View source for All About The Mustard

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== Log Info ==
*Title: The Quiet Option(aka All About The Mustard)
*Emitter: Lorik
*Characters: Morgan Wiz5, Desdemona Swash2, Itzpapalotl Art2, Kaelthilas Rgr3, Preston Wiz2
*Place: Felwood
*Time: Jun 16, 2018
*Summary: Off to explore the Felwood!
*APL: 4
*Encounter 1: 1 Half-fiend Kobold Ranger3 CR 2, 1 Half-fiend Kobold Rogue3 CR 2
*Encounter 2: 1 Javelin Trap CR2, 1 Floor Saw Trap CR3
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Once more Lorik, intrepid Shadow Elf man of mystery...ok...well he's not that mysterious. He's more self concious. But he's getting better about that! I mean he's more confident now that he's been in awhile. He hasn't gotten anyone killed or anything at any recent point in time. He's saved people and killed spider things and...

...and I'm getting off topic...

...BUT! At the moment he /is/ leading a small band of misfits and never-do-wells and Preston out on a little hunting trip.

A trip underground.

At least least that is the initial plan.

To find a way into the underground highway the Master of Helsteeds is using to move his twisted mounts out of the Felwood.

Yes. That is the plan. Find an entrance. Scout it out to see just what lies in the darkness, then return at a later time with a more powerful and numerous group of stalwart adventures. And maybe Desi.

Of course the trip though the Felwood hasn't been entirely without incidenct. There was the run in with some lightning crabs. Then the strange ant creatures. Then the oozes. Lorik hates oozes now, some got in his /shoes/.

...but finally. After many trials the small band stands before a low hill, one that raises out of the center of a clearing. Halfway up the slope of the hill lies the deep, dark, unwelcoming maw of a cave.

Well unwelcoming to most. To Lorik it seems pretty much like home.

GAME: Morgan refreshes spells.

GAME: Preston refreshes spells.

Itzpapalotl has arrived.

GAME: Itzpapalotl refreshes spells.

Morgan is not much of a tracker but she is known for being helpfull for a wizard that does not complain when in the woods. She is keeping quiet for the most part so others are not distracted.

There is no indication that the giantic lizard is paying attention the people around her. Her vocation is as an engineer, though some might wonder whqat kind given the pieces of patchwork artifice armour she wears, with spikes on her rbroad shoulders. Right now wthe lizard's scales are a deep crimson red, and her yellow eyes remain unblinking as she walks along. No words. Little excess movement. After a time the lizard clacks her jaw and breathes inward in a sharp hiss. "..Oozesss should not be able to imitate birds." Everyone was traumatised by the earlier encounter.

To say that Desdemona is not excited is an understatement. When the plan is diving in through the Felwood and crawling around in dank caves fill with fungus dragons she has informed everyone that copious amounts of booze must be consumed after they get back to civilization. So she agreed to accompany Preston and Lorik, because even if they're going to a very uncomfortable place, it's still an adventure.

The walk through the wood was unpleasant to say the least, she was constantly keeping her eye out for fiery crabs and other dangerous beasties. However nothing compares to anxiety of staring down into the dark maw of the cave's enterence. Looking over to her companions and clears her throat. "Well, there is absolutely no sky down there, or open air, just darkness and dragon fungus." Desi pauses for a moment and puts her hands on her hips. "Tally-ho...?" She doesn't sound confident.

GAME: Preston casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14

And Preston indeed.

Dressed in dark charcoal trousers and a vest, that are nearly black, with a slightly softer grey shirt of fine cut and impeccable fit beneath his vest, in slightly sturdier fabrics than he usually prefers to wear, he's at least making an attempt to adapt to a life in which he tromps around in evil forests on the regular. He still looks a lot like he's about to attend a fancy merchant's lunch instead. The pop of color on his shoulder, namely his six-headed snake familiar, Bartholomew, in orange and white, completely reduces whatever stealth effect he was apparently going for by dressing in such a somber array.

He is staring ruefully down at his shoes, too. Usually polished to a shine pretty enough to see one's face in, they are currently covered in mud. And fire crab guts.

But he does not complain. He is not given to that, on the whole. The young mage has an ornate dagger out, and it's got a little gore on it. Other than the fine mist of arcane armor wreathing gently around his clothes, he has not yet cast any other spells on this trek, prefering to keep what few he can manage at this point in his career as conserved as possible. This has meant he's gotten //far// more up-close-and-personal with various creatures than he really prefers to get.

