The Consortium was asking for volunteers to kill some Blood Elves, so my warrior, Tiger, was rounded up with some characters from a friendly guild and we headed off to the Botanica.
When we got there, one character piped up, 'Tiger, you've got your hands full tonight, as you have three aggro stealers with you!'
'That's okay. I consider possession to be nine-tenths of the law. If you steal aggro it's yours.'
'Can you roll a Sense Motive check please?', asks the DM of one of our players.
'Can anyone roll?', I interject.
'If you were paying attention, yes.'
'Of course I was paying attention', I say, starting to roll my D20. 'What are we rolling for?'
'<sigh>'
The summoned gryphon is destroyed, the puppy dog with the big teeth runs away, and the demonic sorceror is defeated. After ensuring he cannot cast spells, a bit of interrogation reveals who hired him to kill the councillor. Success! We now have the two people responsible for the death of the councillor in our custody with verbal confessions from both about who hired them. Now the real battle begins, and moral and legal discussions start up amongst us on what we should do with this information.
We could hand everyone in to the authorities to take the moral high ground. We could blackmail those responsible to get money or power from them in some way. Or we could take some stance between the two. We then realise that those responsible already have power and could feasibly use it against us should we decide or threaten to reveal their involvement in the murder plot, which leads to more discussion about what we should do.
After much wrangling and occasionally heated discussion, with everyone wanting to do The Right Thing but where The Right Thing is different depending on your viewpoint, we reach a concensus to approach those ultimately responsible for the murder and gauge from their response our best option. They essentially said, 'You've got us bang to rights, how embarrassing, what do you want in order for us to keep this information private between us?'
'...'
Crap, we'd spent so much time deliberating over what we ought to be doing that we hadn't spent any time on what sort of bargain we could make. 'Um, a pony?', was perhaps the best we could offer at the time, which made us look rather less professional and scheming than our plan made us out to be. A couple of blustered deals were offered from our side, and agreed to, before we made our presentation to the council about the murder, protecting the two wrong-doers who we had decided were acting for the greater good but in a misguided way.
A councillor was murdered in his sleep. Twice. We have uncovered one plot almost to its conclusion, but the other remains elusive. We still don't know what sort of creature ripped out the councillor's throat, or how it got in to his room, or who was controlling it. In fact, we pretty much know nothing except that some creature ripped out the councillor's throat. If we hadn't been lucky in finding out about the other cause of death we'd have been sitting around in an inn somewhere scratching our heads for most of the day that we had been charged to find the killer.
As it is, we are only just now, mid-afternoon, scratching our heads about how to find the killer. We had the whole morning and a bit of the afternoon picking up clues and hunting down some acrobats. But now we are stuck. All the clues that we have followed led to our first avenue of investigation, and despite trying really hard to find any kind of link to the other method employed to kill the councillor we simply haven't found anything. It's quite poor.
'What is there left to do, apart from wandering around the city and asking random people if they killed the councillor with a clawed snake?' The general mumbling and shaking of heads unfortunately confirmed that that was indeed our best hope right now of making any progress.
There was something else we could do. 'Let's talk to the general again.' After all, he is the only other character in the city who has not been linked to the poisoning who actually has been given a name. He must be here for a reason. And so, even though we have no idea what to ask him, we head to the Boratian embassy to question the general some more.
Question the general we do, mostly with questions we've already asked and knew the answers to, but thankfully stopping short of wondering if he's enjoying the weather in Malador or not. There are awkward pauses as people wonder what to say next, and whether we stand a chance of working out what's going on.
Then an apparently innocuous question mentions something, who knows what, and the DM decides that we really do need some help. With the mention of... whatever it was we are suddenly asked to 'roll for initiative!' Crikey, that sounds exciting. Before we know it, a summoned monster has pounced on one of us, a domestic pet is gnawing on another with some mighty big teeth, and someone previously kept in the shadows starts firing bolts of energy from his eyes! It must have been something we said.
Never underestimate the power of a bored DM to move the plot along.
