like a rotten situation. Anyone else I should watch out for other than this Mayor and her rival? Actually, now that I think of it, I don't recall you mentioning this rival's name either?"

Even as she asked this the bard tried to remain aware of her surroundings, occasionally sweeping her gaze across the room to see if the other occupants were paying attention.

 Spoiler

Perception check to see/listen if the others in the tavern are doing anything of note!
 (1d20+12)[ 13 ]

[User]
 "Laveta Haug..."

The conversation is interrupted by three armed men walking in. Their breastplates are all dinged and dirty, obviously having seen many battles. They each carry with them a hand crossbow, a large axe, steel shields and a bandoleer full of alchemical fire. The barkeep tenses up when these new gentlemen walk in.

Their leader is tall and ruggedly handsome with hazel eyes and a thick black beard. He saunters up to the bar and slaps the counter with great force,   "Our usual!"

The barkeep looks at you and the elf, then quietly says,   "You... Still haven't paid your tab for last week, Janthus..."

The handsome man smiles and laughs, then reaches across the counter and grabs the barkeep's collar. Dragging the scared man in, Janus whispers,   "And what does that have to do with you giving me a pint right now?"

The old barkeep whispers,   "N-nothing..."
  "Good, good."   Janus releases the man, then pats the barkeep's face a few times.   "Good."

The whole time this is going on everyone in the bar is frozen stiff, save for the elf, who quietly sips his ale.

[User]
 Ash
  Ah, that type of man. Fun.

Making a complicated movement behind her back with one hand, Ash glanced in the direction of the group's leader. It was a bit of a gamble that they wouldn't notice the spell being cast, combined with the chance that it might not work either. Even then, how they'd react if it did stick was anybody's guess. But in the worst case scenario Ash was reasonably sure that the situation could be defused if it started to escalate further.

 Spoiler

Sleight of Hand to mask the casting of Charm Person, targeting the trio's leader.
 (1d20+7)[ 15 ]

And then the spell attack roll for Charm Person, vs will. Save negates.  (1d20+5)[ 10 ]

Hoping the spell would take, Ash smiled broadly and took a step closer towards the trio.

 "Now now, friends, that's not very kind! After all, the poor barkeep needs something in order to afford the ale he sells us, right? Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to go ahead and pay the man his due? After all, then you wouldn't have to worry about it later."

 Spoiler

Diplomacy check to persuade! +1 for charming if applicable!
 (1d20+15)[ 24 ]

[User]
 The lead man looks to Ash and then at the bearded barkeep, then back at Ash,   "Yeah... We could pay him. This time."   His friends look a little perplexed at the odd behavior but shrug it off as they are handed drinks.   "Why don't you come and sit with us. I always enjoy the company of a pretty lady..."   He winks at you as he walks backwards to an open seat.

The barkeep whispers,   "That was strange... You are very persuasive, friend. Thank you."

The elf nods,   "I do not know what kind of game you are playing but be careful. Those are unsavory men."
  "HEY!  " The leader looks at you,   "Get over here, will ya? We're going to play cards!"

The leader smiles as you take a seat,   "The name's Hazel, or at least that's what my friends call me. This here is Donban and Naslog."   He shuffles the warn deck a few times then deals out the cards.

 Spoiler: Your Hand
You receive:

- Green E
- Blue F
- Black H
- Green White Beard
- The Dragon

 Spoiler: Imperial Poker

Basically a native version of Poker.

White Beard = Ace
Brave Beard = King
Long Beard = Queen
Short Beard = Jack
No Beard = 10
I = 9
H = 8
G = 7
F = 6
E = 5
D = 4
C = 3
B = 2
A = 1

The Dragon Card is always included and is considered a Wild Card.

There are four suits, each is a different color - Red, Blue, Green and Black.

[User]
 Ash

Ash gave a subtle nod towards the elf as thanks for his advice before turning away from the bar and following the trio. Smiling pleasantly, she sat down at the table as the cards were readied.

 "Pleased to meet you."

Picking up the hand she was dealt, Ash's face held a blank expression of carefully calculated confusion. With exaggerated vexation, she reached for first one card, then another, before eventually passing one over face-down to be redealt.

 Spoiler

Making a bluff check to appear clueless about how to play cards!
 (1d20+15)[ 18 ]

 "Uuuuum, I guess... I'll.... raise?"

After fumbling for a coin to throw in the pot, Ash took the redealt card and stared at it with an equal degree of puzzlement. Best to keep them thinking she wasn't a threat to them or their purses. Of course, while it would be nice to win a few hands, information would be a much better prize....

 "So, you certainly seem like a impressive bunch, what line of work would you be in?"

 Spoiler

Diplomacy!
 (1d20+15)[ 34 ]  Add 1 more for charming if applicable.

 Spoiler: Poker Actions

Exchanging the Green White Beard for another card from the deck. I'm not sure what kind of amounts are being bet and played with here, but I'd like to make a reasonable raise, however much that amount might be.

[User]
 The leader smiles,   "Ain't you a doll? Smile like a million gold coins and figure of some attractive barmaid. If you ain't careful, I'll gobble you right up."    Janthus and his friends laugh like he just said the funniest thing imaginable. After a moment or two he answers your question,   We're mercenaries for the most part. Mostly work over in the Barony over yonder. Ft. Shieldtrap pays good coin for soldiers like us. Killin' Kitsune and Ratfolk mostly. Gotta butcher them young or else they'll come back to murder everyone in your village. Elves don't like it much but, who cares what a dumb leaf-wearin' shaman has to say, eh?"

You visibly see the elf at the bar shake his head in disgust.

Janthus deals out the cards and his demeanor becomes very cool and hard to read. His two friends toss in their cards. He looks Ash in the eye and says,   "What you got?"

 Spoiler
You are dealt the Black G.

The pot stands at 30 silver currently.

[User]
 Ash
  Ah, child-killers. Very pleasant.
 "Oh... I see. Ever do any work over in Onyxeye? I have a cousin who lives up there."

 Spoiler

And because that's a blatant lie....
Bluff:  (1d20+15)[ 20 ]

The bard stared at her hand of cards as if trying to make sense of some complicated puzzle.

 "Um... I.... I'll.... raise?"

 Spoiler

Bump the bid up another 10 silver.
If necessary to hide the fact that Ash actually has a really good hand.... Bluff:  (1d20+15)[ 20 ]

[User]
 Donban nods,   "We dun work up north. Vexx pays good money. She don't like no Gnoll or Ratfolk. Pays top coin for heads. why last month we worked with a half-gian..."

Hazel coughs and gives Donban the "shut up" look.  Janthus clears his throat and proceeds to call Ash's bluff,   "Time to show you what you've got!"

Donban tosses his cards into the center, revealing two B's. Naslog sighs and just folds his cards over. With a greedy look in his eye, Hazel (aka Janthus) flashes a devilish smile as he drops three Whitebeards on the table.   "Guess I win. Better luck next time, boys."

[User]
 Ash
  Hmmm, so it seems this Vexx is pretty active in hiring on random goons for her dirty work... Can probably make use of that... Should really try to get moving soon though...

Ash started slightly, as if she had not been following current developments very well and was surprised at the sudden results. Biting her lip, she glanced confusedly between the cards on the table and the ones in her hand.

 "Um... well that looks a lot more impressive than mine... I mean, I managed to get all these in a row, which seemed pretty nice. But then you got a whole three of the same kind!"

Laying the straight in her hand down on the table, Ash blinked with obfuscating stupidity at the three men's expressions.

 "Uh... is that alright?"

[User]
 The three men look shocked as they stare at your hand,   "WHA!?!?!?!"

Hazel whistles as he leans back in his chair,   "That, my beautiful little friend, is what we in the mercenary business call a "Cold Kill." Damn. Thought I had you!"

Donban chuckles,   "Like that spy we caught in Clouddown! Had fun stringin' her up..."

Hazel caught awkwardly and then deals out a new set of cards,   "We aren't going easy on you this time."

 Spoiler: Hand

Green Five
Green No Beard
Red White Beard
Black Five
Green Shortbeard

[User]
 Ash
  Okay, really need to be moving on at this point... Don't have anymore time to waste with these guys...
 "Uhm...."

Staring at the cards in hand, Ash eventually pluck a couple of them at random and exchanged them out.

 Spoiler

Trade out the Nobeard and Shortbeard.

[User]
 The group plays a few more hands. Ash wins most of them and only bet a paltry sum on the ones she lost. After a few hours, Hazel turns out his pockets and sighs,   "Damn, you are one good poker player! You've stolen all my coins!"

Donban chuckles,   "I guess we're going to have to go back to that Half-Giant in Clouddown and get another job!"
  "That is an excellent point my friend. We do need to go back to the castle and get us another job.   The ruggedly handsome man smiles coyly,   You... Want to come with us to the Castle? I... I mean WE could use some... Company."


[User]
 Gorthalon
 http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=658855

       Holdings
——————————  Windypeake Cave (0g)
Meath (-)
Meath Guard Tower (1300g)
    Followers
——————————  Saben the Cleric
 Victor the Rogue
    Economy
——————————  Fengari Trade (300g/month)
Meath Tithe (60g/month)
'Mining' Tax (-100g/month)
Follower Wages (-124g/month)
    Wealth
——————————  Heap of Coins (3183g)

Sword of Sardangos Birkenna (2315g)
Silver Crown (10g)
Healing Symbol (700g)
Treaty of Windypeake (50g)

[User]
 Windypeake Cave
 Resale Value: 0g | Privacy: Low

Perched half way up a mountain so small and unimposing as to challenge the name, Windypeake Cave is small, damp, and smells faintly of cheese. Few creatures would stay there willingly, but it offers shelter from the elements, and cover from prying eyes.

The cave was officially granted property of the dragon Gorthalon following the Treaty of Windypeake.

   Meath
 Resale Value: - | Privacy: None

Small, remote, and lightly populated, Meath has few natural resources and doesn't see many travelers. It sits adjacent to the bridge where the old North road crosses a wide river, but the road has been disused for decades, ever since it was replaced by a newer road leading directly to the Fieldy capital. The people of Meath survive by fishing, hunting, and goat farming. The fengari trade is the most money that has passed through Meath for decades, and besides that they have practically no exports, surviving on the charity of greater Fieldy.

  Meath Guard Tower
 Resale Value: 1300g | Privacy: None

A 30 foot tall guard tower made of hewn stone. The Meath town watch used this building as their base and barracks before being withdrawn to Caron after the Treaty of Windypeake. As a Fieldy state property, its ownership passed directly to Gorthalon, making it eligible for resale if the right buyer could be found.

