Recognizing the undead’s intention to charge Dusty, Isoldus twisted around and sliced across the creature’s exposed back.
Longsword Attack: 17 Damage: 7. Another flash of radiant energy bursts from Isoldus’s blade, searing the creature in light somehow blackened despite consisting clearly of holy energy. First-level Divine Smite - 12 Radiant damage, plus 8 if the creature is Undead.
"AAAAGHH SHIT!" All practiced poise and smugnesss fades from Dusty's face as he is overcome with pain and desperation, His eyes dart across the room from one person to the next in the dim torch light and they finally rest on Winchester, "you've got guns! shoot it in the head! just don't bloody miss and kill me instead!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As Dorian passes by him, Hugeo makes a swift motion to stab his back. However, that's probably not enough. He chases after Dorian, attempting another stab, this time with more ease to get at his vital pointa since the man is focused on Dusty. Then, he jumps away before Dorian can get a chance to retalliate.
(Holy Hells, I'm beginning to reconsider the lack of gods in the Waste, because something is clearly blessing your rolls.)
The creature wraps his claws around Dusty's throat, baring his teeth, and he seems about to lunge when he appears to hesitate. For a moment, it seems to Dusty as if he has recovered a semblance of humanity, and has decided to spare him, rather than sink his teeth into his throat. Then he smells the smoke emanating from the baseball-sized skull blown in the thing's skull, and feels the boneless weight of Dorian pressing into his body as he can no longer support himself, due to being a lifeless corpse.
Combat is over! Donald is probably sad!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Turning on a side in place Dusty lets the body slide off of him with a dense deep thud on the ground, He straightens and then prestidigitates clean his oversized suit before clearing his throat "ahem.. well. sound off who is hurt I suppose.." his voice wobbles at first before resuming it's smug confidence at the shake of a head, as if literally shaking off fear he straightens up and then begins to relax.
Noting the vampire's demise, Isoldus calmly lowered his blade. He raised a scaled brow at Dusty's outbursts, arms neatly folded. "Bards. Always the first to scream. Never the first in danger."
Isoldus approached the undead being's corpse, uttered a prayer, and with a quick swipe, decapitated the corpse. Few creatures - even the unholy - could survive without their head, and Isoldus looked forward to the opportunity of permanently ridding the sands of this pest. As always, Isoldus cleaned his blade with a wipe of a rag. Presence alone won battles before blades were drawn; a spotless appearance doubly so.
"The news will be broken to the father. His son is no more. If he shows reason, business and worship should return as normal - the graves will be dug and our client's father buried. If not? He will be executed for negligence and reckless endangerment of citizens." With the declaration complete, Isoldus confidently turned and ascended from the basement.
"the scream was hardly unnecessary!" Dusty indignantly bites back, as he lifts the torch up toward his now crimson collar he presses his other hand to the wounds to stop the bleeding. "What now?, the old man will be woken in a moment and we'll have to deal with that... I'm not sure if I should deal with this" Dusty mutters the last part worriedly gesturing to his neck again, this time pointedly making eye contact with Cormac.
After noticing the Bard wasn't exaggerating his claims of grievous wounds, Isoldus stepped forwards and pressed a powerful, clawed hand to Dusty's neck. A radiant flash of hollow white energy erupted from the dragonborn's fingertips, causing the wounds to instantly close. "The problem has been dealt with."
Isoldus swiveled around and kneeled before the unconscious priest, gripping the man firmly on the shoulder and shaking twice to return the man to consciousness. Isoldus stared the man directly in the eyes, gaze steely and tone measured. "While your son has been slain months ago, his remnants no longer move. You have chained yourself to your past. Priest, I offer you the chance to rid yourself of due punishment - forgive yourself, admit your wrongs, aid us with our reason for visiting, and return the splendor this church once had. Return to good conscience and you will avoid the price you must pay for your crimes against the citizens of the sands," Isoldus quietly snarled. He must start somewhere - while his future domain certainly needed a church, he had no need for a defunct one.
(Lay on Hands for however much Dusty is injured, up to 15 points of damage.)
"Don't be lookin at me about that. I don't think he was powerful enough to be turnin ya into anything. Now let's take em upstairs so his da can say his goodbyes." Cormac says as he puts his rifle on his back, whistling for his metal hound to return to his side.
Looking relieved at both the 9 points of healing and Cormac's words, Dusty follows the party up the stairs, through the trapdoor and into the main room with the priest, Marcus, and Irene, he watches wordlessly as Isoldus rouses the old man.
Winchester, with no regard or feel for the situation whatsoever, is currently busy with his action of first priority, reloading his revolver. A metallic clatter fills the air while Isoldus tries waking up the priest and addresses him, causes by the empty bullet shells Winchester simply lets drop on the floor of the church. After reloading the four, now empty slots of the chamber, Winchester readjusts it, spins it, grins happily, then spins the revolver around once, before holstering it. A satisfied expression still on his face, he walks into the main room with everyone else to see what is happening, oblivious to any annoyed looks anyone might be giving him. Feeling in the mood after a finished shoot-out, he begins to whistle a little chanty, his hands dangling from the chest pockets of his leather coat.
