[Game Thread] The Path to Perdition

[Ytterbium]

Seeing his opportunity, Bixby Murphy, with his pistol in his hand and Jericho clinging tightly to his shoulder, took off running toward where he had seen the Radcliffeholy hayberdasher and his companions, Brom and Scant curiously not among them, enter. The scrollworks owner, in whose shop Bixby had initially taken refuge, was not sorry to see the chatty gun-toting wizard go, as it meant he could finish boarding up his shop in the relative peace and quiet of the lightning witch's outbursts.

As Bixby approached the door he had seen the others enter, he saw it crack open just far enough for a crossbow bolt to be fired through. Seeing the bolt fired into the air rather than at himself was all the invitation Bixby felt he needed, and just a few seconds after the door shut, Bixby flung it open and spun inside with a "Hoo-wee! That there lightnin' lass seems as bothered as a hornet in heat!"

Stopping just long enough to make sure there were no weapons pointed at him (as well as to reholster his gun), Bixby continued, "Radcliffe! I been lookin' for all y'all from the tower. We gotta talk about that there witch!"

A pause, then Bixby speaks with a bit more calm. "Uh, by 'that there witch,' I meant the one from afore what was at the tower with us an' usin' bewitchment magic on her big fella friend, not the one what's currently throwin' lightnin'. That there would be known as 'this here witch,' an' I reckon she's also some sorta problem."

 

Name	HP	AC	Touch	Flat	Status	Fort	Ref	Will	Hero
Bixby Murphy	31/31	16	13	14	-	4	5	3	3?
Jericho	15/15	18	16	16	-	4	5	5	-

[Melchior]

Radcliffe had opened his mouth, a sarcastic retort already on his tongue to counter to Winston's unhelpfully vague response. At least until he saw the bodies and the meaning of Winston's words became abundantly clear, and his mouth closed fast enough that it caused his teeth to snap sharply together. The sight of a dozen or more charred and shattered corpses caused the words to die in his throat. He was not about to be so crass as to speak badly of the dead, especially when they had died in the duty of their faith.

He would still think it though. And as he surveyed the broken remains of the faithful of Iomadae, their once gleaming armour now charred and mostly melted he couldn't help but think that they had not done a very good job. From the way the bodies were positioned it looked as though they had all clumped together - something that you never did when fighting a mage. They had probably all charged straight ahead, swords aloft and shouting challenges - paladins were very typical like that - and it had gotten them all wiped out by a single spell.

Right, so much for that.

Kyra had said something about going to the Seventh Church herself, and had asked Radcliffe to accompany her. Radcliffe had been about to respond when he caught motion out of the corner of his eyes. Agent Smith had evidently decided to try his hand at calming the storm. Radcliffe grimaced in sympathy when all the other man manged to do was draw the woman's ire. "Ooooh... I'll bet he's going to wish he hadn't done that."

"Ah... no, sorry. I don't think that would be a particularly good idea, lass," Radcliffe said, addressing Kyra's request. He winced as he watched the dwarf step out to loose an arrow at the mage. The arrow missed, but didn't the fool realise that he risked drawing the mage's attention. "The faithful of Iomadae and I have a rather... complicated relationship." Adversarial, some might even say. "I don't imagine my presence would be terribly welcome there. I am certain that the good Master Bombast here would be delighted to escort a lovely lady such as yourself, however. Isn't that right, Master Bombast?"

Speaking quickly so as to not give Thomas - or Kyra, for that matter - an opportunity to interrupt, Radcliffe clapped Thomas on the back, pushing the younger nobleman towards Kyra, while he stepped back and away. As he moved backwards, his eyes flickered towards the electric spectacle unfolding in the square. He licked his lips and forced himself to smile. "Bixby," he said with a nod, not even breaking stride when the gunslinger made his unexpected return. "Glad to see you didn't die in that gutter. You can thank me later for that, by the way. Could have used you earlier. We ran into some evil that could have used some shooting. Fortunately, there seems to be no shortage of that today." Radcliffe gestured towards the lightning woman. As much as I'd love to discuss witches with you, we have a bit of a situation on our hands."

"Yes, so while the two of them see to their business at the Seventh Church, how about you stay here and shoot some evil. Or maybe distract her with a pig, though I don't think this one's dumb enough to fall for that. While you take care of that, I'll take a quick jaunt over to the temple of Nethys. That way we can cover all of our bases at once. Time appears to be rather of the essence. You'd best hurry." With a grin and a nod, Radcliffe bid the two nobles off with a shooing motion.

