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  #16  
Old 05-28-2016, 06:55 AM
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Visverax
Male High Elf Wizard

 

Visverax saw Sabe look over and smile at him. He wondered what that was about. Maybe she finds me attractive. Who could blame the girl... He gave the half-drow the once over in return. She wasn't too shabby looking. Too bad for her that he had given up on women since the incident with Glendifarraz.

The discussion with the locals did not seem to be going well. He decided to step in to help. "Put down that pitch fork, you foolish human. We are here to help you. I am the mighty wizard Visverax!" To accentuate his name, he produced an Prestadigitationostentatious display of blue sparks. ""Perhaps you have hear of me."
  #17  
Old 05-28-2016, 02:35 PM
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They could have chosen their words more carefully.

Talyn is busy, racking her mind for information as to what to those small, scaly, dog-faced creatures are. Common sense seems to dictate that they are somehow related to Dragons. Something in her seems to make them familiar, annoying little biters that they are. But what are they? They work in tribes, they tend to be followers rather than free thinkers, and they, like Goblins, are fairly common in mines. If only she had the benefit of being of truly Dwarven heritage, she might know, but sadly she is of many minds today.

The lead peasant tries to form the word "Mielikki" on his tongue. One of the other peasants hits him in the back of the leg. "She's a gawddess, Hubert, show some respect." He furrows his brow. "What kinda goddess?" Another farmer, looking from Hubert to Talyn and the others, rolls her eyes and stands. "Goddess of the forest, you dullard. I do apologize for my siblin's ignorance as to religion. He can barely remember his own name." Hubert blushes, glaring at his sister. "That ain't important. How d'we know we can trust you bunch? You may say you mean us no harm, but you ain't proved it!" A fair question.

The Goliath speaks and suddenly there is a shutter amongst the people, mostly Humans, Half-Elves, and Halflings; they huddle together. To many, this is as close as they will come to seeing a Giant in their uneventful lives. But then, to many, seeing a Dragon was out of the question as well. His words, like his mind, help no one, and only make things worse. Visverax does much the same, causing the farmer with the pitchfork to point it not at the Giant or the near-Drow, but instead at the Elf, whose arrogance, armed with his outbursts, only seems to make things worse.

The newcomer, Barnabas, unseen by almost everyone, has time to think over things. Racking his own brain for information, the strange horns that protrude from the otherwise Human bodies are, of course, masks, multihorned. He has seen them in images, people wandering through Nashkel and bringing things—books, artifacts, and such—that resembled such a thing. A strange organization, he remembers, from one of his father's books, a book that came in one day hardly twelve years back. A book by a Gnome named Redsack, whose adventures with the mage known most prolifically as "The Calishite," indicated runnings-in with the Zhentarim and with the Cult of the Dragon. The latter had a wide range of masks, and one such mask was this one: one with five horns, one for each kind of Chromatic Dragon, of which the Blue Dragon above belongs. The book, brought in by a Rashemoni, was quickly whisked away, a nervous man with a nervous plan, whatever it was.

These are Cultists. The Cult of the Dragon. But what is the Cult of the Dragon?

Talyn speaks to calm down the farmers and peasants. Her words ring true, her intention clearer. She is reassuring, like a forest brook. The man, nervous and feeling foolish, does not speak up. Instead, his sister does. "Strange men, and little lizard-dogs. The men wear masks: masks with five horns, each one a different color... Red, blue, green, black, and white, I think they were. Some of them just hand mono-colored masks, but they were one of those colors."

Hubert nods. "I reckon Hilda's got the right'a things. Greenest's got 'bout five hundred souls'n all. As for defensive, I'd say the Keep, bu' that there Dragon seems to be pretty fixed on it. We were tryin' t' make our way there, but... we ain't so certain." Hilda nods. "Best you lot do what you can and stay outta th' way. We'll do as ye ask. E'reyone's either in their homes, fightin' f'r their lives, 'r hidden out somewhere. But bein' in town ain't safe." The peasants stand, all in agreement; there is one boy, though, a lad barely older than fifteen, who stops behind the rest of the group. "My sister, Linan. She's wise, intelligent, respected. Can you find her? She lives just over there," the boy points to where the cultists are raiding a house, lizard-dogs and cultists kicking in a door and setting the side of the building on fire, quite jovially. "She lives with her husband, Cuth, 'nd a couple'a kids. I thought I saw him earlier, but I can't promise that. Will you... please?" He seems desperate. Hubert comes back and grabs him by the arm. "Come on, Sal, she'll be fine!" False reassurance never sounded so hopeless. The peasants head back the way the sixsome came, back out into the Greenfields and away from the chaos in Greenest.