Running around with a mage friend in Shadowmoon Valley, trying to avoid the nasty bidepal dragonlike monsters in the Temple of Ata'Mal, I get a call asking for help to kill a big undead dragon flying around the Netherwing Ledge in an effort to retrive Gorefiend's armour. I mention that I am already in a group and questing for the Aldor, but 'you will be surprised how quickly I can get a group together' this fellow tells me. Many Bothans died to get the information to me that he is a warrior, so in considering that he would tank and my friend and I, warlock and mage, would be damage dealers, that only leaves a healer and one more random member to complete the group. Even if his group-gathering skills were half of what he boasted this should be pretty quick. I agree to help.
The warrior invites my friend and I in to the group. 'Hi! Help me find more members, okay?' I suppose he is sort of right, in that I'm surprised by his methods of getting a group together. He wants help to achieve something and recruits a patsy to do all his work for him so he can reap the rewards.
'It's your group, sir', I reply, which deflects the responsibility right back at him. I would be happy killing random orcs in the Temple of Ata'Mal, I don't really need to be here. Well, happier. If those stupid bidepal dragonlike monsters didn't patrol in patterns that led them to kill you whenever you turned your back I'd actually be happy, so maybe I took this offer up as a welcome break from the becoming-familiar corpse run.
'All we need now is a tank and healer', he continues. Pardon me? Maybe I got his role wrong, so I recheck.
'Um, you're a warrior', I tell him, hoping that this won't come as a shock to his system. Luckily it doesn't, but he tells me that he is arms-specced and therefore we need someone else to tank the dragon. Ah well, fine by me, as long as I don't have to explain myself why the warrior isn't tanking. And, in fact, the group gets together pretty quickly, as two paladins complete the group in short order. Sadly, they don't have flying mounts and the area the dragon patrols requires flying mounts to get to. It's a good thing I'm a warlock as I can summon people to my position with a summoning spell, with the help of two others. The warrior, my mage friend and I head to the rocky outcrop and summon the paladins.
There follows a quick discussion about which one will tank and which will heal, which is resolved without too much drama, and we start clearing an area of deadly flayers so that we may battle the dragon uninterrupted. Having been in a similar fight previously, I try to marshal some strategy together and ensure that everyone knows what's going to happen.
The dragon flies quite high, and so a character with a long-ranged attack needs to position himself on a peak to pull aggro on to him, at which point he runs down to where everyone else awaits, the tank pulls the dragon off the puller, and the fight commences in earnest. As I know the tactic and have a low-threat ranged attack I decide that I will pull the dragon.
Oh, and one more thing: 'does everyone have their spectrecles on? You can only see this dragon if you're wearing spectrecles, so please make sure you're wearing them'. This is an important point. The dragon is an undead ghost dragon, just to confuse a hunter's track animal sense, and can only been seen with special, thrilling headgear. Without it, the fight would look like someone being crushed do death by nothing. There are no objections to this request and, perhaps more importantly, no one asking what the bloody hell 'spectrecles' are. Good.
With that out of the way, everyone in the same place, all healthy and full of mana, and the fighting ground clear of other monsters, I head up to the nearby peak. The dragon makes its slow path around the floating island and starts to come close. I announce that he is coming and for people to prepare. I cast my spell, getting the dragon's undivided attention, and half-run half-jump back down to the ground where my companions await!
And they continue to await. The dragon swoops down, and bats me once with his rather big claw. I let out a yell as some flesh and blood takes an unscheduled holiday from the rest of me, and still my companions do nothing. Another claw hits, more bodily injury results, and I get a reaction from my group. Sadly, it is bemusement at what I can only assume where my 'antics'. The dragon's head comes down and bites my torso from my legs, and my dying vision is one of incredulous amazement from the others as they wonder how I managed such a feat, and why I'd even want to do that.
My corpse is lying bloodied and crushed at their feet. At least one of the paladins has the presence of mind to resurrect me. 'WTF? What just happened?' came the call from the warrior.
'Spectrecles, does that mean anything to you? If you don't wear spectrecles, you cannot see the dragon, ergo you cannot attack it. Could everyone please wear them.' I'm hoping I made my point this time.
It seems my point was indeed made, as the warrior's leadership started to shine through. 'Put your spectrecles on everyone', he instructed helpfully, 'make sure you're wearing them!' I'm glad someone is pointing this out, otherwise a man could get hurt. I return to my vantage point to wait for the dragon's slow flight to return to a point where I can get its attention again. 'Faust', starts the warrior, 'please put your spectrecles on!'
