Cointhief

Sure thing, its not super complicated, just new. Basically to fly a spelljamming ship you need to Attune to the Spelljamming Helm, yes, a magic space la-z-boy chair. You can not fly without being attuned, but some ships have other movement modes. This counts as a normal Attunement Slot (competing with your magic items) and can only be done by players with Spellcasting. It takes 1 hour, like any Attunement. However, there is a catch that makes it more convenient. Whoever is Attuned to the Helm can 'pass' the Attunement to another willing creature using an Action without spending the 1 hour, with just a touch. Most of the important details are within the Spelljamming Helm magical item description, which I will post in a spoiler here: Spelljamming Helm The function of this ornate chair is to propel and maneuver a ship on which it has been installed through space and air. It can also propel and maneuver a ship on water or underwater, provided the ship is built for such travel. The ship in question must weigh 1 ton or more. The sensation of being attuned to a spelljamming helm is akin to the pins-and-needles effect one experiences after one’s arm or leg falls asleep, but not as painful. While attuned to a spelljamming helm and sitting in it, you gain the following abilities for as long as you maintain concentration (as if concentrating on a spell): You can use the spelljamming helm to move the ship through space, air, or water up to the ship’s speed. If the ship is in space and no other objects weighing 1 ton or more are within 1 mile of it, you can use the spelljamming helm to move the vessel fast enough to travel 100 million miles in 24 hours. You can steer the vessel, albeit in a somewhat clumsy fashion, in much the way that a rudder or oars can be used to maneuver a seafaring ship. At any time, you can see and hear what’s happening on and around the vessel as though you were standing in a location of your choice aboard it. Transfer Attunement. You can use an action to touch a willing spellcaster. That creature attunes to the spelljamming helm immediately, and your attunement to it ends. As far as proficiencies, there are none required. However, there may be times when I call for a check if you are doing something challenging like navigating an asteroid field at high speed or if it is your first time. This would most likely be Arcana. Perception can also be valuable because of the way your field of view changes.

In the Counting House... Thom had moved deeper down towards the vaults, rather than towards the untrustworthy, falling sky. He passed a chamber of looted deposit boxes and quite a few dead bodies, all sharing the same strange uniform: a pompous blue affair with gold trim. The psychometric residues from the assortment of scattered objects was overwhelming, a thousand important possessions whispering impressions that would take a lifetime to fully read, or decipher their secrets. The battle below concerned him more. He reached a branch in the corridor leading out to the private docks that seemed barricaded and very obviously trapped from inside. Turning the corner in the other direction, Thom wasted no time in an attempt to get a jump on whoever or whatever it might be... Many things happened at once. Thom captured a glimpse of a rag-tag group of adventurers forcing their way into a vault, firing his magic upon them instantly. The halfling in the stylish drake-skin catsuit hit the ground. The berserker wielding a vault guard's severed leg in one hand and a pair of eyeballs in the other turned to meet Thom's gaze and yelled "ARARARAARRGG!!!" more like a screeching eagle than a man, charging directly. The skull-adorned mage at his side raised a hand, two-fingers gripping a thin, straight piece of iron like a pencil, and gutturally vomited *𐎋𐎁𐎎𐎍𐎉𐎐𐎃𐎍𐎂𐎉𐎂𐎉* Thom felt every synapse in his brain misfire in a cascade as every muscular fiber locked in place...he was paralyzed. The berserker covered the ground quickly, viciously slapping him across the face with a bloody human thigh. Thom felt his center of gravity working against him as he rigidly fell over, losing consciousness...just before spying an hourglass on the wall indicating 9:25. The halfling's dropped, lit bundle of dynamite sticks then exploded. ~~~ Dreams of Scruffy the Dog licking Thom's face slowly morph into a wounded woman smearing a menthol smelling poultice on his cheek as the psion awakes. "Ho, you back with us now? Lucky you came along when you did, we were in a pinch down there..." Above, the yellow crystal megaliths nearly blocked out the entire sky, leaving only patches of blue beyond. The entire thing pulsated with a steady rythm, if that wasn't your head throbbing. The encampment atop the Counting House was meager, but seemed well-defended. A few archers took pot shots across the moat at the slow-moving crystal invaders. Another group of Vault Guards were preparing what looked like cold gazpacho in a large, jewel encrusted, golden chalice. A few wrecked children embraced each other in a corner and cried. ooc: You are back from KO with 1 hp.

