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  #16  
Old Dec 8th, 2020, 02:10 PM
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Day 1

Rocks were definitely rolling, and heads were rocking back and forth as An'mal chanted about moving rocks. The group began to make headway, and boulders were moving left and right, and out of the way. From the smallest to the largest, all were helping to move the rocks and clear a path for the group to exit the room. Well... All, except Harp Strum who, regardless of her effort, was unable to do more than kick a pebble or two and then tumble over as would a true slapstick comedian.

With a final heave, the last of the rocks were moved out of the way landing somewhere else in the room unnoticed except for it's odd crunching sound as it came to rest. No one was hurt, and no one was missing. The doorway was ready for the group's exit.

The hallway behind was an odd thing, as the way that was most direct to exit the dungeon proper, and reach the surface was blocked off yet for the small space at the top. It would seem that the majority of the battle sounds was coming from there. But behind them, from the opposite direction it was clear and open with no sign of cave-in or new rubble, there was still the faint sound of combat. Faint, but distinct. Faint, but clear. Faint, but close.

OOGMThe group has successfully passed it's first skill challenge.

Everyone gets 50XP.

You have two known options ahead of you: Another skill challenge to get to the surface (Same Rules, but you need 20 successes), or investigate the sounds. As will always be the case, if you can think of other options, feel free to call them out.
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  #17  
Old Dec 8th, 2020, 08:30 PM
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Gristle had been pleasantly distracted from the sounds of battle by the task of freeing his new friends. Now that this was completed, he was reminded of the "fighty noises" from above them.

The little kobold shrunk down as the sounds of battle came from the path back to camp. The Bad Things were behind this new rock wall. Just like the Bad Things that tore down the wall in his old home. The ones who made his family disappear. Gristle did not want his new friends to disappear. Funny Bird Friend Harp Strum, and Scary Friend Lady Dagg, and Sad Tall Friend Baruuk, and Nice Skeleton-Wearing Friend Ayaga, and Great Wise Drummer Friend An'mal. Of course, he didn't want Strong Boss Lady Yddraixl or Real Smart Builder-Type Kobold Friend Tucker to disappear either, but they were currently out of sight and therefore Less Important Right Now.

The noises above grew louder, and were joined by new noises from farther within the caves. Gristle squeaked in distress, tail lashing side to side anxiously.

This reminded him of bad things. He did not like to remember the bad things.

Gristle remembered Cousin Bonemeal, from back in the sewers. They used to hunt rats together. He disappeared when the wall collapsed and the Tall Scaleless Folk came in.

The noises of battle roared on.

Gristle remembered Cousin Stubby, who lost her tail in a roof cave-in. She made him a hat out of bat fur once. She disappeared when the wall collapsed and the Tall Scaleless Folk came in.

The noises behind the wall of fallen rocks continued.

Gristle remembered Cousin Gobbet, who said he hated Gristle's Drum Noises but probably actually liked them. He disappeared when the wall collapsed and the Tall Scaleless Folk came in.

A pebble shifted and fell off the wall of collapsed rubble before them. ...he remembered when the wall collapsed and the Tall Scaleless Folk--

"No!" he yelped. He nearly fell over himself as he rushed to hide behind Baruuk. "It's bad! Don't wanna!" He looked pleadingly between the others, doing his best Sad Puppy Eyes (Given the oversized nature of his eyeballs, it was more of a Sad Goldfish Eyes, but his heart was in the right place). "Do we have to? Can't we go see what's down there?" He pointed a clawed finger down the hallway where other noises were drifting through.


OOCOOC: As a player I'm totally fine with either moving the rocks or investigating the sounds, and Gristle will help with either. But character-wise, Gristle prefers investigating the sounds.
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Last edited by Pseudonymous; Dec 8th, 2020 at 08:31 PM.
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Old Dec 9th, 2020, 03:48 AM
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Battle was raging. She could hear the familiar sounds of steel and bloodlust. Her mind was focused. She was already beginning to prioritize her list;

'1. Get topside

2. Find Yddraixl

3. Ensure Yddraixl's safety

4.....'


"No!" Gristle's yelp snapped her out of her scheming. "It's bad! Don't wanna!" He looked pleadingly between the others, doing his best Sad Puppy Eyes. "Do we have to? Can't we go see what's down there?" He pointed a clawed finger down the hallway where other noises were drifting through.

Dagg sat there for a moment, her eyes fixing on the path that Gristle had pointed out. Her heart wanted to keep working to join the battle above and get to Yddraixl. But, Gristle's cowardice seems to have raised an interesting point.

