"Small Town" Chapter 1

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I have no intention of killing anyone else. Pock, put yourself at 0hp and consider yourself unconscious. Pock took a lot out of this guy. He is more than 1/2 gone. Finish him off before things get out of hand.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar trots toward the Orc, surprisingly light on his feet for a man his size.

"That is so not nice! Shame shame!"

He literally vents his anger, breathing out a jet of flame aimed at the villain...

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Uses breath weapon (3d6, 30' line, fire, DC 18). I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be on the map, but I'll be firing it from close to maximum range, lined up so that I won't hit any party members.
Damage (3d6)[8]

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear sees his third friend being assaulted by this orc. No more death! Now the orc must be killed! "Rawr!" geos the bear, clawing and biting at the red orc.

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Full attack on orc.
Claw1: (1d20+14)[18]
damage: (1d8+9)[13]
Claw2: (1d20+14)[17]
damage: (1d8+9)[16]
Bite: [roll1d20+9[/roll]
damage: (2d6+5)[17]

weapons considered magic and good, if it matters

also, grapple as free action if either claw hits (no attack of oppurtunity granted): (1d20+17)[28]

[distant quasar]

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grrrr. I do this too often. (1d20+9)[21] bite.
and dang those claw attack rolls were low, low, low.

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios moves to F9 and casts Deep Slumber on the orc. He'll be affected if he has less than ten hit dice, but shakes it off if he can make a DC15 will save.

Go to sleep and bother us no more!

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Dead Orc is Dead

Pock drops unconscious like a sack of potatoes. The big Orc laughs out of jolly blood lust.

BRahHaHaHaHA!

Which is Orc for, "Look what I did. Aren't I just super?"

But his victory is cut short when a traveling street vendor breathes firey doom upon his in a scorching stream of pain. The stink of burnt hair is overpowering.

Then the wrath of SWAG is visited upon him in the form of powerful claws, closing with a crushing bear hug. The snap of his spine and the splash of his innards is very much audible as...

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This narration has beed removed by the Dungeon Master in order to meet GITP's strict posting standards. Graphic violence and detailed descriptions of gore are explicitly forbidden. Instead, enjoy this classic scene from FOX's one time special, "Man vs Beast."

...nothing but a pile of burning pulpy flesh.

All the while, Ivellios was busy casting a spell to put the deadly killer to sleep. His eyes are closed and he sees none of this while he concentrates intensely on his incantations and hand wavings. When he is done, he opens his eyes and says, Go to sleep and bother us no more! From where he is by the tent, 55 feet away and over the tall grasses, he can see only a lump of green skin. It must have worked! Good job Ivellios!

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Please heal poor Pock. Normally I don't (openly) bend the rules, but this would be a really crappy and uncalled for death. I... didn't put enough thought into how deadly a raging barb could be. Sorry Pock!

[Batpope Scott]

Ah.... my spell wasn't supposed to do that...

Ivellios' disbelief is interrupted by Pock's injury.

Hold on, I'll get you right back up.

Casting vigor on him and he'll heal 30 hit points in fifteen rounds.

[theduck]

The feeling of his flesh mending pulled Pock of out the sweet embrace of unconsciousness back into the excruciating pain that was the real world. Grinning his grimace, Pock gives Ivellios a thumbs up.

Thank you sir... next time, I will try to dodge

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear looks at Ivellios quizically, then morphs back into his natural form.

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Heal 7 hp from wildshape.

"It was not your spell my friend, but the fire of this newcomer and my bear claws." He turns to said newcomer. "Speaking of which, who are you?" Ferran glances at the cart. "...Akbar the kebab chef?"

[Swami Monsoon]

"Why yes, that would be me, Akbar the Red... I have come to bring tasty treats and spread the good word of Joramy, Mistress of the Grill. Oh, it was such a fine day... but now that bad, bad man has upset my stomach..."

Akbar surveys the carnage around him.

"What was the point of all of this?"

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Akbar is a wandering holy man of the Goddess of Cooking. (Joramy is a goddess of fire and volcanoes from the Pathfinder pantheon. I've added cooking to her portfolio.)

[distant quasar]

"Well, this evil orc known as the red king is organizing some sort of army, so we're off to dispose of him. Sadly, this assassin found us somehow, and struck down two of our dear friends." as he says this, it seems to really hit Ferran what happened, and he stops suddenly, his face downcast.
Then his stomach growls. Loudly.
"hmm. I wonder if being a bear for a moment there increased my appetite... Anyway, how much do your kebabs go for?"