On the docks... The eerie insectoid's music masked a cicada-like chittering clacking out his dancing mandibles, rumors of bombs and that weird 'spelljamming' word that keeps popping up giving a pause to some in the rushing mob. One of them, in a group of philosophy students and avid readers, hits his neighbor on the shoulder "I keep hearing and/or thinking that word. What does it mean? Have the wizards discovered some new method of strawberry preserves?" "Maybe, but I think it means jamming like 'jammin' too, you know the one musicians always hope you like." another one postulated without evidence. "No, no, no. You guys are such silly-willies. Remember that giant flying ship with octopus tentacles that destroyed that belltower a few months ago? The one that brought all the tadpoles and such? That's a spelljamming vessel. Apparently this half-man, half-praying mantis is making the claim 'All spelljamming vessels have bombs.'" a third astutely corrected. "Ah, so, this is a normal galleon, therefore there isn't a bomb." the first stated. "You idiot, didn't you learn anything from Professor Crisp on how to analyze hypothetical syllogisms? You just denied the antecedent, the classic inverse error fallacy. Listen, its the same as this kind of arguing: If you are a blacksmith, then you have a job. You are not a blacksmith. Therefore, you have no job. ...can't you see how foolish your reasoning is? Just because this isn't a spelljamming vessel, that doesn't mean there isn't a bomb on board." the third again corrected. Captain Sartell overhead the students and smirked, offering authoritatively "Sure as hell this is a spelljamming vessel. 'Not all spelljamming vessels have tentacles.'" The latest bombshell claim only flummoxed the F-students further and gave the A-students more opportunities to joyfully demonstrate their superior understanding. Still, at least they weren't trampling across those mu-mu wearing grandmas trying to get closer anymore. More importantly, the dagger wielding thug full of bloodlust took pause. Biting the blade in his teeth, he jumped into the murky bay and swam like he's never swam before. Thus Traveus was able to lead a small group of loyal thugs and confused commoners into the promised land (where they would all die) and finally give the group an opening to retake the Moondancer. Most of Sartell's crew was tied up in the captain's cabin and easily freed. A glance in the galleon's cargo revealed it was loaded down with the thug's precious crates, whatever that was, and about a dozen goats. It still seemed able to take on another 50 or 60 escaping passengers...should the party be willing. "Let's not waste any more time, we'll take on who we can and prepare the ship for a final flyby of the city..." she paused looking around and sniffing at the air "...wait, where the hell is our spelljammer. What the hell is Flapjack doing this time." "...I think they got into the sugar again last night." was the groan inducing crewmate's response. Without the mysterious spelljammer to transfer attunement of the helm, or an hour to wait for a new attunement, the ship was going nowhere. Yahs snakes out of the parasitic gravitational pull before obliterating another of the crystal beings, grabbing a handful of the stinky rocks as she goes. The other creatures were simply too slow to make their pursuit even matter to the fleet-footed Ensign and hairy-footed Chef. ooc: Yahs and Fred arrive at the slightly dissipated mob of desperate evacuees as the others are searching for Flapjack on board or trying to think of other solutions. I've put a layout of the space galleon in Discussion, if you want to search for Flapjack give me a few places you explore.

I'm going with the 2018 errata that updated the wording on the Instrument. It strictly must impose the charmed condition to get the disadvantage, not merely be a charm-like effect. I believe the complete list is: Animal friendship Charm monster Charm person Crown of madness Dominate beast Dominate monster Dominate person Hypnotic pattern Modify memory And the ones that seem close but don't quite qualify being: Awaken, Compulsion, Suggestion, Mass Suggestion, and Geas.

