Talathel's New Year Adventure

And now, we re-edit this post for it to fit within the timeline. 

It had not been long after the half-orc captain had fallen that Talathel decided that he was finished fighting for the night. He was weary from battle and the celebration of his group's current victory did little to replenish his spirits. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Talathel slipped away from the crowd, unannounced. He stopped to shake hands with a few party-goers as he made his exit, but otherwise he was able to sneak out without incident.

Talathel headed into town, searching for a place to drink and find some good conversation. He wanted to avoid the Bait and Tackle, mostly because he assumed that Tobi would not like to see him. He decided to find some other place. He worked his way down some back alleys, around a few corners, and found a pub named Millways. It looked a little bit shady, but the elf simply shrugged.

"Its not as if I'll see the universe end or anything like that," he said as he pushed his way through the door.

Millways was dimly lit, seemingly the only light coming from the candles on the tables. There was a decent number of people in the bar, but it was nowhere near full. A half-orc bouncer grunted at Talathel.

"No weapons," the half-orc said, pointing at the kama. Talatheel shrugged, took out the kama and handed it to the beast. It doesn't hit anything anyways. Talathel, never one to hold his tongue, looked up at the half-orc. "Two words! I have never heard of a half-orc saying two words without stuttering before! It was almost a complete sentence! Have you considered a career in public speaking? You could inspire a lot of half-orcs." Luckily for Talathel, the half-orc actually took this as a compliment and handed the kama back in some sort of gesture of gratitude.

Talathel took up a seat at the bar. No one at the bar greeted him, nor did they notice his silver kama. He felt loved.

"What are you having?" the bartender asked. Talathel looked up and was pleasantly surprised. He had suspected that the bartender in a dark, shady place such as Millways would be a human (or worse, a half-elf) male who poured a sloppy ale and didn't know his bourbon from his rum.

Instead, it was a gorgeous, fair-skinned, blonde, female elf. She had deep green eyes, a bright smile, and what could only be described as a great body. Talathel bravely stared at her.

"What are you having?" she asked again. Talathel could have sworn she sounded like an angel.

"Well, that depends..." he said, trying to collect himself. "What are you having?"

"The rum he is delicious, as are a few other things behind the bar." She said, coyly. Before Talathel could say anything, there was a mug of rum in front of him. "You seem like a good elf. First one's on me."

Talathel was officially in love. "My name is Lailsan Therranya." Talathel figured that the name thing was important when falling love, so he gave his. "Talathel Braegen. I'm sure you get this a lot, but I'm an adventurer." Lailsan smiled, and seemed intrigued.

Over the course of the evening, Talathel recounted his meeting of Darvin "He's a good kid, talks a big game, likes pirates." the trip to Baldur's Gate ("I was incredibly braved and helped guide the ship into the port.") and even the trip into the sewers ("and then, with Darvin lying helplessly on the ground, I plunged my kama into her stomach") He recounted the previous battle, indicating that is why his clothes appeared tattered. "That poor girl, Nym" Lailsan said sympathetically.  "Worry not, I'm sure that Darvin is taking good care of her."Talathel may have embellished the actual actions, but Lailsan seemed to buy it. Just as important, she was intrigued by the stories and kept the rum flowing. She would occasionally have to tend to other other customers, but would always come back with more rum, not only for Talathel but also for herself.

Lailsan was a native of Baldur's Gate, and she traded some stories with Talathel. She wanted to travel but could afford to do so. She had had some relationships, but not many. She mostly just worked at Millways and wrote poetry. Talathel was officially smitten. Apparently so was Lailsan, as she continued to talk to Talathel long after the other customers at Millways had gone back into the night. Even the half-orc had grunted his goodnight. After a few more rounds of rum, Lailsan suggested they go home.

"I haven't paid for any of my drinks." Talathel casually mentioned.

"I accept more than gold," Lailsan said, grabbing his hand.

She lived in a small apartment a few blocks away from Millways. it was dark inside, but they managed to find their way to each other. Though he had spent many years at the monastery and not felt the touch of a woman during that time, he was not without experience and found his rhythm. Lailsan grunted and moaned her approval. They carried on through the evening until they simply could not go any more and fell asleep on, by some sort of luck, her bed.

The next morning, Talathel awoke and took a moment to find his bearings. He happily reconstructed the night in his mind, and glanced over at Lailsan, still asleep. He kissed her forehead to waken her.

"Thank you," she managed to say, still very tired. Talathel gave a slight laugh. "I don't usually do that, but I figured with the New Year, why not?"

Talathel nodded, he understood. "Can I go with you?" she asked, and Talathel was taken back. An awkward silence filled the air. "Wherever you go next, I mean."

"I...maybe?" Talathel did not even know where "next" was, let alone if there was room for one more. Lailsan looked at him confused and hurt.

"Look, Lailsan, I don't know where we're going yet..."

"Isn't that the point of being an adventurer?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. But, I mean, I have to decide where that is. I might stick with Darvin for awhile. I wish I could just say yes, but there's much to consider before making a decision."

Lailsan pouted a bit, but she understood. "Figure out where you're going and find me. I'll be at Millways."

Talathel smiled. "I will. I like that place. The rum was good, and the service was top notch.." The two elves playfully wrestled.

"You liked last night?" Lailsan asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'd go to the end of the universe to experience it again."

Meeting Nesme

Nym sighed loudly, bored. She looked around the room for the hundredth time and pouted at the dingy walls. She'd already explored the area several times and hadn't found anything additional that was all that interesting. She'd discovered the dilapidated house and shop she was occupying had a stable attached to the back. There was still hay and feed in it, and it was relatively intact. Despite trying to lay low for the past week and a half, finding the stable had given her an idea for her money.

Nym stood and walked to the window. It was sunny today, and she was itching to get out and explore unhindered. I could probably go to the market unnoticed. It's probably crowded... She smiled to herself, and plucked the cloak she'd purchased a few nights earlier off the broken chair she'd dragged up to the room. She pulled the hood down to cover her face in shadows and hopped down the stairs on her way to the market.

The market was crowded as Nym had suspected. People who had lost their homes were trying to sell anything an everything they owned for food or trying to buy supplies to get out of the city. Others were selling overpriced goods trying to take advantage of the situation. Nym browsed goods, buying a few bells and a ribbon, among other goods, her money burning a hole in her pockets. She'd replaced her clothing and bought a nice dress for the party at Hring's almost immediately after getting her share of the wererat-killing loot. Suddenly she stopped, pulling down her hood. She'd spotted what she wanted. A smile spread across her face and she moved forward gracefully.