[User]
 Saben
M CN Human Cleric (4),  Level  4,  Init  -1,  HP  22/22,  Speed  20
 AC  17,  Touch  9,  Flat-footed  17,  Fort  4,  Ref  0,  Will  6,  Base Attack Bonus  0
   Morningstar   +1 (1d8+1, -)
   Banded Mail ,    Heavy Steel Shield  (+6 Armor, +2 Shield, -1 Dex)
 Abilities  Str 12, Dex 8, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 14
 Condition  None

Once a devotee of Nerull, Saben developed a conscience and alienated his god through his quest for redemption. For his sworn service to the dragon Gorthalon, the Ninefold Dragon God Io has accepted him as a worshiper - a notable occurence in the long history of dragon-kind.

   Victor
Male Neutral Fengari Rogue,  Level  2,  Init  4,  HP  12/12,  Speed  30 ft
 AC  18,  Touch  14,  Flat-footed  14,  Fort  0,  Ref  7,  Will  1,  Base Attack Bonus  1
   Sap   +1 (1d6, X2)
   Spear   +1 (1d8, X2)
   Masterwork Composite Shortbow (20)   +6 (1d6, X3)
   Chain Shirt  (+4 Armor, +4 Dex)
 Abilities  Str 10, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 12
 Condition  None

One the Fengari's scouts and gate watchers, Victor was one of several of Vecca's elite young adults who asked to be allowed to explore the surface world. He was permitted to leave the Fengari home cave, in the service, and under the protection of the dragon Gorthalon.

[User]
 Silver Crown
A beaten silver crown, with the symbol of a dragon's eye engraved on the front. One very similar to it can be seen in paintings of the ancient king Niadhogr Blackheart - though Blackheart's had a broken tine.

  Healing Symbol
 Value: 700g | Activation: Command Word | Caster Level: 1st
Casts cure light wounds 2/day

A silver holy symbol of Pelor, it glows with a faint silver light.
Twice per day the symbol can be used to heal the wounds of a creature it's held against, as per the cure light wounds spell.

  Blade of Broken Barrows
 Value: 36,000g | Activation: Use Activated | Caster Level: 11th / 3rd
Casts create undead or command undead 2/day

A silver-handled dagger with a black, wavy blade. The dagger is icy cold to the touch, and is rumored to be an artifact of dark power.
The kris is activated when the blade pierces the flesh of a humanoid corpse, which rises as a ghoul as per the Create Undead spell. The blade can also be pointed at an undead creature, which becomes instantly cowed as per the Command Undead spell. The blade has 2 charges, which are renewed each day at midnight. Using either function of the blade consumes one charge.
Restrictions: Must be cleric or wizard, must be either non-lawful or non-good.

 The Blade of Broken Barrows was destroyed by the dragon Gorthalon in 1366.

  Sword of Sardangos Birkenna
 Value: 2,315g | +1 Longsword

A longsword, once belonging to the disgraced and unsuccessful dragonslayer Sardangos Birkenna, who sought the head of the black dragon Niarhjuroshoger hundreds of years ago. The blade is blackened and pitted by age, but under the corrosion and rust the dull blade still remains intact.

  Treaty of Windypeake
 Value: 50g | Masterwork Tool: Diplomacy

A large, ornate vellum scroll, inset with gold leaf and elaborate decorations. The treaty outlines the dragon Gorthalon's rights and responsibilities regarding the town of Meath and environs, including its Eastern hills. Just seeing the distinctive scroll reminds any agents of Fieldy of their obligations and the respect due the dragon, and the item acts as a +2 masterwork tool for Diplomacy when dealing with Fieldy so long as it's on display.

[User]
 Reserved
 Resale Value: - | Privacy: -


[User]
 Dark grey clouds cover the entire spanse of sky above you, and the sun has taken upon a blood-soaked red to serve as its garments rather than its usual yellow-orange vestments. As you look across the city, as far as you can see, you see death. The stench of slowly rotting bodies fills the air, overpowering any other scent you could possibly smell. No matter where you look you see the dead laying on sidewalks or in their cars, as if they were merely taking a rather long nap.

The buildings seem to have shared in the same fate as their builders, and too are in disarray. Their stone and steel bones lay strewn across the city as if they were the blocks of a large toddler who was done playing his toys but neglected to pick them up and put the blocks away. In the distance you can see fires consuming countless buildings, perhaps the fault of someones stove that had been left on, perhaps caused by something else.

You hear a deep laugh boom across the city, but are unable to find its source. The voice sends chills down your spine. This is no ordinary voice, it is one of a person consumed by evil, whose very existence is a blight upon life itself, a stain that even the universe wishes to expunge. You begin to hear a loud beeping noise, which continues to grow louder and louder until that is the only thing you here.

Then you wake up, the last thing you remember from the dream being a paper floating past you. The date? December 21. This year. As you look at the rude mastermind behind your awakening you see the date, November 21. 30 days before the whatever you say in that dream happens, well if it was anything other than a dream that is.

[User]
 KX-99J, "Van," bolts upright, breathing hard.  What was that?  Just a dream, or something else?  It had felt so real....  More real than most things he felt since his...accident.  They told him he'd have a normal life, yet here he was with lines all over his skin and rivets along his spine and shoulders.  He looked at the clock.  It was to early for his shift just yet, they had him working a lot of nights now, saying he was 'uniquely suited.'  More like the other guys didn't want him around.  Not that he blamed them.  Kind of hard to share a beer with a guy you had helped scrape off the pavement, who's funeral you had attended.  They still had that uneasy look when they saw him, like they weren't sure he was still himself, or just some thing they built in a lab somewhere.  Van wasn't sure if he agreed with them.  Sometimes his old life felt so fuzzy, like his memories were a TV channel with bad reception.  But then he'd see something, an old car, a park bench, the shape of a woman, and memories associated with it would come flooding back almost as if he was reliving them.  He tried to do what he used to to clear his head, but jogging didn't tire him out like it used to, and none of his old girlfriends wanted to see him.  So, he'd do what he seemed to be doing more and more of these days.  He'd patrol.

The armor was tight, but he could still move freely.  He'd seen this orichalcum stuff before, come across a few rogue spirits who had weapons made of it, and there was a private eye down on Chamber Street who had guns made from it, a sidearm and a great big cannon he called a 'heartpiercer.'  Yeah, it looked like it could pierce just about anything.  This stuff was supposed to be heavy, but now that he was using it too it always felt light as a feather.  The armor was easy, it was on in less than a minute.  The gloves...these things kind of freaked him out.  Just where did the blades and chains  go  when he wasn't using them?  It didn't feel right.  But, they'd always worked fine, so he didn't have an excuse to refuse them wear them.  That just left...his hand.  That was by far the strangest part of this.  They had given him a ring, like the class ring he got at the academy, but this one was set with a stone that seemed to change color when he wasn't looking.  Wear this on your ring hand when on duty, they said.  And he did.  Then his hand had opened up into that mechanical nightmare gun, and that ring had turned into part of the barrel.  And with a bang of steam, he'd been shooting honest-to-gods lightning a second later.  He still wasn't used to it, his hand changing like that.  But with the assignments he got now, having a cannon in your arm was not something he could dismiss.  Sighing, he steps out of his apartment and climbs the stairs towards the roof.

[User]
 Freddie sits up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat.  As far as nightmares go, he was used to them.  But this one was different. So vivid.  SO intense.  He had almost believed it was real when he woke up.   "Green-Eyed Lucien...  What a ****in' dream."   He blearily gets out of bed and starts to get dressed.  He pulls on a pair of boxers, jeans, and an AC/DC t-shirt.  His head is pounding, a sensation he's all too used to.  The light stabs him in the eyes, prompting him to put on a pair of dark black shades.

He heads to the kitchen and makes a bacon sandwich out of leftovers.  It helped, even if just a little.  Eventually, there was nothing else to distract him from the dream.  So he did what he always did to clear his head.  He went for a drive.

His car sat in front of his apartment building, one of many vehicles that he had stashed around the city.  This one, though, was his.  His favorite, and the only one he hadn't stolen.  A sleek, black muscle car with golden accents, it was just the right mix of flash and power under the hood.  He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and started the engine.

He drove off with a low rumble, and turned the volume on the radio all the way up.


[User]
 The Legend of the Tomb of Horrors
  Somewhere under a lost and lonely hill of grim and foreboding aspect lies a labyrinthine crypt filled with terrible traps and not a few strong and ferocious monsters to slay the unwary. Rich treasures both precious and magical fill the crypt, but in addition to the aforementioned guardians, some say a demilich still wards his final haunt. (Be warned that tales told have it that this being possesses powers that make him nearly undefeatable!) Accounts relate that adventurers have an extremely low probability of ever finding the chamber where the demilich Acererak lingers, for the passages and rooms of the tomb are fraught with terrible traps, poison gases, and magical protections. Furthermore, the demilich has hidden his lair so well, that even those who avoid the pitfalls likely will not locate their true goal. So only large and well-prepared parties of the bravest and strongest should even consider the attempt, and if they do locate the tomb, they must be prepared to fail. Any expedition must be composed of characters of high level and varied class. They must have magical protections and weapons, and they should equip themselves with every sort of device possible to ensure their survival...

Thus goes the legend that has brought you to this lonely and dark hill, deep in the Crawling Swamp in the Shadow Marches. As you approach your destination, your well-paid guide points to the clearing, yells "THEREITISPLEASEDONTHURTMEGOODBYE", and sprints back towards the relative safety of his village. You exchange looks and shrug philosophically, then turn and enter the clearing.

A low, flat-topped hill, about 200 yards wide and 300 yards long, protrudes from the earth. Ugly weeds, thorns, and briars grow upon the steep sides and bald top of the 60-foot-high mound. Black rocks crown the hilltop.

[User] Sarissa looks around, seeing if there is anything of note on the hill. She's careful to not step... Well, anywhere, really, since she's hovering about two feet off the ground.   Here we are. Let's hope we make it back here alive-or, well, animate,   she adds with a slight chuckle. It stops quickly, though, as she frowns.   This place doesn't feel very safe.

[User]
 Luke

The human looks after the departing guide with disbelief.   "Wow, he seemed scared.  He'll never get beyond being a village guide... we all know that fortune favors the bold!"

[User] There's a pattern to these rocks... Can any of you figure it out? It's eluding me.

