Return to Chandor's Crossing
Log Info
- Title: Return to Chandor's Crossing
- GM: Telamon
- Characters: Dolan, Dirk, Ravenstongue, Skielstregar
- Place: Chandor's Crossing - Alexandros
- Summary: The Archwizard Amritt Barna has commissioned Dolan, Dirk, Ravenstongue, and Skielstregar to help him check out the village of Chandor's Crossing for further signs of undead... unlife. The adventurers descend and quickly are met with some undead that are very much alive, and a tense fight ensues. Amritt and his assistant manage to summon an angelic planetar aligned with Daeus, who helps the adventurers by healing them. The fight concludes and the day is won!
Aboard the Airship 'Zimekis', enroute to Chandor's Crossing
With the undead hordes repulsed by Alexandria's mighty heroes, the countryside and citizenry breathes a sigh of relief. People can return to their homes, once they've been cleared of any riff-raff or lingering unholy spawn. Yes, buildings are damaged, but they can be rebuilt. Life will go on.
At least, that's the view espoused by Archwizard Amritt Barna, who has asked you to help check Chandor's Crossing. The white robed older man is giving his briefing on the deck of the airship as it plows through the skies towards the village, his wild halo of white hair fluttering in the breeze. "I managed to overfly it a couple times," he explains. "I didn't see anything, but I didn't land either. There could be anything from ordinary wild animals to rust monster packs in the some of the buildings." He looks disgusted. "It seems when we escaped with the living, the undead took out their frustrations on the village."
"It could've been worse, sir." The short young human woman standing with Amritt was introduced to you as Martha, Amritt's assistant. "At least we all lived."
Fully kitted out and - he thinks - prepared for anything, Dolan listens to this with arms crossed. "What are the odds there's still wights in the village?" Wasting no time, this one. The gaze of an inquisitor is keen, made no less unnerving by plain brown adventuring leathers and perhaps moreso by the expressionless golden gem, set into a mass of furrowed and melted flesh where his right eye ought to be.
Dirk stands with his thunderbelcher over one shoulder, and his little white-faced owl Lulu perched on the other. The wind from their flight furls his cloak dramatically behind him, making him cut quite the dashing figure. "Are those scarabs still there?" he asks. "If they were able tae breed an' keep up their numbers, I'm sure they'd be makin' short work of any deader still knockin' about down there." Lulu ruffles her feathers and hoots. Dirk looks at her with a blink. "Lassie, I dinnae think ye want tae be eatin' those bugs after they've chowed down on wightflesh!" he grunts.
Cor'lana is here with Pothy, dressed in sensible adventuring robes and practical boots for the occasion of... not home security, but home securing. She raises a brow at the mention of rust monster packs, looking to the Archwizard with a curious glint in her violet eyes. "Do I... want to know what rust monsters are?" she murmurs, but then she gives a nod to Dolan's question. "The wight population is the more pressing issue."
Pothy, meanwhile, looks sympathetic to Lulu's demand for bugs, but keeps his mouth shut (for once) as he looks to Cor'lana, and her side-eye at him seems to answer the question he already had with a preemptive 'no'.
Amongst the group heading into this clearing out was an hulking, incredibly shiny silverscale sith-makar, him leaning agaisnt a gleaming silver halberd as his gaze rests over the edge of the airship. "It isss good you all lived. "
He turns a bit to the others, looking amongst them as a hand touches the medal and ribbon on his armor. They ask the questions he would say, but his gaze settles on Cor'lana. "... russsst monssstersss eat metal," he rumbles flatly, the man made of metal informs.
Amritt harumphs. "Unfortunately, Master Stormgrip, the scarabs don't breed well. You'd think the infusion of positive energy would make it the opposite, but I theorize the thaumaturgical effect--"
Martha coughs. "Sir, you're getting off track."
The old wizard blinks at her, before nodding. "Yes. Well. While I haven't seen any wights, doesn't mean there's not something nasty down there. Fortunately, I have a plan!" He gestures to the pack Martha is carrying. "While we were in Alexandria I acquired a few things which should make our task much easier -- if I can get them running. That's where you come in, I'm afraid. I can't be disturbed while I'm casting this spell, and Martha will be assisting me."
The airship has begun to descend, and the village is in sight. Amritt visibly perks up. "It may be battered and broken down a bit, but by the gods, we'll make it a home again, don't you worry!"
"Got it." Dolan turns towards the railing, dropping his crossed arms and turning to stare out at the village as the airship begins to descend. One hand grips the railing to steady himself, but most of his attention is on the ground below. As soon as the town comes into view, his eyes search it for signs of life - and trouble.