Apologies again for slow week. Just a few more days and I'll be free on vacation... Getting something together now.

Fine with resting.

They can't tell he is under the effect of magic with that Insight check, but they still think it is the stupidest thing they've ever heard.

After a pause, the crime lord scratched his chin "Hm, not a bad suggestion. Bolster the ranks and whatnot...a little nurturing now for a little milking later." One of the thugs spins on a dime "Sir, what the hell?? Are you serious? The city is done for, aint no wheres to shelter! And the powder...? What about the powder??" "Meh, its not worth it on second thought. Better we save these beloved strangers." Traveus concedes, a soft, wild glow of the arcane behind his eyes...a change too subtle for any of his men to see. Another of the men bursts out laughing "Hahaha! Ho! Good one sir, you had me going there. The way you made your face like that, you should be an actor!" striking a random baker in the nuts with a polished pine beat-stick, spilling fresh baked rolls across the pier. "I mean it, Jason. We're abandoning the operation here and making a stand in the ruins of Baldur's Gate. Except for those guys over there, they can stay." the crime lord explained clearly. "..." There comes a time in every thief's life he has to question his current leader. Usually when the boss stopped being profitable, the boss stopped being alive. Now was no different. "...Traveus, have you completely lost your mind? You're gonna leave this take in the sands, is what you're saying? No more joking around, now..." the merciful club was stowed in favor of a long dirk. "No jokes! C'mon, we can be done in a few hours and pay a visit to the Caress after, well if they are still alive." More of the men stopped in their tracks to take in the sudden, unexplainable change of tact. Thugs could insult each other all day long, but when you started messing with their money... "Sure thing sir. The 'beloved'. Of course. After you..." It was clear a change in leadership was about to occur... ooc: It appears Thaveus will be sneak attacked unless anyone wants to stop it somehow.