"Assuming that the fighting above is an attack," Dagg addresses the group, still staring down the hallway; "we have two options. I, like most of you, am eager to join the battle and show Yddraixl what we're capable of. But, Gristle here, makes a good point. If the fighting is happening above us... why are we hearing sounds from this hallway? It could be others that were caught in the collapse. Helping them could bolster our numbers. But it could just as easily be that there was a traitor within our camp. Someone sympathetic to the pink-skins could've found a way in through these underground hallways and subverted all of our defenses. Both of these options are merely guesses at this point. Without futher information, that's all I can surmise. In any case, we're the only ones down here, and though every fiber within me wants to join the fight... I vote that we investigate."
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Old Dec 9th, 2020, 12:57 PM
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Ayaga quieted his endless remembering for the time being, sparing An'mal his long, repetitive 'poem' until the crisis was settled. The orc only grunted and heaved, breathing in time with his movements as he accepted a rock, twisted his upper body, and handed it off further down the line before twisting back around to the other side. The work was quick and automatic, fitting in well amid the surprising progress the whole group managed to churn out. His pointed, faintly lupine ears remained pricked and tense at the sounds of the battle above and around them throughout, but his train of worrying thought was broken up by the antics of his fellows now and then.

He did his best to keep Gristle out from underfoot, which meant just watching where he put his own feet after the kobold fully inserted himself into the digging effort, no matter how insignificantly. He cast a protective arm out in front of Harp Strum when the tarp-clad apparition appeared before them, only for him to step aside and allow their slumbering Adonis An'mal through to the front of the chain. He worked in amicable silence alongside Baruuk. He agreed with and accepted Dagg's orders without reply or complaint.

When the hole in the former doorway opened up enough for their smaller, finer members to slip through, he watched them through the space with a look of tensed concern. He was eager to know what they could report, and he worried that some unseen threat could snatch them away while they were separated. Fortunately, the last of the rubble sloughed away without incident, and they all funneled into the dilapidated dungeon hall. When his eyes fell upon the mountain covering up the main exit, his heart fell right alongside them. "... Ga'rukh." He muttered an orcish curse Harp Strum might know well, albeit inflected differently in his dialect.

When the question of alternatives came up, the orc turned around in some surprise. Partly because he hadn't expected this to be a matter to be voted upon. But if their impromptu leader suggested it, it was worth bearing in mind. He had not spent much time down in the pits, and his mental map of the area left much to be desired- but he'd be glad for a chance to complete more of it, especially if it helped the fight or their friends. He furrowed his brow as he stared down the hall twisting away into the dimness of the earth ahead. Finally, he voted with his arms, by unstrapping the round birch wood shield from his back, and taking up the weapon hanging from his belt.

Ayaga's weapon vaguely resembled a war pick, and he used it like one, but its design had more in common with one of the fine-headed copper axes he knew well. The head was iron, recently riveted in place. A coil of slightly dingy cloth added texture to the grip. But the shaft was somewhat more remarkable- it seemed to be a femur bone, probably belonging to an adult orc, if everything else about Ayaga's person was any indication. It was weathered with time and use, and had several bore-holes or shallow cuts along it as if it had been in use as a tool for some time. The idea was all but confirmed as he lifted the weapon up close to his face and murmured.

"Cha'get, who fights on in death, you are remembered... We should hurry and see."

 

 
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Last edited by Grozug; Dec 9th, 2020 at 12:59 PM.
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  #20  
Old Dec 10th, 2020, 12:29 AM
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Baruuk wiped dust and sweat from the fur around his eyes and looked up, blinking in surprise at the now open passage. It wasn't much of a gap in the rubble, but it would suffice. They had won their freedom with their sweat and toil. He gathered up arms and armor set aside during their labors and squeezed through the gap.

The bugbear was a little surprised when Gristle suddenly started away from the next wall of rubble and darted behind him. He stood in what he hoped was a protective manner between the kobold and the source of his sudden consternation. Their smallest member had voiced his desire clearly enough. Then Dagg spoke up as well. 'Vote'. Huh. What a curious idea. Each voice equal, regardless of size or strength.

For his part, Baruuk was not particularly interested in resuming their digging. Who knew how much rubble lay between them and the open air? Perhaps their was another way out. In fact...

"If there is fighting down here with us that means someone got in, yes?" He paused to let the implication sink in for a second. "Their way in, is our way out." He strung his bow and glanced around the group. Six of them had been trapped in that room. His voice made four... Was that enough? An'mal and Harp Strum had yet to speak... but they couldn't shift the balance. Perhaps the act of speaking itself was important. A chance to take part in the process. Part of him was eager to simply set off down the corridor and get on with it. But he would wait for everyone to be heard.

For now, Baruuk stood poised. Ready to move, but not yet in motion. He leaned over to glance at Gristle. "Stay behind us if we find battle."