Dirk wrinkles his nose. "Rust monsters. Ergh. Bad news, those. They're the terror of many an adventurin' party. Or so I hear 'round the Guild," he says. "Let's hope we dinnae find any o' those nasty things down there." He steps over to the rail, taking a firm grip as the ship descends. He looks back over towards Cor'lana. "We could send the birds out, lass, have 'em keep an eye in the air while we're searchin' the ground. What d'ye think?"
Cor'lana looks thoughtful at Dirk's suggestion. "Sure," she says after a moment. "Pothy can report back what he sees to me rather eloquently."
Pothy blinks once. "Snacks?" he asks.
This gets him a pat on the head. "Yes, darling bird, I will give you a snack when you come back," Cor'lana promises. "Now go out there and scout."
Pothy nods and then takes flight, sailing off the airship to check the place out.
Skielstregar chuffs once, rolling his shoulders. The arcane talk goes over his head, but his attention shifts to Martha. "... what isss in bag? Do we jussst need to clear the place? Or defend you both while you do your magicsss?" he inquires.
He peers over the edge as they descend, but he rumbles warmly to Dolan, "Worry not Redeemer, whatever comesss, we can face it."
<OOC> Telamon says, "Alright, so make Perception checks if you're looking for anything amiss :)" GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (4)+12: 16 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Rolling for Pothy separately." GAME: Dirk rolls perception: (5)+12: 17 GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (7)+12: 19 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15 <OOC> Dirk does the same for Lulu. GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (18)+4: 22 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+6: (10)+6: 16
The airship sets down in the town square, long enough for the adventurers, Amritt, and Martha to disembark, before lifting off again to circle high above in the overcast afternoon air.
Down here, the state of the town is sorry indeed. It looks like every building's door has been bashed in, and the marks of unshod feet can be seen clearly in the earth, the footprints of the walking dead. Rubble and trash are scattered in the streets, and Amritt sighs. "... curse them," he mutters. He begins walking, gesturing for you to follow.
Martha nods to Skielstregar. "Amritt's going to work a spell. He just needs to find the spot he set up before everything went to hell in a handbasket."
Amritt glances back. "A spell? No, not just a spell. Wait..." He pauses, walking over to a cobblestoned section by the road. "I know it's here, just need to... ah!" He leans down suddenly and pokes at one stone, and the cobbles begin to move and rearrange themselves, opening and expanding away to reveal an elaborate eldritch diagram.
"And here I was worried I couldn't find it!" Amritt chuckles. "Alright, my friends, if you'd keep an eye out while I get started..." Martha is already opening her pack, pulling out a large scroll. "When this incantation hits the eighty-eighth syllable..."
"You're gonna see some serious shit."
<OOC> Telamon says, "Also, those who are magically inclined may make spellcraft checks to determine what Amritt is doing." GAME: Skielstregar rolls spellcraft: (15)+6: 21 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (13)+14: 27 GAME: Dirk rolls spellcraft: (9)+5: 14
"Yeah. Let's see what happens." Dolan is set and focused, his nod to Skielstregar tight. He drops the leather harness holding the mighty greatsword to his back, and takes enough time to stuff it in his pack and re-shoulder the pack, then rests the blade point-down gently on his boot, waiting and watching.
Dirk trundles across the road, skidding to a halt by a convenient rubble pile. He presses his back to it, gripping his thunderbelcher in both hands. He leans over to scan around, seeing what he can see.
Cor'lana inspects the town herself, peeking over the railings while Pothy soars over the buildings. Eventually, the pale-feathered friend returns to Cor'lana's shoulder and whistles a melodic little song to her. "Not much down there except leaves," she relates.
The archmage's spellcraft gets her attention, however, her violet eyes drifting over to it. "That's... a powerful spell you've got over there," she observes. "What exactly are you summoning?"
Skielstregar disembarks, him looking over a shoulder to listen to the instructions. He blinks, seeing the stones rearrange themselves and reveal the sigil. "... what.. a... very well," he rumbles. "... thisss one doesss not know how sssomething like that can be ssseriousss... sstinky, maybe..." His head tilts the other way. "... isss... hrm, that looksss sssort of like when thisss one callsss their sssteed..."
The Warrior Caste shakes his head, taking a few paces away from the ones they are to protect and pulls free a shortspear in his off hand. Seeing where everyone is, he forms a loose wall with Dolan. His halberd gently drips a black ichor. Sentry.
Cor'lana disembarks as well, taking up point behind a bit of rubble.
One minute passes. Two. Five. The archwizard's voice never wavers, never falters. But you can feel the energy building up. Hair starts to stand on end a bit (hard to tell in Amritt's case, it's already wild), the grasses bend away from the summoning circle, and the wind begins to pick up.
But of course, things notice. Why should they not? A humanoid form in tattered robes suddenly appears in one of the doorways, the cowl hiding its face, its gray hands clenched into fists as it exudes anger and fury. A horrid, rasping voice comes from the hood. "You will do no such thing."
