At close range, Norvalor, you would've had to have filed your Perception roll to miss something important about your undead attacker. In your travels you have heard of the sun-kissed skin tones of the Chultan native. You may even recall some of the hair styles indicative of these jungle travelers. They domesticate giant lizards. They also raise them for sport.
Your foot hasn't hit the cargo hold floor, Arutha, when your eyes register the flash. Bright purple tendrils of light race from a point into dark right into your shoulder. Pain roars through you. Your nerves feel as though they are on fire. The effect of the spell doesn't end however. You are tethered by crackling purple light to some creature in the dark ahead of you.
You've seen spell casters employ this tactic before.
A few yards before you is the body of the sailor. His lifeless eyes gaze upward, wide open with shock. His attacker got the best of him before he could draw his weapon.
"Down to business then," Jhaval barks. He burps. Loudly. A goblet appears in his hand. Someone handed it to him. A small skinny servant rushes to fill it.
"What business would you care to discuss? We are always open for business!" he says directly to you, Gramdal.
Cath's grin gets ever bigger has he hews down the undead creatures. "Almost done boy!" he calls out as he pivots once again and once again he swings his axe.
"Warrior, Drink the blood of this spellcaster" Arutha grunts out as he struggles forward towards the figure in the darkness ahead sword held in front of him.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
In the flurry of your attacks Adventurers, the last of the undead has fallen. It falls apart like rotten fruit, sinking into itself. The darkness cannot abide the light within you.
Cath Redaxe...
Norvalor...
You may now formally introduce yourselves to each other. You have achieved a milestone and are each awarded 100 XP.
Arutha.... do your eyes deceive you? You see a figure, dark as a moonless night, slender as a grape vine. From its shoulders spills a robe of rippling fabric.
It speaks in a language unfamiliar to you. The vocalizations carry notes of cruelty, intentions of punishment, arrogance, and a deep well of hatred. The sounds it makes seem to emerge from spaces deep within the dark.
Before you, poised for battle, rapier in one hand, the other wreathed in magic, is the menacing presence of a drow.
Moving forward Arutha prepared to enter battle with the dark elf. His eyes narrowing in an attempt to notice any weaknesses in his opponents stance. Moving with all the speed his training could lend him he leaps and attempts to strike the spellcaster with Warrior with a strike as fast as a vipers. Attack: 22 Damage: 9
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
"Thank you for the help with these foul undead. My name is Norvalor i believe we met at the gates. I would like to continue the pleasantries but first i must check on someone. " Norvalor says looking at Cath. He then turns to look for Traever "Traever are you hurt?" Norvalors starts to check the boy for injures. Then looks him in the eye and says "i guess i failed to keep my promise to your mother to get you back home in time, but at least you showed great braver you have potential to be a great figure one day!" Norvalor gives a weary smile.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Warrior is elated beyond sword arcs to enter battle with you, Arutha. Long has it been since has felt a true opponent. Your aim is true.
The strike surprises the dark elf. He was not expecting you to act so quickly and attack him with such accuracy. Evil slits for eyes squint. He will not make that mistake again.
Crackling energy erupts from his fingertips. Long, narrow tendrils shoot from his hand. You count three missiles of magic racing toward you. In such close quarters, you have no hope to avoid the attack—not that you could.
Traever holds no ill will toward you Norvalor. You stood by him. He nods assuredly. "My mother will know the truth. She has a good heart," the boy replies.
Gramdal looks to the fat Dwarf and the other members of this cabal. "Aye, business. The business of why we've all been called here and if it's worth our time! I didn't get dragged down here for story time about an Orc Lord. I'm still waiting to hear if there is an actual point to all this, and when we can be expecting to make some coin."With that, he plants his hands on his sides, one just above his rapier and one above Vapurrr.
"Norvalor! It's good to see you again man! We've been worried over the child. Dread things happen this day. But it's good to be back with you and see the boy safe. Follow me and lets head back to the inn and get the boy back with his mother. She's worried sick!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"That is a very good idea but before we leave would you mind helping everyone find there belongings we were stripped of our gear when we got captured." Narvalor looks around the room as he says this.
"Yes, Jhaval, do enlighten us," the Silver Queen says, following your lead, Gramdal. She too is quite curious as to why the Old Alliance was summoned down here into the Red Cowl. It can't have been for a meeting with some old, hunched orc woman that fat dwarf smuggled into the city? Can it? Be that simple…?
Before the obese leader of the cabal can utter a single word, the orc woman takes a step forward into the center of the crowd.
"My lord needs help," she starts with a phlegmy grunt. "He needs good strong backs to keep the road clear for one night's moon." She coughs.
Vekka turns sharply, concluding her remarks with a curt end. She reaches into the folds of her cloak and pulls out a small leather purse. It falls clinking at her side, drowning out her shuffled steps. "There's more where that came from," she said, her voice trailing, "for anyone who supports the old lord."
Gravva, you hear the Silver Queen purr in your mind, Gramdal. Do you know this orc lord? she asks you telepathically.
The Silver Queen gathers her halfling entourage and heads for the hallway at her back. "I'll be in my quarters should anyone wish to hear my thoughts on the matter."
The assembled leadership of the Old Alliance agrees with the way she handled the opportunity. Within moments the audience chamber empties. The members of the Old Alliance retreat to their respective quarters in this temple-turned-hideout.
dex save 13
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
At close range, Norvalor, you would've had to have filed your Perception roll to miss something important about your undead attacker. In your travels you have heard of the sun-kissed skin tones of the Chultan native. You may even recall some of the hair styles indicative of these jungle travelers. They domesticate giant lizards. They also raise them for sport.