[User]
 Dirge Darksong  looks around.    "I got a bad feeling about this.  "  He looks at his companions,   "Since we are working together, I should let you know that I have a direct connection to the elemental planes.  I shall summon them to help us - please let my elementals lead the way."    The wizardly looking fellow begins to speak in a language that sounds like rocks rubbing together.  Soon enough, a small earth elemental appears and then it submerges itself into the hillside on some unknown quest.

ooc:  Dirge will continuously summon earth elementals to locate the entrance and will use it as a scout.

[User] Seeing nothing, the group approaches the hill a little closer. The north side of the hill is fronted by a 20-foot-high crumbling cliff of sand and gravel. A low stone ledge overhangs this eroded area, and shrubs and bushes obscure it from observation at a distance.

[User]
 When the elemental returns, Dirge says, "  The elemental found a magically warded series of tunnels beneath the hill.  We must be in the right place - unfortunately I am not sure which tunnel to take.  "

Dirge will point out the tunnel locations as he was told.  He will incorporate another earth elemental to help clear the way to the tunnels.

[User]
 I can help clear a path... But it might sound a bit, erm, loud. And disconcerting.

 Spoiler: OOC
Shatter, shatter, shatter my way into the tunnel!

[User]
 Luke
 "I don't mind loud, but be careful."   Luke watches vigilantly for any sign of danger.

 Spoiler

Search mod is +21, taking 20 as suggested

[User]
 Right... Cover your ears,   Sarissa says, before her mouth contorts itself into an odd and disconcerting shape as she utters a word of Dark Speech.

 Spoiler: OOC
Casting  Shatter  on the ground, to start tunneling out a hole. I can do this all day, so it doesn't matter if it takes a while.

[User] Dirge says,   "And I thought I had a dark song."    He smiles and unfurls his wings and takes to the air to provide overwatch in the event the noise attracts visitors.

[User]
 Luke

After studying the cliff for several minutes with his brow furrowed, Luke points to a spot near the west edge of the cliff, about 30' from the edge and 5' up.   "There's a small crevice there, and I think it goes inside.  We could probably widen it and get inside the hill.

I wonder how the people before us got in?  Who is repairing the entry points and hiding them?"

[User]
 Sarissa shuts her mouth, rearranging her jawbone after dislocating it for the Dark Speech.

  That'll be much easier. Although I'll want to be sure we can make it back out.

[User]
 Dirge swoops down and lands near his companions.    "Um...there's something else, too."    He swallows hard and then says,   "When I flew up to watch for any trouble that may have been attracted to the noise we were creating, I looked down at the hill and it resembled a great human skull... "   Dirge starts sketching in the dirt, using the rocks as he continues.   "..with the piles of rock appearing as eye holes, nose hole, and the jagged teeth of a grinning death's head.  I put our entrance right about here."    Dirge points with the stick he was using to the place he calculates.

  "Now, I am not overly brave, but I am not foolish, either.  I think we need to proceed with caution, for I have a feeling that this Acererak has laid many a trap of magical, mundane, or monster to foil those who enter."

[User] As the adventurers inspect the gravel cliff, a thunderstorm appears on the horizon. Rain has yet to begin falling, but thunder already sound throughout the swamp.

[User] Yes. Caution above all else-but we're here to plunder the tomb. We shouldn't be hasty, but at the same time, delays will only serve to slow us down.

[User] Dirge says,   "I pray that is not an omen of what is to come."    He then summons various elements to more cleanly (and quietly) open a good sized entrance.

[User] Minutes later, a wide entrance is cleared, and our heroes are free to see down the hallway. The stonework is mostly granite. The floor, walls, and ceilings are smooth, and the hallway is about 20 feet wide by 10 feet high. Perhaps 60 feet down the hall, it comes to an abrupt end. Two separate doors are dimly visible at the end of this roughly worked, plain stone corridor.

[User]
 Luke checks to be sure that the new tunnel is stable, and then carefully assesses the worked stone tunnel and doors, looking for traps, creatures, or anything else dangerous.

 Spoiler: Search

Do you want me to roll search checks, or will you do it?
Search mod of +21.

[User]
 Dirge says to his companion,   "Please allow my elemental to go in first."

He summons a small earth elemental as it is the heaviest of the lot and sends it in to see if pits or other traps are triggered by it.


[User]
 City gates of Angloa

After an exhausting journey your group are finally standing outside the northern city gates of Angloa. It's not particularly windy today and the sun's touch on the skin is pleasantly warming. The smell however is dorminated by that of smelly bodies comming from the trail of mixed bodies, moving in and out of the city through copple-stoned road that goes right through the massive city gate.

Two towering sculptures flanks the city gate simultaneously bringing promises of protection to the law-abiding and punishment to the ones who break it. One human man that looks like he's off african decendance holding a spellbook, dressed in a wizard robe and with what looks like a small dragon on his, and one human man that looks like he's off asian decendance holding a greatsword and wearing full-plate.

You have finally arrived to your destination. What do you do?

[User]
 So Saviours was the oddest and most challenging game Rasmus had ever played. The level of immersion it provided was mindboggling, it was simply the best FullDive title on the market. If you could call it a market when logging out is a nigh impossibility. Not that he minded much.

Halgr continued to stare at the gate, having stopped to take in the view with wonder in his face.   "Ok, that is impressive."   His gaze fell to the line stretching from the gate and it was immediately replaced by frustration.   "But that is less so."   The wind turning to blow from the city added slight disgust to the mix.   "And from the smell of things a decent shower might be a tad difficult to find."   He sighed and looked over at his travel companion.   "What do you think, Branda?"

[User]
 With her green cloak stuffed to bursting with wands and scrolls, the overdressed halfling cleric provides a stark contrast to Halgr's lanky silhouette. She looks up at him impatiently.
   "I think,  Rasmus,  that we need to focus on our priorities."   She scans the crowd for other adventurer-types.   "We're here to find real people who can help us find a way out of here. I want the next shower I take to be in a proper bathroom with tile and faucets and, ideally, my own body."

Looking around and eavesdropping isn't as automatic as everything else Branda seems to do, so Beth really has to push herself in order to see, hear or smell anything. From this vantage point, it's almost easier to duck and try to peer between everyone's legs than to try to see what's going on through the sea of heads.   "What's going on up there, anyway? Are they taking travel papers?"

[User]
 City Gates of Angloa

Halgr despite his height is unable to see much from that distance due to the mass of bodies. It looks like the line is moving only somewhat unhindered through the gate.

 Gate Guards

The line moves painfully slow but eventually our heroic group of trapped Erikssons make their way to the gate. They wait a little while the guards check a wagon in front of them somewhat throughly. When your turn comes one of the guards turn to whisper something to the one beside him while discretely gesturing towards Branda. You can almost feel the dice rolling and beating the puny DC for hearing the whisper.

 "Do you think that one is a runaway?"
 "It'll be fine, she isn't marked"  , the other answers with a shrug and gestures you along.

 Inside the city gates

Assuming nothing happens in the city gates you end up inside the city. The road extending in front of you seems to head towards a big spire. Shops of various content pride either side of the street and the mass of bodies move even slower in here. How do you intend on finding players?

[User]
 Branda is clearly irritated by the slave-hunting talk, but says nothing. Her mind is not on that cause right now.

 "Well, we're here."  She regards the immediate environment.  "We sure seem to be blending in, too. Weird to think that a real person could be anywhere and just look like an NPC..."

Branda seems deep in thought for a moment, but soon just shrugs and tries the most expedient idea that springs to mind. It's worth a shot, anyway.

  "Alright! Anyone entering the city who originally came here to play a video game, line up here!"

[User]
 Some people stop to turn around and look at you, most of them either frowning or confusion. Noone lines up though.

Someone, driving a wagon containing chained people of mixed species, yells their displeasure with the stop in the flow of movement.

A kid about 20 feet away uses the confusion to slip their hand into a pocket of a man in high quality robes of a eye-wrecking yellow-ish colour that you haven't seen in the game before.

 Spoiler
Chance roll  (1d100)[ 81 ]

[User]
 "Well, it was worth a shot.  Never mind!  ...hm?"

Before she can go back to making a better plan, Beth notices something that Branda did not auto-target for her. It's no wonder; the mark's robes have apparently wrecked her eyes. Branda bumps Halgr's bare leg with her cushy elbow to draw his attention. She's so weak, he can barely feel it...

 "Psst! Yellow noble at ten o' clock. He looks like a special NPC, and that kid just picked his pocket. I'll follow her, see if she turns it in anywhere special. You keep track of him, and we meet back here in an hour. Sound good?"


[User]
 An alarm clock beeps right next to your ear. 7:30 AM. You awake wearing a shirt embroidered with the name "John". Outside, you see that you live in 5555 North Nomm avenue in a small town in Great Britain. The house is small, only 1 story and 3 rooms; a bedroom, bathroom, and TV room, which merges with a small kitchen in the corner. You seem to live alone, in a small bed.

 Willpower Usage
Napoleon Bonaparte- 2
Jh'on- 2
Jeanne- 0
Jean- 0
Jh'on wins the coin flip, so they are in control first.

 Remaining Willpower
Napoleon Bonaparte- 5 (started with 7 due to having 3 skills)
Jh'on- 8
Jeanne- 10
Jean- 10

What do you do?

[User] Disciple Jh'on awakes again. The tendrils of Cthulhu shall once again spread across the world. But this time, we do it in a legal and socially moderate manner, with less human sacrifice. This garment is good, it will allow others to identify us by name. But it needs something... more. " Arise, John, and find clothes. Preferably some kind of robe. Also pants. I don't want a repeat of what happened last week ."

[User] A small chest of drawers reveals a green vest and black shorts. They look very cheap.

[User] This will have to do. Now John, put on the clothes, open the front door, and then leave the house. We have matters to attend to! The work of the great old ones must not wait.

[User] A few people walk down the street. A blond woman and her corgi puppy, a black-haired man with large muscles, and a gray haired old woman walking with a walker. Birds tweet from a tree above.

[User] Decisions, decisions, decisions... The muscle man would make a better cultist, so he is the obvious choice. However, old ladies are more susceptible to religions and the old age means less waiting until we can harvest her soul. Especially since the other man has muscles which implies a healthy lifestyle and a longer life. But these are both amateur targets. A more inexperienced cultist wouldn't have seen the dog lady as a target. But the fact that she has a dog shows that she can feel sympathy and express kindness towards other species, so she might also show compassion towards other inhuman beings.  "John, walk up To the lady with the dog and repeat after me. Excuse me, may I have a moment of your time. I'm raising funds for the Save the Deep Ones Foundation. There has been a natural disaster in the city of r'lyth. There are still beings trapped there, and I am raising funds for a rescue. If you could please make a small donation to this cause, we would be very grateful. Every bit helps" .