OOC
 

 

Last edited by hafrogman; Dec 10th, 2020 at 12:29 AM.
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Old Dec 10th, 2020, 04:28 PM
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An'mal's song trailed off into quiet rhythmical humming after the rock landed on his foot and his howl drew a gentle admonishment from bossy lass. An'mal placidly picked up the rock off his foot and smiled at bossy lass. "She'll be right, I have another one" he chuckled, already forgetting his throbbing foot.

While the group made short work of the cave in blocking their exit, An'mal heard his own voice perfectly imitated by a broken beaked Kenku as she battled to move what had to easily be the biggest rock in the entire pile of rubble. It wasn't long til An'mal had forgotten his humming and instead was chuckling away watching Harp Strum's antics that ended with the kenku sprawled in a flurry of feathers on the floor and singing the words from An'mal's slightly off key improvised song. An'mal, chuckling away all the while moved over to Harp andgently picked her up and dusted off her dark cape. "Brilliant" he said simply, patting her on the head with his massive furry hand.

Before they rest could squeeze their way past the cave in, An'mal watched Gristle bravely squeeze his way through the gap. The bugbear nodded his head in approval. Brave for a wee one. And smart ... scouting ahead to make sure there was nothing dangerous waiting for us on the other side. Gristle is clearly a genius, a leader in action if not in words. Soon Gristle was back and tossing rocks, silently letting the group know he had not discovered any danger and they could proceed with calm. "Genius" An'mal nodded approvingly.

It made decisions easy once they were through to the other side. Haul more rocks or listen to wise brave Gristle... no brainer. Gristle would guide them the right way. An'mal barely heard the call to vote. What he heard was everyone agree with Gristle, with their leader. Not that An'mal was counting, cos' he couldn't actually count, but there was no need to add another voice in the direction towards the faint but nearby battle. He hauled his massive glaive from over his shoulder and voted with his feet, humming as he headed down the passage the group agreed was the best plan to investigate.
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Old Dec 11th, 2020, 12:03 PM
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One minute Harp Strum was upside-down with a pout so fierce it would have won a thousand tantrums with a single ‘harumph’ and the next she was rightside-up with a gentle hand on her back, smoothing out her very nice, very blue cape. She blinked in surprise and tossed her head back and forth, up and down like a confused hen who lost its way to the henhouse until she craned it back far enough to see An’mal smiling down at her. Wait-- was it at her? Gasp! Yes! The An’mal smiled at her! Sweet affection filled Harp Strum’s eyes at the realization and she searched for the right words to thank him, and many more words she wanted to confess excitedly to him, but before she could blurt out a fancy thank you full of wonderful niceties, he ruffled her feathered head and called Harp Strum…

Brilliant.

“Brilliant.” Harp Strum repeated in total awe. “An’mal knows I am brilliant.” The gangly kenku stood starstruck at the wondrous moment that befell her. Her fears and worries all but washed away thanks to the pure joy that filled her heart. It was strange to say, even think, but today was turning out to be a marvelous day for Harp Strum. You know. Despite the many, many gruesome deaths above. She’ll have to do her best to survive if she was to earn more accommodations from the rest of the flock. Maybe Baruuk will compliment her nice scar like she complimented his at the start of their shift. And maybe Ayaga will make a poem about her! That would be very, very lovely, as it’s been a very, very, very, very, very, very, very long time since anyone wrote anything for Harp Strum. And as for Gristle, maybe he’d let her keep him. He was tiny and screamed a lot. Kind of like a dog, but better, and Harp Strum could use a nest mate that was small like her. But only time will tell if any of that would come true. For now, Harp Strum needed to stay focused.

With the doorway cleared, Harp Strum followed behind Ayaga into the dimly lit corridor. It was a quiet walk. One Harp Strum loathed with all her heart since it unnerved her to only hear the distant cries of her flock locked in battle. But she couldn’t think of any good jokes worth breaking the silence for. The air was just too tense. Oppressive even. It just didn’t feel right to make light of the danger ahead. And it seemed Harp Strum was right to think that way when they came across a dead end on their journey. Their way out was blocked by another wall of rocks, way more than the one they dug out of. Harp Strum gave it a cursory look, thinking about how long it would take to move everything, and what dangers laid beyond it when suddenly Gristle cried out.