Your axe is making quick work of the undead things around you Cath.
Three down. One more to go.
Your foot hasn't hit the cargo hold floor, Arutha, when your eyes register the flash. Bright purple tendrils of light race from a point into dark right into your shoulder. Pain roars through you. Your nerves feel as though they are on fire. The effect of the spell doesn't end however. You are tethered by crackling purple light to some creature in the dark ahead of you.
You've seen spell casters employ this tactic before.
A few yards before you is the body of the sailor. His lifeless eyes gaze upward, wide open with shock. His attacker got the best of him before he could draw his weapon.
"Down to business then," Jhaval barks. He burps. Loudly. A goblet appears in his hand. Someone handed it to him. A small skinny servant rushes to fill it.
"What business would you care to discuss? We are always open for business!" he says directly to you, Gramdal.
Cath's grin gets ever bigger has he hews down the undead creatures. "Almost done boy!" he calls out as he pivots once again and once again he swings his axe.
Attack: 11 Damage: 9
"Warrior, Drink the blood of this spellcaster" Arutha grunts out as he struggles forward towards the figure in the darkness ahead sword held in front of him.
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Seeing this Norvalor takes a quick metal note about this for later. Seeing his attack have no purchase he then cast eldritch blast at the undead.
21
damg:11
In the flurry of your attacks Adventurers, the last of the undead has fallen. It falls apart like rotten fruit, sinking into itself. The darkness cannot abide the light within you.
Cath Redaxe...
Norvalor...
You may now formally introduce yourselves to each other. You have achieved a milestone and are each awarded 100 XP.
Arutha.... do your eyes deceive you? You see a figure, dark as a moonless night, slender as a grape vine. From its shoulders spills a robe of rippling fabric.
It speaks in a language unfamiliar to you. The vocalizations carry notes of cruelty, intentions of punishment, arrogance, and a deep well of hatred. The sounds it makes seem to emerge from spaces deep within the dark.
Before you, poised for battle, rapier in one hand, the other wreathed in magic, is the menacing presence of a drow.
Moving forward Arutha prepared to enter battle with the dark elf. His eyes narrowing in an attempt to notice any weaknesses in his opponents stance. Moving with all the speed his training could lend him he leaps and attempts to strike the spellcaster with Warrior with a strike as fast as a vipers. Attack: 22 Damage: 9
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
"Thank you for the help with these foul undead. My name is Norvalor i believe we met at the gates. I would like to continue the pleasantries but first i must check on someone. " Norvalor says looking at Cath. He then turns to look for Traever "Traever are you hurt?" Norvalors starts to check the boy for injures. Then looks him in the eye and says "i guess i failed to keep my promise to your mother to get you back home in time, but at least you showed great braver you have potential to be a great figure one day!" Norvalor gives a weary smile.
Warrior is elated beyond sword arcs to enter battle with you, Arutha. Long has it been since has felt a true opponent. Your aim is true.
The strike surprises the dark elf. He was not expecting you to act so quickly and attack him with such accuracy. Evil slits for eyes squint. He will not make that mistake again.
Crackling energy erupts from his fingertips. Long, narrow tendrils shoot from his hand. You count three missiles of magic racing toward you. In such close quarters, you have no hope to avoid the attack—not that you could.
Damage: 13
Traever holds no ill will toward you Norvalor. You stood by him. He nods assuredly. "My mother will know the truth. She has a good heart," the boy replies.
Gramdal looks to the fat Dwarf and the other members of this cabal. "Aye, business. The business of why we've all been called here and if it's worth our time! I didn't get dragged down here for story time about an Orc Lord. I'm still waiting to hear if there is an actual point to all this, and when we can be expecting to make some coin." With that, he plants his hands on his sides, one just above his rapier and one above Vapurrr.
"Norvalor! It's good to see you again man! We've been worried over the child. Dread things happen this day. But it's good to be back with you and see the boy safe. Follow me and lets head back to the inn and get the boy back with his mother. She's worried sick!"
"That is a very good idea but before we leave would you mind helping everyone find there belongings we were stripped of our gear when we got captured." Narvalor looks around the room as he says this.
Perception: 22
"Yes, Jhaval, do enlighten us," the Silver Queen says, following your lead, Gramdal. She too is quite curious as to why the Old Alliance was summoned down here into the Red Cowl. It can't have been for a meeting with some old, hunched orc woman that fat dwarf smuggled into the city? Can it? Be that simple…?
Before the obese leader of the cabal can utter a single word, the orc woman takes a step forward into the center of the crowd.
"My lord needs help," she starts with a phlegmy grunt. "He needs good strong backs to keep the road clear for one night's moon." She coughs.
Vekka turns sharply, concluding her remarks with a curt end. She reaches into the folds of her cloak and pulls out a small leather purse. It falls clinking at her side, drowning out her shuffled steps. "There's more where that came from," she said, her voice trailing, "for anyone who supports the old lord."
Gravva, you hear the Silver Queen purr in your mind, Gramdal. Do you know this orc lord? she asks you telepathically.
The Silver Queen gathers her halfling entourage and heads for the hallway at her back. "I'll be in my quarters should anyone wish to hear my thoughts on the matter."
The assembled leadership of the Old Alliance agrees with the way she handled the opportunity. Within moments the audience chamber empties. The members of the Old Alliance retreat to their respective quarters in this temple-turned-hideout.
What say you, Gramdal?
Your belongings are not stored here, Norvalor. They are kept elsewhere in the dungeon.