They are left in the grove, with the fires and flames growing around them, and a roar from the sky above.
 
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  #18  
Old 05-29-2016, 04:00 AM
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Talyn Wyvernmark
Female Dwarf Druid

 


Despite the danger that they were in, it had taken all of Talyn's focus to suppress the laughter that threatened to burst out from her. It had been like a splash of cold water on a very hot day, seeing the pitchfork-wielding man, Hubert, get talked down to size by the woman. She was impressed with the woman, having the presence of mind to take in the details and explain them even with all the commotion around her.

"Thanks for the information," the dwarf replied after the woman had briefed them of the situation. "Ye'd best be going then. Hubert," she held the man's arm - she would've touched his shoulder, but the man was too tall, "get them to safety. Ye're wise in doubting strangers. Yer courage and yer sister's level head should get ye folk to safety."

She then turned to the boy, and this time, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Aw, don't worry yer pretty head, m'boy," she said, her golden eyes locked onto his. "We're gettin' yer sister outta whatever trouble she be in, I reckon. Now, go!" With a gentle push, she directed the boy and the other townsfolk in the direction from whence she and her companions came.

She then turned to the house that the boy had pointed at, Linan's house. Without her eyes ever leaving the dreadful sight of the attackers breaking into the house, she cocked her head toward her companions. "Looks like we've got our first souls to save, my friends," she said, her eyes flashing with a pulse of green light with her declaration. "Let's not keep 'em waiting."

Talyn felt a sinking feeling within her. If the keep was the most defensible structure in town, then most of the townsfolk may have proceeded there already. That would mean that the dragon was concentrating its attacks at the place where most of the people are.

She pushed that thought out of her mind. One battle at a time, she told herself, and Linan's house is the closest battle right now. The young, dark-haired dwarf raised her shield before her and held her staff in a choke grip, brimming with confidence that her companions were ready to fight off the evil like she was.

Last edited by Peachyco; 05-29-2016 at 04:05 AM.
  #19  
Old 05-29-2016, 08:24 AM
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Waiting for ActionClawmarked was smart enough to stop talking as Talyn started to win the group of peasants over. Watching the dwarfette in action brought a smile to his face, she knew what to say and what to do and around her he was better person. The information flowed out of the peasant’s mouth and much like a storm giant’s fart it rushed over the goliath’s head.

The fragments of the conversation that caught in Clawmarked’s mind had the big man ready for action. Like a hound pulling on a lead, he said, “C’mon let’s get into the fight. Me ready to smash foe.”
  #20  
Old 05-29-2016, 01:11 PM
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Barnabas B. Barrelbringer
Male Lightfoot Halfling Rogue

 


Cult of the Dragon, eh? Barnabas noted, grinning for having placed a few of the puzzle pieces together. Course, there's a Nashkel's acre of planting remaining, he cautioned himself, using a regional idiom describing the difficultly Nashkel's rocky soil, courtesy of being on the northern slope of the Cloud Peak, gave planting farmers each year. Certainly, a burning town, dragon-besieged keep, and a fanatic cult to boot all qualified as a Nashkel acre!

Best get to it then, he steeled himself. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do on the other side of the river -- aside from stay hidden, of course! But he thought little more could be gained here. Perhaps he'd find a fallen cultist or dog-demon thing corpse he could examine for letters or orders: something to divine why the Cult of the Dragon had apparently attacked a simple town in the middle of nowhere with a massive dragon.

Here, the stream spanned a stone's throw or so and ran briskly by. A few eddies and jetties around the middle suggested the stream ran deeper than one might think. While bushes and small trees overgrew Barnabas' bank, the stream had long ago cut into the opposing bank before receding, leaving a stride or two of rock beach behind. Beyond that, the ground slopped up quickly about Barnabas' height before leveling out. Barnabas could see rolling waves of tall grass either swaying in the wind or, occasionally being violently buffeted by downdrafts from the dragon's beating wings!