Spinning on his heel, Radcliffe turned and briskly began to walk in the opposite direction. Of course, as a newcomer to the city, Kyra had no way of knowing that the Temple of Nethys was actually on the other side of the Ascendant Court and not at all in the direction Radcliffe was heading.

~~~

Radcliffe cursed under his breath. Somehow, against all odds it seemed this day had got even worse.

Well if they thought that he was just going to stay and let himself get vaporised by some out of control lightning mage, they had another thing coming. Radcliffe had already helped to put down two power-crazed maniacs today, and that was officially two more than his quota. He had already done his part, now let someone else risk their fool neck.

The heavy weight pressing against his chest was cold against his skin.

The one saving grace was that this situation had created enough confusion to slip away. Let the others think he was going to enlist the help of Nethys. By the time they realised he wasn't coming back, he'd already be gone. All he had to do was slip out the back exit of the temple, and disappear into the streets of Absalom. With the city in such a tumultuous state, they'd never be able to find him.

In order to reach said back entrance however, Radcliffe was forced to cross through the main part of the temple, which was currently filled with the refugees who had sought shelter from the lightning in the embrace of the Dawnflower. Faced with a hundred or more frightened souls, Radcliffe briefly hesitated at the threshold, but pressed on. Some of them looked up as he passed. Radcliffe flinched as he saw the fear in their eyes, but even worse than that was the flicker of hope he recognised in some of their eyes. They were not frequent parishioners to the temple. they had no idea who he really was. All they saw was a man in the dress of a cleric of Saranae who had obviously seen battle. Perhaps they thought he had come to deliver them from their situation.

Shame was not an emotion that Radcliffe was used to experiencing. He forced himself not to meet their gazes and to push forward. There was nothing to be done. What could Radcliffe do that a dozen paladins of Iomedae could not? Nothing. So he grit his teeth, and closed his eyes and continued forward, assaulted every step of the way by the sounds of people in pain, of people scared, of people praying and reassuring their loved ones that Saranae would protect them. A roof would have protected them. Distance would have protected them. But these men and women had neither.

Radcliffe tried very hard not to think about what would happen when that mage inevitably found them. Something with became exponentially more likely the longer Thangardt and the others continued to take pot shots at her from the doors of the temple. All the more reason then for Radcliffe to leave while he could.

A glint of something out of the corner of his eye caught Radcliffe's attention. A flicker of light. Part of him knew better than to look, but still his neck turned. There, high on the wall above the altar, hung a relief of a winged woman in front of a stylised sun. The very same image which hung from a cord around Radcliffe's neck, only where Radcliffe's personal symbol was silver this one was gold, and scaled up.

Sunlight glinted off the gold. Radcliffe cast his gaze upwards. The sky was still just as grey and cloud covered as it had always been.

Radcliffe grit his teeth and glared at the relief. 'My Lady, you ask too much of me.'

Nearby a young child started to cry.

"Gah! That's cheating, and you know it!" Radcliffe shouted angrily, pointing a shaky, accusatory finger at the golden image of Saranae, startling many of the people around him. The image made no reply.

Radcliffe stood there for several long moments, glaring at the relief in a standoff that to an outside observer must have seemed like a crazy person. It was Radcliffe who broke away first, turning away from the the image with a curse. "Son of a Keleshite whore..." he growled under his breath.

When Radcliffe angrily began stomping his way through the crowd again, it was no longer in the direction of the exit. And it was with the warmth of silver against his chest.

 

Actions Radcliffe's getting the hell outta Dodge. Or is he?

Radcliffe Name HP AC Touch Flat CMD Status Channel Fort Ref Will Hero Brother Radcliffe 33/33 18 11 17 13   5/5 +5 +2 +9 4 Spell Level Save DC Spells Remaining 1st 16 Enhance Water, Obscuring Mist, Shield of Faith, Protection from Evil, ***, Faerie Fire (D) 2nd 17 Flame of the Forge, Hold Person, ***, Heat Metal (D)

[Rolzup]

"I, er...'reckon' that you're right about that, old boy!" Thomas frowned. "I might, perhaps, be able to deal with the situation, but it would entail approaching rather more closely than common sense might recommend." Jasper made a 'tsk-tsk' sound, which caused his master's frown to further deepen. "Yes, yes," he said irritably, "Heroism, and all that. All well and good, but I've seen what happens to an oak tree when it's struck by lightning, Poundworthy! And I'm not nearly so sturdy as that, am I?"