Hugeo slides the dagger back to where it came out of, the sounds of metal scraping against metal filling the room for a brief moment. It fits so perfectly it's almost immediately hard to spot. "I'd rather we don't kill the priest until after he buries the father, at least. Otherwise, we'll be stuck with a corpse and nobody to bury it, and I don't think the two liked my idea of throwing him down to the sands."
Donald wakes slowly, but when he hears of the vampire's destruction he instantly snaps awake, bursting into tears. When his sobbing subsides, his face is blank, impassive. He looks Isoldus straight, his reddened eyes meeting the dragonborn's slit-pupiled ones.
"You have killed my son. I won't do anything for you. Go to Caiman instead, there is a church there as well. You may find shelter for the girl there as well."
The old priest leans forward, haunted expression filling Isoldus' view.
"She is no Kirk, though she thinks she is. Keep her safe. She is important."
With that, the priest collapses once more and is mute, staring aimlessly at the altar he prayed at before you entered.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
After a moment of silence Dusty blurts out an exasperated cry, "WHAT THE HELL IS A KIRK?" before simply walking out of the church feeling like this has wasted his time.
Isoldus expressionlessly pondered the priest's words, staring into Donald's eyes without a hint of expression. "You are mistaken, Donald - your son was killed months ago. We have given him the closure you could not." Bothering not to grant the defunct priest any more of his time, the dragonborn stood, rolled his armor-clad shoulders once, and turned to the remaining members of the party, scaled tail methodically lashing against the floor. "Find a shovel," he rumbled towards Kronk. Idiots had their use in brute muscle. "You and I will dig the grave ourselves. As a Paladin of the people, I am capable of sanctifying graves myself. The rest of you should make yourselves useful. Keep an eye on our employers." Not one for complaints, Isoldus scoured the burial grounds for a shovel or two and promptly went to work clearing an appropriate gravesite - ensuring the party and their employers never ventured far.
Digging in the sand was difficult and ungraceful work for someone of Isoldus's status, but Isoldus had come to realize accepting - and completing = his fair amount of work instilled an amount of respect necessary to effectively command subjects.
(There is no sand fit for digging graves in the Waste. The only way that bodies are typically laid to rest without simply being tossed into the Sands to be devoured by Waste creatures, or sent swirling down wyrmholes, the magical whirlpools of sound found scattered throughout the Waste (which have very concerningly been growing as of late) is by laying them in an undercroft like that of this church, with spells cast on their bodies to prevent them from decaying. Gentle repose, to be exact.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Additionally: I understand that I've only given you a relatively brief summary of what the Waste essentially is, if you have any questions at all about the setting, please ask them. The setting's constantly evolving and has a whole lot of things that I haven't expressly stated, so please feel free to ask me.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
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Recognizing the undead’s intention to charge Dusty, Isoldus twisted around and sliced across the creature’s exposed back.
Longsword Attack: 17 Damage: 7.
Another flash of radiant energy bursts from Isoldus’s blade, searing the creature in light somehow blackened despite consisting clearly of holy energy. First-level Divine Smite - 12 Radiant damage, plus 8 if the creature is Undead.
"AAAAGHH SHIT!" All practiced poise and smugnesss fades from Dusty's face as he is overcome with pain and desperation, His eyes dart across the room from one person to the next in the dim torch light and they finally rest on Winchester, "you've got guns! shoot it in the head! just don't bloody miss and kill me instead!"
Bonus; Bardic Inspiration for Winchester.
Action; Grapple break attempt with acrobatics; 11
Winchester just snorts and levels his revolver at the creature, holding the gun awkwardly motionless as if he is actually trying to aim this time.
Action: Attack: 27 - Dmg: 14
Extra dmg if duelist applies: 2
Bonus action: expending one risk die to provide covering fire for Dusty - if Winchester hits, Dorian has to subtract 7 from his next attack roll.
Edit: sweet, thats another 13 dmg then! (i'll boldly assume the duelist damage is doubled for a crit as well)
As the creature moves past Kronk he swings his iron bar with a scream of joy.
Att. 23
Dmg. 13
As the thing latches onto Dusty, Kronk will punch his iron bar into it like it was a spear.
»Deader things be staying dead, » he snarled.
Att. 26
Dmg. 13
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
If the Dmg on the critical isn’t applied automatically then . . .
8 more to the foul creature.
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
As Dorian passes by him, Hugeo makes a swift motion to stab his back. However, that's probably not enough. He chases after Dorian, attempting another stab, this time with more ease to get at his vital pointa since the man is focused on Dusty. Then, he jumps away before Dorian can get a chance to retalliate.
Varielky
(Holy Hells, I'm beginning to reconsider the lack of gods in the Waste, because something is clearly blessing your rolls.)
The creature wraps his claws around Dusty's throat, baring his teeth, and he seems about to lunge when he appears to hesitate. For a moment, it seems to Dusty as if he has recovered a semblance of humanity, and has decided to spare him, rather than sink his teeth into his throat. Then he smells the smoke emanating from the baseball-sized skull blown in the thing's skull, and feels the boneless weight of Dorian pressing into his body as he can no longer support himself, due to being a lifeless corpse.