Within the stream, a series of stones and a jammed log something of a make-shift path across the banks. To Barnabas, this represented the best and quickest way across. And so, after removing his boots and socks and rolling up his pant legs, Barnabas Dex to Cross, Dex +3 vs 11 DC
Dice Roll:
1d20+3sch11 (8)+3 Total = 11
Whew!
hoped, skipped, and jumped, across this natural bridge, suffering only one close call on account of the last rock being a bit slick.

Stream crossed, the halfling scurried across the rocky beach and threw himself flat against the sharply sloped embankment and listened. Fires, screams, cries, and dragons, but no hue--and-cry on the account of little ol' me! he dryly thought.

Quickly pulling his socks and boots back on and unfurling his pant leg (After all, one must be presentable when visiting friends!), Barnabas quietly crept up the embankment, hoping Stealth Check
Dice Roll:
1d20+7 (13)+7 Total = 20
Not a Nat 20, but a 20 none the less!
to slither unnoticed in the grass and have a better look from this side. Aside from avoiding danger, he was especially keen to spot any particular attackers acting like they were charge and any nearby dead bodies of the attackers.
LocationIf one drew the shortest line possible connecting the bend in the path to the keep and the stream river, I envision Barnabas being where that line would first touch the stream.
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Last edited by Spankucus; 05-29-2016 at 01:46 PM.
  #21  
Old 05-29-2016, 09:02 PM
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Evendur Greycastle
Male Human Fighter

 



After following the others into the trees, Evendur kept back to allow the others to speak to the townsfolk. He is not what many would call a people person and felt it better to keep an eye on anything, or anyone, else that might be approaching. He nearly steps in after the first few attempts draw a grimace from him but it doesn’t take long for Talyn to recover and so he holds back. Especially considering he is already brandishing his weapon and the townspeople are worried about being attacked.

At the mention of the lizard-dogs and the people in masks, Evendur searches in his mind for any memory of what either might be or any recollection of a similar group accompanying the dragon that attacked his own homeland.

Deep in his thoughts, he almost misses the comment about Hubert’s sister. The word ‘children’ however rings in his ears. Evendur’s grip on his sword tightens slightly and he turns his attention in the direction of the boy’s pointing. Talyn can feel Evendur step up behind her. It is good that she agreed to help this boy’s sister and children. If not, he would have had to part ways with the others very quickly.

For a moment, as the townsfolk are passing, Evendur contemplates giving them one of his weapons. Something to defend themselves. But a memory of something his father said comes to his mind.

Giving a man false hope is as deadly for him as stabbing him yourself.

In the end, he keeps the weapon in its sheath. Having it may only embolden one of them to fight and die when they should flee and survive. He does, however, draw his shortsword in his left hand as he nods in agreement to both Talyn and Clawmarked.

"We should move, but let’s try to be quiet. We are very much outnumbered."


 
  #22  
Old 05-30-2016, 01:51 AM
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Visverax
Male High Elf Wizard

 

Visverax took a step back when the pitchfork was aimed at him. He remained quiet and let Talyn do the talking. He did interject an “Ah Ha!” when it was revealed the pitchfork wielding farmer was indeed an idiot. The elf raised a curious eyebrow at the dwarf girl when she started flirting with the young human. “Don't worry yer pretty head, m'boy,” she said and put her hands on the kid. It was really quite revolting. Then Talyn promised to save her new friend's sister without even asking the rest of them for an opinion.

Of course, the giant dunderhead and the miserable solder were quick to join her cause. Visverax was sure Miss Drow-thing would also be sucked in to her machinations, leaving him to follow suit for safety sake. He scowled at each of them in turn. Marching into battle was not his idea of a good time.

“Shouldn’t we proceed with some sort of marching orders?” he queried the group. “You people with sturdy armor and fancy weapons go first. And I will be right behind you.”

Contemplating armor reminded him that he should be prudent before wading into battle. Waving his staff in front of himself, Visverax uttered a word of power, which encased the wizard in an invisible, protective magic force.
 

Last edited by Huhart; 05-30-2016 at 01:53 AM.
  #23  
Old 05-30-2016, 02:43 PM
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Sabezdyn A'Daragon
Female ~ Half Drow ~ Figther

 



She had thought the negotiations couldn't get worse....and then the elf opened his big gob. This time she did face palm and shake her head. Eillistraee save me from the wisdom of fools!Eilistraee dormagyn uns'aa dal l'zhaunil d'oolos. she groaned.