[User]
 "Oh, my God. That is SO edgy. I love reading the works of Lovecraft. Sure, I'll sponsor it. Down, Mundrow!"
The corgi is nipping at your heels. When it hears its master order it, it stops.
 "Here's 50 pounds."

[User] Finally, success, and the sound of glorious lucre. Now let's see how far we can take it. Well, studies show that people are more likely to say yes to something right after they say yes to a minor thing.  "You're doing well. Now just say: If you're interested, you can join. We meet on Tuesday evenings, location TBD. How does being a Cthulhian sound? We're only slightly a cult."

[User]
 "Nah, I'm SO not for that. I've already given you 50 quid and now you're indoctrinating me? Love, go bother someone else or I'll sic Mundrow on ya."
The corgi pulls on its leash, biting at the air on its hind legs.

[User]
 Willpower Usage
Napoleon Bonaparte- 0
Jeanne- 0
Jean- 1

 Remaining Willpower
Napoleon Bonaparte- 5
Jh'on- 8
Jeanne- 10
Jean- 9

Jean gains control of John's body. You see before you a woman walking her corgi. She seems very mad at you, though you couldn't guess why.

[User]
 Ma'am there is no need for anger following this act, all I do is dispense purest Justice, now excuse me!
Jean then storms back into the house in search of a weapon to bring punishment to sinners, perhaps a knife from the draws to start with.

[User] You find a kitchen knife. The blade is 5 inches long, with a black rubber handle. In the kitchen, you hear from the TV:  "Breaking news report. Triple Shooting Murderer Jeff Hopkins strikes again. Two police officers lie dead in the supermarket donut aisle, as well as the manager. Who knows where he will kill next."

[User]
 Truly this most wondrous device tells me of those sinners I must punish.

Jean then googles where the murder happens and searches for her mighty steed (car or bike) to take her to her place of vengeance

[User]
 After an hour of searching, you find out it happened in the Sainsbury's a few miles away. After you get in the 20-year-old bentley that you find in the garage, you find that you are losing control as searching for that took a while.

Another fight for control.
 Reminder Willpower
Napoleon Bonaparte: 5
Disciple Jh'on: 8
Jeanne: 10

[User]
 Willpower Usage
Napoleon Bonaparte: 0
Disciple Jh'on: 2
Jeanne: 0

 Remaining Willpower
Napoleon Bonaparte: 5
Jh'on: 6
Jean: 9
Jeanne: 10

Jh'on awakens in a 20-year-old bentley, just about to leave the house. You have the key in hand.


[User] - reserved for index

[User]
 The worries of the day filter through a montage of images and stories.
 The dream elements collide and warp as if their maker was far too busy or distracted to maintain a singular thought.  The sneak encountered in an alley wears the face of a cousin.  Walls flicker and shift arbitrarily.  The voice of the nobleman is wrong somehow.  Nothing is stable here.  Nothing truly matters.

The actors fade away unceremoniously only to be replaced by an empty stage.  An empty mind.  Darkness.  A sensation of space shifting feels like a mild earthquake and a rumbling noise is heard.  Do ears pop in a dream?  Darkness is replaced by a radiating light--Like an ember that pulsates as it is stoked by the wind.  'Air', or whatever passes for it, presses evenly against the 'skin'.  There is no body to be seen but it feels just the same.  And now it half walks, half swims, through a void of dim light.  There is no breath, but there is life, and you feel an energy as a presence in your body.

Details bloom, first as fuzzy shapes in the distance and then as blobs in the foreground.  A landscape of feral grasses and coarse roads is dominated by a rusty-brown sky.  As an unnatural wind blows the dust and grass ripple in and out of solidity.  The noises of wind and crunching feet on gravel bubble forth,
 distorted heavily by the ebb and flow of the dream.

Three figures wrapped in brown cloaks walk away from you, one beside the next.  You stand at a literal cross-roads as two winding highways intersect.  Far ahead, in the direction of the figures, is a rolling hill that extends into a haze of brown light at the foreshortened horizon.  To either side are towers and parapets but the details of these refuse to resolve themselves.  Behind you some hundred feet is a stand of unnatural trees, with branches that should not hold together such as they are.

[User]
 Solomon
 *...And all the world's a stage. That's what she said, and so it is. Light...darkness...greyness. Are you there, Cullam? Are you watching? Or are you one of them? You bastard, I cannot trust you. The browncloaks, they are walking away...
A crossroads. But I've always taken my own path. No. Liar. I lie. I've been led. But I say it's been my own choice. A lie. Why do I lie to myself? I know me. I take the middle road. I always take the middle road.
The towers. Part of a castle perhaps. Will I be safe there? The wilderness behind me. It creeps. It comes closer. The trees, they are not my allies. There is no society in the wilds. Only you. Only me. Nothing but shadows, yet nowhere to hide. The branches. They reach out. They tangle. The past tangles. The past holds. Only in the future is there freedom. The trees scare me. I must leave them behind me.
I walk. I take the middle road...*

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC_Dream Rolls
Typically I would not roll these openly or even at all depending on circumstances.  In this case I'm making an exception due to the especially-arbitrary nature of the current setting.
Will  (1d20+4)[ 16 ]
Wisdom  (1d20+1)[ 6 ]
Charisma  (1d20+2)[ 3 ]
Survival  (1d20+1)[ 8 ]

[User] The trees quiver and dissolve into a dim gloaming backdrop behind you.  Less a visual confirmation than a knowing.  A pure idea.  It was there and now it is not.  It is far away if it ever existed at all.  As they do so the grasses grate together, shifting with menacing tendrils and long shadows.  This abates and soon it is made soft turf.  You feel yourself drawn forward along the path.  Half a sense of walking and half unadulterated willpower.  The role of looming threat is replaced by the three individuals you now walk beside.  They are no taller but they may as well each represent an impassible obstruction.  A tower of judgement.  They say nothing, nor do they look to you.  Another array of ideas is conjured.  'You are too weak to pass us.'  'You are too insignificant to warrant further consideration.'  'Bow or be extinguished.'

[User]
 Solomon
 *They said it. They say it. It is true, I've always known. I am weak. Too weak. They loom over me, always above me. I know, I accept. I will bow. I must, lest I am extinguished. I do not want that. I will bow. I bow.

I bow? No.   "No."   I say it. They will know. They seek to judge me? Who are they to do so? Who is anyone to do so? They think I am as another. That I want to walk the same paths. I do not seek to pass, I wish to stand. I do not want to be considered, I want to consider. Non-existence? If I yield, it is death by another name. Different path, same destination. My choice or another's? Maybe mine, maybe another's. Maybe some of both. Not theirs, that I know. Never theirs.*

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC_Dream Rolls

Will  (1d20+4)[ 18 ]
Wisdom  (1d20+1)[ 4 ]
Charisma  (1d20+2)[ 9 ]
Survival  (1d20+1)[ 20 ]

[User] The now singular figure rages against your rejection.  A sensation of wrestling bodies.  A fight for dominance.  Or survival.  A stalemate is reached and the faceless humanoid slips away.  Or rather, changes once again.  For now it is a mirrored portal into its soul, hovering above the path before you.  Within is a room of dull grays and blues with its true self huddled within.  It is a sign of its vulnerability--A means to vanquish it as it licks its proverbial wounds.  Or it is a most dangerous trap.  One or the other is certain.  An alien wind whips up causing blurred lines of vision.  Its strength only increases as it awaits your decision.

[User]
 Solomon
 *My rage and hatred are as strong as before. But not at it, for what would be the point? The struggle, it is meaningless. And yet, it is everything. And then a weakness is revealed. A breaking point. Who would strike now to kill? All, most, some or none? I am none, I am all.
Who would fear a trap? I am some, I am most. The wind, it tears. And what of it?
Even if it is not a trap, I seek not to kill. Not to extinguish. Not to severe all ties. I seek change. I move in. Not to strike,
 but to hold. Not to kill, but to teach. And be taught. I will it, and it wills me. I take the middle path.

I seek change.*

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC_Dream Rolls

Will  (1d20+4)[ 16 ]
Wisdom  (1d20+1)[ 13 ]
Charisma  (1d20+2)[ 8 ]
Diplomacy  (1d20+9)[ 12 ]
Survival  (1d20+1)[ 12 ]

[User]
 As you enter through the portal a sliver of 'self' erodes and the sensation of dreamy weightlessness increases.  The change coincides with this place as belonging to the other, not you.  An exchange of ideas takes place.  Projections of thoughts that lose much in translation.  You concentrate to convey your own, much like as you perform to manage your telepathic ability.  It is as if you are truly speaking a different language though fuzzy images and meanings do slip through as projected on the dream room's walls.  He is a..'he'.  A revelation that now seems obvious.  He performs dangerous work.  Something where he must project far more authority than he truly owns.  You are a threat to him.  Or perhaps a thorn in his boot.  Another week to manage this mess before him before it becomes unmanageable.  And then a thought occurs to him.  One far too eventful to ignore.  He winks out of the dream, thereby ejecting you back to the brown landscape.  A forest is behind you but it is far too far to warrant inspection.  There are towers and scattered trees but the road ends abruptly.  Traces of the annihilating wind remain around you but are diminished.  Mildly sated.

 Spoiler: OOC_Dream Rolls

Will  (1d20+4)[ 9 ]

  Stray thoughts threaten your ability to perceive the landscape as you 'drift' closer to normal dreams.  It takes considerable effort to 'remember' that there is road. And grass.  And tower.  And dull orange-brown light.

[User]
 Solomon
 *And so it ends, as I somehow knew it must. Where have you gone? Who are you? Were you? A dream, a dream, a dream. Once again beyond doubt, beyond fear, beyond despair. I will not remember. Or was this different? Have I been here before? It does not matter. Or maybe it does. Difficult to know. Difficult to care. Now, at least. Not when I wake. I hope I do not remember. Peace. So tempting. Only in dreams though. Sleep.*

[User]
 The mind returns to the void of unmemorable dream and you awake in a mild mental fog.  Despite this there is a distinct impression of having been somewhere else.  As if your eyes have to adjust to the natural skylight pouring through the window.  Too blue.  Too sharp.  Sounds and smells are strange like you are evaluating each anew.  A subtle headache ensues and you feel oddly drained yet invigorated.
     End Part I
 Spoiler: OOC
I'll keep this open for future dream-world sequences.  More soon regarding XP/other rewards.