[Batpope Scott]

I would appreciate.... not losing any more of you. So, please do dodge in the future.

Ivellios looks over the meat and blood with a scowl

This is what happens when a villian starts on a quest for power over others. Lots of death.

The elf sighs and goes to rest in his tent after casting another cure light wounds on Pock and waving a hand at the newcomer. I'm resident medic. If you get hurt while i'm around, let me know.

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(1d8+7)[9]

[theduck]

A kebab does sound mighty tastey 'bout now

Looking away from the grisly sight, Pock looks out over the over the peaceful fields.

And I reckon we will need to sleep now - I would feel a mite better about facing this orc if I knew we had healing spells to back us up, and we might want to plan a bit, considering one orc just took down two of our mightiest.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar glances at the pile of corpses and raises an eyebrow...

"Your stomachs must be stronger than mine... but I can start up the grill if you insist. No charge today... All I have is some venison and such I picked up on the road. So dry! Not nearly juicy enough... I need to get into town for real supplies. Just let us be thankful that we will be eating kebab instead of being kebab..."

Akbar whistles twice and the cats emerge from their hiding place. He walks back to the cart, opens the lid of the grill and gets to work...

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Cooking (1d20+7)[12]

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The Gold Bar

Someone is the party rifles through the mushy Orc's belongings.

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You forgot to search yoy baddies? Rookie mistake. I'll be a nice DM this time

They find a battleaxe (yes, we remember that) and a solid gold bar stamped with an axe and a crown. It is the Red King's sigal. The gold bar is worth it's weight in gold. This is what your finely hone appraisal skills tell you. That would be about 500gp. This is a handsome price. How would the red king know of the party's mission though? How did he know to send an assassin?

The SWAG crew enjoy some of Akbar's kebabs. They are, as he says, a little dry. Still, it isn't bad for street food. Better than anyone would expect out in the middle of nowhere certainly.

The SWAG group enjoy their tasty treats by a cozy fire. The stars twinkle and the night life sings its soft lullaby. Flies begin to feast on their fallen friends. Everyone's stomachs are satisfied. The conversation turns to the mission. SWAG could have use for a fire breathing kebab vendor. The group, being two men down, make Akbar an offer...

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I'll rest you all and move you on after (i) Akbar accepts an invitation to join, (ii) you put yourselves to bed, and (iii) you bury Murika and Harrazd (optional) - OR - Wednesday morning rolls around. Whichever comes first.

[distant quasar]

Ferran yawns. "Well, I'll be needing some sleep to prepare my spells for the 'morrow." he says, turning to Ivellios. "Could you hit me up with a little healing before I crash? I still have some nasty bruises from my earlier scuffle with the orcs."

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cure light wounds or lesser vigor would be sufficient, since I'll heal another 7hp after resting for the night.

[Batpope Scott]

Yes, I can do that. Ivellios drones absentmindedly

He stutters into attention W-wait, you scuffled with the orcs?

[Swami Monsoon]

"It seems there are some not so nice people making trouble around here... so staying together might keep us from the back stabbing and throat cutting and such. Speaking of which... we should lay these good sirs to rest. And the bad man too... unless you enjoy the aroma of rotting villain..."

[distant quasar]

"Yes," Ferran says morosely, his eyes downcast. "Alas, they were setting fire to my sacred grove, and refused to leave. I had no choice but to force them out."

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Still Dead

As Ferran, Ivellios, Akbar and Pock talk, a pair of racoons scurry up to Murika's fly ridden corpse and begin nibbling on his extremities.

[Batpope Scott]

AH! Shoo! Stop eating that it's no good for you!

Ivellios does his best to get the raccoon party to stop chewing his dead friends.

Does anyone have a shovel? I don't have anything to dig a grave with. Perhaps a cremation would be more appropriate.

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The Cremation

The racoon couple twitch their noses at Ferran which he understands to mean the racoon equivalent of "What's the big deal?" They oblige and head off to make sweet racoon love in the bushes.

No one has a shovel, and so the suggestion of a cremation is taken up. The party gathers wood and dried grasses the make a large funeral pyre. Akbar, being filled with fire, does the honours. The fire grows quickly and the crackling of burning bodies seems to shut out the sounds of wildlife around them. It feels as if someone should say a few words.

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Insert the funniest eulogy you can think of here. Tomorrow I "move you along" through butterfly lane.

[theduck]

Had Pock a hat, he would certaintly remove it, as a single tear is shed. He keeps vigil as his friend is reduced to bone and ash.

[distant quasar]

Ferran sighs sadly. Those sweet racoons just don't understand...