Trouble on the Docks... The thunderous voice of Rush the Racer accompanied by snaps n' crackles of hot blue static discharge captured the mobs attention. It was certainly newsworthy, and odd, to hear that the Upper City had attacked the Fist. Those elite snobs with their katana-master personal guards had always snubbed the gritty clubbing neanderthal mercs that kept the Lower City in (dis)order. With the hundreds of personal vaults up there filled with diamonds and demonic shields ripe for the plucking, it sounded like pretty good looting to most of the crowd. But free horses? Well, a horse by itself was worth a fortune, sure. To really use it you'd needed a saddle, feed, bits, bridles...not to mention stable costs, monthly veterinary inspections, grooming kits and special organic horse oils. It would all add up in the prospective looter's bottom line. After one of them called the Valkuryte out on his bluff, there was a moment of silence Celsior captured to make his appeal, this time to the Crime Lord himself. "Bah, Donald was a twat. Look around elf, city is being destroyed! No one gonna be here to remember me, I'm getting far, far, away from this stink hole and never comin' back!" he blasted back. Steve the Alien Insectoid took the more direct approach, thwacking people in the back of the head with his cittern as he invaded their minds with undecipherable words. Many noses bled, their virgin psyches being tapped for the time. A few were surprisingly resilient, possessing latent psionics held over from the so-called 'tadpole' incident, setting up wild feedback loops sending graphic illithid imagery scattering back in the waves. More were confused and compliant however, some even taking a soggy knee believing their god was speaking directly to them. When the party finally makes it to the front line, face to face with the Moondancer and its hostile takeover from the gang of thugs, Traveus scoffs "Ho! What is this, fasion week? Think you're any different than the rest of this lot? Stand back or you'll get a pop just the same. You aren't getting on this ship." Fight the Blights... Back in the ruins of Tender Henk's cafe, Yahs and Fred formed humanity's last stand against the invading crystalline blights. Using the ancient magic of halfling rhythm (those booty-shaking beats that proper halfling's never speak of) the tiny scratch from Fred's bolt widened like the fissures in the earth. Beat. Each facet on the creature began to vibrate and rotate, the resonant energy of the decoherent pulses fracturing the heat-stealing beings into finer and finer dust. Beat. It's topaz eyes seemed to lose focus, its movements became random. Beat. It tried stabilizing itself, lashing out with tendrilly whips of star crystal, but the extensions dissipated. Beat. The entity collapsed, every single ionic bond had been broken within the lattice. *pppffffpff* Yahs and the roast-lizard vendor that had been ensnared by the vines gasped for air...finding a little surprise instead. The mineral corpse dust had darkened and began to smell very familiar to the plasmoid. The beholders of H'catha were strangely protecting these same stinky crystals. As Fleet Ensign Yahs pummeled the next in line, Fred zipped down towards the docks, not wanting to take a chance with the annihilating entities. Would Yahs follow or continue the fight? The blight from the astral sea compelled her to stay...again embracing the plasmoid with stellar caress... ooc: You easily passed the last round, but just a reminder plasmoids have an ability giving them advantage on grapple escapes for next time. Also, actually Fred managed to kill the Astral Blight grappling you before your turn came around. So you didn't take the cold damage, only the radiant damage from before. One Astral Blight down, significant damage to the second you are now in melee with. 4 others still destroying at random nearby. Take 9 radiant from this new round, and 1 cold damage unless you somehow manage to escape before your turn again. Danger in the Streets... Part of the bay formed a natural moat forming the first line of security for the fortress known as the Counting House. It was a short bridge walk across from a destroyed apothecary, bubbling and sizzling with broken potions and experimental blood-infusions. Oddly, it seemed like the apothecarist's house wasn't damaged from the falling seeds, but had simply always been in such a ruined state... The double portcullis of the gatehouse was open. Inside was a luxurious public space resembling the finest banks on Earth, with colored marble and gold filigree decorating the line of teller windows. There was broken glass everywhere. Shock waves from the meteoric impacts must have blown out the skylights. There was not a soul in sight. In the middle of it all stood another strong looking gate, this one slightly ajar and leading downstairs. It sounded like a terrible fight was raging down there. Mumbling curses from magic mouths, evisceration and laceration from cold axe blades, the surprised final shout after a sudden sneak attack. Someone said something like "...take the head, stupid!" and another corrected "...No. Just the eyes..." To the right, polished granite steps led up to what looked like administrative offices. It seemed much quieter in that direction...

Sorry guys, work is a bit hectic with seniors final week and such (I teach). I will post a big update a bit later tonight though.

Well, the app I was really excited about then forced to ignore was . If they are still interested maybe they can jump in.

Sunny Suel Barbarian 1 16.14.16.8.10.10 | init +2 | AC 15 | HP 15/15 | HD 1 Animal Handling +2, Athletics +5, Intimidation +2, Perception +2, Performance +2 Rage: OX "Here, stand in this exact spot and look where my nose is pointing. You can't miss it..." Sunny offered, confusing 'literal' for 'figurative'. ooc:

Not having any ideas for this. I might apply with another idea that wasn't accepted from another game.

Any follow up combat action?

Negari Kalashtar Cleric 2 14.10.12.9.18.14 | init +0 | AC 16/18s | HP 15/15 | HD 2 Persuasion +4, Insight +6, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +6, herbalism, landV slots: OOO ... ooc:

Well we have lost our furry feline friend, sad to say. I think I will still wait until after things settle down to bring some new people in.

Very sorry to hear it, but I understand. To be fair, posting on weekends is optional and I've been letting players set the pace. It seems more like once every two days.

I just asked because some DMs either aren't aware of those PHB rules, or disallow them for whatever reason. It seems to be a rarely mentioned/overlooked thing in recruitment threads.