Ever.

He can only nod in agreement with the lizard, a rueful expression crossing over his face. "Seems we're here, at least."

"This way..," Kaelthilas had said an hour ago and gesturing to some brush which might seem otherwise like all the other brush in the region.

Shroud in ethereal white silk and shimmering scales the dawn-elf defies all convention of a pathfinder. Yet as they move through the forest he leaves no trace. Movements which rustle no flora. Footsteps that leave no impression upon wet soil. He strides through the woods in a soundless march slowing only to point to some broken twig or faint outline in the soil.

Only when they reach the clearing does he stop. Taking the waterskin from his belt he takes a long sip from it before addressing the others, "Upon the hill. A cave." Then he does crouch. Seemingly melding with the shadows despite glimmer and glory, "Once we exit the woodline we will be exposed. Look to field and ridge," he gestures with soft gloved hands, "for foes on overwatch -- before we cross."

GAME: Kaelthilas rolls perception: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Morgan rolls perception: (7)+9: 16

GAME: Desdemona rolls perception: (11)+7: 18

GAME: Itzpapalotl rolls perception: (8)+5: 13

GAME: Preston rolls perception: (11)+3: 14

"No. No they should not." Lorik's words agree with Itzpa's as the shadow elf glances up at the cave for a moment. There is a slight frown of thought to his face as he looks up there before he seems to nod to himself. "If you all can make it up there, I'll make sure to catch up. Trust me I can move faster underground than most. It /is/ home for me after all. I'm going to go search around the other side of the hill, make sure there isn't any supprises."

And with that the overly enthuastic shadow elf darts off.

Why is he never around with the mess starts?! Its a conspiracy I tell you.

Regardless almost as soon as Lorik darts away though the trees, using the edge of the forest as cover, Kael's sharp eyes pick out something unusual.

While Desdemona, Itzpa, Morgan, and Preston can see a thin and windy trail to the open cave that has been in-expertly concealed, Kael picks out about fifteen feet above the entrence a scrub of thorny bush that seems like...most thorny bushes in this area. Except for the fact that it /shouldn't/ be growing there. And it defintally shouldn't have a bare tip of what seems to be a crude spear sticking up just over the tip of the thorn marked wood and leaves.

Its a guard blind. And only his /KEEN RANGER SENSES/ could have spotted it. The people who put it up were professionals...just...not the people sitting there now.

GAME: Morgan casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 5 DC: 17

The High Elf's gold-flecked eyes scan the clearing for several long moments. Sweeping first the land they must pass through and then their destination.

"There," he whispers pointing to the cave and then turning his hand, palm up, lifting it slightly towards the heavens, "The scrub above the cave. Spinose rarely grow upon hillsides and that one has been transplanted. Concealment and protection against a charge."

"If none others have capability, I am willing to maneuver around," Kaelthilas says, "when I am revealed at least they will have two fronts." It's as this point he glances aside and briefly looks to them over his shoulder, "Other suggestions?"

Morgan thinks for a moment and has a feeling she better get her armor up now. Her hands turn to fists as she says "troth ve." and a deep blue aura looking armor surounds her for a moment before fading away. "I have no better ones to give you Kaelthilas."

"This sounds like a most bold and brave plan, Master Kaelthilas," Preston whispers politely. He had looked impressed when the high elf began pointing out the transplanted plant, in a true sense. He is certainly not adverse to the ranger's plan by any stretch of the imagination. And let's be real, he's not exactly going to be the heavy hitter of this party. His talents lie elsewhere. He's still learning on the matter of plans, too.

The speartip shifts slightly, as if whoever is behind the blind is slightly bored of his job. Or just stiff from watching. Its hard to tell which by just a speartip.

Itzpapalotl straightens and opens a compartment in her left pauldron. She is producing whet stones and tools, as well as scroll that unfurls to show a series of instructions. She's taking the time to sharpen the steel covering her claws, apparently. The Artifcer works efficiently, whispering back, "If you would like to go ahead then you should. SHout if you have need of assistance." She is unperturbed, at least. "I am not particularly stealthy." Maybe if she were less than eight feet tall.

Desdemona leans forward as the blind is pointed out and she smirks. "Oh by all means go ahead and flank them, and I'd be more than happy to play obvious distraction." She says with a smirk and a bow. She didn't go with her full outfit, as a long coat would easily get stuck on branches and brambles, and besides, there is no need to be flashy in dark caves. She rests her hand on her sword and pulls her buckler off of it's holder in the back. "Either way, I think it's rude for us to not introduce ourselves right?"