"You will only die. Kill the human, the squat, and the lizard. We shall bear the rest to Heth."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Feeblemind. Caster Level: 10 DC: 23
Cor'lana's eyes flare with a flash of recognition as she looks at the robed man in front of her. Her mouth presses into a thin little line as her whole body stiffens--just for a fraction of a second.
"Not this time. Not this time," she says emphatically, her voice raising as magic surges up in her hands, a spell that was once cast on her--
And failing, the spell not affecting the robed figure at all and bouncing off of them harmlessly. Cor'lana winces. "That thing isn't alive!" she announces, skirting around the wall to try and take cover from other assailants.
<OOC> Skielstregar says, "move to 5, 12, drop shortspear, hold action to brace for change with halberd" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "also i am injured" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "swift action for arcane strike"
Skielstregar blinks as the cowled figure comes out. A growl leaves him at their declaration. "Usssing younglingsss for sssuch thingsss..."
He hops over to slide between the focused spellcasters, the building energy behind him roiling the magic in his blood. The halberd drips. A glance to Cor'lana. His growl deepens. He holds his polearm level, ready to guard.
<OOC> Telamon says, "The creepy child will fly at Dolan, charging and try to bite him." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+5: (2)+5: 7 <OOC> Telamon says, "Chomps on Dolan." <OOC> Telamon says, "Creepy Child flits over, and lets out a horrible moan. I need Will saves from Skiel, Dolan, and RT." GAME: Skielstregar rolls will: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (20)+11: 31 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Dolan rolls will: (9)+9: 18
The children are horrid things, barely three feet tall with fingers twisted into claws and mouths full of needle-like teeth. And they fly, floating off the ground and rocketing in. One comes piling into Dolan, biting at him with more thoughtless hunger than strategy, while the other alights just before the rubble, and lets out a ghastly, horrible moan. For a moment, sadness and horror claw at the heroes' thoughts, before it slips away.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Another gray-skinned monster vaults out, and takes aim at RT." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+14: (7)+14: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls 3d6+6: (6)+6: 12
A leering, gray faced humanoid in battered gear steps around the building, a composite shortbow in hand. Deliberately, the beast nocks an arrow, the tip barbed and marked with runes along its length, and lets fly at Cor'lana... hitting his target if only glancingly.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Unholy Monk will charge Dirk, and use Power attack." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (18)+12: 30 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+9: (2)+9: 11 GAME: Dirk rolls Fortitude: (20)+9: 29 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) <OOC> Dirk says, "O.O"
The robed humanoid flashes across the battlefield, moving with uncanny speed and grace, stopping suddenly in front of Dirk. A bony, gray fist feints at the dwarf, before the other slams into the side of his head, but fails to do more than damage him.
The hood of the humanoid has fallen back, revealing an emaciated, gaunt face with empty eyesockets and a mouth hanging open, a faint whistling coming from it.
<OOC> Dirk says, "I'm not sure if this'll work. But for my free action, I'll send Lulu to 13,9 to flank, then full attack him. I have Firearms Mastery so he doesn't get an AoO on me." GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4+2: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4+2: (4)+10+1+-2+4+2: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4+2-5: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4+2-5: (5)+10+1+-2+4+2+-5: 15
Dirk barely has enough time to look up before the cadaverous monk is on him. A bony fist slams into his temple, making him stagger. "GAH!" His whiskers bristle as he snarls, coming right back up. He whistles through his teeth as he racks his rifle. "Lulu! Get 'im!" The little owl hoots fiercely and flutters over the monk's head. She whirls around and bares her talons, giving Dirk an edge. He lifts his rifle, firing at point blank. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! The monk sways side to side, and both shots miss, even at the close range. Dirk's jaw drops. "Oh, piss up my arse," he groans.
<OOC> Dolan says, "All right. Swift for Bane / undead and full attack this thing all up in my face." <OOC> Dolan says, "Let's see if it's easy to hit, throw in power attack." GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1-2+2: (11)+9+-2+2: 20 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+5+4+2+2d6: (8)+5+4+2+(7): 26
"Bite me, will you, you little brat!" Dolan snarls as the creepy child's teeth come out. "You ain't cute enough for me to forgive you, and nasty to boot. Daeus' light send you to the halls where you belong!" In his hands, the greatsword flashes with sunlight up and down the blade, and he brings it crashing two-handed down upon the child's head, narrowly missing splitting it in two and managing to open up a terrific wound from shoulder to hip. It hisses, snarls, and spits creepily at him, but doesn't go down - definitely way tougher than any child has a right to be.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Okay. Casting Haste on all my friends except for Dirk and Lulu because they're too far." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 10 DC: 19 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Then I'm running over to 3,11. Gonna do myself a favor and Blood Pact: Knowledge Surge. Gaining use of Quicken Metamagic to cast Mage Armor with a 5th level spell slot." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Will do 3 nonlethal damage to myself in the process." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor/Quicken. Caster Level: 10 DC: 23
Cor'lana's wincing from the arrow that's left a wound pouring out from her cheek, but she maintains her focus. The battlefield needs her to take control. Her allies need her to take control. So she weaves magic in and out of her fingers, and she releases onto her immediate allies in the area, their movements quickening.