Sweet Gristle, Little Gristle, Sad Gristle feared what waited for them outside. Harp Strum felt the same way. Stabbing people in the dark was easy. It was what she was good at, and two full-grown orcs can attest for that! But she never fought in a battle before. Scuffles in the streets were one thing, but a fight between numbers higher than eight? The odds were not in her favor at all. It was then Gristle suggested they investigate the sound that came from down another hallway inside the fortress. Harp Strum tilted her head to the side and picked up the distant sound of a fight. Which was concerning, very concerning. Dagg claimed it could have been more members of the flock in danger, but it was the suggestion that someone within their nest betrayed them that made Harp Strum make a terrible, awful sound akin to a blade scraping against a lonely alleyway wall.

Slip in like shadows. Silent and swift. Death shall be their gift.” The maelstrom of voices Harp Strum mimicked blended into each other with uncomfortable ease. Switching between male, female, old, and young like someone new possessed her tongue with each new word. Glimpses of emotions and conversations long past set free for just a single, eerie moment. Harp Strum said no more than that. Her choice clear. She flipped her cloak over her shoulder and drew a shortsword free from her waist. It was a nasty blade who looked like it saw just as much action as the battered Kenku. Its edge stained dark. Its handle bound with worn leather that fit perfectly in her scaled palm. Harp Strum pulled her hood over head until nothing but her beak peeked out from her heavy garb. She waited for everyone to say their peace, but the instant she saw An’mal stroll down the way that set her fury ablaze, Harp Strum fell to the shadows, gone in the blink of an eye.



OOCI voted to investigate noises, too! Harp Strum's decided she'll sneak her way there, just in case she needs to stab a traitor! I got a 20 on the Stealth roll! It is not a Nat 20, but it is still very nice!
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Last edited by Strangemund; Dec 11th, 2020 at 01:56 PM.
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  #23  
Old Dec 11th, 2020, 12:23 PM
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Day 1

It sounded like war had come to Ingeronto Forest, or at least the center of it. The sounds coming through the rocks that were blocking the groups path to the surface only continued to bring to this prospect to light. But the threat seemed to not only be on the surface, but perhaps also below. The group decided that it would be best for them to investigate what sounds were coming from elsewhere within the unknown caverns and dungeon below the castle ruins from above.

With intentions communicated and decisions made, weapons were then brandished and shields strapped on. While a loose marching order seemed established at first, it was more the group just walking down the path provided to them. Harp Strum took it upon herself to at least take point for the group, looking out for any possible threats yet staying as unobserved as possible. While she was able to stay hidden in the shadows made by the torches on the walls, her companions had no such intention, and thus were more easy to spot. This had the added advantage of making it so people wouldn't be looking for Harp, as they would be too distracted with the others.

Dagg, Ayaga, Baruuk, and An'mal made up a fierce looking quartet. Between the four of them, they would be able to descend on any opponent, and keep them from the one that they all seemed to be drawn towards protecting. Gristle. The small kobold had seemed to make a mascot of himself to the group. While the rest cautiously walked down the hallway, Gristle seemed to weave and dart between feet. Always seeming to be a second ahead of being stepped on, but not so far ahead that the group didn't worry about what would happen in battle, should it come to that.

The sounds that were coming to them from down the hallway seemed to echo at times, perhaps from far off, or sounds that found another way to travel from the battle above. Other times, they seemed just around the corner, but Harp would take a quick glance to find nothing waiting for them. At one point, the ground seemed to shake again, suggesting the possibility of another cave in, or quake, but the result was only some dust or loose dirt shaking down upon the group.

Eventually the group heard steps and wheezing up ahead. And Harp's advanced placement gave the group enough notice of the crossways ahead. The area was still dimly lit, only a single torch offering illumination in the area. Enough to not be blinded, but not enough t0 see down every passage way. The sound of slow walking, and labored breathing continued to grow closer and closer, until Harp could just see a figured emerging from the darkness of one of the hallways. A stair way really. And from it a figure emerged.

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A Tortle. At first Harp thought it was a cleric, Woppa, that she had worked with previously. But no. It was someone different.

Snepa.

A cleric that the group had seen, and closely seen with Yddraixl. But, she was injured. And badly. While Tortles were usually known for their slow pace in life, she was moving slower than seemed right for her. As she grew closer to the light, she was needed to keep her hand on the wall to keep herself upright. Blood could be seen oozing from cracks in her shell. And one of her eyes had a gash over it. Whether or not the eye was still intact was still to be soon. But continue to move she did, and with a purpose it seemed, as she made it to the juncture, and began to cross to where harp stood, still hidden. Perhaps she had heard the others and was trying to reach them.

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But she never would. Unseen to Harp, from the shadows of the side passage came her demise. A dwarf intent on destruction. It's blade bit well into Snepa's side, and the Tortle could only let out a coughed voice of anguish. The Dwarf itself had a sneer on his face as he took a malicious glee in turning the blade in the side of the tortle sharply. "Thate ya'd git way fromma, eh? Twasn't 'nda books for yah."