No problem, great writeup. Don't forget everyone started with Inspiration, if you feel its worth it.

Regarding the mob desperate to rush the ships, I was imagining some kind of skill check or resource use, yes. Athletics - push your way through Acrobatics - jump from head to head frogger style Sleight of Hand - depants someone, invoking Fear of the Flasher in a 30 ft radius Stealth - hide in a barrel then float downstream towards the boat Arcana - hack one of the Gondian mechanisms to give yourself a ride on the cargo carrier History - call out important figures in the crowd for behaving like beasts, or remind them of past 'mobs gone wrong' Investigation - find a clever path no one else has thought of Nature - recognize the slippery patch of moss that will make everyone fall over, then walk on top of them Religion - sacrifice a portion of the mob to a hungry god using the ancient rite of Memphis-Misraim Animal Handling - convince the horses to charge the crowd, or ride a capricious goat through them Insight - anticipate the mob's movements, finding a way through Medicine - heal the wounded Goliath that hurt his toe, then ride his shoulders through the crowd Perception - notice a rope or rigging, or a mast to collapse that would create a perfect path over them Survival - notice the quicksand in the delta shallows, then push the mob in Deception - you've got a bomb Intimidation - you will kill everyone Performance - enrapture them with tragedy, romance or comedy Persuasion - can you gtf outta the way please? Something like that. Misty stepping directly into the heart of the crowd would be doable, but I'd probably say the tightly packed crowd would mess with your concentration on the followup cast. You could misty step up on a stack of boxes or other rigging. Its a metropolitan port with a bunch of machines to load cargo whizzing overhead, and lots of swashbuckling tropes available. Not a flat, empty map. Fireball would of course work, if ends justify the means. Gust of Wind would certainly part the red seas. I don't see why Suggestion wouldn't work once close enough. please roll Deception for your Upper Ward gambit.

Heya, can we make our own backgrounds as per the normal PHB rules? That is, selecting one of the existing Features and then adding any 2 Skills, and some combination of 2 Tools and Languages?

Are all up again? I recommend a short initiative tracker with each combat post. Every DM does it different. I care about first round initiative and sometimes initiative order, so I do something that shows order and turn groups quick like: Round 2: Victor, Kresh, Aelysune, Ultonius Wolves Trisae, Durin, Chipluck <--Up But just mentioning even something like: Party Up! Can help keep things going.

Ah darn, I'm at 37 latitude so maybe I was too far south. The nearby city glare is in the same direction, so maybe it was masking it. Last time I saw them was in Arizona like 20 years ago. Definitely will try another gaze tonight. :) Crazy how active the Sun has been lately. I love the recent video the ESA put out of the Sun's surface, so incredible! The eruption around 20s, the interplay between the magnetic fields and plasma... O_O