She draws further back against one of the buildings, beyond the immediate eyesight of her allies. "Your feathers with me, Grandfather," she murmurs before she bites her thumb hard, drawing blood and pressing it down into the mark on her chest, where it shimmers with protective magic that begins to flow all over her form.
<OOC> Skielstregar is going to use their crown of blasting, minor and target the sniper! <OOC> Skielstregar says, "ranged touch attack for searing light, CL 6" GAME: Skielstregar rolls ranged+1: (4)+10+1: 15 GAME: Skielstregar rolls 6d6: (23): 23 <OOC> Skielstregar says, "i will continue to hold position!" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "arcane strike weapon as swift"
Skielstregar's stance is tense, ready to swipe at whatever was to go for them, but instead, they seem smart, averting their direction to others. The wail grates at him, but he holds firm, having purpose to guard these people.
Dolan's actions fill him with inspiration, and he twirls out a simple golden crown from his hip. He flips it once, places it on his head, and holds a hand up to sky. "Dragonfather! Bless thisss ssshadow with your light!"
The crown glows. And he jabs the hand forth, a golden sear streaking across the battlefield and crashing against the undead sniper in holy fire.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Creepy Child 2 will 5' step (float) away, unless Dolan has step up or something..." <OOC> Telamon says, "And he will try and Crushing Despair RT, Dolan, and Skiel. Again. Will saves." GAME: Dolan rolls will: (6)+9: 15 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (17)+11: 28 GAME: Skielstregar rolls will: (16)+5: 21 GAME: Dolan rolls will: (13)+9: 22 (free reroll) <OOC> Telamon says, "Child 1 will try to nom Dolan." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (5)+12: 17
The creepy child that Dolan slashed flutters backwards, and the mouth of needle teeth emits a horribly normal sounding voice. "Did your daddy leave you like mine did?" Then it lets out a terrible whining moan, more despair clawing at the heroes before it recedes like the tide.
The other creepy child takes the opportunity to try and hit Dolan in the back, but unfortunately it clips the rubble as it flies over it, and the bite falls short of flesh.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Rogue is -exceptionally- pissed at Skiel, and shoots at him twice." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (20)+10: 30 <OOC> Telamon says, "Rolling Confirm..." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (8)+10: 18 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Skielstregar says, "because im not raging, it doesn't confirm" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "DR 1/- !" GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+4: (1)+4: 5 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (4): 4 <OOC> Telamon says, "So 4 piercing, 4 frost." <OOC> Skielstregar says, "5 cold resist!" <OOC> Telamon says, "So just 4 piercing :)"
Meanwhile, the undead archer reels from the savaging sun-ray, its rotted flesh blackened by the impact. It hisses balefully at Skielstregar, before drawing another arrow -- this one limned in ice -- and launching it at the makari. The arrow does bite, but the frost simply dissipates against Skiel's scales, and one could swear the undead rogue looks like he's about to pout.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Undead monk full attacks Dirk, starting with a stunning fist attempt." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (12)+13: 25 <OOC> Telamon says, "DC 18 Fort save." GAME: Dirk rolls Fortitude: (7)+9: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls Fortitude: (5)+9: 14 (free reroll) <OOC> Telamon says, "He's stunned for 2 rounds. Rest of the attacks..." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (9)+13: 22 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+8: (6)+8: 14 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+5+1d8+5: (5)+5+(7)+5: 22
The monk bends this way and that as the shots hiss past. "Weak," it rasps, and it strikes Dirk just below his sternum, leaving the dwarf staggering, stunned. "Clumsy," The undead thing turns, delivering a punishing kick to Dirk. "You are only fodder to Heth. You are unworthy of serving Him."
<OOC> Dolan says, "5' step and finish 2 off." <OOC> Telamon says, "Roll 'em." <OOC> Dolan says, "Power attack, bane still in effect, add judgment: Destruction (+2 damage)" <OOC> Telamon says, "Whoops. Also, Dirk, need you to make two other Fort saves." GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2-2+1: (7)+9+2+-2+1: 17 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2-2+1-5: (12)+9+2+-2+1: 22 <OOC> Dolan sighs. GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+5+2+2d6+4+2: (6)+5+2+(5)+4+2: 24
Dolan follows the creepy thing without hesitation, although the moan of despair freezes his bones for half a second. He's just about to turn and run, but steels himself with a, you told her you wouldn't run. Get it together, Bry. "Don't you run away when I'm talking to you, you little shit," he snarls, the thought of Andelena enough to make him use her language. The sword slams down again, but this time, the blow is less well-aimed, forcing him to bring it across. This one connects, though, leaving undead flesh slashed and broken.