Luckily the female farmer stepped in and with that things got back on track. Sabe had to concentrate to understand the woman's accent and follow her words, but she got the gist of it. And kinda wished she hadn't, it all sounded bad; real bad.

Then the kid bought up his family, Sabe winced in sympathy fearing the worst. But they would no doubt try and sure enough Talyn all but promised the lad they would rescue them. Sabe only hoped it was a promise they could keep...and looking at the flaming wreak of a village she had her doubts; doubts she kept to herself for the time being.

They began to head into danger and Sabe looked about frowning, now just where had that little halfling got too? She cast her eyes about the confusion and their numbers but Barnabas was definitely not to be seen. She wondered if he had used the confusion to sneak of back home? Life on the road was not for everyone, especially not when you came up against horrors like this. Though admittedly this was bad by anything she had seen topside. She would not blame the little fellow for turning back.

She followed Evendur's example and drew he blades, limbering up her wrists as she twisted them both in hand. As they proceeded in towards danger she rolled her eyes at Visverax's comment of bring up the rear. "How...gallant of you!" she scoffed with a bite of sarcasm dripping from her tone.





 

Last edited by Witchwolf; 05-30-2016 at 02:46 PM.
  #24  
Old 06-04-2016, 01:34 AM
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Though it does not realize it, the group diverts in twine: the majority head off, as a single unit, while the newcomer from Nashkel heads off in his own direction, following where logic takes him. For the overs, passion, justice, and fate take them elsewhere. Whence they meet, none can say.
Keepbound
left-aligned image
This could potentially be Nashkel, under different circumstances.
Barnabas has heard enough. The Keep is the best place to go: for a lot of reasons.

For one, it's where the theoretical leadership of this town is. If anyone has a plan or knows any secrets, it's them. So, it is best to seek them out, though heroism does feel better. Two, it's the center of town, and that means he can see and find things better, even if the leadership is of no help. When he gets there, he can find his way back to his companions and rejoin them with new information; or he can go to the places where secrets are being kept, or where the most help is needed, and do that. For three, well... it feels right, to the Halfling. Nashkel isn't that different from Greenest. This could potentially be Nashkel, under different circumstances. He needs to know why.

He runs to the creek, away from the place where he was with his companions; when he looks back, he sees no sign of them. Well, it's too late to turn away now. Moving to the stream, he finds the thinnest point in sight, though still a considerable leap for a Halfling: at least five feet. But with a running start, the stout-hearted fellow leaps, and lands in wet, albeit landed, sand, and is out of the flow of water quickly. The heat of the fire above him turns down and burns him from where he stands: it is hot, despite being so high up. Looking up, he sees no sign of the dragon that circles the town, though he does occasionally hear the echo of the flapping of its wings.

Looking around this side of the stream, he sees several signs of life here and again: silhouettes against the dark. He himself would be a silhouette, heading up the hill. He might be seen. But he might not: he stood in a clearing without being seen. No one noticed him leave. He might could make it.

But how to best head up? And what if there's danger at the Keep?
 
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Yip-yak!
The four original members of the group head westward, where the young lad pointed. They quickly prepare for battle, for even at a distance, they can see what monstrosity they face.

Ahead, four houses burn, each one started from within or along one of the walls, catching the roofs aflame and heading outward. There's no sign of anyone in the buildings they pass, but they can smell something worse than thatch, wood, and stone burning. In the streets, mostly dirt with strands of stones hidden underneath, there are bodies, laying still and cold on the dirt. Most have bled out, long before their arrival. Pale, their faces contort showing fear, their wounds deep, showing more than just blood within. These were fatal attacks, cruel and monstrous. A few have arrows sticking out of them, but most were slashed, hacked, or pulled open. And ahead, they can see the beasts what did it more clearly: small creatures, as small as the Halfling (wait, where's Barnabas!?), but standing, covered in scales with the face of a dog, and yet, a lizard moreso. They are dressed in hides, though most not thick enough to be armors. Two are dressed in actual armor, studded leather made out of some reptile by the stripes beneath the tanning. These same two have helmets on their head, more caps than anything. Most are armed with spears, small and short, but two have daggers and two have bows. Before them stands what they hope is their next victim.