Six horses were tied up with price tags hanging from their necks next to a bored-looking middle-aged man smoking a pipe. He ignored Nym as she examined each horse. She already knew which one she wanted, but she was pretending to hunt for a bargain. The horse had watched Nym as she'd crossed the market, and Nym noticed. Now the horse shook her head impatiently as Nym looked at the other horses. Finally, Nym reached the large black and white mare and their excitement at meeting one another was obvious. The man noticed this and said 200 Gold while watching Nym. Nym nodded, handed the man the money, and led the horse away. The man seemed surprised she not only had 200 gp but that she hadn't bargained at all for the horse. Nym led the horse around the market, picking up supplies for the horse, and finally returned to her hideout.

After settling the horse in the stable, she stood with her fists resting on her hips and looked at the horse. Hmmm... You need a name, horse. The dove she'd purchased to replace the one lost in the sewers awoke at the sound of her vice and promptly flew into a post. She laughed at it. Dumb bird. I think I got the dumbest one... She turned back to the horse. Nesme. That's a good name, isn't it? Nesme snorted and ate her hay. I'm glad you like it. Nym pulled out her lyre and played for Nesme, who, for all intents, seemed to enjoy it.

Alone

Perched in a windowsill of a dilapidated building in the most destroyed part of Baldur's Gate, Nym plays with a broken flute she'd found in the room as she gazes down at the empty street. The day is grey and rainy and a heavy mist chills the devastated city. Despite it being mid-afternoon, nothing living, aside from Nym, seems to be occupying this part of the city. She sighs heavily and leans back in the windowsill, bored. She listens to the creak of the damaged building as she turns the flute over in her hands. The building had been some sort of shop before the disaster with the shopkeeper and family living in the area Nym had claimed as her own for the time being. This area showed signs of heavy looting, and aside from a few blankets and other odds and ends, Nym hadn't found anything particularly interesting in the building. But it was away from the working harbor area and most people, so she found it an acceptable location. She looked into the room, her eyes passing idly over the broken shelves she was using for food storage, her sack of gold from her sewer adventure, and her makeshift bed. Her eyes finally came to rest on her pile of collected odds and ends. She noted the half a painted dish and empty candle holder thinking her collection was much like that of a raven. Anything shiny she brought to her nest. She smiled at this thought, testing the flute's musical ability. No good. It was broken beyond repair. She tossed it into her 'treasure' pile and took a small doll she'd found out from the pouch on her belt. She turned it over in her hands and tried to brush the dirt from its cloth skin. She brushed it's yarn hair out with her fingers the best she could, though the tips had been melted together by fire, so it was impossible to straighten. The doll had red hair, and smiled despite now having only one button eye and having its stuffing falling out from a tear in its leg. Nym hums a lulliby as she strokes the doll's hair and straightens its dirty burnt dress. She imagined herself finding the little girl whose doll this was and returning it to her. In her story, the girl cried and thanked her, happy to have her most precious doll back. Nym was distracted from her daydream when she heard a dog bark in the distance. Her brow furrowed as she wondered if the little girl was even still alive.

I wonder if the Sea Star is still at port... She said to herself. I guess it's worth checking again. She slipped off to the harbor to peek at the ships yet again, hoping her pursuers had finally left. They'd already been at Baldur's Gate over a week even though they were scheduled to have left after only a few days. She hoped it was because they hadn't been able to collect their cargo and not because they were still looking for her. She hugged the doll to her breast as she slipped into the shadows to hide herself from anyone who might be traveling these streets. She hoped the little girl was still alive and would someday reclaim her doll.

The beginnings of the ten day hiatus....

Previously in the tunnels...
When they pulled the cloak down Beranhond was stunned to see the Lathander priest that he had knocked out.
Something dark is going on here, Lathander is a silly God, but he isn't an evil one... Beranhond was lost in thought and ignored the loot on the two men. As they got out of the tunnel he quickly talked to Hring, said goodybe to the others and set off towards the temple of Lathander.

I think I need some more information...

"Well, that was interesting."

"Was it? I thought it was very informative." The Tsunami, the lathander clothes, the undead, the knocked out priest... something much bigger than were-rats was going in this town. Tigrisclawu didn't say anything more, he just purred.

Meeting Place

Before everyone departed, Beranhond quickly talked with Hring before turning back to everyone.
"Do we all want to meet for the party ten days from now? Hring says he wants it to be of especial magnificence and that the leeway will be helpful. I also promise that Tigrisclawu will not dump any food on the floor." He said glaring at the cat."

What kind of equipment was on Ramman and the cloaked man?



Who wants some masterwork leather armor?

Fight to Flight

When Beranhond tells the group how much each has made on their adventure, her jaw drops and she stares at him silently (for once). In all her travels, she'd been lucky to have a few silvers in her pocket from time to time, much less 1700 gp. Her mind raced with possibilities, but drew a blank for what she could buy, so she started thinking about more pressing matters.

As the group climbed to the surface, Nym hung back in the sewers, seeming very hesitant to climb up. The smile had left her face, and she looked deeply concerned. Scriptus turned and offered her his hand to pull her up to easier climbing, and after shifting from foot to foot for a few moments, she took his proffered help.

As she approaches the surface, she peeks out looking for something or someone she clearly wants to avoid. I wonder if the Sea Star has left port yet... I hope so, or they're bound to find me with all this fanfare... After scanning the crowd twice, Nym nimbly pulls herself onto the surface and swiftly squeezed into the center of the group where the height of the others could block her from view. As Hring begins his speech, Nym looks down at her new amulet, looking as though she wants to disappear. At the term 'outlaws' in the speech, she looks up quickly and around at the group and the crowd. Her face shows her distress at this. As the group breaks up, she looks perplexed, and then follows Beranhond not really knowing what to do with herself.

Over the next 10 days, the rest of the group rarely see her, although she occasionally pops up. Her jovial nature seems to have left her when they do see her, and she is obviously looking over her shoulder regularly, nervous about something. She has spent her time in the most destroyed parts of the city since so few people remain in these areas. She has been moving from place to place, and looks worse for the wear when she is seen though she has a share of the treasure which could keep her quite comfortable. She has, though, stopped pretending to be a boy altogether, so has stopped binding herself and the like. Though in the same clothes, she appears much more feminine and sprightly when seen, despite the obvious wear and tear from wherever she's been.