As you watch the Tortle slump to the ground, you realize that the Dwarf himself looked just as badly, if not worse than the Tortle. His one hand still held the short short that he had used to run Snepa through, but he was a battered and beaten dwarf. His other arm hung limply from his side, perhaps dislocated. The arm itself was a bloody stump just below the elbow, and nothing was left beyond. His legs didn't seem to have much left to them, with their cuts and scrapes to them, and one of his feet was sitting at an odd angle.

While he didn't see Harp, he did see the rest of the group a bit further down the hall, and he brought his sword up to brace for what was sure to be a battle that he would not long forget. "Eh? Brig et!"

OOGMI gave everyone a position that I thought relevant on the map below. If you can beat an initiative of
Dice Roll:
1d20+3 (3)+3 Total = 6
(6) you go before our dwarven friend.

Bloodied, Bruised, Assassin - AC: 13, HP: 10

 


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Last edited by Insacrum; Dec 11th, 2020 at 12:29 PM.
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Old Dec 11th, 2020, 01:41 PM
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The shadows were kind to Harp Strum. They welcomed her back into their nightly embrace, hiding her wholly from the dangers that lurked ahead. The shadows were kind to her, just like the night she found the pink men slumbering in their beds. It was strange how much it all felt the same to her despite the years that have stretched between then and now. The weight of her blade in her hand, heavy but full of purpose. The silence in her steps, deafening, but only to her. The anger that swallowed Harp Strum’s good sense. It was overwhelming, blinding, and yet sweetly intoxicating. A poison she could never quit.

Harp Strum didn’t want to hurt anyone, though. She didn’t like to hurt, even though she was good at it. Made for it. But the pink men taught her early on that sometimes it was better to hurt first than last. So, Harp Strum would do what it needed to be done for the nest. She would hurt many for the flock. And now she would hurt for Snepa.

Harp Strum was the first to stumble upon the bloody scene. Poor Snepa, Gentle Snepa, Kind Snepa, she was wounded. Blood caked her shell. Her eyes distant, glazed. Like it was for Little Song long ago. Harp Strum was about to leap out of the shadows to help her, as her heart promised she was no traitor to the nest, not while she looked like that. But Harp Strum wasn’t quick enough. Wasn't smart enough to see the pink man before he drove his blade into Snepa's side. Harp Strum’s eyes widened in horror as Snepa gave an anguished cry. The sound burned into Harp Strum’s mind like so many others before her as Snepa fell to the ground, close to death. In the dark, in the shadows, Harp Strum trembled, quiet and alone, as the pink man stepped towards Poor Snepa, Gentle Snepa, Kind Snepa, and mocked her for trying to get away. Snepa, their Snepa, who Harp Strum knew only for her gentle hands, her soft smile, and a heart that was so warm and so kind that it did more than words could say to keep Harp Strum here in the nest when she arrived alone and scared.

Harp Strum was swift. She was fast and she was quick and she drew her blade long before the pink man had time to notice her from the shadows. A blur of black and glinting metal, she kicked off the ground, her shortsword raised above her head as she flung herself at him. She dug her blade deep into his back, just like he’d done to Poor Snepa, Gentle Snepa, Kind Snepa, and she twisted it on the way out to make him hurt twice as much. “Death is a gift! But you will suffer!” Harp Strum promised in anger, swiping blindly at the assassin a second time. But he was quicker, smarter than the pink men in their rotted pink men streets. He dodged her blade, and it skimmed his shoulder, barely a scratch, barely enough to satiate Harp Strum’s growing rage.


OOCI spent a Move Action to get on top of the assassin. Feel free to put me near Snepa's space. I rolled to Attack, given an Advantage due to my successful Stealth, and I hit him with my Shortsword, dealing regular DMG AND Sneak Attack DMG!

The total DMG was 9, but Insacrum told me he's got Uncanny Dodge, so he didn't take all of it.
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Last edited by Strangemund; Dec 15th, 2020 at 10:45 AM.
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Old Dec 11th, 2020, 01:42 PM
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Barruk strode purposefully down the corridor, flanking two fellow bugbears, and led by the powerful orc. It was a strange feeling. It made him feel like he was part of something, but at the same time, he couldn't help but hear a little nagging voice of doubt at the back of his head. *You don't belong here.* Was it right? Was there some deep failing rooted inside him that made him unfit to be a warrior? Is that what his old tribe had known? Is that why Yddraixl still had him grubbing through rocks and garbage?

