Conan's Run (IC - Conan. Marcel only)

[Grognardsw]

The shrew is lightening quick. It nearly bites Conan's hand. He in turn tries to whack the shrew, but it dodges inside its cage.

Initiative: The Runner [1d6] = 2 vs. Enemy [1d6] = 3
Shrew bite [1d20] = 14, dam [1d2] = 2

[Marcel]

"Oh I like you, you're meaner than these thieves around here." Conan says as he strikes.

ATT [1d20+2] = 17+2 = 19 DMG [1d2+4] = 1+4 = 5

[Grognardsw]

The shrew snarls, darts about the cage, bites. The Cimmerian is quicker, drawing his hand out then back in quickly. He wrings the shrew's neck. It is dead.

Initiative: The Runner [1d6] = 1 vs. Enemy [1d6] = 3 Shrew wins
Shrew attack [1d20] = 6, dam [1d3] = 3 miss

[Marcel]

Conan searches the cage.

looking back/I had a key in my hand/probably for the cage I just broke open

[Grognardsw]

Under the nest is an electrum coin carved with a symbol of the Guild. This must be the prize the parchment note referred to.

The next room is a basic kitchen, with table, chairs, chopping block, dry sink. On the table are three pieces of parchment. They are in a vaguely familiar language (Read Languages rolls for each.)

Yes, that was the key

[Marcel]

Flipping through the parchments, Conan tries to decipher their meaning.

Read Languages 30% [1d100] = 13 [1d100] = 84
[1d100] = 48

[Grognardsw]

The letter Conan deciphers says: "Congratulations on your ability to read languages. This letter is a prize that improves your Run scoring."

The Cimmerian continues to the next room. This is a mock tavern common-room that contains a bar, stools, three small tables. There are, surprisingly, people occupying the room - a bartender, serving girl, patrons. Actors, Conan guesses.

"Welcome Conan!" says the bartender. "Have a seat, what would you like?"

[Marcel]

Taking a seat at the bar, Conan looks at the patron's faces. He smiles and orders "Grog".

[Grognardsw]

"Ah yes," says the bartender. "A fine drink that is. Flavorful, packing a punch, filling, a good after- taste."

He serves it to Conan.

"Thieves should be clever folk, adroit of mind as well as hands," says the bartender. "Here you'll be challenged with riddles."

An older academic-looking man stands up from his table. "Tell me what this is, young man:

Turn us on our backs
And open up our stomachs
You will be the wisest of men
Though at start a lummox."

[Marcel]

you're killing me

Conan relaxes a bit after realizing this test does not include him crushing his mug against someone's head. After a few sips and some thinking, he guesses "A scroll or book?"

[Grognardsw]

"Aye, that it is!" answers the old man. He then sits.

A shady rogue stands up, flipping a coin in the air and speaks:

"Whoever makes it, tells it not.
Whoever takes it, knows it not.
Whoever knows it, wants it not.
Of what do I speak?"

[Marcel]

?

"Sit back down with that one. If you need an answer, mine is coin?" says Conan confused.

[Grognardsw]

"Counterfeit money," answers the rogue. The man sits back down.

An obese man stands up, raises his cup, and says, "Your final riddle:

The wise and knowledgeable man is sure of it.
Even the fool knows it.
The rich man wants it.
The greatest of heroes fears it.
Yet the lowliest of cowards would die for it.
What is this upon which I ponder?"

[Marcel]

Showing his impatience, Conan blurts out "The greatest of heroes fear nothing! I know not what these other types know or need." He finishes his grog and gets up to leave[looks for an exit].

[Grognardsw]

Conan the Runner moves to the final mock-room in this large test chamber. It is a faux outdoor scene with a few trees, bushes and a well. The floor is covered with dirt. The area is only about 15'x15'.

A halfling is sitting on the edge of the well. "'ello mate," he says. "Think you're up to this challenge? It's a tricky one."

"I'm carrying the prize. You catch me and get it. Easy, eh?

He fiddles with a ring on his finger and turns invisible.

[Marcel]

Conan spreads his arms and shuffles about looking for disturbed dirt, movement or sounds of.

Hear Noise %20 [1d100] = 7

[Grognardsw]

Conan peers at the ground, looking for tell-tale disturbances in the dirt. He strains his ears, listening for breathing or shuffling. He sees and hears nothing. The barbarian suspects the halfling may still be on the wall of the well.

Then Conan hears a distinct sound behind him!

[Marcel]

Ignoring the sound he moves quick towards the well.

[Grognardsw]

quote="Marcel"]Ignoring the sound he moves quick towards the well.[/quote]

Do you do anything other than move to the well?

[Marcel]

Arms still spread and squatting as Conan approaches. He taunts "Here you skinny dwarf! I smell ya. Come on you little half-kobold, show yourself."