The three of you have clambered up a makeshift ladder of furniture, fallen timbers, and bits of material from around the first floor. You are in a small space, maybe a third of what used to be a master bedroom, watching each other and listening for noises below.
Kif takes the first watch. All is silent below. Who will he be waking up for the second watch? Give me a perception check, whoever you are.
Some time shortly after midnight, you hear the front door below open up. It grinds on its hinges; it's not hard to hear in the still night air.
You hear a pause.
Then you hear slow, deliberate footsteps downstairs. You can wake the others or take some other action at any time.
Step, step, step. It sounds like a sole figure is moving about on the first floor, wearing quality boots. Sometimes, it sounds like the figure pauses. Sometimes, the figure is moving. It is never hurrying. You hear it very slowly moving back and forth across the downstairs, from the front of the great room, toward the back. It is nearing, by your estimation, the dining table on the first floor.
I had a dream last night about zombies!!!! This game is permeating my subconscious!
Puddin snores.
Surely that means I win.
Tulip manages to find a good vantage point without actually going down into the lower level. She watches as a tall, broad-chested man walks downstairs. Sometimes he kneels, looking at scratches or scrapes on the floor. He takes some interest in the hacked up zombies, and in scorch marks on the walls. As he approaches the rear of the room, Barnaby can see - through Tulip's eyes - that the man has dark hair, and is dressed in beautiful clothes that suggest nobility.
He is, as I noted above, making his way from the front of the room toward the back. It becomes quite likely that he will discover the makeshift ladder, which you all took not measures to disguise or break down.
Tulip will be given instructions to sound the alarm if the gentleman starts coming up the ladder while Barnaby returns to his own senses. He then quickly and quietly rouses his two companions, “There’s someone here. Don’t know if they’re friend or foe. Be ready.”
Barnaby will ready a sleep spell while he calls out, “Ho! Who goes there? We have seen that there is only one of you, and there are many of us. We are masters of the arcane and wielders of heavy steel. Approach no further or you will be incinerated in your, quite stylish, boots!”
Ugh...it was hard enough to fall asleep with the awful smell of decay looming about and now we're being bothered by Mr. Fancy Boots?
Puddin gets up and immediately walks where to the ladder is and peers down.
Persuasion: 15
Hello, my lord. Please do not see us as enemies -- we are travelers on an honorable quest, but we stopped here in Barovia and were attacked by the zombies that you see on the ground. Please, can you tell what is going on while you take us to a more hospitable dwelling where we can get decent sleep and breakfast?
“Shhhhhh! He could be a fancy booted zombie lord. I’m pretty sure I had him shaking in those self same zombie boots, and then you had to go all, ‘we’re just a bunch of tourists out for a pleasure cruise.’ Some servant of the dark lady you’re turning out to be.” Barnaby gives Puddin a petulant stare.
Puddin snickers. Hey, Cranky Pants, settle down! If this was a Zombie Lord he would have killed us already! Nah, I see this as an opportunity for an upgrade in accommodations.
“Breakfast buffet would be nice. Sometimes there’s a senior discount too.” Barnaby’s countenance lifts at this thought and he peers eagerly down the stair hole.
Blue: Did Barnaby’s sleep during first shift count as a short rest? If so, Portent:
You can see, as you peer into the darkness below, the figure grin at your words, though its eyes remain focused on how Kif wedged a piece of timber through the legs of a chair as part of the ladder.
The figure vanishes into a puff of mist.
The mist rises upward, passing you, and entering the small upstairs space in which you've made camp this evening. The mist then takes the form of a man, roughly six feet tall, broad chested and handsome. Though it's dark in here, you all have darkvision, and your sense is that his skin is very pale. He looks down at the three of you, appraising. His hand shoots out Puddin, fast enough that she doesn't have time to duck out of the way. He caresses her cheek for a moment. If Puddin pulls back or slaps his hand away, he lets her.
"Enemies," little one? You, enemies of me? No. Perhaps one day we will be friends, though also perhaps not. For now it is enough to say that we are not "enemies." You are also not quite my guests here, though, in this village. Perhaps you will visit the burgomaster - the mayor, you might call him - and he might have something to tell you about hospitality in the village. You will go further into town, if you wish to see him, and then a right in the town square. You will go to the end of the road and find his mansion there. I am sure he will be quite informative, upon the matter and manner of hospitality in this place.
My name, little one, is Count Strahd von Zarovich, and you are in my domain. It is not time for me to invite you to Ravenloft, and enjoy my hospitality there, though who knows? That day may come. For one or two of you, maybe three or even all four.
He takes a step toward Kif, and drops to one knee. "Heavy steel," indeed. I won't test it, at the moment.
If you like, you can go to the Roll20 page and see a picture of the man now admiring Kif's axe.
12
whats up with dice rolls on this thing, first time it showed a 20, then refreshed and said that dice rolls not available stuff...
I have no idea what's up with that.