Strolling About the Countryside

Beranhond, Darvin, Grumbleshanks, Gurkirat, Nym, and Talathel traveled back to the surface, emerging near the destroyed temple. The sun was high in the sky, and spirits were high, knowing they had defeated the queen, ending her dark rule of the sewers.

Hring walked behind the heroes, carrying the heads of Rhora and Ramman. As the group entered the square, Hring walked around to the front of the group and turned to address them. "Thank you so much for your help taking care of these two. We can handle the cleanup effectively from here. Please come back to my estate and I will see to your reward before I let the city guard know about the deaths of these two outlaws. Thank you again. If there is anything else you need, please let me know."

Players:
You have all done enough bold and courageous deeds to reach level 3.

You have 10 game days to do with as you will. Please write a post explaining what your character will be doing for these 10 days, and if you have any special plans/requests that you would like to work out, please email or call me, and we will find a way to work it out.

The write up of your escapades and activities during the 10 days are due on January 5th at 6 AM PST. We will start up with regular posts again at that point, with the requirement of 1/day as usual. If you have a problem with the January 5th deadline, please let me know. Thanks.

Testing Google Wave in Blogspot

Dragon Age, ftw

Gurkirat felt a little disappointment that the battle was over already, but perhaps that could be blamed on how good a musician he was.  He scanned the room and saw most of the obvious things were already being looted.  There was a chest that remained untouched so we wandered over and examined it.  

Perception:16+7=23 - (No traps I hope!)

Assuming no traps or locking mechanism, I'll just open it and ....  

Appraise: 20+6=26 - (good to see I can get good rolls in non combat situations ...)

Knowledge(arcana): 19+3=22 - (are you f-ing serious)

WOAH!!

Nym yips with glee as the wererat queen falls dead to the floor. After Beranhond sends out his healing pulse, she looks around, noticing how many people are in the small room. WOAH! Who ARE all these people?! Are you guys friends with all of them? Why was that lady a bitch? ...and a whore? Were those all the wererats? What are you going to do about the man tied up back there? Nym gestures to the door, beyond which lays the cloaked man. Is he okay? She swings her arm around to point at Hring. I'm hungry. Are there MORE rat people out there? Are you going to fight them too? To Beranhond: How do you do those weird healing explosiony things? Nym turns and looks at the pile of gold. What do rats need with gold? This place is weird. She wanders around the room, eventually ending up next to the gold pile. She squats in front of it, moving pieces around with the end of her bow aimlessly. Perception: 11+5/16 She picks up a silver piece and turns it gold and then back to silver, entertaining herself with cantrips as usual. Prestidigitation.

The Queen is Dead...

Darvin looked disgustedly at the dead queen. He spat in her general direction. The he walked over to the body. Drew his cutlass and chopped off her head. He then reached into his pack and pulled out Ramman's head. While holding the heads he turned to Hring and said, "I believe these are for you...Now, about that party."

Rhora's Death Follow Up

Hello all! There are just a couple things to take care of before we all get to celebrate the victory and take a break for the holiday.

1. I am assuming you are going to loot the place? If anyone has any objections or would like to look at/grab anything in particular, please let me know. Otherwise, I will just give you descriptions in general of the things in the room.
2. What are you doing with Rhora's body?
3. What are you doing with the cloaked man in the hallway?

Let me know! Thanks!

All good things...

Beranhond knew that the rat-queens seconds were numbered when the sword connected with her body. As she hit the ground Beranhond wiped the blood of his sword with her body and looked at Hring, who was quite weakened.
"It is finished, though you might want the head. Darvin has Ramman's head if you want that to." Beranhond realized how morbid he was sounding and quickly shutup. However, Hring's eyes stayed on the body. Seeing the damage he had taken, Beranhond raised his shield and sent healing waves across the room.

Channel Energy:
Roll(1d6)+0:
4,+0
Total:4

Game Time Continued (Mine wouldn't post as a comment for some reason!)

Nym prepares a magic missile to throw at the rat lady. "Well this is the last of these I'll be able to make today..." she says to no one in particular since no one is really near enough to her to have heard her above the battle noise.

Magic Missile v. Reflex
(1d20)+6
9+6
15

Damage:
(1d4)+1
3+1
4

"Take THAT you rat... whore?" Nym yells, raising an eyebrow and looking at the others for approval. Everyone else had been calling the rat lady a whore, and she wondered if there was something to it. She pulls out her bow and prepares an arrow...

Peepers and Squeakers

Grumbleshanks and company slunk back to the group from sewers splattered with blood. "We had best get on with this. There's a swarm of squeakers down the way. They're content right now, but we had best not wake the dragon until we're ready. We ran into a few anklebiters ourselves." He said pointing to the bloody and gnawed on Hring. "Anyone have a bit of healing for him?" Soon afterwards, Darvin spoke his peice and the party charged into the hidden chamber. While the rushed the queen, Grumbleshanks ordered his two henchies to watch the opposite direction while Arngrim and Thojlkf kept their eyes and ears peeled for the swarm.

Maaaaagic Missile

To anyone looking at Nym, it is clear she is trying to talk despite being unable to make or hear a sound in the room. She nimbly follows the others into the room, still 'talking,' until she finally becomes frustrated and stops her attempt to speak. Seeing Darvin take a swing at the Wererat Queen, she smirks as she holds her hands in front of her as though she was holding a ball. A spark appears between her hands, and then almost as quickly as the spark has appeared, a white-red orb appears between her hands. She flings it at the Wererat Queen.

Magic missile
(1d20)+6 v. reflex
12+6
18
(I can't figure out how to add this to the combat sheet...)

If it:
Damage
(1d4)+1
4+1 (SCORE!!!!)
5

Game Time...

Darvin looks at Talathel and starts signaling to him that there is a trap on the floor. He makes it clear that the only way to avoid it is to hug the right hand wall. He turns back to Hring and does the same. Hring then sends the message back to everyone else. Once the game of charades is over Darvin makes his way over to Rhora, avoiding the trap of course, and swings with his cutlass.

Attack:

Roll(1d20)+2: 15,+2 Total:17

Miss...

What do you gotta roll to hit this bitch?

The Open Door

Darvin:
As you open the door, you notice a cleverly disguised pressure-sensitive trap on the floor.

The rest of you:
The center of the room contains a table with 4 chairs around it, and Rhora is standing to the back and right of it. Counterclockwise from Rhora, you see a small table with several small objects on top of it and a chest underneath it, a small pile of gold pieces, and a bed.