Apart from having asked and instructed everyone to do just this, and hoping that this would implicitly make people aware that I know I need to wear the spectrecles, I feel compelled to tell that warrior 'dude, I pulled the bastard, I think I can see it.' I'm beginning to wonder if we'll be successful. Even so, I show him my Evoker's Helm of Second Sight, the ultimate quest reward for the chain that first offers the spectrecles, which offers all the benefits of spectrecles whilst also adding to my power, just to assuage his reservations that someone in the group actually knows what he's doing.
The dragon comes around again, I call it a silly dragon that cannot even kill a warlock properly to get its attention, and I run and jump back down to my waiting companions, sweating a bit remembering what happened last time. But everyone was ready and waiting. One paladin starts his most threatening attacks, the other keeps our health good, and the rest of us start to attack the dragon with our spells and weapons. But the dragon isn't impressed. First, the smooth, creamy mage goes down in a couple of hits, closely followed by my chewy warlock self, and it isn't long before the crunchy-on-the-outside warrior and paladins are thoroughly stomped on.
A quick soulstone resurrection is followed with the rest of the group being revived, and some obligatory finger-pointing in the half-hearted review of our strategy. That the paladin couldn't hold the dragon's attention is concluded pretty quickly, as it was kind of obvious. A brief discussion ensues about what can be done, which effectively results in my telling the warrior to switch to defensive stance, spam sunder armour, and suck up having to be a tank occasionally, to which he agrees to try. I may have been more polite about it at the time, but probably not.
I wearily head back up to the peak. I don't even have to cast a spell or say anything to get the dragon to come to me this time, my armour was so stained with blood that he smelt my presence a mile off. I half-jump half-tumble down to the battle area, and cower a little as the warrior starts his attacks. They are working! The mage and paladin start attacking in earnest, and so I join in too. The dragon is getting thoroughly annoyed with the warrior, and as the paladin is keeping the warrior alive, the rest of us are free to kill the dragon! Success, and the warrior picks up the armour that was jammed in the dragon's hide, or something.
All that is left to do is politely head back to the mainland to summon the two paladins back, lest they are left with no alternative but to jump off the edge and rely on the kindness of the spirit healer at a graveyard to get them off the ledge and back to civilisation. Thankfully the group does not split before this is done, as the three of us that have flying mounts are needed to cast and assist with the summoning ritual. And whilst this summoning procedure is being carried out, I get a call, another plea from a stranger. Could I help with killing an undead dragon, please...?
Having defeated the acrobats and now looking for their escaped leader and hunting for further clues as to his motivation behind the murder we start to head back across town to the inn where we found out the troupe was staying. The inn is about a thirty minute walk from the theatre, and we are still racing against the clock to uncover the whole plot in time for the council's meeting that evening. 'Time is of the essence, let's jog', I say.
Dexter thinks we're fitter than that by suggesting instead that 'we could sprint'.
'Only if the inn is in a straight line from where we are.'
George, always thinking of a better solution, chips in with 'we could get some peasants to give us a piggy-back'.
But Ann-See goes one better. 'We still have the scroll! We'll get us some riding peasants.'
What with the recent fight that involved multiple grappling foes and a troubled Dexter failing to draw a weapon, lethal versus non-lethal damage was mused upon.
If you hit someone with a chair leg it counts as an improvised weapon and you do lethal damage.
By the same logic, if you hit someone with a severed arm you do lethal damage.
However, if you hit someone with an unarmed strike you do non-lethal damage.
In a pinch, you could cut your non-lethal damaging arm off and wield it as a weapon to gain mystical powers of improvised lethality. The only problem remaining is how you can manage to cut your arm off if you find yourself in a position where you have no other improvised weapons.
Tumblers, fire-breathers, all the thrills of an acrobatic troupe about to kick your arse! This is high-theatre, and we have font-row seats. We quickly move back a few rows to avoid the initial rush and allow us time to compose ourselves a bit better. Dexter and George, our two able fighters, set themselves at the front. Ann-See and myself hang back a little, ready to dodge around the edges of the fray to take advantage of weak points in our adversaries. Tal the beserker, our most ferocious attacker with the lack of brains to match, is... well, he's wandering around town with our Scroll of Maximum Authority. We're sure he'll jump in to the fight when he's ready though.