And yet, it still advances.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Anyway. RT is going to lightning bolt creepy doll #1." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Lightning Bolt. Caster Level: 10 DC: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+8: (3)+8: 11 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 10d6: (37): 37 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "moving to 2,14"
Cor'lana sees that one of the creepy doll-children is still... alive isn't quite the right word, but that's the word she thinks anyway. She lifts her hand and grimaces as she murmurs the incantation, and a line of lightning sparks out from her hands and arcs out into the thing, dealing a grievous blow. "Someone finish it off!" she suggests as she continues to back up to safety.
<OOC> Skielstregar will instruct corlana to assist dirk, get angry, five foot step north once and full attack the creepy <OOC> Skielstregar says, "swift action for arcane strike, power attack, furious focus negates first penalty" GAME: Skielstregar RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 16 temporary HP GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon26+1: (14)+16+1: 31 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage26+9: aliased to 1d10+10+9: (2)+10+9: 21 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon26+1-3: (5)+16+1+-3: 19 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage26+9: aliased to 1d10+10+9: (6)+10+9: 25
Skielstregar barely flinches as the arrow thuds against him, him looking around briskly. Dolan is doing work over there, looks like he'll shore it up...-
His dead gaze widens, his height letting him see across the way. "Ravensss!" he whirls around to her, halberd gleaming as it drips black ichor. "Hunter Dirk needsss help! Thiss one musst hold line!"
He advances, a breath exhaling a frigid plume. Another set of fangs come in. Black ink drips from him. An undeath wafts from his aura, and the strength bulges his muscles. "Thiss one iss like you," he growls. "But they are UNSULLIED!" With extreme violence, the flying creature is sideswiped in a ferocious cleave, crashing it into the building nearby before another chop bisects it into the ground.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Creepy Child will 5' step and dimension door over next to Dirk, screeching unhappily." <OOC> Telamon says, "Rogue continues fast-shooting arrows at Skiel." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+4: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+4: (4)+4: 8 <OOC> Telamon says, "So he deals 14 total (16-2). No frost this time." <OOC> Telamon says, "Alright. The monk immediately moves to confront Dolan." <OOC> Telamon says, "Lulu gets AoOs." <OOC> Telamon says, "Well, one AoO." GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+7: (15)+7: 22 <OOC> Telamon says, "LOL, hit." GAME: Dirk rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3 <OOC> Telamon says, "Monk will attempt to stun Dolan." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (20)+12: 32 <OOC> Telamon says, "Confirming." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (2)+12: 14 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+5: (5)+5: 10 GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (4)+11: 15 (RPP reroll, fail) <OOC> Telamon says, "You're stunned. Also, I need a second Fort save." GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (2)+11: 13 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1
The creepy child retreats from Dolan, screeching imprecations, and suddenly... it vanishes, reappearing next to the dazed Dirk. Its partner is currently a pile of rotting wreckage at the feet of Skielstregar.
Meanwhile, the undead archer puts two more arrows into the mighty makari, apparently doing little more than annoying him. Such is unlife.
As the undead monk looms over Dirk, its mouth opening further, the screech of the creepy child causes it to look over. "At last," the monster purrs. "A challenge." The robed figure sprints away, barely noticing Lulu's claws as it launches itself into the air, spinning and delivering a Dragon Whips Tail kick that slams into Dolan's face and leaves him reeling. "Come! Where is your god now, Corona? Show me your power!"
<OOC> Dirk says, "All right, I'll attack once. And send Lulu to keep on the guy so Dolan gets flanking." <OOC> Dirk says, "I'll take a 5' step south to get away from the creepy childe." GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4: (15)+10+1+-2+4: 28 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+4: aliased to 1d12+4+1+4: (5)+4+1+4: 14
Dirk shakes his head furiously, coughing and wheezing. It takes him a moment to get his senses back. When his vision stops spinning, the monk has moved away. With a snarl, he slips his boot under his thunderbelcher and kicks it up, catching it and racking the slide. He pays the cursed child no mind as he takes a smooth step away, lifting his rifle. CHK-BOOM! The bullet flies true, slamming into the monk's back. "YE SHOULD'VE KILLED ME WHEN YE HAD THE CHANCE, YE ROTTIN' FUCKER!" he snarls. "Lulu, stay on 'im!"
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Okay. Moving to 5,10, lightning bolt-ing the sniper." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Lightning Bolt. Caster Level: 10 DC: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 10d6: (39): 39
Cor'lana steps forward, putting herself in that thin alleyway between herself, the sniper with the bow and arrow, and the casters behind her. Her violet eyes glare down the archer that had hit her, blood still seeping a little from the wound on her face from the arrow that grazed her.