GAME: Itzpapalotl rolls stealth: (15)+-1: 14

GAME: Kaelthilas rolls stealth: (5)+8: 13

Morgan looks towards the spear poking out area "stay near me untill I can haste all of you."

Right. Playing distraction. Preston Bayweather is on the job.

He just sort of ambles up with anyone who wants to amble up with him, one hand in his pocket, his dagger most convincingly behind his back.

And he says, as one does:

"Pardon me, gentleman in the plant. Do you happen to have any of that very fine stone ground mustard? I'm afraid my sandwich is bereft."

Why does anyone take this kid anywhere?

When they look up to see the person asking about sandwiches Iztpapalotl is going tense. She straightens, her long tail stretched outr behind her, clawed forelimbs almost on the ground. Then gears in her armour begin to move. Click, click. Click. There's a rumbling as the servos come to life then and the lizard adds onto Preston's distraction by... Leaping past him with a ferocious, echoing hiss.

She's... Helping. Right?

Kaelthilas waits a moment. When no other idea is expressed he rises to full stature and then steps backward and away from the group. Wordlessly he begins to move through the woods circumnavigating the hillside so that he can approach from a direction the brush does not immediately cover. Utilizing the hillside itself from cover.

Breaking the tree line he paths directly for the slope which he begins to ascend. Up an over. Towards the blind.

GAME: Lorik rolls 1d20: (14): 14

Stone. Ground. Mustard. "We are really going to have to work on your distraction techniques Your Grace." Desdemona teases as she takes her sword out and waggles it around a bit. "Oy! You heard the man! Hand over the stone ground mustard!"

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ATTENTION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Lorik has dropped a TIMESTOP!

Please +init, then cease all roleplay and actions immediately and wait for Lorik to instruct you further.

For in-combat commands, type: +thelp.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

GAME: Lorik rolls 2d10: (16): 16

Duncan goes Kultari Road <N>.

Duncan has left.

"I say my good fellow! Is someone demanding you hand over your mustard?"

The group steps out of the shadows of the trees to demands of mustard and attention. They defiantly get one of them. There is a rustling behind the bush and then a chatter of words in...some language...

"I think there is! Why the black hearted fiends! I'll never give it up! I killed and ate the merchant that peddled it fair and square!"

The first voice is sharper, the second rougher. Both seem higher pitched on the scale and both speak that odd tounge quite well.

The first voice chuckles. "Black hearted fiends. Isn't that ironic coming from you?"

"Is that really irony old sport? I mean they want my mustard. They must be devils worse than the likes of us."

"True true, no one demands a man's mustard without giving something in return. I suppose we should see them off then?"

"Yes it seems so, you see what you can do while I set off the alarm would you?"

"Of course!"

Which is about when a figure pops out from behind the blind itself. At first it doesn't look that imposing. I mean he isn't even three feet tall. Scaled red skin and a sling dangles from one hand. The small set of curling horns on its forehead, and the glowing eyes thoughs ay it's more than just a normal kobold. "I don't suppose you all would just pop off and leave us to our lunch would you?" He calls out in his own language before shrugging. "Ah well. I suppose not."

Then the sling snaps forwards, sending a single small round object flying though the air...right at Itzpa. Where it explodes into a patch of thick choking smoke around her.

Thankfully for Kael though? They seem to have missed his presence. Which means he has the perfect view of a second kobold. Blue skinned this time but with the same curling horns and glowing eyes. This one is dressed in a light scale mail armor, and holds a pair of handaxes. One of which is raised back to strike a rope that holds a lamp over a deep shaft. An obvious alarm system that only Kael has a clear view of.

GAME: Lorik rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10

GAME: Lorik advances the initiative order.

Round One - Init 17.

It is now Spike's turn! Morgan is next!

GAME: Lorik advances the initiative order.

Round One - Init 15.

It is now Morgan's turn! Desdemona is next!

GAME: Morgan casts Haste. Caster Level: 5 DC: 19

Morgan holds her arms out long as she says in a hollod voice "temepilt wuPreston gently angles the dagger all around so they can see more of it. He spends a moment on that right wall passage, but looks at the others, murmuring, "The main passage would give more room for their creatures, but seems awfully obvious. I don't know. What do you think, Master Kaelthilas?" If anyone here is going to choose the right direction, the young man's money is on the ranger. As for Lorik, he casts a worried glance...in no direction that has any bearing on the way Lorik went, the way people do sometimes.