He tried to push back against the voice, bury it under more important matters. But his still felt it there, worrying at him from the inside. Maybe it was because he was walking down the corridor so openly. He'd spent so much time alone, sneaking through the woods. No reason to go announcing yourself to your prey like this. He tugged uneasily at the scale armor he wore. It had never fit quite right, originally belonging to Jarug, one of his fallen kinsmen. Jarug had been of a decidedly more solid build, not built for stealth. If Baruuk could get a battle or too under his belt, perhaps his share of the prizes would allow him to afford armor that more suited him. For now, he walked openly and winced slightly at each clink of metal upon metal.

These thoughts and more like them distracted him from their destination until they had arrived. Snepa was the first thing he saw, and the sight of her injuries summoned up dark memories. The bugbear was stunned for a mere moment, trying to process what he saw. But that was enough time for the dwarf to appear. With callous glee he snuffed the tortle's life... just like that. Baruuk had witnessed plenty of carnage in his life. But that didn't mean he would let this attack on his new tribe go unpunished. He already had his bow in hand and he didn't even have to think. Muscle memory was all it took to have an arrow plucked from his quiver and centered on the assassin. He hesitated just a second. Harp Strum was already darting forward, sword in hand. She would beat his arrow there... just.

The bird woman closed on the treacherous dirt grubber and he didn't even see her coming... until the last second. Something, be it luck or fate or skill, caused the dwarf to look up at the last moment, frantically twisting away from Harp's blade. But even from his distance, Baruuk could see the red on the sword's tip. Now that she had the assassin's full attention, now was Baruuk's moment to strike. Just like that, the arrow left his bow.



It had been a rough day for Durgan Rocknose. He'd already been in a pretty bad shape when he chased down the gruesomely bulbous reptile... thing, he'd been hunting. Still, when another crowd of beastly savages appeared down the corridor, he drew himself as upright as he could, his blade at the ready. He didn't know if he could take them. But by the beards of his ancestors, he was going to give it his best shot, and he'd make them pay for his life dearly. He was so focused on the greenskin and its hairy companions, that he almost didn't see the dark feathered bird creature until it was too late. Deep rooted survival instincts kicked into over-drive and he rolled with the blow, his broken body groaning with protest at the sudden movement. But he still stood, smirking slightly to himself. *Gotta be quicker than that, monster!*

It had been a rough day for Durgan Rocknose, and it wasn't going to get any better. Any thoughts, plans and actions were cut short by one truly important question. What was this yard-long feathered shaft doing sticking out of his beard?



Baruuk nodded grimly as his arrow caught the dwarf directly below the chin. The dirt-grubber's horrible mat of face hair cut off the actual impact from view. But the jerk of impact followed by the assassin's collapse told him everything he needed to know. *You don't belong here.* Baruuk, smiled and shoved the little voice away forcefully. He was a warrior in truth. He would defend his new tribe. He would fight, and the pinkskins would learn to fear his name... if they let any survive, that was.

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Last edited by hafrogman; Dec 11th, 2020 at 02:28 PM.
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Old Dec 11th, 2020, 02:56 PM
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Day 1

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Harp Strum was dark. Harp Strum was quick. Harp Strum could be deadly. The Dwarf that she saw in front of her was just what she needed to excise the rage of watching what happened to Snepa. Granted, said Dwarf was also the cause of said rage. Baruuk's Arrow was just another feathered addition to the pain that ended the Dwarf's life, and left him bloodied and dying on the cavern floor.

"Hep."

The sound was so faint it was almost unheard.

"Hep Em."

There it was again, but slightly different. Most who looked at Snepa and what happened to her would think her dead, but Tortle had too important of a directive to be lost to the sands of infinity.

"Mus Hep Em."

The third time brought the focus to her finally, and at this point the group could tell that the Tortle wasn't dead. At least not yet. Her eye, the one that was visible, was vacant, yet still she knew someone was nearby. A slight and shaking hand tried to rise, and reach out towards the group that she briefly saw down the corridor.

OOGMAnd just as quickly, combat is over. As expected. Now the real fun of the scene unfolds.

Last edited by Insacrum; Dec 15th, 2020 at 05:57 PM.
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  #27  
Old Dec 12th, 2020, 04:23 PM
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Daggonae 'Dagg' Bloodbane
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She walked in silence. She wasn't, intentionally, trying to go unheard or unseen, but she didn't speak during their travel. Instead, she resorted to old habits. Watching and waiting.

Ahead of them, almost assuredly, was glorious battle and death... So, to ensure that the latter part of that equation befell their enemies, she decided to spend a bit more time assessing her current company.

'The bird... Kenku... Harp Strum... She's quick and sneaky. She'll make an excellent scout and infiltrator. The way that she mimics sounds could be useful as well. I don't have much experience with her people so I'm not sure how good she'll be in a straight fight... She's one to keep an eye on.