She stands tall, blond and powerful, her face fierce and covered in blood. In her hand is a spear, an actual spear unlike the farmer from before, and it is covered in blood. Two scaled lizard-men-dogs lay before her, dead, but eight more stand ready, taunting her, speaking in some strange tongue. "Yip-yak!" That, more than their up-close appearance, gives the impression of a canine, but the dialect is clearly one of Draconic. What they are saying is clear to anyone: who's going to strike the woman first?

Behind her are two children, hovering over a bleeding, whimpering husband, holding his stomach, where a knife wound has opened him. He is barely awake, but breathing. The children are terrified, both of them girls, with the eldest resembling her mother in both appearance and rage-filled composure against these beasts.

Only two creatures notice them coming, but not quickly enough. "Yip?!"
 
 
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Last edited by Sassafrass; 06-04-2016 at 01:34 AM.
  #25  
Old 06-04-2016, 02:54 AM
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Evendur Greycastle
Male Human Fighter

 


Moving with the others, Evendur can’t help but grimace at the bodies lying cold on the ground. Innocent farmers, shopowners, traders, and children. It is the last that is the hardest to look at, but he does. He makes a point of staring at the faces of each of the dead. Their visages are added to the faces already dancing in his mind’s eye. The backdrop of the burning buildings only fuels the anger that heats his soul as Evendur leads the way. Twice he stops, stooping by a body to gently close the eyes of the dead and to whisper softly and briefly before moving on once more.

The sudden approach of the scene unfolding around the young woman and her family slams into Evendur’s vision as the group moves along the smoky lane. The roar of the fires – too large to be dealt with at the moment – seems to be come dull in his ears. It is replaced by the drumming of his heart as he looks at the woman standing defiantly in front of the kobolds. The two children behind her look to be of the same age as the ones Evendur lost himself. He doesn’t look at his fellows as he rushes forward, both swords already drawn and ready. If the lizards were not aware of the group’s presence before, surely they are now as Evendur’s cry rises through the air.

Evendur's scimitar slices into the K1nearest kobold and makes a deep gash across it's midsection. He twists the blade, pulling it free and spilling the creature's insides onto his boots. As its K4companion turns to face him, Evendur's shortsword slams into its chest and out the other side before he shoves the kobold off and into the dust. As the kobold slumps to the ground, Evendur kicks it aside and moves more in between the woman and the kobolds.

"Try to get behind me, then make a run for the dwarf. She will protect you."


 

Last edited by GinJapan; 06-04-2016 at 03:01 AM.
  #26  
Old 06-04-2016, 04:34 AM
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Sabezdyn A'Daragon
Female ~ Half Drow ~ Figther

 



Sabe had seen many cruel deaths in her time, and it never sat any easier with the half drow. She looked about the carnage with grim resignation to the evils which persisted in life. With a silent passing thought she hoped they found their way to peace in the next world.

With her swords already drawn she was ready, and even eager to fight, these people had deserved better. She would see them avenged.

It was not long till she had the opportunity, she admired the bravery of the woman protecting her family. Evendur was already rushing to her aid and Sabe was only a spider's silk thread behind him. She brought her two blades to bare down upon the nearest two, still living, creatures with a growl that was almost as primal and dark as the world she had been born too.

Her first blade, the Scimitar, swung in a downwards arc and the little critter had but a split second to dodge to the side, but dodge it did and her hungry steel met only with air and failure. But she had not the time to contemplate that as she was already into her second move, bringing her shortsword to lunge at the second of her quarry. This one was not as quick however and in its final moments of life it looked down at the blade that had run it through, then up at the drowkin who wielded it. She snarled at it, then twisted the blade a quarter turn and withdrew it in a slick single tug. The creature crumpled to the ground already departed from this world to were ever in hell, and she hoped indeed that was where it went, these creatures went in death.

Sabe now looked over at the one she had missed, in her eyes was the promise it was next to meet death.



 

Last edited by Witchwolf; 06-04-2016 at 04:47 AM.
  #27  
Old 06-04-2016, 10:20 PM
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Visverax
Male High Elf Wizard

 

Sabe made a snide remark where Visverax felt the need to respond. "No, it is not gallant, but it is practical. I am no warrior. I have never fought in a battle. For me to be in the front line would be foolish. I would only be in your way. Therefore, I will lag behind and do what I can with my magic… " Surprisingly, this is one of the most humbling statements you have ever heard from the wizard, until he added, "…Which is, of course, quite considerable!"