Morgan looks a bit concerned when the prints are pointed out "One thing I know about kobolds are they are smart and love to ambush people with impresive traps." she then adds with "put if we need extra strength let me know I can boost one of you."

GAME: Preston rolls perception: (12)+3: 15

GAME: Kaelthilas rolls perception: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Desdemona rolls perception: (9)+7: 16

GAME: Morgan rolls perception: (7)+9: 16

GAME: Itzpapalotl rolls perception: (13)+5: 18

As they delve into the cave, Desdemona takes one good long look at the fresh air, the sky, and what they they still have coming through the Fellwood. She does not like it at all, and feels like all of the walls are closing in on her. She takes a few deep breaths and finally follows everyone inside. For once, she is very quiet, keeping her jokes to herself as they pick a direction. Her hand however remains on her sword, ready to pull it out when she needs it.

Carefully the way is taken down the right hand passage. Moving further and further away from the comforting light of day. The only light now the glimmer of Preston's dagger. The shadows close in, and still no shadow elf to be found.

The tunnel about fifty feet from the main corridor, and Kael's keen ranger senses can tell that up above they would be nearing about where the kobolds had their blind...

Which is when there is a click, as the elf steps on a seemingly innocent stone in the passage, soft sound of a mechninism released as a hidden pannel opens before them and a javelin launches out for the ranger.

Thankfully its kobold sized.

GAME: Lorik rolls 1d20+15: (17)+15: 32

GAME: Lorik rolls 1d4+6: (2)+6: 8

Within the cave it would seem the elf does not step as lightly as he did within the woods.

The moment he feels his foot depress he starts. Body coiling as if to spring - but too slowly. The small-sized javelin lances outward from the wall. Punching a hole through his glimmering breastplate and the scale beneath. He doubles forward slightly in pain taking the instrument with both hands he closes his eyes, mind retreating for a moment, before tugging it free.

Warmth trickles down his abdomen and dropping the javelin upon the floor he pulls a soft white cloth that is wedged between his waist and his belt. He begins to work it beneath his breastplate before starting forward again. Procuring dried herbs from somewhere upon his form he inserts them between his lower lip and his teeth. Saliva breaking them down slowly. Dulling the pain.

He says nothing by way of complaint. Refuses offers for aid. "A minor inconvenience," he claims.

Preston jumps a mile high when the elf before him is hit. The stoic ranger declares it a minor inconvenience, and he just slow nods and widens his eyes. "Uh. Yes. Quite."

He spends a few moments trying to figure out some intelligent way to find more of those though. Not the floor, that will never yield its secrets. He pauses a moment to go look at the wall, carefully, where the dart just came from. If he can identify the pattern on the wall, perhaps they will have a trifle more warning a trigger stone is about, and can do their best to avoid them, or at least pause and search a little more carefullyl.

GAME: Kaelthilas rolls perception: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Preston rolls perception: (6)+3: 9

GAME: Itzpapalotl rolls perception: (3)+5: 8

GAME: Morgan rolls perception: (12)+9: 21

Round the corner they go, now on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. Sneaking carefully though, moving carefully past. More eyes are better but its the keen elven sight of the wounded ranger that plucks the little details from ahead of them.

A slightly clear piece of floor, near the archway to a room of some sort. The bare trickle of daylight comes from the room itself.

But the floor...Kael can pick out three grooves in the sandy ground that are too straight to be natural. Matched up with notches in the stone of the wall that seem to be the same. The grooves seem to be about ten feet in length, stopping abruptly. Unnaturally so.

And in the middle of those grooves? Another set of 'totally innocent' stones that the ranger now knows to be anything but.

Morgan waits untill every one is backed away from the trap, she then tosses her staff and makes her hand move like she is controlling a puppit with strings. She hits the triger as hard as she can before making it to fly back to her hand

Preston couldn't find anything on the wall, and he's been engaged in this entire exercise of trying not to step on the cracks. Like. He's 10. He has the grace to look embarrassed when Morgan's maneuver makes him leap a bit out of his skin. He rubs his fingers through his hair, blows out his cheeks, gives a sheepish smile, and well. "L-look, there," he says. "Wagon grooves, d-do you think?"