The three of you have clambered up a makeshift ladder of furniture, fallen timbers, and bits of material from around the first floor. You are in a small space, maybe a third of what used to be a master bedroom, watching each other and listening for noises below.
Kif takes the first watch. All is silent below. Who will he be waking up for the second watch? Give me a perception check, whoever you are.
There will be two more watches.
Second watch:13
Some time shortly after midnight, you hear the front door below open up. It grinds on its hinges; it's not hard to hear in the still night air.
You hear a pause.
Then you hear slow, deliberate footsteps downstairs. You can wake the others or take some other action at any time.
Step, step, step. It sounds like a sole figure is moving about on the first floor, wearing quality boots. Sometimes, it sounds like the figure pauses. Sometimes, the figure is moving. It is never hurrying. You hear it very slowly moving back and forth across the downstairs, from the front of the great room, toward the back. It is nearing, by your estimation, the dining table on the first floor.
At the first sounds, Barnaby will send Tulip downstairs using her senses.
Stealth:21
Perception:17
I had a dream last night about zombies!!!! This game is permeating my subconscious!
Puddin snores.
😛
Surely that means I win.
Tulip manages to find a good vantage point without actually going down into the lower level. She watches as a tall, broad-chested man walks downstairs. Sometimes he kneels, looking at scratches or scrapes on the floor. He takes some interest in the hacked up zombies, and in scorch marks on the walls. As he approaches the rear of the room, Barnaby can see - through Tulip's eyes - that the man has dark hair, and is dressed in beautiful clothes that suggest nobility.
He is, as I noted above, making his way from the front of the room toward the back. It becomes quite likely that he will discover the makeshift ladder, which you all took not measures to disguise or break down.
Tulip will be given instructions to sound the alarm if the gentleman starts coming up the ladder while Barnaby returns to his own senses. He then quickly and quietly rouses his two companions, “There’s someone here. Don’t know if they’re friend or foe. Be ready.”
Tulip alerts you that the figure is manipulating the ladder.
Barnaby will ready a sleep spell while he calls out, “Ho! Who goes there? We have seen that there is only one of you, and there are many of us. We are masters of the arcane and wielders of heavy steel. Approach no further or you will be incinerated in your, quite stylish, boots!”
Kif is up and ready quietly standing back from the edge
Ugh...it was hard enough to fall asleep with the awful smell of decay looming about and now we're being bothered by Mr. Fancy Boots?
Puddin gets up and immediately walks where to the ladder is and peers down.
Persuasion: 15
Hello, my lord. Please do not see us as enemies -- we are travelers on an honorable quest, but we stopped here in Barovia and were attacked by the zombies that you see on the ground. Please, can you tell what is going on while you take us to a more hospitable dwelling where we can get decent sleep and breakfast?
“Shhhhhh! He could be a fancy booted zombie lord. I’m pretty sure I had him shaking in those self same zombie boots, and then you had to go all, ‘we’re just a bunch of tourists out for a pleasure cruise.’ Some servant of the dark lady you’re turning out to be.” Barnaby gives Puddin a petulant stare.
“Sorry. I really could use some sleep.”
Puddin snickers. Hey, Cranky Pants, settle down! If this was a Zombie Lord he would have killed us already! Nah, I see this as an opportunity for an upgrade in accommodations.
“Breakfast buffet would be nice. Sometimes there’s a senior discount too.” Barnaby’s countenance lifts at this thought and he peers eagerly down the stair hole.
Blue: Did Barnaby’s sleep during first shift count as a short rest? If so, Portent:
8
9
You can see, as you peer into the darkness below, the figure grin at your words, though its eyes remain focused on how Kif wedged a piece of timber through the legs of a chair as part of the ladder.
The figure vanishes into a puff of mist.
The mist rises upward, passing you, and entering the small upstairs space in which you've made camp this evening. The mist then takes the form of a man, roughly six feet tall, broad chested and handsome. Though it's dark in here, you all have darkvision, and your sense is that his skin is very pale. He looks down at the three of you, appraising. His hand shoots out Puddin, fast enough that she doesn't have time to duck out of the way. He caresses her cheek for a moment. If Puddin pulls back or slaps his hand away, he lets her.
"Enemies," little one? You, enemies of me? No. Perhaps one day we will be friends, though also perhaps not. For now it is enough to say that we are not "enemies." You are also not quite my guests here, though, in this village. Perhaps you will visit the burgomaster - the mayor, you might call him - and he might have something to tell you about hospitality in the village. You will go further into town, if you wish to see him, and then a right in the town square. You will go to the end of the road and find his mansion there. I am sure he will be quite informative, upon the matter and manner of hospitality in this place.
My name, little one, is Count Strahd von Zarovich, and you are in my domain. It is not time for me to invite you to Ravenloft, and enjoy my hospitality there, though who knows? That day may come. For one or two of you, maybe three or even all four.
He takes a step toward Kif, and drops to one knee. "Heavy steel," indeed. I won't test it, at the moment.
If you like, you can go to the Roll20 page and see a picture of the man now admiring Kif's axe.
Yes, that's fine.