His face is downcast. So many good things had been lost today in fire. Tears fall slowly from his face as he prays to nature for the rains to come and wash the orcish abominations from the world.

[theduck]

After the fire, Pock turns and gives Akbar an awkward smile.

So, this might not be the most opportune time, but we do find ourselves two less then we had planned, and we may be planning on fighting the fabled red orc... so would you be up for joining us?

[Swami Monsoon]

"So the Red Orc has made all of this bad business?"

Akbar glances over at the funeral pyre.

"Kebabs can wait. Mother Joramy wants full stomachs and happy faces for all... but there can be no happiness with the bad taste of evil in our mouths. We fill find Mister Red Orc and give him a sound thrashing then! We must make him sorry for all of his foul-tasting deeds..."

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Butterfly Lane

And so Akbar the flaming kebab dealer joined the ranks of SWAG, the protectors of Small Town. Yes, he was now part of that proud membership of guardians, among legends such as Raffy the Crusader, Yow Xim the Impossible Ninja, Spitz the sly, Mishka of the Trade Winds, Jennifer the Cheerleader, Cobb Wendleworth the Mind Humper, Harrazd of the Bear Claw, and Capin Murika the Shield... all horribly killed but not forgotten. Welcome Akbar. Welcome.

They had a good night's rest and in the morning set out on Butterfly Lane. It was a beautiful trail, complete with wild roses, snap dragons, and tiger lillies. The air smelled of nature's purfume.

In a few short hours, and before noon, they found the stand of colossal flowers Akbar has seen of his way in. They were as impossibly tall as her reported them to be. They were like trees, or pillars to hold up the heavens.

There was something Akbar did not mention on the path however. He did not mention it because he did not experience it. There, in the forest of trees, were hundreds of giant butterflies. Let me tell you, those things are freaky looking close up!

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At this size, the butterflies were no longer a symbol of beauty, but of fearsome insect wrath! They were everywhere! On the flower forest floor. On the stems. On the pedals upside down. They just sat there with their big weirdo eyes staring in all directions. Occasionally one would twitch its wings or move a step or two. It would be hard to navigate through them without bumping into one.

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Knowledge: Nature
(1d20+12)[13] Ivellios
(1d20+14)[27] Ferran
(1d20+4)[17] Akbar

Fortunately, Ferran was able to identify the winged terrors by virtue of his druidic insight before the team decided to head onwards. These were the rare and beautiful, but dangerous, Vampire Butterflies of Tarrok Nor! Unfolded they have a wingspan of 10-12 feet and a proboscis that extends 15-20 feet and sucks the nectar out of a man in less than a minute. He would never be able to use his animal empathy to safely walk past all of them. It was mating season, and at least one male would try to challenge him. Pock could probably sneak through, but what of the rest? Ferran also knew that they were especially vulnerable to fire, which was convenient for Akbar if things came to a fight.

Unless the group could think of something better, the only obvious solution was to have Ferran guide the group through the forest and to take down any challengers quickly and without disturbing the other butterflies. One at a time they could handle, but if they were to agitate more it could set off a chain reaction and mean their DOOM! (And who wants to get killed by giant butterflies? That just doesn't look cool on a tombstone.) The other option, of course, was to turn around and take Broken Bone Pass. What a waste of time that would be though. Unless someone had a better idea...

[Batpope Scott]

Oh my. This might be why there is nary a traveler through here.

Ivellios looks to his companions apologetically.

Perhaps they're friendly?

[distant quasar]

"Alas, I regret that they are not. Although these butterflies are rare and precious wonders of nature, they are also predators! They are vampiric, my friend, vampiric! Perhaps ordinarily I could convince them all to give us safe passage, but it is their mating season... there are sure to be several challengers." Ferran looks around the group.

"Still, unless we wish to turn back and brave the Broken Bones Pass, I think our best bet is to go carefully through and deal with the challengers one at a time. If we disturb any more than that, we will surely set all of them off against us, and be DOOMED! *kaff-kaff* However, these delightful beasties are vulnerable to fire, which will nice if it comes to a fight," he looks meaningfully at Akbar.

"Unless someone has a better idea, I'll lead the way though!" he says cheerfully. A part of him looks forward to the chance to see the Vampiric Butterflies of Tarrok Nor! up close.

[Swami Monsoon]

"Mating season? With us? Dirty, dirty bugs! If one tries to touch me there I will smash his face in..." Akbar takes a longer look at the winged horrors... "Uh... at least I will smash whatever he uses for a face..."