"Eat lightning," she growls in a manner more associated with her Grandfather in a particularly Unseelie-driven mood, and she raises her hand, the electricity surging from her hand and through the undead combatant. She raises her chin a little as she sees that her enemy is still alive, calculating how she's going to finish the bout.
<OOC> Skielstregar says, "we go to 8,10" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "we hit that monk really hard" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "power attack, furious focus, arcane strike" GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon26+1: (7)+16+1: 24 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon26+1: (14)+16+1: 31 (free reroll) GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage26+2+9: aliased to 1d10+10+2+9: (2)+10+2+9: 23
Skielstregar snarls as Cor'lana steps forth, taking over his spot to blast the sniper that endangers the casters. "Good!" he snaps, zipping over to the undeathly monk. "HISSS GOD ISS RIGHT HERE! SSTRENGTH IN UNITY!"
His halberd comes down in a whistling crack against undeath flesh, glinting bright. "HETH FALLSSS."
<OOC> Telamon says, "Creepy Child takes a 5' step, and full attacks Dirk." <OOC> Telamon says, "Two claws." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (18)+13: 31 <OOC> Telamon says, "One bite." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (4)+12: 16 <OOC> Telamon says, "Hit by the claws, not the bite." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+5+1d6+5: (3)+5+(6)+5: 19
The creepy undead child leaps on Dirk, clawing at him savagely, tearing deep wounds into the stout dwarf. The same singsong, deceptively innocent voice comes from its biting mouth again. "Don't you love me any more?"
<OOC> Telamon says, "Rogue fires two arrows at RT." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (11)+10: 21 <OOC> Telamon says, "This is gonna hurt. He's using his last two humanbane arrows." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+4+1d6+4+2d6+2+2d6+2: (3)+4+(1)+4+(5)+2+(8)+2: 29
When the smoke clears, the undead archer is on one knee, shuddering as arcs of electricty spark and writhe off it. With shaking hands, it draws two more of those black-barbed arrows, lifting its head to stare into Cor'lana's eyes. "Sssss... not bad... for an elf-blood..." Smoothly, it draws back its bow and launches both, the arrows slamming into Cor'lana and delivering deep, brutal wounds.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Here Comes A New Challenger! The monk turns and launches a full attack at Skiel, leading with stunning fist!" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "ac 19!" <OOC> Telamon says, "Flurry!" GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (7)+13: 20 GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (20)+12: 32 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (8)+13: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (12)+12: 24 GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (10)+12: 22 GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (17)+12: 29 <OOC> Telamon says, "You do not take any wisdom damage." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+5+1d8+5+1d8+5: (2)+5+(4)+5+(4)+5: 25 <OOC> Telamon says, "So, 22 damage."
The unholy abomination of a monk looks like he's about to do something ghastly to Dolan, only to be rudely interrupted by Skielstregar. "Another? Know your place, cur -- or you'll make a fine set of boots for Lord Heth!" Skiel's innate resilience shrugs off the stunning blow that strikes his chest, and while the next two blows deliver wounds, it's clear the makari has meat to spare and a bone to pick with the monstrous martial artist.
<OOC> Dirk says, "5' step away from the cursed child, full attack on the monk. I'll order Lulu to double-talon attack him as well." GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4: (19)+10+1+-2+4: 32 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4-5: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4-5: (17)+10+1+-2+4+-5: 25 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+4: aliased to 1d12+4+1+4: (2)+4+1+4: 11 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+4: aliased to 1d12+4+1+4: (12)+4+1+4: 21 <OOC> Dirk says, "Okay, rolling for Lulu." GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d4+2d4+2: (2)+(7)+2: 11
Dirk roars in agony as the cursed child swipes at him. Dwarven blood sprays onto the streets, making him stagger. He rips himself away from the beastie, staggering a step. But he doesn't fall, even as his sleeve darkens from the stain spreading beneath it. He grits his teeth, racking his rifle and lifting it. He sights down the barrel. "Go kiss Heth's arse fer me! IN HELL! GRAAAAAH!" CHK-BOOM! BOOM! The monk staggers as the bullets slam into him, spinning him around. But Dirk isn't done yet. He whistles shrilly through his teeth. "LULU! KILL!" he bellows. Lulu flutters her wings with a mighty "HOO!" She divebombs the monk, her talons raking across his face. Strips of skin get torn away as one talon latches on. But her other talon digs into his throat. With a mighty gust of her wings, she tears away. As she does, the Hethite's head goes with her. The body topples to the ground, and the head plops down as she releases it. Dirk hawks and spits a bloody gob onto the street as he racks his rifle. "That challenge enough fer ye, ye doss cunt?! IS IT?!" Lulu flutters down to land on the monk, perching atop his headless corpse. She turns to face the cursed child who wounded her master so, drawing herself up tall and skinny. Her evil hiss clearly says 'You want some of this?' in Owlish.