Trouble at the Docks... Hardened by the chaos of the Academy attacks, the Prince is quick with his wits and light on his feet. Tapping his elven boots in a graceful, enchanting rhythm he dances over rubble and the fallen, leading a small group adventurers and coffee aficionados towards the clearest escape route: down to the shallows and the piers of the harbor beyond. None of the cafe tourists sported luggage as luxurious as the Prince of Alfheim, countering only with tiny souvenir satchels of Tender Henk's Morning Roast beans held tight with blood-drained, white fingers. Steve followed while providing some important ambient music. Like a legendary Pan Piper, some of the more confused patrons followed along...perhaps preferring the structure and beauty of the melody to the crystalline siren's death note. Stumbling down the wet steps, one of the civilians lost his patience "...that's nice, but can you do 'The Leaves of Pradas"? putting in a request. Rush was enchanted not by the Thri-kreen's song, but by the geometry of the crystals. The most intricate of angled planar faces seemed to be where the vines intersected and branched in cleavage, with radial symmetries connecting the facets of the greater structure like a geodesic dome. It was one of these such nexus' of growth he targeted with a burst of thunder, hugging the top flight of some apartments next door. *CHOoOM* At first it seemed to have little effect, but when a seagull plump with the afternoon catch alighted atop the cracked nexus, the entire thing vaporized into diamond dust by the weight of the connecting vines, each branching arm pressing inward with 6 thousand tons of force. A gnome carrying a hog-tied lamb over his shoulders managed to escape the no longer encased building just before the ground rumbled and shot up another phase of growth to patch and support the genasai's tear. The Valkuryte suspected healing magic in the way the vines repaired themselves, though his eyes were not attuned to see aurae of the Weave directly. Rush then turned to self-preservation and noticed an even quicker route out, jumping off the tall, woven stone tide-breaker and daring others to boldly follow. Of course, tumbling within a zephyr was not as natural for Zac the Bumbling Drunkard. Zac never backed down from a dare however, even those merely implicitly stated. And so it was after pulling up his poorly fitted pants the fat man slipped on a spilled Vodka Cranberry, cracking his head on the stone rampart before tumbling down on top of Rush. Mercifully, the timeless planar powerword of 'Vaed R'vall' captured both Rush and the stumbling Zac in a cushion of living gale. Crabs scattered in their omni-directional ways as the group splashed across salty puddles and the smooth black stone of the harbor. It seemed as if half the city had the same idea, as hundreds of people swarmed the piers. Only a trio of ships hadn't already set sail for the relative safety of the Chionthar...two longships and galleon. Outside the wall of the mob, it seemed unlikely the group could press through. Sartell was already a few steps ahead, but an elbow to the face had squeezed her out of the crowd. Wiping the blood from her mouth and motioning to the galleon "Well, behold the Moondancer. Pity we can't reach it..." she quipped. "Any ideas?" Making matters worse, it seemed a group of about a dozen thugs were clubbing the screaming commoners closest to the vessels, beating them to a pulp as a sneering man with long, bright, red hair like a raggedy doll was barking orders to load presumably more important cargo. "...wait. I recognize that A-hole. Traevus the Crime Lord." ooc: You guys have about 60 feet of riotous, panicked mob between you and the ships/thugs. Fight the Blights... Orkin Scrivello, M.D. operated a practice out of Rivington whose books were well in the red. Apparently, it was something like medieval times and no one gave a flying snake about teeth after all. He had come to the convention in the hopes of learning new methods to really get people excited about their bi-annual checkups, but the Guild had found him first. It was just a little taste at first, free of charge. But Silkroot's rush of mental acuity was highly addictive, and Orkin found himself tapping his feet anxiously during a root canal presentation that had gone on way too long. It saved his life. For just as he stepped outside to get his next fix, the Seed of Destruction had planted itself firmly in the Mermaid's bosom. With every competing practice in a 50 mile radius demolished instantly, even amongst the creeping blights and impending doom Orkin managed to pop a devilish grin...his business would be saved at last. But then he caught the attention of one the astral blights nearby, who shot a rope of crystal from its torso to lasso the dentist's neck in a choking grasp. It was Corps Cadet Yahs Anirys who came to his rescue with a sweet-smelling mop and loaded down with gallons of stolen booze and expertly marketed snacks, the caustic cleansers of the slightly grey fibers sizzling the crystalline surface in rapid redox reaction. The follow-up parcel of plasm ejected from the squishy