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Chapter 2: A Return to Adventure


Powderhorn

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Summer, Day 6

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Stavard and Harlan each land blows, causing the ghostly sheep to dissipate before their very eyes. Oliver hits the woman infront, but she still remains!

Combat!

Sheep4 Attack v. Harlan
Sheep4 Potential Damage v. Harlan

Sheep6 Attack v. Oliver
Sheep6 Potential Damage v. Oliver

GhostlyElf Attack v. Oliver
GhostlyElf Potential Damage v. Oliver

 

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Name
Sheep4 Attack v. Harlan
18
1d20+1 17
Sheep4 Potential Damage v. Harlan
2
1d4 2
Sheep6 Attack v. Oliver
8
1d20+1 7
Sheep6 Potential Damage v. Oliver
3
1d4 3
GhostlyElf Attack v. Oliver
4
1d20+1 3
GhostlyElf Potential Damage v. Oliver
1
1d4 1
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Oliver curses to himself as the gun fails to drop the pretty elf ghost attacking him. He immediately holsters his reloaded pistol and pulls his rifle from its holster on his back. He fires it into the elf girl and grimaces as he mutters. "Sorry Bo Peep, your sheep suck."

 

Mechanics

Holster Pistol- Instant

Unholster Rifle- Instant

Fire Rifle- Main

 

Name
Rifle Attack
14
1d20+2 12
Rifle Damage
8
1d12+2 6
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The tide was turning. Yes, a tide must always turn, but how often depended on the latitude and other nearby locales, those periodic rhythms of pulsating salt and spray - NO this was a battle no time to tarry there was work to be done. A few more sheep had fallen and he saw Oliver sent a fountain of gruesome ectoplasm issue forth from the elvish phantasm. Hence, the tide turning and all that.

Stavard held his spear high, the words "The sea seeks her own" seared into the haft with a red hot poker so many nights ago on a ship which had long since settled beneath the raging waves, advanced to just South of the nearest sheep, and attempted to drive it home.

It sunk home, the ethereal essence of the once-barnyard animal sizzling upon the wood, it too having had life ripped from it but with its flesh remaining to bend to the sailor's violent purpose. But by some vile persistence, the sheep seemed to cling to its foul mockery of life.

Finish this one off, then get to Oliver's side. Hurry! he shouted.

Name
spear attack 4/AC13
18
1d20+3 15
spear dmg
6
1d6+3 3
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Combat Denouement

Oliver's rifle shot cracks through the shepherd, and the blows from Brother Koji and Stavard reduce another sheep to ectoplasm. The last, with no comrades, and no human guide, disassociates in front of you. In what can only be described as "creepy and weird" the head separates at the neck from the rest of the body, and each leg separates at the hip and shoulder from the body. For a brief moment, a dis-articulated ghostly sheep hovers in front of you. It then begins to look blurry, and then just becomes a bolt of light - up towards the ceiling where you entered, and out through the opening that was made by the tree. Whatever it was, it now appears gone.

 

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Oliver turns a pale color for a single moment before regaining his composure. As he talks he reloads his rifle, returning it to its holster in favor of his pistol in the enclosed area. "Thought that thing might be dangerous, at least now nothing is sneaking up on us from it. Everyone good?" With the threat done, Oliver heads back to the stone to see if there is any immediate difference.

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Reckon we ought to be careful with things from times undreamed of from now on. That would preclude shooting, stabbing, bludgeoning, or general shenanigans at or vaguely near objects aforementioned. dryly added Stavard. His heart and breath still raced from the thrill, the terror, the exuberance of battle, but the world began to steady itself as the ectoplasm faded.

Are any of you worse for wear? If you can be patched up easy enough, I say we press on, but if not, well the ruins ain't going no place. If we need to, a touch of breather and then another expedition into this place would do nicely. I'll take a quick look around this place, see if anything besides the stone is acting up. Or if we can see a shepherd and her flock anywhere on these walls.

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Summer, Day 6

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The stone itself now has a crack running through it. No strange sounds reverberate from the walls, and the chapel now seems... quiet.

The walls are overgrown, and what can be seen through what used to be stained glass windows is... dirt, and roots. While a mosaic used to fill the floor, its colors have faded, and now only the patterns remain - those broken and marred by plants reclaiming the space throughout its period of abandonment.

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Momentarily swapping his pistol out of his dominant hand Oliver grabbed his hand axe from his belt. He brought the back of the axe down swiftly and solidly on the edge of the cracked dark stone, seeing if he can get a small shard from it. "Agreed, everyone should be careful..."

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Once again Stavard delved into his exquisite repertoire of profanity and adds,

What, are you bent on running us onto a lee shore to perish amid the rocks and breakers? We got lucky once, and I dare not hope to get so lucky again. Perhaps next time bang your own skull against the stone and see if that rids you of your imbecility!

Stavard had been on unhappy ships before, where the lads rolled roundshot across the deck at night to get a sense of who was willing to put the officers over the side in a small boat with little else. More and more, he was beginning to grow understanding of mutineers....

 

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Stavard lets out an exasperated sigh. Well, that is that. We can check this room for hidden passages, doors, that kinda thing first. Then, another look around the surface.

He will wander the space, poking with the haft of the spear, looking for weak points/suspiciously hollow sounding panels, that sort of thing. Back at sea, we'd had hiding folks from impressment down to a science. A man stowed, the navy lads wouldn't have a chance at all of pressing them into the service, oh no they would not.

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