Gristle is... odd... A bit cowardly, but thus is the nature of the Kobolds. However, hidden beneath the eccentricities and cowardice, there is as strange sort of strength and bravery. I find him... entertaining. If there is one thing I've learned being sent on raiding parties, it's that having someone that can keep everyone's spirits up is invaluable.

An'mal and Baruuk are strong Bugbears. They, clearly, come from good stock. Both would be called Thane had they been born into her clan.

An'mal is, almost certainly, a Beserker... but he is one that appears to be more focused on the showmanship of battle, rather than blind and wild fury. He carries a glaive, handaxe, and javelins... clearly stating that he is deadly at any range.

Baruuk, on the other hand, is more of a Archer... That bow he carries is kept in pristine condition. But, he also has those swords... Shortswords to be exact. He knows the importance of accuracy in confined spaces. Where longswords and great-axes would catch on the walls of a cave or narrow hallway, a shortsword and bow would be invaluable. Down here, in this underground environment, he is poised to shine.

Ayaga carries a weapon I've not seen before. A pick, of some sort, made of both metal and bone. Clearly a custom piece... and one of significant personal value if I was to guess. His footing is solid, weight shifting slightly forward, as is the general custom of the Orcs. Their's is the very definition of aggression. But, there's something different about Ayaga. He strikes me as... calm... almost somber.

All-in-all, not a bad mixture of skills and abilities. If I had been in charge of picking a raiding party, I doubt I would've chosen much differently. What we lack in magic and healing capabilities, we more than make up for with skill and brute strength.'


Dagg's mental notes were suddenly halted as Harp-Strum signaled for them all to stop. A figure emerged from the hallway in front of them and Dagg's eyes went wide as she saw a semi-familiar Tortle emerge from the darkness.

"Snepa?" The word escaped her lips, but was clipped at the end as she saw the dwarf emerge as well.

Dagg smiled as she, nonchalantly, moved towards Snepa. She was confident that the others would make short work of the injured pink-skin... And, sure enough, the team didn't disappoint.

Harp-Strum and Baruuk wasted no time, acting in tandem Harp-Strum emerged from the shadows and lashed out, while Baruuk quickly loosed an arrow. Everything happened so fast, Dagg wondered if the Dwarf's mind had time to register pain before he died.

Kneeling at Snepa's side, Dagg attempts to Untrained Medicine Check = 11

Basically, Dagg is applying pressure to the wounds and looking for bits of cloth that she can turn into tourniquets.
assist with slowing the bleeding in whatever way she can. She took Snepa's outstretched hand.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh-shhhh -- Easy now, Snepa." Dagg whispered. She lifts the Snepa's head and rests it, slightly elevated, on her lap. Pulling her waterskin, Dagg uncorks it and pours small sips of water into Snepa's mouth."You fought bravely. We've got you."

Dagg looked up to the group. "Can any of you heal her? Is there anything on the dwarf we can use as a tourniquet? My people are trained in making wounds, not healing them."
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Last edited by Reliq0770; Dec 12th, 2020 at 04:25 PM.
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  #28  
Old Dec 13th, 2020, 12:38 AM
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Gristle
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Gristle stared at the fallen dwarf. His new friends made short work of him, which was already much different than the last time Gristle had been trapped underground with Tall Scaleless Folk (Though granted, this one seemed less... tall... than he remembered).

His musings were interrupted by Scary Lady Dagg as she rushed to the fallen Tortle. Oh, right! Snepa! Snepa was nice and she looked hurt!

Wait! Gristle could fix this! He had The Noise! The Noise could fix everything!

"Oh yes!" Gristle chirped, scampering forward. "I can help! I have this!" He gripped a small painted drum in his clawed hands, holding it aloft as though it were something grand and magical.

"See?! Here, I help!" He pulled a battered drumstick from his pack and raised it, holding motionless for a long second, gargantuan eyes closed in reverence. Then the drumstick came down, and little Gristle sucked in a breath.

BANG! BANG! BA-BANG!

"SNEPAAA! SNEPAAA!!" he belted in a crude approximation of singing. It lacked tune, but had a great deal of enthusiasm, and he paused between words to hit the little drum. "SNEPA, FEEL BETTER!" Bang! Ba-BANG! "THIS IS--" BANG BANG! "THE GET-BETTER NOISE!" BA-BANG! BANG! "GRISTLE IS MAKING THE GET-BETTER NOISE--" BANG! "SO YOU!" BANG! "GET!" BANG! "BETTERRRRR!!"

