The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty
Quimarel awakens and goes downstairs to check on the business. A few drunken/hungover goblins are being shooed out by her employees.
Ztola: Look, man, time’s up!Satisfied that all is as it should be, Quimarel begins organizing her plans to go get “what’s-his-face… er, what’s-it’s-face… oh, I mean Hiddlebatch.”
Uddylyna: Go away already!
Quimarel, to herself: Yeessss… go home to your sad little lives.
GM: Did you say “lives” or “wives”?
Quimarel: Both.
***
Somewhere deep underground, Hiddlebatch is aware that someone has just said its name.
***
Quimarel begins listing her priorities. “Okay, first things first: someone needs to run the business while I’m gone.”
Makpov chimes in: “I’ll do it.”
“No, no, you’re coming with me, remember? I need some muscle, and you’re much taller.”
Quimarel continues, mostly to herself, “I should probably leave Foxglove alone for now, since I just had her help at the bar… Vlovvya is constantly hallucinating… Berimelwyn is really lazy… Krich is missing… Ulyna is too new… and Ruzvon likes to burn things. So I’m going to have to go with Rannveig.”
Rannveig of the Night Drinking People is a human from the far northwest. She has a distinctive accent, which is represented at the table by my truly awful attempt at a German accent that often descends into my moderately awful Russian accent. She vill vatch the business. Quimarel notes that her marketing technique needs work, but is otherwise satisfied.
Rannveig: You! You vant sexytimes? Ja?
Quimarel collects her weapons and supplies into a bag. Not far off, Tamarie begins doing the same, arranging her bombs and extracts for easy transportation, A discussion of how extracts work is interrupted by Hiddlebatch’s player doing a musical number from “The Little Mermaid”.
Back in the game, Quimarel and Makpov show up at Tamarie’s tailory. Makpov starts trying to seduce Tamarie, not having fully grasped what they’re doing there. (Makpov has an Int of 7.)
Quimarel: I’m just going to let the hyena-whore work his magic.Tamarie whips up a couple extracts: Disguise Self and Comprehend Languages. Quimarel makes plans to hit the general store for torches and rope, and starts trying to decide what spells she has that might come in handy.
Tamarie, worried: What… what kind of magic are you trying to do on me?
Makpov: …charismatic magic. Charismagic.
Tamarie: I’m, um, going to go get my bombs ready.
Quimarel OOC: Does Obscure Object work on people?
GM: I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.
Quimarel OOC: What about Makpov? He’s a sex object.
Hiddlebatch OOC: Why would you want invisible sex objects?
[It becomes immediately apparent that Hiddlebatch’s player has missed something about the conversation, i.e., what Quimarel’s player means by “sex object”, and the table-talk rapidly veers into NSFW territory and general hilarity. It is concluded that Hiddlebatch’s player is suffering from “post-comps brain fry”.]
Quimarel OOC: The GM is regretting all of his life choices.
***
In the underground cavern, Hiddlebatch is ready to put its escape plan into action. It tries the Ethereal Jaunt trick, manages to avoid attracting the attention of any extraplanar predators, and steps right out of its leg irons. Hiddlebatch then bolts to the nearest door in the half-buried buildings that jut out of the walls of the cavern, and opens it as the effect wears off. H finds itself looking into a sizable room, filled with the wreckage of extremely old furniture, on which some sort of fungus is growing. At best guess, it used to be some sort of sitting-room. Two old wooden doors lead out of it, so Hiddlebatch starts heading towards one.
GM: Okay, hold on a sec. [starts going through notes]
Hiddlebatch OOC: Hey, when I did the whole Perception check thing, that should have covered, like, big holes and trapped tiles and stuff!
GM: Yes, I’m aware.
Hiddlebatch OOC: Okay.
GM: But the fungus is spitting acid at you.
Hiddlebatch OOC: Oh. Fantastic.
Quimarel OOC: Fantastic! Wonderful!
Panicked by the fungus’s unexpected self-defense talents (H has Knowledge[nature], but was rolling exceptionally low on it), Hiddlebatch tries to escape by flying up to the ceiling. Unfortunately, this does not get it out of range. After looking over the room, it decides to grab one of the torches and set the fungus on fire. The damp underground environment is not conducive to this strategy. Having obtained some new data on what it’s dealing with, though, Hiddlebatch rolls Knowledge [nature] again and finally succeeds, recognizing what she faces as a phycomid. I give her the description from the Tome of Horrors.
Hiddlebatch OOC: Do I know what it’s susceptible to?
GM: It doesn’t have any special weakness or tricky immunity or anything… but it is just a cluster of little mushrooms, so they’re probably vulnerable to being stomped on.