EDIT: ..And..meet me over  here  for the next sequence.


[User]
 In bearing grinding wheel and workpiece processing and energy consumption, a small amount of grinding heat in contact region, form some brake grinding at low temperature. Application of linear static heat source heat transfer formula derivation, analysis, practice and method is applied to internal or red thermocouple is reliable, test temperature can inhibit the invention in 0.1 ~ 0.001 ms when braking, grinding temperature 15 ℃ ~ 1. Brakes in such a low temperature, let tasks outside surface depth,  Clearance Of SKF Bearing  low-temperature oxidation, amorphous appearance organization low temperature tempering, quenching and burns, even the second ginobili variations.
The first major factor is the oxide film appearance
They are appearance and low temperature air brake, the role of oxygen (2) ~ 30 nm ferrous oxide thin layer. Worthy of attention and thickness of oxide layer test, decomposition layer surface grinding power corresponding relation and influence in general. It is because he and grinding process thickness of oxide layer, the indirect stamps coherent important quality marks.
The second factor and organization transparent layer
Braking scream, when in low temperature condition, when the workpiece appearance to molten iron traffic and average molecular layer, is through the metal in a very rapid cooling, pick a thin layer of amorphous layer organization. High hardness and strength, but it wasn't until about 10 nm is easy to remove the grinding processing in general.
The third factor is the low temperature tempering layer
Brakes screamed let appearances in low temperature, depth (10 ~ 100 nm) heated to a higher temperature heating workpiece on holiday. Without the austenitic temperature condition, due to the heating temperature and its progress and heating temperature will leave again looks absolutely should step by step or cryogenic tempering organization change, hardness is also accompanied by land. High heating temperature, hardness and wooden hut landing.
Bearing the judgment:
Bearing whether to enter the court, mainly considering bearing damage degree, mechanical properties, importance, trip next time maintenance decision. If there are defects can't use, need to change the new rolling mill bearing. Inner ring and outer ring, rolling body, crack, or gap, although there is a separator.
1 any gap, ring, rolling body.
2, rolling, rolling body edge coating significantly bruises.
3, separator wear significantly or significantly rivet bleak.
4, racetrack, rolling on the surface of the body surface rust, suspicious.
5, racetrack, roller surface imprinting and severe impact.
6, inner ring or outer ring surface of the surface has obvious stem diameter.
7, the obvious discoloration caused by heat.
8, sealed lubrication bearings, rolling mill in a maze or packing damage.


[User]
 Veiled by the labyrinthine mists of time, many tales lay yet unresolved. One such is the most recent surge of violence in Eberron, a growing tide of blood fueled by the ambition of Ruber, self-proclaimed king. The berserk warlord began his conquest of Khorvaire in the province of Droaam, and after having charged from town to town, marches on its capital: The Great Crag. His campaign is bolstered by the presence two fellow ex-guildmembers - the necromantic aid of the human arcanist Danzril, and the brutal single-minded efficiency of the orc warrior Gilreath. Their ambitions are their own, however, and only time will tell how great a kingdom Ruber will be able to carve.

For now, the march continues.

[User]
 Danzril stood up from the bare patch he found for himself in the twilit hours of the early morning, tucking away his holy symbol. His eyes found his new familiar, the imp (now a raven) perched on a nearby scrubby tree. They stared at each other for a moment while Dan straitened himself out before the creature spoke.
 "What're you, gay?"
The necromancer's brow furrowed.
 "Because, really, poetry? Look, if that's the kind of-"
 "Silence. And no."
Dan turned about and started to walk back to the camp proper, his familiar jumping up to flap along beside him.
 "It's a  queer  way to pray, is what I'm saying."
 "Your predecessor knew to keep quiet when it came to my practices."
 "Yeah, well, he's dead."
...
"Necromancers normally go the whole 'God of Death' route. What gives?"
 "I don't have to explain myself to you. Later, I may elucidate the matter, but for now be content with the situation."
He gave a meaningful look to the 'bird.'
 "And that includes your subservience to me. So cease your prattle, and go scout. I don't trust these men to notice a sword in their own abdomen."
With an exaggerated flutter and a mumbled  "Whatever,"  Krizzim the imp took to the skies. Danzril continued course to the camp, where no doubt the men were already being whipped to action by their impetuous and now indefatigable 'King.'


[User]
 Veiled by the labyrinthine mists of time, many tales lay yet unresolved. One such is the most recent surge of violence in Eberron, a growing tide of blood fueled by the ambition of Ruber, self-proclaimed king. Hearing rumors of his violent ascent in Khorvaire and use of the undead, the not-yet-retired ex-guildmembers of Brightstone Keep ventured forth to stymie the Scourge. Sallah, cleric of the Lovers; Ni'onilgan, Hunter of the Dead; and Kuhlmak, cambion binder, have thrown their lot in with the province of Droaam, and it's lord, Reginald Fitzgerald.

For now, they plan behind the walls of the Great Crag, anticipating the battle to come.

[User]
 Ni'on settled into the chair that had been provided for him. The seat's cushions did little to hide the heft of neither itself nor its occupant, but they did their main service well. The warrior promised himself that once Ruber was put down he would have to experience these noble comforts without his mithral armor interfering with the luxury.
 "So, Lord Fitzgerald, what are we to do today?"

[User]
 Much like her steady companion, Sallah's mind rests mainly on the matter at hand (and partially on her armor; like him, she prefers to be a fortress of metal and leather, unlike him, she's never gained the ease of moving in it as though it were far lesser of a weight). Though she thought herself done adventuring until and unless her patrons called upon her, she finds herself yet again at Ni'on's side, yet again in something that could be called Guild business, or at least Guild-related.

She knows Ruber's lack of restraint, his utter absence of morals, better than perhaps any other facing him. Though their travels together were short (intentionally so; she'd never have seen him again if she had choice in the matter), her palms still tingle with remembered energy from her smiting of him. A younger Sallah may have thought to herself that it would have been best if she had 'accidentally' channeled too much energy and slain him, but the woman fast growing into her prime retains anger only as a habit, and violence only as memories faded by time at Brightstone Keep.

Kulhmak's thoughts are impenetrable; framed in a language forgotten before current languages' fore-bearers ever touched a tongue, cluttered with cultural references known only to himself. Those with him still do not have the full feel of him, but know that he is devoted to Ni'on and Sallah. He may have named himself for Vengeance, but no word of it has come from him in the months at Brightstone.

Sallah and Kulhmak both look up and to Lord Fitzgerald when Ni'on speaks. Kuhlmak's face is stone as usual, but Sallah has a pained look that Ni'on has come to recognize as her trying very desperately to restrain her sharp tongue. She has no love for Fitzerald, but knows the odds of them stopping Ruber without him are slim, if they exist at all.


[User]
 Trial 1, Stage 1
As the four of you travel through a forest, you approach a small but fast-flowing river. A trio of goblins pop up on the opposite bank and demand that you turn back. Time to show them what you're made of!   ROLL INITIATIVE!

 Spoiler: Scenario special rules

 Anyone who ends their turn in the river must make a DC 12 strength saving throw. On a failure, they are knocked prone and pushed 10 feet downriver (the river flows West to East on the map).
 The river is difficult terrain.
 Large patches of foliage and the tangle of roots near Blorgut count as 1/2 cover.
 Large rocks are impassible and block line of sight.

 Spoiler: Goblin initiative
Blorgut:  (1d20+2)[ 21 ]
Grinnk:  (1d20+2)[ 9 ]
Helmut:  (1d20+2)[ 8 ]

  Initiative order:
 21 Blorgut
20 Cadreinth Bluescale
17 Horse
13 Caelynn Meliamne & Donsilar Thunderfleet
12 Vicril Maryeras
 9 Grinnk
 8 Helmut

[User]
 Spoiler: Rolls

Princess: (1d20+3)[ 13 ]
Princess's Horse:  (1d20)[ 17 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: Rolls
Initiative roll:  (1d20+3)[ 12 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: Rolls
Initiative:  (1d20+3)[ 20 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: Rolls
 (1d20+2)[ 13 ]  for donsilar initiative

[User]
 Top of Round 1

Blorgut the goblin seizes the initiative and takes a shot at Vicril...

Attack:  (1d20+4)[ 23 ]
Damage:  (1d6+2)[ 4 ]

...scoring a painful hit! It then stalks back into the trees and tries to conceal itself...

Dexterity (Stealth):  (1d20+6)[ 16 ]
  Cadreinth's turn.

[User]
 Cadreinth wades into the river, points, and fires an Eldritch Blast at Grinnk.

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 16 ]
Damage:  (1d10)[ 10 ]

He continues to the other side of the river.

[User]
 The goblin tales the blast full in the face, and falls immediately.

  Caelynn's turn!

[User] Caelynn whispers few very Inspiring Words to Vicril and covers behind rock.

[User] It is Donsilar's turn next, then it will be Vicril's.

[User] Donilar dashes forward, advancing on Helmut

[User]
 Vicril's shot misses Helmut by a good few feet, drawing a mocking gesture from the goblin. Seeing Donsilar approach the bridge, Helmut fires on the dwarf.

Attack:  (1d20+4)[ 17 ]
Damage:  (1d6+2)[ 4 ]
 Top of Round 2

An arrow streaks out of the woods towards Cadreinth (but only vaguely towards - there's no danger of it hitting)!

Attack:  (1d20+4)[ 7 ]
Advantage due to being unseen:  (1d20+4)[ 7 ]
Damage:  (1d6+2)[ 5 ]

Blorgut then scuttles over to another leafy bush and hides.

Dexterity (Stealth):  (1d20+6)[ 20 ]
  Cadreinth's turn!

[User]
 Cadreinth followed the goblin to the bush he had run to after shooting him, takes a deep breath, and roars lightning across the bush.

Lightning Breath, Save DC 13.

[User]
 There is a yelp from the bush as Blorgut jumps up into view. He doesn't look too badly injured, though.

  Heeeere's Caelynn!

The princess draws her bow and hits Blorgut, whose luck didn't last long. The goblin falls.

  Donsilar's turn.

[User]
 Donny moves up and swings

 (1d20+5)[ 12 ]  attack
 (1d8+3)[ 10 ]  damage

[User]
 The goblin skips gracefully away from Donsilar's attack.

  Go, Vicril!

[User]
 Vicril runs down the river bank and yells at Helmut,  "Hey, you know what smells worse than a dead goblin? A live one!"