Somehow, inexplicably, Healing Word: 4 hpSnepa's wounds seemed to look a little better as Gristle finished his "song."
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Old Dec 13th, 2020, 09:47 AM
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An'mal
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Name: An'mal
 

 

 



As they moved down the hallway together, shoulder to shoulder with fellow bugbears, Harp darting ahead in the shadows as though guided by Grangkhul himself, An'mal's humming became a quiet smile. He was struck by the feeling he was part of something ... something forming ... He looked at the bugbears beside him full of purpose and determination, the solemn orc, their leader Gristle, darting bravely between their legs, urging them on as they followed behind a bird blessed by Grangkhul's shadow; An'mal's chest swelled with joy... they were forming a band! He reached out his arm and laid it on the shoulder of the serious looking bugbear beside him, still smiling with joy and said for no particular reason other than to express the overwhelming joy beaming from within him, "We belong here."

And then a Stubbard appeared and murdered Snepa right before An'mal's eyes. An'mal didn't know Snepa. But he knew Stubbards, he knew murder. An'mal froze while Harp flew into furious action and his scarred bugbear companion buried an arrow deep in the Stubbard's throat before An'mal could even blink. Bossy lass rushed forward to help Snepa, whilst Gristle began making music to save the dying cleric. And An'mal just stood there. An'mal stood there as he had stood their while the Stubbards hacked off his father's head with their evil axes and caved in his mother's skull with their wicked picks.

Suddenly An'mal brought the haft of his own glaive and smashed it into his own face. "No! No, filthy Stubbard, not again! Siggaret will have no piece of me!" The pain brought him out of his paralysis and he stormed forward towards the tortle cleric as she clung to life. He knelt beside her and demanded fiercely "Who's Em? Where's Em? More Stubbards down that way?" An'mal pointed down the passageway where Snepa and the Stubbard had emerged from. Those who had known An'mal in recent times, even Aleese and Khupah, his surrogate parents, had never seen the massive bugbear so furious. His calm easy going demeanor had vanished and froth now filled the corner of An'mal's mouth, the coals of rage, lit and burning in his belly, just moments from igniting into flames. His head turned suddenly towards Gristle, "Damn that was beautiful, man. Like totally rockin'!" His head snapped back to Snepa. "Speak tortle, fast!"
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Last edited by jbear; Dec 13th, 2020 at 09:56 AM.
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Old Dec 13th, 2020, 10:32 PM
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Once the kenku slunk off into the shadows ahead, Ayaga found himself filtering out toward the front of the group. Which was just as well, because if danger came from up ahead, he would be able to put his shield between it and the rest of the group- and whether by long arm, stealth, or... whatever it was Gristle could do, his fellows would have an easy time reaching around that shield to get to their enemies. He walked with his head tucked in low, shield raised, and pick poised upon his broad shoulder, ready to flick his wrist and cast his arm forward into an overhand swing that could puncture helmets and cut into bone, if his aim wasn't off.

As it turned out, his aim was not the problem. Rather, it was his hesitation. When the shelled hulk ambled out into view, he stopped in his tracks and lowered his shield to get a good look at her. He recognized Snepa, or at least he thought he did for a moment- if Ayaga was completely honest with himself, he'd acknowledge that he still couldn't easily tell tortles apart from one another. But he stopped to look and think, and that was when the stocky shadow came out and knifed her. And then in quick succession the stocky shadow was stabbed twofold. The ruthless efficiency was not lost on the orc. He was thankful for it, especially when he was caught asleep on his feet.

But then there was the matter of the wounded.

The orc inspected the fallen dwarf and made certain that he was dead as he walked a half-circle around the corpse. For a moment he seemed unsure of what to do about an enemy combatant he did not have the time or convenience to address in full, ritualistic manner. Instead he turned back to the dying tortle, and Dagg who was trying to keep her together. He found himself setting his pick and shield down, and taking up a bit of rag he had salvaged from the cellar earlier. He wiped the blood from Snepa's eye ridge to see if the orb was damaged, and then aided the bugbear in trying to keep as much of her blood on the inside as possible. He tried to push bits of rag into the cracks in her shell to staunch the bleeding, and then he joined in applying pressure to the fresh wound in her side. His grey eyes fell somberly upon the tortle's face as she struggled to communicate. He opened his mouth again to open his ears up, cocked his head, and then leaned in to listen.

And then Gristle started in.

Ayaga's people had known a great many loud or ostentatious folk practices for different occasions- one had to be very loud, and very blunt, in order to communicate with spirits, who were almost always among the intended audience of a performance.

But even the most cacophonous display of competitive overtone-grunting and copper bangle-crashing did not compare to what Gristle provided them then.

He wondered if and when his drumming and singing would summon the next earth tremor to bury them.

And then he wondered how in the hell it was working.

 

 
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