Hiddlebatch decides that stomping on mushrooms is not a good use of its time, so it grabs a big piece of broken furniture, uses it to block the acid globules, and rushes over to the nearest door. Cracking it open, H can see that it’s another big cavern with partially-buried buildings jutting from the walls. It goes to listen at one of the doors, and hears something skittering around. “Okay, not that door…”
***
Up in the harsh light of the surface world, the others are finishing their supply run. Tamarie and Makpov are in the Marketplace of Rats (see map in earlier entry). Tamarie bought some new lockpicks off of a shady-looking character skulking about the grounds, and Makpov bought a battleaxe and a morningstar from a somewhat more reputable-looking goblin who had a number of wicked-looking instruments spread out on a long table. They also picked up the stuff Quimarel wanted from the general store.
Tamarie OOC: I have ten pounds of rope. I don’t know how much that is.They pile all their stuff into a backpack -- specified to be a backpack that Tamarie has knitted (yes, knitted) in her tailory for this purpose. It is also made clear at this point that all of Tamarie’s extracts and bombs are placed in knit cozies.
Makpov OOC: That sounds like a lot of rope.
GM: You should really write that sort of thing down in feet instead of pounds... [shuffles through the rulebook] You have 50 ft. of rope.
Quimarel OOC: And I purchased it by weight.
Tamarie OOC: I purchased it by weight, yes.
Quimarel OOC: As one does.
Quimarel: Hey, good idea. That could help with stealth, so the vials don’t clink together or anything.
Tamarie: … yes… that was my thought. It wasn’t my obsession with knitting at all. That was what it was.
They head over to the abandoned well Hiddlebatch had pointed out. It turns out to be just a dry well, about sixty feet deep with a solid earthen floor.
Quimarel: Huh. Okay, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a tunnel off to the side or something. Or maybe a trap door. We should go buy another ten pounds of rope in case it goes down farther than it looks.While she’s fetching the rope, Quimarel remembers that she needed a sling so she could throw Tamarie’s bombs. Since a sling costs nothing, being basically just a length of cloth, Tamarie suggests that she could have made a knit sling along with the backpack and potion cozies. This goes over well.
Quimarel lowers herself into the well, and finds nothing unusual on the way down. Eventually, she’s standing on the dirt at the bottom.
Quimarel OOC: Now, still holding on to the rope, I test the ground.She doesn’t find anything on her first roll. She checks for traps, and doesn’t find anything. She decides to take twenty. Tamarie and Makpov look down from the top of the well, watching as Quimarel gradually, meticulously pokes & prods at every stone she can reach, gathers up handfuls of dirt and sniffs them, watches a beetle, scratches at the mortar holding the well together, &c. Finally, she runs across a little switch right where the stone walls of the well meet the dirt floor. She checks for traps. Finding none, she flips the switch. and the stones slide away to reveal a steeply sloping passage down, with a torch in a bracket every fifty feet or so.
Quimarel: Makpov, you’re going in first.
A couple hundred feet down, the passageway deadends in a circular room, in the middle of which is a dark pit. Looking closely, they see handholds running down the walls. They remember that yesterday, two of the Kech climbed down the outside wall of the inn without apparent difficulty. And, of course, if one of your advantages over the ignorant savages is a vastly superior climbing ability, it makes sense to design entrances and exits to your secret underground complex that require climbing to access. Quimarel decides that she and Makpov are going to Fezzik-and-Vizzini their way down the pit. She casts Light on the backpack so they can see.
Makpov OOC: Does she need to roll for Hyena?
GM: “Roll for Hyena”?
Makpov OOC: Yeah.
GM: I don’t think she needs to roll anything… unless you’re resisting, in which case she might need to roll Grapple.
Makpov OOC: Roll for Handle Animal!
Quimarel OOC: That’s what I do every night, baby.
Since Tamarie has the glowing backpack, she goes down first.
Tamarie: I am confident that this will turn out okay.Tamarie has some difficulty climbing with her non-standard array of limbs, but she makes her check anyway, and proceeds down into the pit. Makpov, burdened by his employer, has less luck.
Makpov OOC: I got a 7.Tamarie manages to duck out of the way, while the other two plummet past her into the depths.
GM: Wait, a natural 7, or a 7 total?
Makpov OOC: Total.
GM: Huh. Hm… Tamarie, I need you to make a Reflex save to avoid the hyena falling towards you.
Makpov: Yipe yipe yipe yipe…
***
Hiddlebatch hears a loud, echoing THUMPCRASH! in the distance, and starts attempting to find a way towards the sound.