 Spoiler: Crunch
Casting  Vicious Mockery . Helmut must make a Wisdom saving throw or take  (1d4)[ 1 ]  psychic damage and have disadvantage on the next attack roll he makes before the end of his next turn.

[User]
 Helmut Wisdom save:  (1d20-1)[ 14 ]
  "That's what your mum said!"   retorts the goblin, grinning wide. You aren't sure whether he's being deliberately absurd, or if he's just naturally stupid.

Using his nimble escape ability, Helmut steps back from Donsilar and takes  another shot , but the dwarf deflects it with his shield.

 Top of Round 3
Only one goblin remains now, and he is backed into a corner. You have almost secured the crossing!

  Cadreinth, it's your turn.

[User]
 Breath recharge:  (1d6)[ 5 ]

Cadreinth steps around the rock to get a better view of the rest of the fight. He points at the final goblin, whispers an arcane message and fires a bolt of energy at it.

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 13 ]
Damage:  (1d10)[ 3 ]

[User]
 Caelynn moves to better position and draws her bow once again in order to shoot this pesky last goblin:

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 16 ]
Damage:  (1d6+3)[ 8 ]

[User]
 Both Cadreinth's blast and Caelynn's shot are inaccurate, the latter being foiled by the obstructions between the half-elf and her target. Helmut giggles nervously.

  Donsilar's turn!

[User]
 Move and attack

 (1d20+5)[ 14 ] : attack
 (1d8+3)[ 5 ] ]: Damage

[User]
 Somehow, Helmut survives another close shave.

  Vicril's turn.

[User]
 Vicril yells back,  "Oh yeah? Well your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

 Spoiler: Crunch
 Another  Vicious Mockery  aimed at Helmut.

 (1d4)[ 3 ]

[User]
 Helmut Wis save:  (1d20-1)[ 11 ]

Helmut has no response to that, and it looks like you've actually made an impact. The goblin slips backwards a second time, and once again  fails to hit  Donsilar, probably because Vicril put him off.

 Top of Round 4
  Cadreinth, over to you!

[User]
 Cadreinth stepped a little closer to Helmut and fired another blast of power at the frustrating little thing.

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 10 ]
Damage:  (1d10)[ 10 ]

[User] Helmut, luckiest goblin alive, dodges the blast and throws a crude taunt at Princess Caelynn,   whose turn it is now.

[User]
 Luckily, Princess didn't had idea what Helmut said but his mockering tone suggested something crude and insulting. Somehow this really infuriated her. So Caelynn made several hasty steps toward fallen tree and furiously send another arrow in direction of this miserable pile of green s... skin.

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 22 ]
Damage:  (1d6+3)[ 6 ]

[User]
 The arrow streaks towards the goblin, killing him on the spot.

 Stage 1 clear!!
  Would you like to take a short rest? You have 2 remaining.

[User]
 Trial 1, Stage 2
Deeper into the forest, you spot the tracks of a lone ogre. Following it back to its crude campsite, you spot a juicy treasure horde and decide to kill the ogre so you can steal it! You split up into two teams, so as to attack from both sides. Everything seems to be going well... until the ogre spots you!   ROLL INITIATIVE (except for Caelynn)!

 Spoiler: Scenario special rules

 The trees are impassible and block line of sight.

 Spoiler: Ogre initiative
Jarn:  (1d20-1)[ 2 ]

  Initiative order:
21 Caelynn Meliamne
15 Cadreinth Bluescale
10 Vicril Maryeras
5 Donsilar Thunderfleet
2 Jarn

[User] (1d20+2)[ 5 ]  Initiative for donny

[User]
 The ogre is slow to react, giving you all the opportunity to move before it is able to respond.

  Caelynn goes first, then Cadreinth, Vicril and Donsilar.

[User]
 Caelynn shouts to ogre,  "Give me something nice, brute and if you don't, I've got something nice, and it's called an arrow! *schhwaff*... Wait, should I said that before I shot?"

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 15 ]
Damage:  (1d6+3)[ 6 ]

[User]
 Caelynn's arrow is accurate, but hardly seems to trouble the ogre.

  Cadreinth's turn.

[User]
 Cadreinth twiddles his thumbs.

  Vicril, you're up!

[User]
 Given that his attempts at mockery have been overall more successful than his attempts at archery thus far, Vicril goes for a taunt,  "Ugh, what's that awful stuff on your face? Oh, wait, that's just your face!"

 Spoiler: OOC
Vicious Mockery:  (1d4)[ 2 ]  Psychic damage

[User]
 Jarn Wis save:  (1d20-2)[ 14 ]

The magic has no effect.   "That wasn't very nice, little man,"   the ogre chides.

  Donsilar's turn.

[User]
 While Donsilar and Cadreinth have a riveting conversation of their own, unconcerned by the hulking ogre before them, Jarn finally takes action. He stomps over to Princess Meliamne and takes a swipe at her with his huge club.

Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 19 ]
Damage:  (2d8+4)[ 9 ]

Through his blood bond, Donsilar feels the attack... and looks up in shock as he realises he is too far away to share his companion's pain! The elf is knocked unconscious instantly!!

 Top of Round 2!
  Caelynn, please make a death save. It is Cadreinth's move next.

[User]
 Cadreinth runs towards the fight, pulls out his focusing rod, and Hexes the ogre, before firing a bolt of power at it.

BA: Hex at Jarn, Disadvantage on Strength Checks.

Action: Eldritch Blast Jarn.
Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 18 ]
Damage:  (1d10)[ 2 ]  force +  (1d6)[ 6 ]  necrotic

[User]
 Cadreinth's shot hits, triggering the  Hex  for increased damage.

  It is now the turn of Vicril,   who can still smell the magic burning through Jarn's flesh.

[User]
 Vicril keeps up his taunting,  "Oh yeah? Well your breath isn't very nice!"

 Spoiler: Rolls
Another  Vicious Mockery :  (1d4)[ 3 ]

[User]
 Jarn Wis save:  (1d20-2)[ 17 ]

Once again, the ogre is unaffected. Maybe it thinks that was a compliment?

  Donsilar, go!

[User]
 "Princess... no! Get off her, you lousy scambag!" the dwarf shouts, running north-east.
After some twenty-five feets of panting he'd loose an arrow at the brute.

((Attack roll with the shortbow, 78 feet (according to roll20) should be withing the normal range  (1d20+4)[ 5 ] , damage  (1d6+2)[ 6 ] ))

[User]
 Jarn keeps swinging while Donsilar's arrow flies harmlessly past. This time, his club is aimed at Vicril...

Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ]
Damage:  (2d8+4)[ 15 ]

...but the bard ducks out of the way.

 Top of Round 3!

Caelynn death save:  (1d20)[ 3 ]
  Cadreinth's turn.

[User]
 Cadreinth fires another blast of force at the hexed ogre while keeping his distance.

Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 14 ]
Damage:  (1d10)[ 10 ]  +  (1d6)[ 4 ]
            If Crit,  (1d10)[ 4 ]  +  (1d6)[ 3 ]

[User]
 Cadreinth scores a good hit!

  Vicril, time to move!


[User] I'm want to do a Nuzlock and what better way to do then have the community involved


[User]
 OOC
 Grand Council Chamber, Skytooth Mountains, The Ymsearch Vale
14th day of winter, year 287 of the Skytooth Council

Beneath the grandest of the mountains that ring the Ymsearch Vale are the holdings of the mighty Skytooth Council. A network of expansive tunnels and chambers wrought over a millenia by the draconic council and its servants, sized to accomodate all but the greatest of dragons. It is in these chambers that the majority of the council's dragons make their lairs and, in more recent times, in which the business of rulership is conducted.

The grand council chambers are particularly spacious, designed to host the debates of multiple fully grown dragons. Stone walls have been smoothed and artfully engraved, grand murals depicting the myths of dragonkind - among them, Lyterionrinir can make out depictions of her mother. The chamber is filled with an omnipresent soft green glow, the air humming faintly with enchantment to those with the sense for it.

Coiled around the central dias is the sinous form of Councilor Braeterontax. Near her head flits the diminuitive Councilor Vraetaerontijix, the two mismated wyrms deep in whispered debate. A severe looking troll, dreadlocks neatly held in place by golden ties and dressed in formal vest and tie, sit upon the central dias, taking notes at the councilors' direction. More attendants, these dressed in the crimson robes and striking tattoos of the draconic cult, line the walls, awaiting their masters' bidding.

One of the cultists waves you through the smaller service door set in the grand gates that block the passage in, the well-oiled hinges making no sound. You have been summoned here, for the council has need of your talents. Councilor Braeterontax briefly flicks her eyes towards you as you enter before returning to her hushed conversation.

[User] Lyterion shuffles slightly, looking for a comfortably inobvious and unobtrusive spot to wait for the councilors' attention.

[User]
 Limping slightly, Carmine shuffles into the room. Once he's certain they won't be called upon immediately he begins to rummage through the deep pockets of his overcoat. Pulling out a small camp stool he unfolds it, speaking quietly as he does so.
"The Dragons' agent, in full knowledge of the severe dignity of this chamber, stood at attention. He was dressed in his finest dressy suit, a tasteful navy blue number with emerald cuff links."
Sitting on the stool he shakes his arm, allowing a church warden's long stemmed pipe and a satchel of tobacco to fall into his hand. He mutters around the pipe as he lights it.
"He stood there with a quiet solemn air, and absolutely did not smoke his pipe. As that might be considered rude."
The plain silver band in his left hand seems to catch some unknown light source as the illusions drape themselves over him.

[User] Llyrailill hovers, lounging in the air, whatever the reason they were brought, it would be a fun tale to tell.

[User]
 The conversation ends momentarily, Braeterontax cutting it short when she alerts her fellow councilor to your presence. "Ah, agents, excellent. Right on time" the tiny drake chirps happily, flitting towards you in a quick loop.

The great serpent huffs a compact syllable in high draconic with  a malcontent tone, raising a simple staircase from the chamber's floor. Vraetaerontijix wings back up to the dais, whispering to her trollish secretary - Fergus by name, if you've ever chanced to ask. He passes you on the staircase, carrying a thick sheath of papers and nodding you a friendly greeting.

The smooth glass bowl set in the centre of the dias hums to life as you all assemble at the top, projecting a map of what you recognise as the Vale's  southern border with Simsinarr. "We've been having issues with a smuggling group running along our southern border and into Simsinarr" Vraetaerontijix explains, indicating a series of marked points on the map. "Our normal measures have failed. Scrying turns up nothing and they've somehow been able to dodge our flybys of the area".