<OOC> Dolan says, "Can I charge the creepy kid? Given Lulu, I may not have a clear line" <OOC> Telamon says, "Lulu is in the air so my snap ruling is that she does not impede a charge." GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2+1+2: (1)+9+2+1+2: 15 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (3): 3
His face crushed and bleeding from the blow he took, Dolan picks himself slowly up off of the ground and grabs the blade by his side, only to find that the menace has been smartly dispatched. "Damn, you lot are efficient," he tells Skiel and Dirk approvingly. "Now, that little shit over there needs a spanking." With a flick of the fingers, he turns to run towards the child, only to find the vision in his flesh and blood eye blurred and spotty from the blow he took. No matter. His blow, though, goes well wide, his depth perception off thanks to a crushed nose.
GAME: Telamon rolls 2d8+16: (6)+16: 22 (Cure Moderate Wounds healing) <OOC> Telamon says, "Anyone who wishes may make Know/Religion or Know/Planes checks." GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Religion: (14)+3: 17 GAME: Skielstregar rolls knowledge/religion: (9)+1: 10 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (2)+7: 11 GAME: Dolan rolls knowledge/the planes: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Dolan rolls knowledge/religion: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL)
Well, Amritt did say it'd be impressive. And he wasn't kidding.
The scudding clouds over the village open up, right over the summoning circle, and a column of multicolored light comes blasting down from the heavens. A blast of cool air washes over you, smelling faintly of autumn and incense and roses, and those with a more religious bent may feel a strange resonance in their hearts, as if falling into tune of a well-known, well loved song.
When the column recedes, it reveals a nine-foot tall humanoid of vaguely masculine proportions, folded in white robes with emerald-green skin. His eyes burn with a calm, serene energy, and he regards Amritt with a slight smile. His voice is like a choir, as he speaks. "Calling in your marker, young Amritt?"
Amritt looks exhausted, but he bows deeply, and says simply, "Yes, my lord."
Four wings unfold from the outsider's back, and it regards the adventurers -- and their undead foes -- with a look of approval. "The first lesson of the Knight is to succor those who cannot defend themselves." It snaps its fingers, and a massive greatsword appears in one hand. "The second lesson is to face evil, wherever it lurks." The outsider makes a gesture of benediction, and healing energy washes outward.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Ok. It's time to party. Fireball on the sniper." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Fireball. Caster Level: 10 DC: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+10: (11)+10: 21 <OOC> Telamon says, "It evades, unfortunately."
The arrows that landed in Cor'lana's shoulder and in her leg fall away as the healing closes up her wounds and push them out. But the mental anguish and pain of those wounds still remain, and that very much affects her spellcasting as she uneasily lifts a hand and summons forth a fireball, only for it to go well-wide of the rogue. She looks woozy for a moment. "Tell... Telamon I love him," she murmurs to Pothy.
Pothy just stares at her. "Oh the dramatics! You're fine!" he says in the voice of an exasperated schoolteacher, followed by a wing buffet against her head to get her to snap awake.
She blinks a few times. "Ugh," she says, and her stance becomes a little sturdier.
<OOC> Skielstregar says, "zip all the way to 5,4, bash the sniper" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "move about so it doesnt provoke" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "power attack, furious focus, arcane stirke" GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon26+1: (12)+16+1: 29 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage26+9+2: aliased to 1d10+10+9+2: (1)+10+9+2: 22
Skielstregar, the undead touched makari, huffs from the onslaught from the monk before swivels back as the spell completes. His eyes widen. And his halberd turns abruptly to knock against his knee, forcing him to kneel briefly. "Face evil!" he shouts back, turning and blitzing over to the sniper that's been harrying everyone. He smashes his shoulder into it, then slams his shining weapon into their side, ending its spree in a loud crunch. Still snarling, he looks over to Dolan and Dirk across the way. "Together! The tide turns!" he encourages.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+1: (7)+1: 8 <OOC> Telamon says, "Checking something." <OOC> Telamon says, "Creepy Child screeches and full attacks Dolan." <OOC> Telamon says, "2 claws, 1 bite." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (16)+13: 29 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (13)+13: 26 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20 <OOC> Telamon checks. OK, the claws hit but not the bite. GAME: Telamon rolls 2d6+10: (4)+10: 14
The creepy child's eyes flick back and forth, and it flinches as the angelic figure steps forth from the summoning circle. Then its empty eyes narrow, and it screams defiance, hate, betrayal in Dolan's face. Lashing out with claws and teeth, finding purchase in Dolan's flesh as if trying to scar the Redeemer in some way, to make its unlife worth something.
