Silv'ar, You sit straddling the dead grimlock, your hands still on the hilts of your small blades, embedded into the grey matter of this pale grey creature, now with warm, black tar rolling down the sides of its head and mixing with the mud. Your dwarven companion ran past you switching her weapons as she went, and for the first time, you are close enough to see the cannibalized leftovers of some medium-sized humanoid that three humanoid creatures had been engaged with. You would have to look closer to tell much from the mangled sinew, muscle, and bone.
[Also, if at any point the graphic descriptions are bit much, anyone, please let me know. It is one of those things I have more of a natural filter against for better or worse.]
The halfling can move up to 25 ft normally, and still perform an action. This would put you just in front of the dwarf, and about 5-10 feet behind the evil creature, and you would be in throwing distance of your daggers for sure.
If you take the dash action in addition to your normal movement you could move a total of 50 feet, getting out ahead of the creature, but you would lose your ability to attack as an action. However, this is something to look forward to when you get to Rogue lvl 2 because you could then dash as a bonus action.
Also, meanwhile in a tavern in the lower merchant levels of the Writ Spires...
[from Wraven & Ayra]
Ayra looks around for the man she is supposed to meet.
He grimaces and nods. “F***ing raven.” He pushes his empty glass towards you and waits. She nods to the barkeep and it is refilled. It is going to be one of those interviews. He nearly cuddles up to the glass for warmth or something and this time you wait. He begins finally.
“We live terrible, shitty pointless lives and then we die.”
She sets her quill down and sighs heavily. More angst. “How… poetic.”
“If we’re lucky,” he finishes the drink and nods for another.
The quill rises again. “Go on.”
“My husband, Edgar and I would do odd jobs. Reclaim lost goods. Salvage items. We made shit really, I read tarot occasionally but Edgar kept a roof over the three of us.” You make a question mark and begin to ask about “husband” but the man doesn’t really stop and doesn’t seem interested in clarifying. You notice a little bit of what might be blackish smoke coming from his fingers and sleeves as he remembers.
Edgar had a line on 500 gold, heard it from Nigel. Get some stupid book from a crypt on the rocky island out in the bay. The one nobody goes to? I asked him. He waved me off. He kissed me and our daughter Lenore and he was off. He didn’t return that evening or the next. On the third day I told Lenore I was going after him. She wanted to come to, always trying to prove she was ready but I told her No. Stay here, in case he comes back while I'm out.
I find a boat and gather my gear and make my way across the bay to the towering and jagged island that everyone pretends to ignore. It is dark by the time I get there. I find the crypt and search. It’s quiet in the tomb. I’m quiet. I’m prepared. It turns out there was a book. Hidden. When I touched it the howling screams began. These creatures were everywhere, except they weren’t creatures they were decayed and wounded people. I saw Nigel shambling toward me. Fast. I saw my dear Edgar. Pain in his eyes. I screamed and ran. I burst through the crypt gate and ran straight into Lenore. ‘Run’ I screamed. I grabbed her hand and we tore through the woods and brush. Whatever was following us was fast. We charged across a fallen log over a ravine. We slipped going across. I seemingly had plenty of time to notice everything around me. Edgar at the edge of the ravine. Dead but not. Lenore and I in the air. Even a raven that was going to watch me fall. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew. I looked into its eyes for a long time and I knew. ‘Anything,’ I said. ‘Save my baby.’
I was pulled out of my body. I was floating next to the Queen. I knew who she was. We were watching two bodies falling from a log. Frozen in time they were. Well no, somehow I knew that they still falling, just so slowly that they might never reach the bottom. ‘No, not like this!’ but something in me acquiesced.
The Raven Queen flung her arm to the side and I was thrown across worlds and planes. My spirit was hurtling toward a tree. A raven was patiently pecking at a rope tied to a thick branch. A man was swinging from the rope, its noose around his neck. I found myself hanging from a tree unable to breath and then I felt myself crashing into the ground and that damned raven watching me. Always watching.
Ayra set the quill down, her hand shaking slightly. She realized there’s not anything to say to this man. She pushes some gold his way. He ignores the gold and the elf. He drinks. She packs her things and makes her way out into street. A raven is perched on a nearby post. Waiting.
[It looks like you add the +5 to your d20 attack rolls for each weapon, since you are dual-wielding. However, your damage should be 1d4+3 and then 1d4 with no modifier. So I will take it as 4+3 and 4=11 damage total. Either way...]
Within seconds of each other, the two half-pint members of the party take off after the last creature of the Underdark to have surfaced, a flying ax striking true just before to daggers sink deeply into the creatures pale grey skin. He stumbles forward from the three wounds, barely aware of the outcropping of rocks coming up to greet him as he falls into them, another loud crack coming as his shoulder rams hard into a large piece of granite before the creatures comes to a rest at the grouping of stones the cleric had noticed earlier.
With that, we are currently out of initiative. Anyone can act or speak.
[also, I have to apologize, in the initial description way back on page 1, I had said the "dwarven cleric was acting as rearguard" and that was wrong, sorry for any confusion Mobya and Alesandair. I think it all got squared away, but I am just realizing my fail.]
Taking a knee while pulling his arrows from the two headed beast "I told you Lil, our lives won't end here today we have a much bigger destiny. I heard you mention ale? Once we're done with our duty we should make our way to a tavern for celebration."
After making sure all of the grimlocks are deceased and the rest of the party is out of harm, Alesandair will investigate the body[ies] that the grimlocks and dog were gnawing on. Investigation= 7 in order to see if they had anything important on them, or if they were important, themselves.
Then, making eye contact with Silv'ar as he finishes his last word Alesandair smirks and says, "Well fought comrades[with a slight Russian accent], we definitely faired better than this poor soul," glancing down at the mangled body
Alesandair, with your 7, your initial look turned to revulsion and gagging as you take in the carnage of torn flesh, bite marks, and ligaments. You have to step away for a moment. To collect yourself before you find anything particularly meaningful.