The Ranger Hits!
No one answers the door of the monastic order of assassin nuns, so we do what comes naturally. We let the ranger pick the lock. And he succeeds, without even setting off a trap. That level of competence is rather unexpected. But we're in, and we're looking for an urn of cremated remains of a pathfinder. What we find, perhaps unsurprisingly, are fighting nuns.
We roll for initiative, getting the paladin's first curse of the night. He rolled a 6. 'I thought you normally rolled higher than that?'
'Well, it varies.'
'No kidding. A D20 roll varies. You learn something new every day.' But there's no time for sarcasm—okay, maybe a little—as we are thrust in to combat. Combat from two fronts.
Most of us are huddled around one inner door, but the ranger positioned himself in front of another around a corner. He didn't want to be stuck behind the rest of us and have to fire through to whoever was waiting in the room, as we would be providing cover and hindering his shot.
Getting a clear line-of-sight sounds like a good plan, until the ranger also doesn't want to be too vulnerable to frontal assaults, with no one between his ranged attacks and the doorway. As is typical, he uses his pet cat as a meat shield. So not only does the elf needlessly endanger his companion animal again, but he does so in a way that forces him to fire through cover anyway. I'm sure his plan made sense at some point.
In position and firing from behind his cat, Auftavere shoots at one of the nuns. 'Are they human? Humans are my favoured enemy.' If they are his favoured enemy, you'd think he'd be able to tell. Yes, they're human. He gets two hits, and rolls for damage. '10 and 14.'
'Plus 2 from me', says Brennan, reminding the ranger of the bard song currently motivating us all.
'No, 10 and 13.' Whilst we try to work out what just happened, we continue combat at the bottom of a spiral staircase. The paladin swings and misses, Skelra blinds a nun then holds vampiric touch for as long as he can resist scratching his crotch, Brennan sings a little song, and I go toe-to-toe with nun-on-monk action. Afutavere, meanwhile, is still shooting and hitting. 'I could cast a spell.'
'You're better off firing your bow. And that shows just how rubbish your spells are.'
And the mocking of the ranger doesn't end with his spell list. One of the nuns attempts a trip attack and tries to decide between the ranger and his pet. Despite the pet being a more formidable foe, Brennan notes that 'she's better off not going for the four-footed cat but rather trying to trip the inept ranger'.
'How can you say the ranger's inept?' says Ganelon, a little aghast.
'Because we have memories?' I offer.
'But he's been awesome tonight!'
'Three hits over the course of five levels', says Brennan, 'does not make anyone "awesome"'.