***
They land with a crash, the falling damage beating up Makpov pretty badly, and knocking Quimarel unconscious. Luckily, the cavern in which they land is currently empty. It’s much like the cavern in which Hiddlebatch woke up -- half-excavated buildings protruding from walls of rock and dirt. One of the ancient buildings is completely unearthed, and stands near the center of the cavern. Makpov slaps Quimarel around a little bit to try to wake her up, but it doesn’t work.
Tamarie: You know, I can use an alchemical healing bomb.Tamarie pulls some vials out of her backpack, pours some of them into each other, and shakes them up.
Quimarel OOC: “Balm”, as in “salve”, or…
Tamarie OOC: “Bomb”. Like “BOOM”.
Tamarie: It might make a lot of noise, though.
Makpov: We already made a lot of noise.
Tamarie: True.
Makpov OOC: Wait, how does this work?Tamarie drops the vial and it explodes, with a burst of light and sound that heals them for… four hit points. This is enough to bring Quimarel back to consciousness, though, and she can cast Cure Light Wounds.
GM: It’s a semi-magical effect. It heals as much damage as one of her normal bombs does.
Makpov OOC: A normal bomb doesn’t heal any damage.
GM: No, I mean, the amount it heals is equal to the amount a regular bomb inflicts.
GM: Wait, so… a bard’s spell effects happen when they use their Perform skills. What is it you’re DOING?Quimarel sits up and commences a quick storytime with the group. “Let me tell you the tale of the handmaiden and the bishop. You’ll feel better, trust me…”
Quimarel: Nah nah NAH… nah nah NAH…
GM: What exactly is your Perform skill?
Quimarel OOC: I have Perform [seduction] and Perform [bawdy epic].
[There is confusion and giggling around the table]
GM: That’s “bawdy” with a “w”, right?
Tamarie OOC: Oh, I thought “body”...
Quimarel OOC: It IS epic.
GM: So... which one are you doing?
Quimarel OOC: The epic. Quietly.
***
Hiddlebatch searches the new chamber carefully so as to avoid any further fungoid encounters. The only fungus it finds seems pretty harmless, so it continues to the door closest to where it heard the noise. A Perception check tells it that there is something breathing back there. It sounds large -- the Kech weren’t kidding about that wildlife problem. It picks another door, and listens.
There’s definitely something going on on the other side of that door. Hiddlebatch doesn’t speak the language being used, which sounds similar but not identical to how the Kech talk. However, the inflection sounds like someone swearing angrily. Hiddlebatch casts Tongues, and hears the swearing in H’s native Goblin -- with an odd accent / speech defect it can’t quite place.
“CURSHÉD PLANT! MAY YOU NEVER BE REBORN! MAY SHEVEN GENERATIONSH OF YOUR SHPORESH PERISH!”
Hiddlebatch picks another door. Another excellent Perception check allows it to hear a faint noise on the other side, like a rope dragging across the ground. The peanut gallery starts singing the Winkies’ song from “The Wizard of Oz” for some reason. H decides to crack the door open a little and step off to the side. Nothing happens, so it carefully opens the door a little bit and sneaks in. Inside, there is some sort of plant-like thing attached to the ceiling, dangling tendrils occasionally sweeping across the floor. There’s also another door past it. Hiddlebatch rolls very high on Knowledge [nature], so I just hand H’s player the Bestiary entry on “Basidirond”. H makes the informed decision that she can’t kill this thing solo, and closes the door again.
Quimarel OOC: But the important question is, can you smoke it?
GM: Yes.
[laughter]
GM: No, seriously, it’s full of hallucinogens. It’s right there in the entry. “Hallucinogenic spores”.
Hiddlebatch goes back to the door where it heard something skittering, deciding it sounded safest. It opens the door, and sees a smallish creature moving around near the back of the room. It rolls very well on another Knowledge [nature] check, and having set the precedent, I hand H’s player the Bestiary entry on “Dossenus”. Hiddlebatch quickly determines that it probably isn’t supposed to be there -- likely, the Kech dug into its habitat and now it’s just wandering around looking for food. It also notes that they tend to swarm, so it’s highly likely that there are a lot more of them around the cavern complex.
H decides that this part of the complex is a dead end, and goes back to the cavern where she started. The Kech guard has clued in by now that there’s something wrong, however, and spots Hiddlebatch as it returns.
“Hey! You!”