The group came upon the dead villagers, hapless victims of the vile cult. Evendur gave silent homage to each of the bodies. The wizard felt the need to also pay tribute. "Rest easy, my dear departed souls," he intoned, "And know that Visverax is here! Your deaths shall be avenged!" To seal his vow, he thumped the end of his staff heavily on the ground.

They arrived at the peasant’s house to find the mother holding off a number of the small creatures with a spear. Evendur and Sabe immediately spring into action, cutting down a number of the noxious beasts. Visverax shuffled over to find an unobstructed window to one of the attackers.

"DIe lizard-dog!Valignat tilsin bikil!" The elf yelled in the draconic tongue as he sent an arcane bolt of pure fire blazing toward one of the kobolds. The shot went wide of its mark, hitting the ground behind his intended target and adding to the already blazing fire. "Let that be a warning to you. Next time, I will not miss!"
 

Last edited by Huhart; 06-04-2016 at 10:24 PM.
  #28  
Old 06-04-2016, 11:01 PM
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Talyn Wyvernmark
Female Dwarf Druid

 


As her companions sprang into action, Talyn moved forward, deftly stepping around the wide form of the goliath warlock. She saw the half-elf Sabe narrowly miss the well-armored lizard-creature with her scimitar. "Watch out, Sabe," the dwarf called out, letting the half-elf know that she was joining in her attack.

"Cantrip: Thorn WhipLatigo tinnic." The young, dark-haired dwarf chanted the words to the spell as she moved past the goliath, drawing a magical rune in the air with her wooden staff. Ending the rune with a mighty stomp of her staff onto the ground, Talyn conjured forth thorny vines that sprang from the ground, right where her staff struck the earth. As if bestowed with intelligence of their own, the magical vines raced toward the armored lizard-creature.

The vines struck true, but the creature, still confident from having just ducked underneath the half-elf's scimitar strike, merely rolled with the attack. It angled its body in time with the attack such that the vines struck the armor harmlessly. Having safely avoided two attacks, the lizard-creature began snickering with a dog-like sound.


Out of Character
 

Last edited by Peachyco; 06-04-2016 at 11:13 PM.
  #29  
Old 06-05-2016, 05:47 AM
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Neqq Neqq is offline
Baker of Puns
 
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Magics GoodClawmarked saw the kobolds and screamed, “Dragon doggies! Die dragon doogies, die!” The big goliath was torn between his warrior instinct that demanded he charge at the nearest kobold without thought or reason and his want to explore his newly gifted magic abilities.

Magics or muscles. Magics gift from Twinkly Lady must be good.

With his mind made up, Clawmarked found that his companions had already begin their advance towards their foes. He ran diagonally in to the the middle of the street that the kobolds occupied and held out his green crystal and pointed towards one of the Kobold #8kobold archers. He traced out a figure eight and then reversed the pattern as he said,Titania my love for you, holds fast. Now let my enemy feel your blast.Titania meu amor por ti, se mantén firme. Agora imos meu inimigo sentir a súa explosión. The big goliath had learnt a small smattering of Sylvian but in normal conversation would not have had any of the eloquence he delivered the spell with. These words were burned into his mind by Titania and Clawmarked didn’t so much speak them but let them out.

A bolt of green shot from the point of the crystal and Attack Roll: 23struck the kobold archer on his left flank, flesh bubbled and Damage: 4sizzled and the humanoid let out a pitiful cry but remain standing.

Clawmarked stood with mouth agape for a few seconds before recovering and stating, “Twinkly magics good.”

 


 


Last edited by Neqq; 06-05-2016 at 05:58 AM.
  #30  
Old 06-05-2016, 07:29 PM
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Barnabas B. Barrelbringer
Male Lightfoot Halfling Rogue

 


Hunched in the tall grass between the creek and the keep, Barnabas gauged the distance. About three stanzas, party style, he figured, the time taken to sing a typical stanza in a party songusing a colloquial halfling unit of time. Just remain calm, he coached himself, breathing deeply and wiping his sweating face with a laced handkerchief he kept in his breast-pocket. Quiet, quick, and smart. That's the ticket.

Barnabas tightly crouched, checked left, right, and up, once more . . . and then quickly scampered forward, hunched over, swiftly weaving his way through the tall grass.