<OOC> Dirk says, "Full attack on the child. I'll have Lulu swoop in and do a single talon attack." <OOC> Dirk says, "Put her on 12,6 just in case, so Dolan has flanking." GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4: (5)+10+1+-2+4: 18 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4: (1)+10+1+-2+4: 14 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+4-5: aliased to Ranged+1-2+4-5: (8)+10+1+-2+4+-5: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+4: aliased to 1d12+4+1+4: (1)+4+1+4: 10 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3
Dirk's eyes get wide with awe as the celestial appears in their midst. Divine radiance outlines his form as the being fills him with grace. His wounds stop bleeding, and he draws himself up tall. Hope reignites in the old snowbeard's heart. "Praise Dana," he whispers reverently. Turning to regard the last of their foes, he racks his rifle and lifts it. "Fall," he snarls. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! The first shot slams into the cursed child. The second goes wide. But Lulu is riding high off her previous success. With a mighty hoot, she zooms over the melee and turns, lashing out with her talons to score another cut across the deader's cheek.
<OOC> Dolan says, "Full attack." <OOC> Telamon says, "You have flank." <OOC> Dolan says, "Acknowledged. Full attack / haste." GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2+2+1: (6)+9+2+2+1: 20 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+5+2+2+2d6: (6)+5+2+2+(3): 18
And then, all at once, Dolan's vision clears, the deep, booming, otherworldly voice echoes behind him drawing his attention away from the fight at a critical moment. Incredulity and wonder cross his mind for half a second as some corner of it identifies the being. How did he get a marker with that?!
And then searing pain catches him again across the shoulder and down the arm, scraping across his breastplate in a slam that could have been much worse, but nonetheless leaves him bleeding quite handily.
"Shit," he swears, mentally kicking himself for his moment of distraction, and turning around, he lays into it with a last blow that sends it crumpling, empty, to the ground. "You're grounded," he snarls at it, then turns around, and simply drops to one knee, bowing his head before the planetar, right where he is.
With the destruction of the undead monsters, the air already seems calm. Clear. Even sweet. The angel walks among you, his touch wiping away injury and pain as though it never was. "Rise, mortals. You need not kneel before me, for you who have faced the darkness are as my brothers and sisters."
The angel's eyes turn to Amritt, who actually looks a little bashful. "Many years ago, Amritt performed a great service for me. He did not waste this favor on mere things, but only sought to protect. He could not call me when the wights invaded, for time was short -- but he could save the people. And so, when the people return, they will be protected under my wings for a time."
Dirk turns as the angel approaches. His eyes glisten and his beard quivers, and he too goes to one knee, resting the butt of of his thunderbelcher on the ground as he bows his head. "I... I'm nae worthy, O mighty lord," he stammers. But the angel's healing touch, so full of grace, mercy, and forgiveness, has the burly old woodsman looking back up. He rises to his feet, his cheeks red as beets under his snowy white beard. "I... I'll do me best, yer grace," he says. How many of his wood-dwelling clan could claim to have been touched by an angel? How many of the mountain dwelling clans could say the same? It's a moment he will carry with him, all the days of his life.
Cor'lana didn't kneel before the angel like Dolan did--not out of disrespect, but out of a tunnel-visioned focus on the battlefield. She just huffs for a moment, gathering her breath as she looks around, assessing the battlefield. The undead... have fallen.
She looks up at the angel for just a moment, and there's a quiet look of conflict in her eyes--something that's muddled between awe and pain. "The people who live here certainly deserve your healing and your compassion, noble angel," she says, and she turns her attention to Pothy, just stroking his feathers. Just looking at his blue eyes. That seems to center her and calm her down just a little.
If Dirk stumbles over his words, Dolan has no words. The usually cheerful and aw-shucks farmboy turned stern and steely Corona can only blink as the pain and injury melt away under the being's touch, and he struggles to his feet, using the point of the sword driven into the cobblestones to help him stand. He'll re-sharpen it later.
"Um, uh. Yeah. I try to kick its ass weherever I find it," he manages. This will stick with him, too, for a very long time.
He reaches up, though, to touch his face curiously, and finding it unchanged, just nods.
The angel smiles down at all of them, and there's that gentle sense of warmth -- that doing the right thing, regardless of how it gets done, pleases this entity. "The burdens of the righteous can be heavy, but you are worthy to bear them -- and strong enough as well. Do not fear."
The bald head lifts, eyes scanning. "I must begin my work here, though. There may be pockets of other abominations outside the town. I shall scour the village first, then the outer reaches."
Martha finally plucks up her courage to speak -- she's been nervously hiding behind Amritt for the last few minutes. "Um... your lordship, I think the roads are pretty well blocked. How--?"
The angel smiles down at Martha gently. "Roads? Where I go, I do not need roads."
With that, the four wings beat in time, lifting the angel into the air, until it streaks away, hunting.