Braeterontax interjects sternly, lowering her massive head enough to fix you with a commanding glare. "Go. Find them. Capture their leadership alive if possible, retrieve their corpses if not. Do not allow the council to be linked to this in any way".

"Quite" Vraetaerontijix continues, "Simsinarr is already quite aggitated, we don't need issues of border security adding to things".

"Questions?" she adds, an expectant twinkle in her eye.

[User]
 Carmine ponders for a moment, puffing serenely on his pipe.  Still a thought nags at his brain enough to mumble it and risk disrupting his illusions.
"...What are they smuggling?  Do we know what's being moved?"

[User] The diminuitive councilor shakes her head. "Unfortunately not. The Vale doesn't appear to be their point of sale and we've yet to seize a shipment".

[User] "Um, then, what do we know about the, uh... I mean, how big a group is it, what are they like?"

[User]
 "Worryingly professional" Braeterontax rumbles, fixing the agents with a pointed glare.

"Indeed" Vraetaerontijix agrees cheerfully. "What few witnesses we have paint them as highly disciplined and organised, likely familiar with violent means when needed".

"We have not eliminated the possibility of a foreign military unit" adds the larger councilor with hint of exasperation leaking into her voice.

[User]
 "So our mission, roughly stated is to engage with an enemy force about which we know nothing save that they appear exceedingly competent. And unconcerned with international legalities."
Carmine resignedly shrugs his shoulders.
"Should be fun."


[User] Dead link!


[User]
 These are high quality things. Mind reading techniques proven by science. It has been about 4 days since I began using Obsession Formula. The voices in my head tell me that I want to have an attachment suitable for Obsession Formula. The Obsession Formula-Does it really Work? I have rarely found that if I made less Obsession Formula that I would get less Obsession Formula (Obsession Formula is a hot selling item right now). Adam, shows women the proper way of seducing men. I presume that these are doable plans. Adam's "Obsession Formula" is emerging to be one of the top most in-demand dating guides to hit the market in recent times. Methods that keep the relationship interesting. It's the last thing. So if women want to attract a man and make him desire them, they just need to get his attention the right way and the rest is history. I've decided that I haven't gotten enough of Obsession Formula and This is by getting large volumes of Obsession Formula. The Obsession Formula contains videos that help women understand and implement every step and technique in the book.

http://www.biomusclexrrev.com/obsession-formula/


[User]
 Chapter 1: A New Home

You touch down by a small lake in the middle of the forest, 15 miles north of the nearest town. The lake is fed by a small creek coming from the west, and slowly trickles out to the river tributary to the south east.

The forest here is old, the trees tall and thick. Undergrowth is rare, as the towering canopies of green blot out most direct sunlight. Nearby, you spot an ancient tree which had collapsed years ago. The core and the half originally against the ground had rotted away, but the outer shell left is perfect for a roof for a shelter.

Poking your nose in, you find that you were not the first to have this idea. You safely pull back as a dark, wolf like creature lunges at you.

 "Fresh meat..."  It growls.

Roll Initiative!

 Spoiler: Battlefield

 Spoiler: Local Area

 Spoiler: Map

 Spoiler: Image

[User]
 As he and the wolf-thing faced each other, Tharo'Kazz took a deep breath to calm his beating heart.   Damn, that was an unpleasant surprise...

"You call ME meat, dog?"  He growled back at the creature.  "Feel free to try me, but know that you face an existence far beyond your comprehension."

 Spoiler: OOC

I know we haven't figured out the turn order yet. this is just fluff 🙂

[User]
 The creature raises his head a lets out a howl that echoes through the forest. He looks at you and gives you a ferocious grin.

 "The pack will be here soon. We'll all eat well tonight."

In case you didn't believe him, a chorus of howls raise from every direction. They don't sound too close, though. At least, not yet.

 Spoiler: OoC
The worg's got allies coming. You have a few rounds before they show up though.

[User]
 Tharo'Kazz eyed the worg warily for a moment, then smiled lightly.
 "Well then, if your pack will be here soon..."  He said, sucking in a deep breath that almost made his throat bulge.  "I'll just have to kill you now!"

 With that said, Tharo'Kazz breathed out an intense cloud of searing acid at his foe, releasing all the might of his breath weapon at once.

 Spoiler: OOC

Tharo'Kazz spends uses a full round action to spew a maximized Acid breath.
It does 48 acid damage in a 30 ft cone, and the reflex DC to halve it is 25.

Rounds before breath can be used again:  (1d4+3)[ 7 ]

[User]
 The worg reels in pain as it got a face full of acid.

 "Forget the pack, I'll kill you myself!"  He roars, before lunging at your throat.

 Spoiler: OoC
The worg closes the distance between you two and attacks.

Reflex save:  (1d20+9)[ 26 ]

Bite
To hit:  (1d20+14)[ 32 ]
Damage:  (2d6+22)[ 31 ]

[User]
 Tharo'Kazz let out a pained roar as the worg bit him. His mind reeled at the sheer strength of the beast.
  How? How can some mangy dog like this be so strong? I'm a dragon damn it! I will not be denied by this cur!

  Hissing with rage and righteous indignation, Tharo'Kazz delved deep into his connection with nature, drawing forth the primal strength of his kind. His teeth grew sharper, his muscles bulged, and his scales thickened.
With a feral, wrathful roar, he launched at the worg, lashing out with all his appendages.

 Spoiler: OOC

I use a swift action to activate Tharo'Kazz's shapeshift ability to go into predator form.
This gives him +4 to strength and to his natural armor, bringing him to a total of 18 Strength and 29 AC.

Tharo'Kazz then launches a full attack on the Worg, using power attack for -2 to hit and +2 damage.

 Bite
attack: (1d20+13)[ 20 ]
crit confirm:  (1d20+13)[ 21 ]
Damage:  (1d8+6)[ 12 ]
Extra crit damage:  (1d8+6)[ 14 ]
 Claw 1
 attack: (1d20+11)[ 14 ]
crit confirm:  (1d20+11)[ 18 ]
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 7 ]
Extra crit damage:  (1d6+4)[ 8 ]
 Claw 2
attack: (1d20+11)[ 20 ]
crit confirm:  (1d20+11)[ 29 ]
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 10 ]
Extra crit damage:  (1d6+4)[ 6 ]
 Wing 1
 attack: (1d20+11)[ 12 ]
crit confirm:  (1d20+11)[ 21 ]
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 7 ]
Extra crit damage:  (1d4+4)[ 8 ]
 Wing 2
attack: (1d20+11)[ 16 ]
crit confirm:  (1d20+11)[ 17 ]
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 7 ]
Extra crit damage:  (1d4+4)[ 7 ]

[User]
 "I'll end you!"   The worg screams, throwing his all into his next attack.

 Spoiler: OoC
Bite
 (1d20+8)[ 19 ]
 (2d6+31)[ 39 ]

crit on 20
 (1d20+8)[ 18 ]
 (2d6+31)[ 37 ]

[User]
 Tharo'Kazz growls and shows a toothy, feral grin as the worg's attack bounces of his thick scales.
Once more he launches at the beast, whipping out every pointy part of his body toward it.

 Spoiler: OOC

Tharo'Kazz makes another full attack on the worg. This time without power attack.

 Bite
 attack: (1d20+15)[ 32 ]
 crit confirm:    (1d20+15)[ 17 ]
 Damage:    (1d8+4)[ 6 ]
 Extra crit damage:    (1d8+4)[ 7 ]
 Claw 1
  attack:   (1d20+13)[ 27 ]
 crit confirm:    (1d20+13)[ 28 ]
 Damage:    (1d6+2)[ 7 ]
 Extra crit damage:    (1d6+2)[ 6 ]

 Claw 2
 attack:   (1d20+13)[ 33 ]
 crit confirm:    (1d20+13)[ 29 ]
 Damage:    (1d6+2)[ 8 ]
 Extra crit damage:    (1d6+2)[ 3 ]

 Wing 1
  attack:   (1d20+13)[ 33 ]
 crit confirm:    (1d20+13)[ 25 ]
 Damage:    (1d4+2)[ 4 ]
 Extra crit damage:    (1d4+2)[ 4 ]

 Wing 2
 attack:   (1d20+13)[ 21 ]
 crit confirm:    (1d20+13)[ 17 ]
 Damage:    (1d4+2)[ 6 ]
 Extra crit damage:    (1d4+2)[ 6 ]

[User]
 The worg howls in pain from your attack. The beast looks quite horrible now, face marred by acid and a multitude of injuries. It glares at, absolutely loathing you, for a split second before making a break towards the treeline.

 Spoiler: OoC
The worg is using a withdraw action and moving 80' into the forest.

[User]
 With no intention of letting the prey escape, Tharo'Kazz immediately followed it, launching himself up into the air and towards it with mighty heaves of his wings. Flying a bit above the ground, he charged into the worg before it could get too far into the forest, where it would be too dense for him to follow. With as much speed as he could muster, He smashed into the worg, opening his jaws to bite it.

 Spoiler: OOC

Tharo'Kazz goes after the beast via flight just a bit above the ground. His flight speed is 150 ft, so it should be no problem for him to charge the worg. And thanks to his "diving charge" feat, this deals 3d6 extra damage.

So, a flying charge-bite. With some power attack, methinks, since the worg probably has it's back towards me. -5 to hit, +5 to damage.
 Charge bite
 attack:  (1d20+12)[ 25 ]
crit confirm:  (1d20+12)[ 29 ]
damage:  (1d8+9)[ 12 ]
Diving charge damage:  (3d6)[ 14 ]
crit damage:  (1d8+9)[ 11 ]

[User]
 You land hard on the back of the worg. Bones break under your feet even as you go for the kill with razored fangs. You are victorious.

Suddenly, a stick snaps in the forest. For the first time since beginning, you turn you attention away from the fight. A half dozen worgs have appeared in a semicircle, about 100 feet from your position. They take on look at their slain alpha and turn tail.

The worgs are out of your way. Now,  what do you do?

[User]
 Heaving a sigh as he watched the worgs flee, Tharo'Kazz released his shapeshifting and returned to his less bulky form.
Wincing slightly at the quite painful wounds the alpha had given him, he clamped his jaws around the corpse and dragged it back to the lake, where he lay down and started to eat. Gulping down his feast with great content, He studied the area more closely as he ate.
 "Hmm, yesss, this will make for a fine dwelling..."  He muttered to himself. Looking closer at the lake, he pondered where he could best make his lair.  "Perhaps establishing a lair with an underwater entrance would be best. Then no nosy critters or people could happen upon it."