He pat pats the laconic Bartholomew on all six of the snake's heads, because clearly it's Bartholomew who has come down with a bad case of nerves, and not, say, the indomitable Preston Bayweather himself.

A soon as Morgan flings her stick, which coincides with Preston pointing out the wagon tracks...well many things happen at once.

There is a decided click from the rock that Morgan hit and suddenly a ripping sound of blades. Blades tearing free of the ground and ripping down those grooves. Jagged saw-edged things that snicker snack back and forth. More come from the side filling the 10 foot area with...well...if anyone was in there it wouldn't have been pleasant...

...it only takes moments and the noise is considerable. The mechanisms screaching as they activate, speed up, and then slowly whirl down...

...and stop.

The blades remain deployed, unmoving and doscile. Able to edge around now...and strangely no guards pour in from the other room to see what their traps caught.

In fact. There is no sound at all from the other room...

...until...

A familiar voice of a shadow elf comes from past the next room. "Ah, my friends? Is that you? I don't suppose you have any rope on you?"

There is a slight echo to said voice.

Morgan looks impressed that the kobolds can do this in suck a area and is glad her staff did not eat it or get hit by the blades. She then hears Lorik speak and she starts to look in her bag "crap I left my rope with my girl friend."

"Oh look, traps. Of course there are traps." Desdemona whispers with a frown as she presses herself up against the walll. As they are triggered, her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. She really wants to nope out of here, as fast as her feet can take her, but she promised to help and here she will stay. Though it's easy to see she isn't enjoying herself. Hearing that familiar voice, some of the tension finally leaves her and she smirks. "And here I thought you knew your way around these caves! So much for being a guide, we might have to hire someone else!" She has some rope somewhere and will help anyone who wishes to dip down and save the shadow elf.

There is this moment where Preston nearly hits the ceiling, pulls his arm and leg up and into his body in the classic 'ahhhh!' pose, lets out a cry as his theory is disproven in a most violent and terrifying sort of way. His blue eyes are huge as this happens, and if he doesn't faint dead away he sure seems like he wants to. He swallows hard, just holding this pose for a second ,as if he is afraid that dropping it will mean suddenly being sliced into a trillion pieces. "By Eluna's firey eyes, what utter madness is this! Even the things that are supposed to be here could just up and..."

He makes wild sawing motions with his hands, as if to mime getting all kinds of sawed in half.

And then, sudden Lorik. "Ah. I say. There he is," he tells Desdemona weakly. "Oh. You have rope? Capitol. I didn't think to bring any of that. I suppose that's a thing one ought to go carrying, rope."

And he brings his leg and arm down with slow, tentative motions.

Kaelthilas presses himself against the wall and moves nimbly alongside it to avoid the sawblades.

Upon the other side he gestures faintly hand upward and elbow bent to signal the others as keen elvish senses detect something living within the other room. He reaches to his back then grasping the hilt of Mydraahil only to stop as the 'something' speaks and is given form in his mind.

He exhales then, fingers slacking, as he shakes his head. When Desdemona comes forward searching for rope he moves backward a step, "I'll cover the rear." Kael says giving the rest of them time to pull Lorik from his blunder.

Seeing Preston's reaction to everything, Desdemona reaches into her pocket and passes her flask over.

Crossing the traps brings them to what is obviously a guardroom. In the ceiling there is a round hole bored int he stone and sunlight filters down. Below it is a small firepit filled with oil. The idea obviously to cut the lamp that hung up top and light the fire here as a warning.

There /should/ be several more of the kobold creatures here waiting for them...

...however the only one there seems to be a corpse. A corpse with a crossbow bolt protruding from its skull and flame-blacked scales around the impact point. It looks fairly comical, lying flat on its back on the ground with a look of surprise on its face.

...right near a triggered pit trap.

At the bottom of said trap, also flat on his back, lies Lorik. Contorted slightly around the spikes that line the bottom of the pit.

"Well I saw all the /other/ traps!" He protests towards Desdemona as he starts to extract himself. "And I did find a back door! But...I think we can map more of the tunnels from here. Or..." And now he sounds excited. Even as he tries not to stab himself any worse than he already has. "Or ambush one of their shipments! That sounds fantastic doesn't it!"

...well. At least he's ok.

...and they now have a foothold in the Helmaster's territory.

[[Catagory:Logs]]

[[Category:Logs|All About The Mustard]]