Rhora is wearing a large, heavy black cloak, with the hood down. She has a scroll in her hands, and as you enter the room, she mutters several words, and an arrow conjured from the air whizzes toward Talathel, alive with acidic liquid green malevolence. The missile narrowly misses Talathel, hitting the now open door, and there it slowly burns through the rock. As soon as the arrow is released, she puts the hood on her cloak up, and suddenly there is silence in the room. The silence is unnatural and still, and as she draws her short sword, there is no sound that could have given her away. This silence extends into the hallway, and everywhere on the map. There is silence within a 30' radius of her, so nobody can cast a spell or do anything requiring sound within that zone. Grumbleshanks: You prepared a spell beforehand, so you may still release it, but you cannot cast any more from within the zone of silence.

Ranged Touch Attack for Acid Arrow: Roll(1d20)+8:
4,+8
Total:12

Oh Crapwilikins

Nym hovered toward the back near Beranhond, still feeling particularly weak. She shifted slowly from one foot to the other.. She readied her bow slowly and stared at the door ahead, wondering what exactly the "Queen" was and if she was in over her head.

A Viking We Will Go...

Darvin finished checking his gear and then addressed the group.

"Alright it looks like everyone is ready. We have managed to not lose a man down here yet. Let's keep it that way. I imagine this Queen is going to have some pretty crazy tricks up her sleeve, so be aware. Beranhond, be prepared to use your healing talents, we may need them. And Scriptus, try not to shoot anyone in the back this time...Ok, everyone be careful and good luck."

Darvin turned and stood next to Talathel and pushed the door open...

Take 'er away Dan.

Vested Interest

Grumbleshanks:
In the interest of not making everyone else wait, can we find a time to meet online and do any battling/exploring you do in that 10 minutes out of sequence? I think that 10 minutes has already passed for everyone else, so to do it now would just disrupt everyone's play. I am happy to facilitate your 10 minutes of exploring/fighting, but if everyone else is about ready to start a fight, it seems silly to make them wait so you can have another fight in between. 

As to your question about entangle, the answer is yes. My understanding of the spell is that it affects everything within a 30' radius, so if you cast it outside the door, it would affect things on the other side of it, as well. I thought you only prepared 1 use of the spell today, though?

 Everyone:
It seems to me that you are all ready for opening the door, but before you do, please let me know what oformation you are in outside the door so I can see who has line of sight and such. Thanks.

Girls and Ale

A warm blush came to Nym's face as Darvin spoke to her, making her look rather like a painted doll as her skin was still quite pale after taking the Belladonna. She nodded and smiled. A party? I wonder if I can find a dress. When Darvin winked at her, her smile grew even wider and she looked at her feet. The pebbles around her feet began to float slightly, as she absentmindedly straightened her sleeves. Unintentional Prestidigitation.

Suddenly she heard one of the newcomers yell And then it's back to the surface for a pint and a whore! which caused all the pebbles to fall with loud clacks and Nym to look up confused at this strange loud human. I really never will understand that race... She thought, the blush leaving her face as her brow knotted in something between confusion and annoyance at being distracted.

She looked around, realizing the net-wielding, yet unintroduced halfling had disappeared with some henchmen while Beranhond had seen to her foot. Where'd Mr. Halfling go?

Rule Number 79: Know your henchmen

Beranhond's introduction of Nym made Talathel notice something. He did not know who the henchmen were that had followed his group down there. (And, since they aren't even depicted on the handy map a few posts down, Talathel forgot what they looked like.) 

Sheepishly, Talathel walked over to them. 

"Gentlemen," he said, trying to convey a sense of civility in the stank sewer, "we have journeyed down to the sewers and fought together. I will not pretend we have endured long battles together and forged ties that only war can bring..."

"Is there a point to this speech?" One of the henchmen asked. He was a human.  The only this worse than a half-elf, Talathel thought, though he was relieved to see that the other henchmen was an elf. "We have better things to do than listen to this."

"Well, I was just going to ask for your names."

"My name is Lofa," said the human. "This here is Aldaho. He doesn't talk much, but seeing as how you don't shut up, maybe its for the best that we have a silent elf."

Talathel very much so wanted to punch his now named human companion. He resisted the urge.

"Excuse my friends gruffness. I'm afraid he's growing a tad impatient. We understand that this Nym girl is in danger, but we are not paid to wait for medicine. We are paid to fight," Aldaho said, his voice was soft and was almost soothing. The tone did not seem to fit the situation, but perhaps Aldaho was just reflecting his experience with the way he spoke.

"You are good men, Lofa and Aldaho. We shall be fighting again soon. The rest are getting prepared to go through the newly found door and fight the queen."

"And then its back to the surface for a pint and a whore!" Lofa yelled, directing the attention of some of the group. An awkward silence came over the sewers.

"Humans..." Aldaho said shaking his head. Talathel did not say anything, since rum and wenches were very much on his mind as well. He did his best to block it out as the strategy would be in place soon.

Rule #1: Eat your vegetables.

Beranhond turned and looked at the stoic Thjodolf.

"My friend, do tell me such things!"

The half-orc looked quizically at him."Tis but a flesh wound!" He said as Beranhond looked at the bolt in his back.
"It is more than that." He took out his medical knife and a length of leather. "Now, this might hurt a bit, so bite down on this." He handed the leather to Thjodolf who put it into his mouth.
Beranhond moved the knife over and gently cut around the bolt; Thjodolf made no sound, though he clenched firmly on the leather. Once a small gash had been made, Beranhond carefully turned the shaft and deftly removed the fishook bolt from his skin.
"All out." Beranhond put his knife away and took a length of line out and begin to stitch up the small wound. After a moment, he had the wound closed and he begin to put away all his medical equipment. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the healing potion (that was not given to Nym) and handed  to Thjodolf to drink.

Rule #76: No Excuses, Play Like a Champion

"Actually, Beranhond, if you could take a look at ol' Thjodolf over there. It appears he has a bolt sticking out of his back and it does not look good." Darvin had grown fond of the half-orc down in the sewers. Thjodolf never complained and had a terrible bit of luck down here. First, with absorbing the brunt of the magic trap and then getting shot in the back by one of his own party members. The guy was tough, no doubt about that. 

Darvin also couldn't help but notice the change in Nym's demeanor. The belladonna had obviously made the poor girl feel miserable. Well, a little miserable now is better than turning into one of these wretched wererats I'm sure. He thought to himself. 

He walked over to her and softly said, "How are you feeling? I think it best you stay in the back and support us with your bow as best you can. And just think when we get through this there's a party up at Hring's." He finished by giving her a wink and walked off to check his gear.