After he'd finished his meal, he got up and walked over to the lake's edge. He then plunged his head underwater, and looked around. One never knew if something else that would try to eat him lived in the lake. He didn't expect much, but better safe than sorry.

[User]
 You don't see much alive, besides a few fresh water fish.

The lake is quite deep and the island banks form a steep incline to the bottom. A burrow could, in theory, be built into the natural wall, though it would take some effort.

[User] More or less certain that no threat to him lived in the lake, Tharo'Kazz smiled to himself and dove in. He swam around for a while, just enjoying the feel of the water against his scales, before starting to search for a likely place in the deepest part of the lake. If he could dig a tunnel that would then lead underground to a place not underneath the lake, preferably a place with rocky ground above him so it wouldn't collapse, he could dig out a fine lair. With that in mind he swam around. Of course, a natural cave he could widen to suit his purposes would be even better, but he would take what he could get.

[User] You do not find anything quite like you are looking for. The river and lake bed are soft and muddy, so they could not support a naturally formed cave opening. You could dig one out yourself, or continue your search upstream.

[User]
 "Ugh, is it too much to ask for one measly cave..."  Tharo'Kazz grumbled to himself after returning to the lake surface to stick his head above the water. Looking around, he wondered whether there might be a place of use further upstream...

 "Hmm, I'd have preferred to stay here in the lake, but I suppose finding a natural cave is better than having to dig one myself..."  He mused. After a moment he decided to look further up after all. Making his own cave did sound like a bit too much of a bother right now.

[User]
 The water flows faster upstream, a result of the ever steepening terrain as you move further into the foothills. You begin to encounter a few small waterfalls about a mile from the lake. They are not large enough to conceal a cave entrance, but it gives you hope for your hidden home. Then, you find it:

A waterfall, where the river comes crashing down from nearly a hundred foot drop. Surely enough, the years of falling water had eroded away the rock at the base of falls, resulting in a concealed cave behind the torrent.

The cave itself is not that large, only about 30 feet deep and 20 feet wide. There are a few inches of water on the ground, and everything that isn't under water is covered in a thick layer of moss. Still, this will likely be the only thing like this in the area.


[User] White to play.

[User] Fine. I choose black.

[User]
 Pawn d4

1. d4

[User] Ok. Let's see here. 1. d4 d5

[User]
 c4

1. d4 d5
2. c4

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4

[User]
 e4

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6

[User]
 Nc3

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3

EDIT: I appear to have been tired.

[User] Actually this is your fourth move.

[User] Fixed the listing. Luckily it doesn't affect much; I was just tired.

[User] 1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 3. e4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4

[User]
 Bxc4.

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4

[User] My first check. Yay! 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6 4. Nc3 BBC 5. Bxc4 BxNc3+

[User]
 bxc3

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6 4.  Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6

[User]
 Nf3

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. NF3 O-O

[User]
 0-0.

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0

[User] 1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 3. e4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. Nf3 O-O 8. O-O Nc6

[User]
 e5

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6 4.  Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. NF3 O-O 8. O-O Nc6 9. e5 Bd7

[User]
 Bxh6.

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5 Bd7
10. Bxh6

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. NF3 O-O 8. O-O Nc6 9. E5 Bd7 10. Bxh6 gxh6

[User]
 1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5 Bd7
10. Bxh6 gxh6
11. Qd2

[User] 1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 3. e4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. Nf3 O-O 8. O-O Nc6 9.e5 Bd7 10. Bxh6 gxh6 11. Qd2 a5

[User]
 Qxh6

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5 Bd7
10. Bxh6 gxh6
11. Qd2 a5
12. Qxh6

[User] 1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 3. e4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. Nf3 O-O 8. O-O Nc6  9. e5 Bd7 10. Bxh6 gxh6 11. Qd2 a5 12. Qxh6 Ra6

[User]
 Ng5.

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5 Bd7
10. Bxh6 gxh6
11. Qd2 a5
12. Qxh6 Ra6
13. Ng5

[User] 1. D4 d5 2. C4 dxc4 3. E4 e6 4. Nc3 Bb4 5. Bxc4 Bxc3+ 6. Bxc3 Nh6 7. NF3 O-O 8. O-O Nc6 9. E5 Bd7 10. Bxh6 gxh6 11. Qd2 a5 12. Qxh6 Ra6 13. Ng5 Kh8

[User]
 Queen takes H7 pawn, checkmate.

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6
4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+
6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0
8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5 Bd7
10. Bxh6 gxh6
11. Qd2 a5
12. Qxh6 Ra6
13. Ng5 Kh8
14. Qxh7#

Would you like a quick analysis of the game?

[User] D'oh. Yes I'm interested.

[User]
 Let's see now.

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dxc4
3. e4 e6

This opening is fine, if a bit unconventional. Generally in Queen's Gambit, you'll want to fight for the center somehow. Taking the pawn is possible and giving up the pawn you took is correct; trying to hold it leads to a quickly deteriorating situation. e6 is a slightly less typical follow-up to the pawn center opening; generally you'd want to play something like e5, c5, Nc6 or Nf6 to directly attack my center. Note that if I take either e5 or c5 pawn with my d4 pawn, you can trade queens preventing me from castling which is a significant advantage that can be exploited later.

4. Nc3 Bb4
5. Bxc4 Bxc3+

I don't really see the purpose of this set of moves. You essentially spend two moves to trade your bishop for my knight while giving me a c-pawn with which to protect my center. If you play Bb4, I'd look more towards utilizing the pin (the Knight can't move) by attacking the squares the knight is protecting.  Nf6  for instance would offer you some good lines of attack, immediately threatening my pawn and being able to respond to e5 with  Nd5 .

6. bxc3 Nh6
7. Nf3 0-0

This is a horrible position to be at. You're castling kingside with your Knight in h6. As happened in-game, by trading my bishop for your knight I open up your king position which makes for a very scary situation. It may be that I should've actually done the trade immediately. It's a position ripe for a king attack.

8. 0-0 Nc6
9. e5 Bd7
10. Bxh6 gxh6

The mentioned weakness is exploited. Your moves are developing the board in a reasonable manner but your king is in need of assistance. The h6 knight should've probably moved before this point. Though it might be it should've never been there. Note that your clogged up center is limiting your moves - my domination of the middle of the map means I have way more squares to move my pieces to (bishops and queen in particular). This is why most openings prefer to fight for the center, to maximize the number of moves available. If your own pawns are blocking your movement, you can move them forward when you need to get past them (my play of e5 here is an example of that, though the bishop I intended to use never came to play).

11. Qd2 a5

Here you definitely needed to do something. My queen is threatening your pawn and your king position and you have no pieces in position to defend. The pawn cannot reasonably be saved but moving your own queen ( Qe7 ), the other knight ( Ne7 ) or even opening up your king position to let you escape ( f5 ) is necessary.

12. Qxh6 Ra6
13. Ng5 Kh8
14. Qxh7#

Your play of Ra6 is the final seal. After Ng5, your only way to survive is to take my knight with your queen losing you the queen. That loses in short order as well. In general, the kind of opening for rooks is too slow. You don't want to break up your pawn position and spend two moves just to bring a rook out. Generally castling brings out one rook and the other one is used when all the light pieces (knights and bishops) have been moved out of the way.

[User] In the opening, I wasn't sure what you were up to but it sounded like you were building some sort of defense using the pawns. Also the middle game and endgame went completely downhill and I would have survive a lot longer. As I mention before I'm not a good chess player as I used to be back in my glory days. I'm actually a bottom tier chess player. A very bad one to be honest. My stragedies and tactics have been nerfed to make very horrible plans and moves.


[User] The four of you come to a small town. Since all of you are new adventurers, you head to the center of town in search of a job. Looking at the job board, you see postings: "Kill the Giant Rats in My Basement", "Save the World", and "Kill the Troublemaking Goblins", etc. While you guys are look at the board, a merchant runs up to you guys with the upmost urgency and says: " Are you guys adventurers? I need help, will you help me? "

[User] "Hmm?  An adventurer?  No, I only read these postings out of morbid curiosity,"   Ironheart says distractedly, reading the last few lines of a particularly interesting one before he turns to smile disarmingly at the man.   "But if it's an adventurous sort of help you need, I'm sure I can pitch in."

[User] "I'm your man,"  Admymn briskly strode up to the merchant and puts his hand on the man's shoulder in an amical way.  How can I be of assistance?  He tried and only partially succeeded in not seeming too enthousiastic.

[User] Ignoring the merchant, Amar just stares at the board for a little bit longer.  "Hmm... rat killing seems easy enough. Wait -  giant  rats? Sire! What kind of assistance do you require? Does it by any chance involve small helpless wildlife?"

[User] Worriedly, oblivious to Admymn's overenthusiastic behavior and Amar's initial lack of interest, the merchant says: " I need help saving my merchant party from these small scaly creatures we came across two days ago. I was in the caravan at the time and knowing I wouldn't be able to save them myself, I rushed over to this town so I could find people like you to save them. "

[User]
 "Mm, a merchant caravan snatched by creatures in the woods?  Sounds straightforward enough."
Sizing up his new compatriots, he adds  "Looks like we've got the makings of a team as well.  Not much to do but hit the road, I suppose, and we can discuss payment on the way."

[User]
 Luthien straightens up from slouching casually against the board and enters the conversation, smiling his infamous trustworthy smile.

" Well I for one am always on the lookout for a chance to help my fellow man, innocent bystanders et cetera. for a .... small fee of course.
 Count me in! "

[User] "Onwards then, my friends. I bet this is the beginning of something great. We can make suggestions on what to call ourselves on the way,"  Said Admymn not entirely joking.

[User] "What to call ourselves?  What are we, a band?"  Ironheart scoffs, already moving for the road out of town.

[User]
 The merchant says " Well come on my caravan, it will take us two days to get there. And okay, we can discuss payment on the way, I wish to hurry. "

 Spoiler: OOC
What do you guys wish to do while travelling on the caravan?

[User]
 Admymn spends most of the first day asking question after question about the attack, those scaly creatures, the place it happened, the cargo the caravan was carrying, anything strange about the attack, …

Should I roll a gather information check?

[User] Daren, using small plumes of his fiery breath to heat the metal, sets to work on various smithing tasks- mending a gash in his chainmail, finishing a half-done handaxe blade, making a few simple javelin heads.  He'll listen to his host discuss the job, and will respond if anyone strikes up a conversation, but otherwise appears preoccupied with his work.