Hiddlebatch sprints across the cavern and into a door it hasn’t checked before. It finds itself in a long-deserted forge, where there is more fungus, of a type it hasn’t yet run into. Knowledge [nature] identifies it as the unimaginatively-named “purple moss”. Oddly, the damp underground climate is not in effect here; instead, the room is very dry, and smells nauseatingly sweet. The scent of the purple moss forces Hiddlebatch to roll a Fortitude save, which it makes easily, and it spots another door on the other side of the room. However, it decides to hang around for a few seconds and wait for the Kech.
The Kech enters cautiously, covering his face with one hand… then botches his Fortitude save and falls asleep. Hiddlebatch cheerfully delivers a coup-de-grace and loots the body, taking a whip and a small pouch of polished emeralds.
Hiddlebatch OOC: How many emeralds?
GM: Let’s ask Mr. Twenty-Sider… twenty.
Quimarel OOC: Hey, why are all of your dice dudes?
Hiddlebatch goes back to the chained goblin slaves, who have been awoken by the yelling and running. It explains what’s going on and offers a bargain: “I’ll get you out of these chains if you help me escape.”
“Do you know the way out?” a goblin asks suspiciously.
“Look, do you want to stay here?”
“Well, one of the things they make us do is clear out inconvenient wildlife, and it sounds like your plan will mean doing much the same thing, and angering the people with whips.”
“You have two choices: either you help me get out of here, or I slit all your throats.”
“... lead the way, giant butterfly-winged creature.”
Hiddlebatch tries and fails to break the goblins’ chains, then decides they’ll just have to follow it while chained together. It goes and investigates one of the remaining door out of the cavern, hears a swarm of dosseni (dossenusses?) skittering about, then checks the other. It hears wood creaking and looks inside. There’s another weird underground plant; it looks like a leafless tree swaying in the breeze, but of course there is no breeze. Hiddlebatch identifies it as a kampfult.
Quimarel OOC: You found the Whomping Willow! Yes!
Hiddlebatch OOC: Is it friendly?
GM: Noooo. It probably wants to turn you all into fertilizer.
Hiddlebatch asks for guidance from the goblins. “Well, we were in there [points] yesterday, trying to get rid of some sort of plant creature so that the boss could use the rooms, but we lost a bunch of people, and didn’t get much done, so they pulled us back. We’ve been through there [points], and there’s another big cavern on the other side.” The latter is what Hiddlebatch is now referring to as “the sleepy moss room”.
“Where’s the boss?”
“I don’t [goblinoid expletive] know. We don’t see him a lot.” As is the way of goblins, after sharing a little information, they default to hostile and resentful.
“How well do you think you’d be able to fight?”
“Um, poorly? We’re chained together. And unarmed.”
***
Makpov is literally licking her wounds back in the other cavern. The others look around, and decide to go check out the building in the center of the cavern, the only one that’s completely unearthed. Quimarel checks the door for traps.
GM: You don’t find --There are no traps on the door. It’s not even locked. Inside the building, there is an enormous statue, at least ten feet tall. The statue depicts a man with the head of a vulture. It looks as though it’s been recently repaired and polished.
Quimarel OOC: I hate! You! With every fiber! Of my being!
All players, more or less simultaneously: We should spit on it!At its feet is some sort of horrible fungal beast that looks as though it’s been killed and just left there. Quimarel goes to examine the statue more closely, and notices that its hands are facing backwards. She then makes a Knowledge [local] check regarding people with vulture heads, and remembers something.
She’s heard someone mention that, several decades ago, when the current well was being dug behind the Broken Stone, the diggers found an unusual artifact. Specifically, a shield that depicts this vulture-headed person standing in the middle of an orchard. As far as she knows, the shield is still hanging in Lord Noroiras’s villa.
Quimarel, increasingly suspicious of this, casts Detect Magic. She sees a faint glimmer of… something in the statue, but it doesn’t really look like how she’s used to magic looking, and it’s so dim as to be almost nonexistent. She makes a leap of logic, and asks herself a question: would this be the kind of thing you might see at the shrine of a dead god who’s slowly reacquiring power? Her bardic expertise in matters of song and story leads her to think… that’s a pretty reasonable hypothesis. (The player came up with the idea -- a Bardic Knowledge roll supported it.)
Quimarel shares this thought with the others. “I’m thinking… this could be a problem.”
“Maybe,” replies Tamarie, “but on the other hand, it could be fine.”
“It depends on what the god wants.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”
“Okay, working hypothesis: this is some kind of cult. This building is clearly important, since it’s the only one they’ve bothered to unearth completely, and there’s a sacrifice at the feet of the statue. So we’re going to work on the assumption that this is important to them.”
There is a pause.
The trio considers.
“BREAK IT!”
“BREAK IIIIIT!”
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