If anyone noticed him, Barnabas didn't know. The roaring fires drowned out most sounds, save the deep, occasional, flapping of wings far overhead. He heard no one let out a hue-and-cry. Course, you have better things to worry about than a Littlefolk in the grass, he chided an imaginary guard who might challenge Barnabas. And no masked-man or lizard-man attacked him. First Check: SuccessIn essence, so far, so good.

And so, Barnabas continued through the grass, low and smooth, trusting all to pay him no mind.

So intent Barnabas was on moving quietly, quickly, and smartly, thatSecond Check: Fail he tripped over some hump-like object laying upon the darkened ground. Barnabas stumbled momentarily before regaining his footing. He whirled around, frantic to know what tripped him.

And Barnabas almost screamed.

For there on the ground lay a small peasant girl, head down on the ground, arms spread out, and completely still. Fire light from the burning keep danced upon her body, revealing a deep red stain upon her sackcloth dress, centered around a wicked and slightly knotted arrow protruding from the small of her back. Her head twisted unnaturally on his neck, facing Barnabas. Her mouth gaped open in a silent cry. Her nose trickled a river of blood. And her eyes were wholly open, her deep brown orbs stared deeply, unblinkingly, lifelessly, into Barnabas' very soul.

Barnabas' breathing increased a hundred fold, the previously sheltered lad damn near hyperventilating. He staggered back, his knees shaking. He fell dumbly on his rear. And there, siting on the ground, he shook violently. He shooked with abject terror, held in thrall to the girl's cold, dead, stare.

All time, all existence, everything stopped for Barnabas. No fire. No town. No keep. No dragon. No cultists. No friends.

Nothing except him and the dead girl's deep, brown, transfixing, eyes.

. . .

. . . . Barnabas . . . .

. . .

. . . . Barnabas . . . .

. . .

. . . . Barnabas . . . time to leave her and go . . . .

But she's dead. Killed. Here. Just moments ago. Dead.

. . . . Aye, Barnabas, t'is be true . . . She be with Lathander now, her adventure being over . . . .

Over? But she's hardly seven winters! Her life hadn't even started!

. . . . Closer to six than seven, but, aye again, Barnabas, t'is be true . . . We know not what be around the next corner, behind the closed door, past the last sign . . . For her, t'was an awful fate to be sure . . . And ye canna do nuthin' about it, Barnabas me boy . . . All ye can do now turn that corner, open that door, and past that sign . . . For her as much as yerself . . . .

But . . . .

BARNABAS!

"Yip, Yip, Grrrrr --YELP!"

Barnabas came to in that same field of tall grass in that same burning town of Greenest on that same night. Mere inches before him stood a halfling-sized bipedal dog-like reptilian with a lizard-snout. One clawed hand held a dented metal buckler; the other held a wavy dagger.

Through its dirty jerkin, into its body, and out its back, ran a sword. The blade of the sword stuck into and through the dog-lized. The grip of the sword was grasped firmly by Barnabas.

The dog-lizard gurgled and looked down at the sword through its body. It then looked at Barnabas in what appeared to be utter shock. It dropped the dagger and buckler. Then, with ragged breathing, it stepped backwards, Barnabas' held sword gliding smoothy a bit out of its body. The thing took another step back, completely backing out of the now bloody blade, still held aloft by a petrified Barnabas. The dying thing stumbled on its next step, tripping over the girl's body. It fell backwards, partially landing belly-up upon the girl's corpse.

There the dog-lizard's corpse stayed and stirred no more.

Barnabas sat there, holding his sword straight out, unable to process what had just happened.

And then.

Without thinking.

Third Check: Success. Skill Challenge passed. He turned and simply ran the rest of the way to the burning keep.

Skill Check RollsPassed! First Roll:
Dice Roll:
1d20+7sch13 (19)+7 Total = 26
Pass; Second Roll:
Dice Roll:
1d20+7sch13 (3)+7 Total = 10
Fail; Third Roll:
Dice Roll:
1d20+7sch13 (20 (natural 20))+7   Total = 27
Gosh, blowing these crits left and right!
Pass w/ CRIT!

__________________
Out Indefinitely. No Issues: Just Busy With RL. Best Wishes Until We Meet Again!


Characters: Delani | Amos | Darkbow | Egon | Marack | Barnabas | Desdemona

Last edited by Spankucus; 06-09-2016 at 08:58 PM.
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