Jasper said nothing. He only looked at Thomas, with a long and steady gaze. The sorcerer endured if for as long as he could -- which is to say, not very long at all -- before his shoulders slumped. "Quite right, Poundworthy," he mumbled. "As always. Very well, then," he continued briskly, "I suppose that I'll just nip out and save the day, then, shall I? Won't be a moment." From within one sleeve he withdrew a wand; lacquered red wood, capped with gold and a tiny ruby. Thomas regarded it dubiously. "Fairly sure you point this end at the foe," he said to no one in particular. "Right, then! Off I go! And be aware, please: when and if we arrive at our intended destination, I am not buying the first round."

Moving to the door, Thomas took a deep breath. "Right, then," he repeated, opening the door, "Wish me...er...well, luck, I suppose. Can't go wrong with a bit of luck."

 

I'm not sure how far he is from the mage, but he has a 30' move and a 30' range with the wand. If he can reach her this turn, Thomas will run forward and zap her. If not, he'll edge his way along the walls, and use a double move to get as close as he can manage.

If he can strike her this turn:
►

Dice Roll:

1d20+3

(18)+3

Total = 21

(21) touch to-hit,

Dice Roll:

4d6

3, 5, 4, 1

Total = 13

(13) fire damage.

If he's sneaking instead:
►

Dice Roll:

1d20+1

(13)+1

Total = 14

(14) Stealth check.

[TeufelHeunden]

Thanguardt cursed himself as he watched the arrow arc well short of his intended target, “Arrgh, you beardless poetry-readin' troll-barf,” he exclaimed in a pinched, tension-filled display while he scrubbed his hand over his face. His emotions turned quickly however into a bemused smile as he watched the lightning from the witch cascade quickly down the wet rope into the barrel short circuiting her electrical prowess if only momentarily as the barrel exploded.

No sooner did Thangaurdt duck back inside then the door flung open and a bloke with his gun drawn burst though only to quickly holster it and begin rambling off at Radcliff, who seemed to ignore the poor fellow and his pleas about a witch in a tower. Thangaurdt’s nose crinkled causing the hoop strung below it to tremor slightly as he gazed with consideration at Radcliff. Tha perfumed willow-waisted sissy be tryin' ta escape out of tha back of tha temple, Thangaurdt thought to himself. More cowardly than I gave him credit for. It didn’t take long for Radcliff to regain his senses though and turn back around.

Thangaurdt turned to the newest itinerant to enter the temple seeking shelter, the bloke with the pistol, “Hey thar ye, do ye ken this lot,” his question more looking for confirmation since the man had called out Radcliff by name already, it was apparent that he knew Radcliff at least. While he was waiting tolerantly for the answer Thomas drew an extravagant looking wand out of his sleeve muttering something about saving the day and stepped past Thangaurdt and the gunslinger towards the door. As Thomas opened the door to exit Thanguardt called up a smokestick from his sack and tossed it outside the door a little to the side toward the center of the court, at least obscuring anything that was happening outside the door.

 

Tossing the smokestick outside the door to the side so that the smoke is not directly in front of the door but to the side a bit, between the lightning mage and the entrance to the door obscuring any movement in and out of the door but allowing others leaving through the door easy sight outside the door to get their bearing and decide what to do. With no map I hope that describes it well enough.

 

Quick Stats for Thangardt Stontosser Thangardt Stontosser M CN Duergar Tyrant Fighter/Alchemist, Level: 4 Abilities: Str 15, Dex 18, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 13, Cha 7 DEFENSE AC: 23, Touch: 15, Flat-footed: 19 (+4 Dex) Skills: Perception (+5) Acrobatics (+0) Init: +4 Speed: 20, DR HP: 31/47 Fort: +10, Ref: +8, Will: +5 Armor Slot 1: Masterwork, Breastplate (Agile) AC Bonus: (6) Armor Slot 2: Steel weapons that hit with Nat 1, Broken (DC20 Fort save) Mastwework, Living Steel Heavy Shield AC Bonus: (2) Armor Slot 3: Armored Kilt AC Bonus: (1) OFFENSE Base Attack Bonus +5 Weapon Slot 1: disarm, trip , Masterwork Flail (-) Attack/Damage: +6 (1d8+2, X2) Weapon Slot 2: , Dwarven Waraxe (-) Attack/Damage: +5 (1d10+2, X3) Weapon Slot 3: , Shortbow (40) Attack/Damage: +7 (1d6, X3) Weapon Slot 1: disarm, trip , Ankus (-) Attack/Damage: +5 (1d8+2, X2) NOTES Conditions: Additional Information:

[SophieValentine]

He wasn't going to be quick enough.

That thought ran through Lee's head as a million volts of pissed off mage turned in his direction. He had a brilliant plan! Was the electricity fading, or was it just him? And he executed it nearly perfectly! The sights were off on the crossbow again. And now he was going to die. Maur would be so irritated.