As the acrobats nimbly charge towards us, George fends one off. In front of the orchestra pit he deftly steps to one side of a foe and sends his blade with deadly force in to his neck. A critical hit! The acrobat is decapitated, his torso slumping to the ground as his head bounces in to the orchestra pit. 'Don't lose your head in the heat of battle!' George quips, as it bounces off the percussion with a satisfying 'badum-tish!'
Meanwhile, Dexter has his hands full. Like some strange kind of acrobat magnet, first one, then two, then three opponents jump on to him and grapple him, stopping him from doing pretty much anything. Dexter spends the rest of the fight trying to draw a light weapon, his hand axe, and as every attempt has three people trying to stop him he is not terribly successful.
Ann-See and myself get caught up in smaller frays, dodging around, causing some damage, taking rather a lot more damage, until I am unconscious and bleeding and Ann-See comes face-to-face with a fire-breather that scorches her bunny ears, and she too is unconscious and bleeding. It's a good thing Tal has turned up by now, as he starts pummelling everything in sight. Some of the acrobats try to incapacitate him as other have done with Dexter but to no avail, as Tal shrugs them off. He keeps one of them close by though, instead choosing to pick him up and throw him at another acrobat. There weren't any more attempts to grapple Tal after that, maybe Dexter should take notes.
The rest is a bit of a blur, sadly. My hit points drop lower and lower, from -8, to -9, the getting-deadly -10, -11, 12... And George comes to my rescue! After three make-or-die saving throws George succeeds in a basic healing check and stops my bleeding. I turn away from the light and after a dozen minutes or so I am back in the theatre. Ann-See is up and resting, kind of woozy. We have three acrobat captives. The boss-man acrobat is neither dead nor captured. The rest of the party are alive and well.
And Dexter defiantly draws his hand axe at last.
Our rummage around the dressing rooms back-stage produce some sweet meats next to a bottle of what we know to be the poison when ingested in sufficient quantites. It's quite damning evidence, damning and obvious enough to be framing someone for the crime, but it's the best clue we have so far and so we are compelled to investigate it further.
We find the gentleman concerned, who does indeed seem either to be the ideal suspect or the perfect patsy, being new in town, replacing someone who has mysteriously disappeared himself, and, of course, having the implicating evidence in his implied possession. He gets spooked with our line of questioning, for some reason, and we give chase. It doesn't take too long to catch him again, and we concoct a little plan to keep him safe and where we can find him, so that if he is framed then it looks like the frame-up is going to plan and we can investigate that, and if he isn't being framed then he is not in a position to evade us. Tal takes the fellow to the local lock-up, and the rest of us head back to the theatre for further investigations.
On the way, we wonder how the next group on our suspect list, that of the acrobats, could be cajoled in to confessing. Dexter, our chief thinker, comes up with another storm of an idea, 'Why don't we ask them how they would go about getting in to a first floor, barred window? If they tell us how they did it, they're obviously guilty. If they can't think of anything, they're covering their tracks and must be guilty. It's a foolproof way of determing their guilt!'
'Or', I say, 'we could just find out if they float, and burn them if they do'. Apparently, my idea wasn't quite as clever, and we pretty much went with Plan C (we rarely have anything good enough to be a Plan A). The acrobats were practising on stage, and we spoke to their leader manager. He refused to discuss anything in private, and Tal had the Scroll of Authority that would have forced him by law to obey us, so we had to improvise. When our line of questioning wasn't going anywhere, Dexter brought out the poisoned sweet meats we had found earlier, hoping to provoke a reaction.
'Okay, boys, KILL THEM!' came the cry from the leader of the acrobats, and the tumbling, leaping, fire-breathing troupe changed their focus from the stage to us. Not quite the reaction we were after, but that's what you get in an oligarchy. If it had been a monarchy I'm sure we could have put him under citizen's arrest, to which the only reply that can be made is 'It's a fair cop, guv', with one's hands held out to accept the cuffs.
As the acrobats spring in to action, Dexter opines to us that 'of course, this isn't the first time that someone has come after my sweet meats with acrobatic intention', remembering how he was previously seduced by Illoya as a ruse to get close to a cult that we were trying to infiltrate. 'Perhaps I should learn from this.'