We're not done here

After the interrogation, Grumbleshanks untangled, folded, and stowed his net. Looking with mild concern, but mostly with curiosity (What will happen to her personality if she becomes a wererat?), the halfling heard Beranhond inform everyone about the 10 minute onset of the belladonna's effects. Upon hearing this, he said, "No point in twiddling our thumbs. Who's up for a bit of spring cleaning?" He gathered his squad and anyone else interested then marched down the tunnel hunting rats. Hring and Arngrim led the troop, blades drawn. As they marched away, he made a mental note to return in roughly 10 minutes' time.

Perception:12+8=20

Stealth: 16+2=18

Initiative, if needed: 5+2=7

We hack, bash, and poke anything with a funny smell and mangy fur--everything that is except Gurkirat and Tigrisclawu.

Well then

After a moment, Gurkirat realized the battle had come to a halt and in turn halted his clarinet performance. He wasn't even sure if anyone had noticed the music, but he could see it in the improved postures and stronger attacks of his allies.

As his allies relaxed and began tending to their wounds, Gurkirat's thoughts turned inward. I'm getting too old for this shit. I should be playing music in a tavern, drinking ale, and wooing the ladies. Gurkirat popped out of his reverie briefly. Speaking of ladies, who is this elf checking me out? Whatever. Any girl joining this group is a wee bit too crazy for me. He sunk back into his thoughts for a time again and checked his clarinet for any moisture or damage. Terrible place for an instrument.

Gurkirat reentered the present as talk was made of finishing the adventure by entering the hidden room. "Excellent," he chirped from the fringe of the crowd. "Although I did see a few rats on my way here in case anyone wants to sharpen their swords on some weaklings before we kill the beast."

Let's get this sewer over with.

Beranhond noticed Nym stand and smiled.
"Talathel, Darvin, Gurkirat, and others, I think Nym is feeling well enough to proceed. Though, I suspect she might want to keep to the back during this next encounter..." He suddenly realized that no one had introduced Talathel or Gurkirat to Nym.
"Oh, this is Nym, we rescued her from a wight who had imprisoned her. She can make her own introductions when she is ready." He turned towards Darvin while Tigrisclawu jumped onto his shoulders. "Does anyone need healing? If not, would you care to lead through the secret door Darvin?"

Belladonna 2

Less than 10 minutes after swallowing the Belladonna, Nym began to feel the poison. She gasped and shivered slightly as the poison sapped her strength. Her hands shook and she pressed her cold clammy palms against her legs to minimize their shaking. Her teeth chattered and she gasped as she felt her strength sapped a second time. She squeezed her eyes shut and recited properties of the plant to take her mind of the pain. Belladonna. Believed to have killed the third prince of Luskan. The stalk is fleshy - leaves long and deep green. In the spring it bears yellow bell-shaped flowers which become particularly toxic berries by fall. It grows best in shade... She trailed off.

...In the dark of the cave's mouth, Nym crawled under a ledge and felt around for the fleshy stalk of the Belladonna. She found it and plucked several leaves. Little one, are you here? She heard her father ask behind her. She crawled out holding the leaves up to him excitedly. He smiled. You have done well, Nym. You have done well. He took the leaves and placed them in his pouch as he turned back toward the cottage. They ran through the dark undergrowth silently. Nym listened to the blowing trees and animal calls as they ran.

When the arrived home, her father immediately began preparing the Belladonna for use. Nym cleaned the boy's arm while his mother hovered over her. When her father appeared with the Belladonna, Nym moved aside. Nym's father force-fed the boy the Belladonna, and then squatted in front of the boy, examining his arm. The boy's mother and Nym's father talked quietly. After about 10 minutes, the boy cried out and begin to shake. Mommy, it HURTS! he cried. The Belladonna was doing it's work and it's damage. The boy lost consciousness, but Nym's father assured the woman the child was cured of lycanthropy. He carried the boy to the guest room and told the woman they were welcome to stay the night...

Nym felt her body relax and opened her eyes timidly. She looked around, noting that Beranhond was talking to his cat and Darvin was greeting an elf. Is Beranhond crazy? He seems to be answering his cat like it's asking questions... Weird. Nym was pale, and smiled weakly as she stood and walked toward the others, quiet for once.

any minute now, my ship is coming in...

As he sat and and rubbed his wetstone against the sword blade, Tigrisclawu bombarded him with chatter and bounced all over his lap.

"What a strange group you have joined us up in! What is the matter with that halfling? Nym needs to be more careful. What was up with the look on her face? What are we up to after this..."

Beranhond only half  listened to Tigrisclawu. He sometimes reached this level of bubbly energy and usually it resulted in him collapsing and napping for a few hours.
"I think we might head up to Waterdeep. I was also thinking of manufacturing some healing pendants or rings - that might be profitible and good service for a town lacking in healers." 
"Profit? When have you been interested in profit. Didn't you say that profit was the tools of the ruler..." and Tigrisclawu was off again.

Beranhond, though surrounded by wererats and fighting, set his sword into his lap, pulled out the notebook Narath had given him and began to jot down notes about what he had found in the following room. Something else is going on here, these wererats are too well supplied, and the letters, priest clothes, and undead speak to something evil. Perhaps, he was closer to finding answers to Narath's queries. Or, perhaps I am deluding myself, and maybe there are more answers in the room beyond. After a moment he put his notebook away, carefully stood, and raised his sword and shield and waited for the next attack to begin.

Bibamus!

"Well, we should be able to tell in about ten minutes or so whether the belladonna made her sick or not. Let's take a breather, catch our breaths, and if we feel the need, continue to make snarky comments."
With that said, Beranhond wandered over to Darvin and whispered "I suspect, friend, that you might have more use of this than me." 
He quietly removed the pearl necklace and put it into Darvin's hand. After that he moved over to Tigrisclawu, cleaned off his blade, and prepared to face the hive queen.

The Timeliness of Things

Beranhond, Darvin, Grumbleshanks, Gurkirat, Nym and Talathel:
As you wait for the cure to take effect, the mossy growths that seem to be crawling over everything within a 30 foot radius seem to calm down and stop their movement. You continue waiting, and as you wait, Nym starts to feel the poison coursing through her veins, and it seems to her that she slowly has her strength sapped from her. Nym, take -2 Strength damage. Please give me another Fortitude save.



Roll(2d1)+0:
1,1,+0
Total:2

It's A Brand New Car! Or Queen depending on how you look at these things...

Darvin looked up at his elven friend whom he had momentarily forgotten about. With all that happened in the sewer Darvin had not even realized Talathel had shown up.