deckhands neck certainly got the crystal being assaulting Orkin's attention, and some of the other strange entities seemingly attacking at random nearby. One of them turned as if to say 'I sEe YoU aRe amOrpHoUs. I aM aMorPhoUs, toO.' Before lashing out wildly with its prismatic tendrils. Yahs had drifted in the Astral Sea, spelljammed across Realmspace at hyperspeeds always surrounded by the nurturing light of stars. Crisp whites, burning reds, scintillating blues...all had a seemingly endless energy that could project themselves across any expanse of space or time. Now it was this same radiant energy that encased her bulbous form, like a collapsing neutron star...she was the creamy yolk in an eggshell of white. The pulsing crystals stole from her the fires of life, feeding itself like a parasitic binary black hole. The unsatiated swallower of energy lashes out at another unfortunate peasant, linking them to a similar fate. Fred wasn't having any of it, insulted to the core by their absolute disregard towards chapter 7 of the Etiquette of Introductions, written by Nigil 'Incubator' Jones in the last century and memorized by every civil soul (twit or no). Snapping off a shot from her one-handed mechanus, the bolt barely missed its target...the barbed tip scratching the mineral surface in a failed Mohs hardness test. ooc: Yahs, the strange vines grapple you, escape DC 13. Take 8 radiant damage. Then, at the start of your turn, take 3 cold damage. Fred, two of the six have turned their attention to Yahs (within melee), there are four others still attacking at random. All of them are still within a move. They seem to be moving very slowly however, perhaps 1/3 your speed. Their lashing vines appear to have a range of around 10 ft. Yahs is up again, then astral blights, then Fred again. All can post. Danger in the Streets... The stranger in a strange land took a page from the tiefling's book, following a trail of roving mauler stickers deeper into the crumbling metropolis. The Flaming Fist were doing what they could to hold back the life-sucking blights, but just as many were abandoning their duties to save themselves. There wasn't much coin to be had in dying for a commoner, Thom perceived in the cowards' surface thoughts. A large mob was pressing up the main course back towards Sorcerous Sundries, but Thom followed a few others into a clear narrow alley between a few shops. Unfortunately, at that moment tremors underground shook and jiggled the foundations like Bill Huxtable's jell-o, and the strip of light high above the alley seemed to narrow to tiny slit. A sinister lurching sound like metal shearing was the only warning before the structures collapsed on top of them.* *KDDDlldkdkkdllll* A woman was trapped in the rubble, save a long pale arm...her jeweled fingers twitching violently before going limp. Brushing what was left of himself off and turning a corner, Thom witnessed a gang of street kids execute a clever trap. One of them had baited the crystal being just aft of a barrel-laden wagon. At that instant, another triggered a little catch on the wheel they had previously sabotaged, dropping the wagon at the back and releasing all the heavy barrels in a clunky roll. *ppFFFTTT* The crushed entity darkened, its rigid organic crystal structure rotting like wood and releasing a blast of noxious gas. Cheers from the kids soon turned to disgusted coughs as they stumbled through the fart cloud, each one blaming the other for letting it out or laughing uncontrollably. It was a spark of hope: the entities could be destroyed. With a moment to catch his breath, he paused at a crossroads with a choice to make. The sturdiest looking, highest ground nearby was certainly the Counting House, one of the largest banks in the Realms and an imposing, castle-like fortress. It didn't quite meet the man with the mismatched eyes' requirements, being right on the river delta's shore. It did however seem to be made of a different material than the rest of the older city. An alternative was the high wall that separated the Lower from the Upper cities, accessible by any number of abandoned garrisons peppering the catwalks...the closest of which being on the other side of the open air Bloomridge Park, a touch of green arbor among the yellow granite. Some such walls had already collapsed in parts, but the coursing path did seem to lead all the way back to the Basilisk Gate...and a way out of this cursed city. For the earthling, Baldur's Gate was just like pictures he had seen of old Italy. Minus the crystal aliens bent on world domination, of course. ooc: *Thom, take 22 bludgeoning damage from the building collapse. Or DC 12 dex save for half. Please insert yourself into one of these scenes or describe a different path you are taking. Rolling init even for those not in combat, just to keep a little order. DM init roll goof, Steve twice. The first Steve is actually Rush (alpha order) DM attack goof, ignore AB2 second attack. It can't attack the same creature it has already grappled. That attack was shifted on a nearby commoner instead. Round 2: Yahs <--Up (Rush, Thom, Celsior, Steve) Astral Blights (Raol) Fred