Just as he was ready to accept his fate, there was a clatter of wood against stone - someone fired a shot? A distraction. "Move!" He whispered to himself as he spun on his heel and pushed himself towards the stairs. Something whistled and splintered behind him.

"Faster!" He took the stairs two at a time, reached up, and pushed off, hopping over the last few steps to the top of the battlement. There was an explosion of wood and metal and hissing, boiling water. He'd landed in a crouch, but now - it was a runner's set for sprint.

"Faster!" He couldn't afford a second's hesitation, and he took off like a shot - even as one of the bands from the barrel went flying by, inches from his head, he didn't slow up. He barreled along the top of the ramparts, steel flashing as he drew twin short swords, and thrust one of them forward once within reach...and missed. HE MISSED! He'd been relying on the resistance to aid him when he pivoted and slashed with the other, such that his second swing resulted in a mere scratch to the homicidal mage.

 

Move: Get the heck up in her face.
Standard: Attack (miss)
Hero Point Standard: Attack (hit!) ...for 2HP.

I'm beginning to see a pattern here...stroke of brilliance...horrifying defeat. XD Someone save Agent Smith from himself.

Name	HP	AC	Touch	Flat	Status	Fort	Ref	Will	Hero
Lee Smith	30/30	18	14	15	Regretting All Life Decisions	+3	+7	+2	2

[Ytterbium]

"Ayuh, I don't reckon Piggy Lou'd be much help against this one," Bixby agreed as Radcliffe departed for his mission. "I could take a shot, I s'pose..." Bixby's voice trailed off as the well-dressed man with the crossbow and the monkey spoke up. Bixby could feel Jericho clinging a little tighter; the parrot was probably nervous about the monkey, who seemed to be named Poundworthy.

"Watch yerself iffn ya go out there, fella," Bixby said in response to the man. "I know we ain't 'ffically met yet, but if you was battlin' the witch Feiya—who's still livin', by the way—an' the hippy from earlier, I gotta hope we's both on the side o' fightin' evil. I gotta 'llusion spell what might give a person cover, but it'd leave us folks bein' covered as blind ta what that there witch right outside is doin' as it'd leave her ta us, so it's a mite risky thatwise."

Turning to the dwarf—no that wasn't right; he was a duergar—Bixby explained, "Radcliffe and I were with a couple other fellas what fought a dark-magic–possessed lizard guy earlier, and then I seen them two—" pointing at Thomas and Kyra "—when we was all trying ta stop that there witch Feiya I just mentioned. There's also some hippy named Vigg involved somehow, but I ain't seen him here yet. Anyhoo, Feiya's pet big fella put-near chopped my leg off, an' then I woke up in a hosp'tal, got teleported away for a few minutes by my Aunt Betty (theurges sure do know some nifty magic), an' I been tryin' ta find Radcliffe, Brom, or Scant ever since, on account o' the witch we was fightin' earlier still bein' alive." Bixby scratched his horseshoe mustache thoughtfully.

"At this point here, I reckon the current witch is somehow tied ta all this, but she's floatin' just outta the distance where I know I could get in a good shot or three. I came in here after spottin' Radcliffe ta see iffn there was some sorta plan. I can shoot at her fer a bit iffn it'd help, but magical types're tricky ta shoot when they's flyin' like that."

[ItsaVerb]

Kyra was understandably stunned to see the man in the floppy hat again. At least to see him standing up and speaking. She'd last seen him bleeding out in the same alley where...

The words seemed to land out of order. The monk was losing focus, surprised off-center. She breathed deeply and rearranged the words mentally.

Feiya is alive?!? Kyra thought, hardly able to believe it. On the other hand, here stood the odd man, looking right as rain. And if he was okay, and Feiya was okay...

"WHERE?!?" Kyra blurted, her wide eyes fixed on Bixby Murhpy. "Where did you see Feiya?" She was frantic and there wasn't much she planned to do about it in the moment. She let the biggest question lay behind the others. It could wait. The man said he had not seen Vigg since the confrontation in the alley, but he'd seen the witch. She had no idea what a 'hippy' was.

"You know what's she's after, don't you?" Kyra's voice softened a bit as one train of thought connected itself to the next. She turned in the direction she'd seen Radcliffe heading, hoping not to lose track of the unpredictable priest. He should be made aware...

 

OOC Golly, I feel like there's a dozen directions to go in, but I boiled it down to what is most top-of-mind for Kyra. She intends to keep and eye on Radcliffe and reach him. I'm leaving it here because I don't know that a conversation with him is possible, but she will move at least toward, if not to Radcliffe.