"Talathel! How good to see you!" Darvin exclaimed. He was glad that the elf appeared no worse for the wear.

"Yes, Talathel. We should go pay this queen a visit. Beranhond, when you finish patching up the fair maiden let us know so we can end this adventure of ours."

Darvin then checked his equipment to make sure he was ready for the upcoming battle...

And Behind door #2....oh damnit, I always pick the ugly one

Talathel, always preceptive (thanks in part to his +8 modifier, of course) noticed Nym's way of looking at Darvin. 

I'm sure he's already introduced himself as a mighty pirate. I wonder how this will go to his head?

The elf listened to the treatment options that faced Nym and decided he was not the least bit jealous of what she was going through. He then wondered what sort of person would be jealous of someone who had been bitten by a wererat. 

I'm sure that Darvin would find some silver lining in it. Talathel then chuckled at the thought of there being a silver lining in turning into a wererat, since all of their weapons were silver. He then decided he had had enough of the medical drama and in an effort to get to the rum (and wenches) that much faster he turned to his surely smitten companion.

"So, Darvin. Shall we see the Queen?"

now we wait

Beranhond watched as she, somewhat glassy eyed, swallowed the belladonna.
"You might get sick from this, if that is the case." He reached into his back pack and took out the healing potion he had found.
"Use this if you start feeling really ill, it should help you out some." He said as he pressed it into her hands. "It won't taste very good, but it will curb any of the affects of the nightshade.

Belladonna

I don't think you will turn into a rat, we can take care of this... said Beranhond, answering Nym's questions. She nodded, excited, as he explained who the others were. At the mention that the gnome was in fact a bard, Nym smiled widely, excited at the thought of hearing a bard play. She squirmed more, distracted by the possibility of a musical treat. Beranhond finished cleaning and dressing her wound. While he finished, he pulled out a small bag that smelled of herbs. He said, handing it to her, Just to be sure, you should eat this - we wouldn't want you turning into a wererat after all. Nym took the pouch dantily and turned it over in her hands. Probably Belladona... well, I guess I'd rather be retching than turning into a rat... She opened the pouch and smelled the herb. Knoweldge arcana for the Belladona: (1d20)+4, 17+4,21

As she held the open pouch she breathed deeply and thought of her father and her home...

Nym was 8 years old. A woman had practically burst in to their home, babbling about lycanthropy and having had to travel many miles to find an herbalist to help her. She was slight and blonde, a plain human to be sure. She and her small son had ridden all the way from Loudwater, where a band of werewolves had been terrorizing the farmland for several months. Her son had been bitten about 40 minutes prior. Nym peeked into the entry where her father was urgently talking with the woman. The boy's arm was mangled and bloody. He escorted the women into the house and had her sit, applying an ointment to the boy's arm.

Nym, come with me. Her father said, as he rushed toward the door. They hurried into the night. It was windy and cool in the dark forest, and Nym was struggling to keep up with her father as he silently moved threw the undergrowth. Her father scanned the dark underbrush for herbs. Little princess, I need you to find a closer source of Belladona than our normal plant. It is too far away to help that boy... Nym nodded, and sprinted off into the undergrowth. She new the plant grew near a cave she often played in and she ran to collect it. She wondered if they would get the herb to the boy in time...

..Nym shook her head, coming back from her memories, and realized she'd been staring at the Belladona in the pouch for some time. She smiled awkwardly at Beranhond, chuckled half-heartedly, and ate the herb. Belladona. A mild poison. Used for stopping the spread of lycanthropic infection in the system and can be used as a sedative. It's also known as the deadly nightshade. In high does, it can kill. Nym said matter-0f-factly as she chewed and swallowed the herb. She knew in about 10 minutes she would likely be ill. Take it away, Dan, how vomity am I from failing my poison save?

a small, but powerful light

He shook his head at Grumblyplanks latest comment and turned back towards Nym and the wound, but all thoughts of anger drifted out of his mind as he saw the momentary look on Nym's face. He turned and looked at Darvin, turned back and looked at her intensely. Ah... I see. He though smiling and understanding very quickly what was going on. That was a nice break from the stupid conflict he and Grumblyplanks seemed to want to happen. Her momentarily look defintiely took the anger out of the air for him.

"I don't think you will turn into a rat, we can take care of this. As for the others, we met them yesterday, though I would hope to call them friends. The Gnome's name is Gurkirat and he is a fabulous alchemist and bard - you might chance to hear a melody from his later, probably after the fight."

He kept smiling, glad to see a little light in such a dark place.

I'll talk your ear right off

Nym wiggled impatiently as Beranhond worked on her wound. Are wererats poisonous? What happens if a wererat bites you? Is my foot going to fall off? This one time in Everlund my friend Leelund was bitten by a snake and her foot turned black and fell off! Well, she wasn't really my friend, more of an acquaintance really, but we needed to pick up some supplies for the school. That was some trip! Luckily Rinore knew how to stop the poison. Are wererats like werewolves? Am I going to turn into a rat? Nym looked disgusted at the thought of turning into a rat, and tapped her free foot while peering curiously at the gnome, halfling, and the other new companions. She whispered to Beranhond, Who are THEY? Are they your friends? Why'd you give the halfling a look? Are you fighting? Is that his net? Do you think he'd teach me to use a net? I- Nym turned, hearing Darvin's voice, and saw him looking particularly dashing as he interrogated the cloaked man. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, blushing, and turned back to quietly watch Beranhond work on her bite, still squirming impatiently.

A short break from grading undergraduate papers

When the halfling turned away without saying any words he felt relief. To think he asked me what was up my butt. Beranhond thought. He wanders around as if he is king of all and more knowledgeable it knots than a sailor used tying up knots blindly in the middle of a storm. Beranhond had met people like him before at the Citadel and they were usually not to be trusted more than they could be thrown, though with Beranhond could probably throw the halfling at least half a league. He shook his head and went back to examining Nym's wounds.


Any information Dan?

Haste makes waste

Grumbleshanks wished he had left a few of Darvin's hastily wrapped knots, to use the word's loosest definition. He thought about pointing out that the half-elf had bound the man in just a few blinks of an eye before turning to swing at the rat. However, the halfling thought twice as he noticed the rising ire in the half-elf's face and the snooty air of the cleric. Touchy crowd, he thought. More hurt feelings than a middle-school lunchroom. Instead, he bit his tongue and examined his wound looking for signs of infection or disease. Finding none, he asked Gurkirat if he had noticed any other rats along the way. He also asked Hring if these were all the rats. He then motioned to his henchies to keep their weapons out and watch the tunnel they walked down, then Grumbleshanks observed Darvin's interrogation.

What in the World Can That Be?

As the man lies on the ground with Darvin's cutlass in his face, he begins shivering with fright.

"She's right over there." He gestures with his head, "Please, just spare me. She's right behind that wall." As he wiggles his head, his hood falls away, exposing his brown hair.

Following where he gestures with his head, Darvin finds a concealed doorway in the passage.

"What are you going to do with me?" The man shrieks in terrified sobs.

Our DM can read manuals and breathe fire

Seeing as the situation was in hand, Talathel began to think about the rum that was on the surface. It was good rum, he had to admit. He supposed that he should care about the location of the queen, but really, what is the location of a wererat queen compared to some of the finest rum in Faerun?

Cheeky Bugger...

Darvin finishes tying up the cloaked man while rolling his eyes at the halfling. When he finishes he noticed that Grumbleshanks then went back and double checked his knots!

"Um, excuse me Mr. Shanks, but I can assure you that those knots are more than adequate. I have spent most of my life on fishing vessels and know how to tie things down." The halfling just stared back at Darvin. The half-elf did not enjoy or appreciate this lack of respect he was being shown by this diminutive fellow. 

"I also on occasion have been known to eat cheeky halflings for breakfast. They are good with butter." Darvin said this under his breath and to no one in particular but wouldn't have minded if Grumbleshanks had heard him.

After the last wererat had been killed Darvin turned his attention back to the cloaked man. They had made good progress down in the sewer and there was only thing left that stood in their way.

Darvin crouched down, removed the dirty sock and held his cutlass close to the man's face and growled. 

"Alright you poor excuse for life. Tell us where the Queen is or these will be the last words you ever hear."

Intimidation:

Roll(1d20)+1: 17,+1 

Total:18 

The bites that ill

"Nym, come over here. Let's take a look at that bite." She wanders (in whatever way Nym felt like wandering at that point), back toward him. Beranhond, with his extensive medical and healing training, examined Nym and looked at the cut, he decides that...


 Perception: 9+5=14
 Heal: 11+10=21
Any other rolls you want Dan?

Another one bites the leg

Nym squeaked and hoped back at the sight of the wererat changing back into human form. She glared at the corpse and kicked at it, narrowing her eyes. Pouting and pointing at the wererat accusingly, she said looking around at the others, It BIT me! Who BITES people?! What if I have rabies now? Or... or something WORSE? I bet my foot's going to get infected. Noticing no one was really paying attention to her plight, Nym crossed her arms, scowled, and stomped her foot, which clearly wasn't bothering her to the degree that her complaining indicated from the force of the stomp. Seeing Beranhond looking over the corpse, Nym suddenly crouches down next to him, watching him search the body. After quietly watching Beranhond for a moment, she whispers loudly to him, It BIT me!, springs up, and wanders around the battle area.

Oh a sailin... I mean, a cave-crawling we go!

Turning away from the now dead Wererat, Beranhond watch in amazement as the stuffy halfling druid gave Darvin advice on how to tie knots, and then in even more amazement as the halfling self-importantly double checked the knots. He felt the urge to say something, but remembering how easily his ire had been raised by the halfling, he turned away from the brazen uncouth display and checked the wererats body.


Perception:
11+5=16 (using my actual dice)

Did Beranhond find anything?

One class down ... oh, that has nothing to do with Pathfinder ...

Gurkirat paused to study the retching rats, but, deciding they were fairly harmless at the moment, chose to creep past them and look for a worthier foe.  Creeping is a very relative term, he thought as he splashed through the water.  He eyed the rats for any sign that they might be coming around.  Wimpy they might be, but a handful of rats crawling over his body ... yech.  He sneaked a little faster.

Knocking a Character Unconscious

Hello again, everyone. I've been talking to Grumbleshanks about better ways of handling lethal vs. nonlethal damage, and I think I've come up with a better system. Here it is. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please let me know.

Rules for Lethal and Nonlethal Damage:

• If you are attempting to deal nonlethal damage with a lethal weapon or vice versa, you take a -4 penalty to attack, as you try to carefully use the weapon for something it wasn't intended.
• When nonlethal damage is dealt, it stacks with the lethal damage that has already been received. 
• Example: If you receive a nonlethal punch in the face after being stabbed repeatedly, you may pass out from the combination.
• When lethal damage is dealt, it does not stack with the nonlethal damage that has been received.
• Example: If you have been punched in the face and are near unconsciousness, and then someone stabs you, you are not that close to dying from the one stab wound.
• In order to make an enemy pass out, the blow that puts them over the edge has to be a nonlethal blow. (You can't make a character pass out from lethal blows.)
  

Map of Fight around Ramman

Hey everyone, before it gets more confusing than it already is, here is a map of the battle that Beranhond, Darvin, Grumbleshanks and Nym are currently engaged in. Note that when Beranhond and Darvin rushed into the melee, they pushed Thjodolf and Arngrim out, and that is why they are no longer standing next to Ramman. Also, please note that many of the images I'm using here are terrible, and if you would like a new picture, feel free to supply one. I'd be happy to swap them out. :)

Another attack.

Throwing caution to the wind, Beranhond put his bow away, raised his sword and shield and charged.

Attack:
Roll(1d20)+2:
17,+2
Total:19
(hit)

Damage:
Roll(1d8)+0:
7,+0
Total:7

His silver sword swished and created a large gash in the wererat in man-form.

baa

Feeling sheepish, Gurkirat marched back to where the cloud had been the moment the words were out if his mouth. Partly he wanted to be on with the adventure, but mostly he wanted to avoid Talathel's and the other party member's laughing eyes. Hmmph, he grunted. He hoped the others were following so he would have to flee like a coward from another battle ...

He checked his equipment to keep his hands busy. The appearance of the cloud and its subsequent disappearance caused him to feel apprehensive of the future. Clarinet in hand, he continued down the tunnel cautiously.

Stealth: 2+5=7

(I'm guessing fleeing down the tunnel disrupted any stealth I had going, and it appears I'm still a bit shaken.)

Run away, run away ...

Gurkirat peered intently at the approaching fog and racked his brain for any spell or magic that could dispel the haze. Coming up with nothing, he was forced to agree with Talathel. "Let's go back and take a left. We entered from the right, roughly, so I'm hoping the breeze will carry this cloud that way and out the sewers."

Without pausing for an answer, he put actions to words and dashed back to hide in the other tunnel.

I hope it doesn't take too long for this cloud to pass ... DAN!

Ray of Frost

Nym hops, almost dancing while pointing at the man who yelled "Rats to me!" only a moment earlier. To no one in particular she cries, Who is THAT? And who is the man vomiting? Why is he in a net? Should we help him? And what does he mean, 'rats to me?' She stops her little panicked dance, sighs, looks at Darvin with a raised eyebrow, and states matter-of-factly, We're in trouble now, aren't we? as her hands begin to glow blue and frost begins to form on them. Thjodolf nods to her as he readies his weapon. While still looking at Darvin with her matter-of-fact expression, she shoots a ray of frost at the man who yelled for the rats.

1d20+? (no idea)
16+?
1d3 cold damage, roll 1d6/2
6 (HELLS YEAH!)/2
3 damage

Yeehaw!

Feeling like a storm god, Grumbleshanks glared at Ramman as he called out to the sewer folk. Grumbleshanks yelled "Charge!" and a "Yahoooo!" slipped from his lips. With hatred and revenge burning in his eyes, Hring rushed by shoulder to shoulder with Arngrim, who let a hint of a smile turn his mouth in hopes of a formidable foe. The henchies followed after, but not before Grumbleshanks told them to keep their ears and eyes open for rats sneaking behind us. Grumbleshanks began mumbling, grumbling, and chanting. (Entanglement on Ramman)

New initiative roll? 18+2=20

A shot in the dark

Attack with arrow:

Roll(1d20)+0:
18,+0
Total:18

damage
Roll(1d6)+0:
4,+0
Total:4


(sorry for being so lame this week... my internet is only available in my hostel, and I am only there in the morning and at night).

I blame tryptophan...

My bad. I sort of forgot to post what with the Holiday and all, hence the title.

"What the hell is that?" Talathel said as he watched the cloud. Is this some natural occurrence in the sewer, or is it some sort of defense that the rats have employed?

The elf looked into the dense fog, trying to discern its purpose. He didn't see much, but he didn't like it.

"I think it might be best to retreat for now, at least until we can figure out what this is."

A Mighty Wind

Beranhond, Darvin, and Nym:
After several seconds of moving toward you, you hear a wind start to rise in the tunnel, and the clouds start to thin in front of you. After about 6 seconds total, the area in front of you is almost completely clear. You can see down to about 5 feet from intersection K. As the smoke leaves the area, one man (a wererat) steps up to intersection L from section LT carrying another man on his shoulder. The man on his shoulder is wearing robes and is wrapped in a net. He appears to be vomiting over the first man's shoulder onto the ground. His head snaps to the right as he sees the light coming from your light orb, and he sets the man down on the ground, drawing his rapier and yelling, "Rats to me!" The wererat you shot at is nowhere to be seen.

Grumbleshanks:

About 15 feet ahead of you, you catch sight of Ramman carrying the robed man over his shoulder into intersection L. He suddenly turns, sets the man on the ground next to the wall, and yells, "Rats to me!"

Gurkirat and Talathel:

As you traverse the tunnel, you start to hear a light breeze in the passage. As you get about 10 feet beyond intersection J, you see what appears to be a cloud coming down the tunnel toward you.

indeedi

Beranhond shook his head.

"Doesn't it seem odd that the worst possible thing always seems to happen? I am a little distracted now, so... I hope you two can figure it out. I will follow along with whatever you do." He had been feeling spacy for the last few days

Fog Drift

As the fog drifts toward them, Nym begins to back up further to avoid it. Uh... guys? she squeeks, hoping they've noticed the fog's drift.

Another Week of This and I'll Probably Die

Darvin had walked with Beranhond the safe distance away from the cloud. He stared at the fog and was utterly perplexed. The Half-elf was usually a charge first, ask questions later kind of guy. This fog was really cramping his style.

"Does anyone have any ideas on how to deal with this fog? We have shit to do."

I'm a Creep(er)

After a little searching, Gurkirat is able to spot one bullet on the floor of the sewer. After picking it up, he makes a motion with his arm down the tunnel and mimes tip-toeing to the rest of his companions. I hope they get the message, he thinks to himself as he sets off down the tunnel once more.

Stealth: 8+5=13

Perception:17+8=25 (I rolled this earlier, but I'm just putting in here in the new post so we know what it is)

The Sum of All Beers

Beranhond, more calmly, backed up to the requisite 5 feet. He was feeling mightily distracted after missing the shot at the wererat.
"Well, well, well..." He paused looking into the cloud. "What should we do?"

Short Escape

After running about 10 feet, Nym skidded to a stop. Alright, that should be far enough to be out of the fog for sure. Codex and Scriptus had been right at her heals, and at the sudden stop, they ran into her. Nym fell (acrobatics (1d20)+1/12+1,13), caught herself awkwardly, and landed on her butt, looking surprised. The light orb bounced once and rolled slowly toward her, coming to a stop between her legs. She shot the henchmen a dirty look while the muttered embarassed apologies, and Thjodolf snorted, clearly annoyed with her. Well, we didn't need to get back FAR! Nym blurted, looking sheepish. She hopped up, collecting the orb gently, and mumbled while inspecting the orb for damage, I'm sure none of you wanted to be incapacitated by vomiting while wererats ate your faces off... When certain the light orb was unharmed, she began brushing herself off. She flicked a hunk of mud off her sleeve, and it turned into pink bubbles, floating daintily in the tunnel before bursting with tiny squeaks. (Prestidigitation)

Stink Fog of Doom

Nym squints into the fog while clutching the cloak of whomever was directly in front of her (Beranhond, likely, since she was hiding behind him). The light orb isn't helping her to see through the fog, but she continues to hold it up. Then she notices a second cloud within the cloud. What's that? It looks like a stink bomb... oh NO! Nym tugs at the cloak she's clutching and yells, There's more than just smoke in here! We've got to go back until it clears or we'll all be in trouble! After yelling this proclamation, she turns to run back down the passage they came through, tugging hard on the cloaked person who had been in front of her. She hears running feet following her and looks for a passage with a door they can close to duck into.

Perception for room with door to escape stink bomb?
(1d20)+1

17,1

18

i suck

Attack the same creature (the one that's still awares)
1d20+3
7+3=10
miss!

"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."

Beranhond, Darvin, and Nym:

You arrive at intersection N without any incident. At that point, however, you come around the corner to see a wererat in dire rat form, standing near intersection M, who obviously sees you. She glares at you before turning and quickly running down the tunnel away from you.