Combat is over! Donald is probably sad!
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Turning on a side in place Dusty lets the body slide off of him with a dense deep thud on the ground, He straightens and then prestidigitates clean his oversized suit before clearing his throat "ahem.. well. sound off who is hurt I suppose.." his voice wobbles at first before resuming it's smug confidence at the shake of a head, as if literally shaking off fear he straightens up and then begins to relax.
Noting the vampire's demise, Isoldus calmly lowered his blade. He raised a scaled brow at Dusty's outbursts, arms neatly folded. "Bards. Always the first to scream. Never the first in danger."
Isoldus approached the undead being's corpse, uttered a prayer, and with a quick swipe, decapitated the corpse. Few creatures - even the unholy - could survive without their head, and Isoldus looked forward to the opportunity of permanently ridding the sands of this pest. As always, Isoldus cleaned his blade with a wipe of a rag. Presence alone won battles before blades were drawn; a spotless appearance doubly so.
"The news will be broken to the father. His son is no more. If he shows reason, business and worship should return as normal - the graves will be dug and our client's father buried. If not? He will be executed for negligence and reckless endangerment of citizens." With the declaration complete, Isoldus confidently turned and ascended from the basement.
"the scream was hardly unnecessary!" Dusty indignantly bites back, as he lifts the torch up toward his now crimson collar he presses his other hand to the wounds to stop the bleeding. "What now?, the old man will be woken in a moment and we'll have to deal with that... I'm not sure if I should deal with this" Dusty mutters the last part worriedly gesturing to his neck again, this time pointedly making eye contact with Cormac.
After noticing the Bard wasn't exaggerating his claims of grievous wounds, Isoldus stepped forwards and pressed a powerful, clawed hand to Dusty's neck. A radiant flash of hollow white energy erupted from the dragonborn's fingertips, causing the wounds to instantly close. "The problem has been dealt with."
Isoldus swiveled around and kneeled before the unconscious priest, gripping the man firmly on the shoulder and shaking twice to return the man to consciousness. Isoldus stared the man directly in the eyes, gaze steely and tone measured. "While your son has been slain months ago, his remnants no longer move. You have chained yourself to your past. Priest, I offer you the chance to rid yourself of due punishment - forgive yourself, admit your wrongs, aid us with our reason for visiting, and return the splendor this church once had. Return to good conscience and you will avoid the price you must pay for your crimes against the citizens of the sands," Isoldus quietly snarled. He must start somewhere - while his future domain certainly needed a church, he had no need for a defunct one.
(Lay on Hands for however much Dusty is injured, up to 15 points of damage.)
"Don't be lookin at me about that. I don't think he was powerful enough to be turnin ya into anything. Now let's take em upstairs so his da can say his goodbyes." Cormac says as he puts his rifle on his back, whistling for his metal hound to return to his side.
Looking relieved at both the 9 points of healing and Cormac's words, Dusty follows the party up the stairs, through the trapdoor and into the main room with the priest, Marcus, and Irene, he watches wordlessly as Isoldus rouses the old man.
Winchester, with no regard or feel for the situation whatsoever, is currently busy with his action of first priority, reloading his revolver. A metallic clatter fills the air while Isoldus tries waking up the priest and addresses him, causes by the empty bullet shells Winchester simply lets drop on the floor of the church. After reloading the four, now empty slots of the chamber, Winchester readjusts it, spins it, grins happily, then spins the revolver around once, before holstering it. A satisfied expression still on his face, he walks into the main room with everyone else to see what is happening, oblivious to any annoyed looks anyone might be giving him. Feeling in the mood after a finished shoot-out, he begins to whistle a little chanty, his hands dangling from the chest pockets of his leather coat.
Hugeo slides the dagger back to where it came out of, the sounds of metal scraping against metal filling the room for a brief moment. It fits so perfectly it's almost immediately hard to spot. "I'd rather we don't kill the priest until after he buries the father, at least. Otherwise, we'll be stuck with a corpse and nobody to bury it, and I don't think the two liked my idea of throwing him down to the sands."
Varielky
Donald wakes slowly, but when he hears of the vampire's destruction he instantly snaps awake, bursting into tears. When his sobbing subsides, his face is blank, impassive. He looks Isoldus straight, his reddened eyes meeting the dragonborn's slit-pupiled ones.
"You have killed my son. I won't do anything for you. Go to Caiman instead, there is a church there as well. You may find shelter for the girl there as well."
The old priest leans forward, haunted expression filling Isoldus' view.
"She is no Kirk, though she thinks she is. Keep her safe. She is important."
With that, the priest collapses once more and is mute, staring aimlessly at the altar he prayed at before you entered.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
After a moment of silence Dusty blurts out an exasperated cry, "WHAT THE HELL IS A KIRK?" before simply walking out of the church feeling like this has wasted his time.
Isoldus expressionlessly pondered the priest's words, staring into Donald's eyes without a hint of expression. "You are mistaken, Donald - your son was killed months ago. We have given him the closure you could not." Bothering not to grant the defunct priest any more of his time, the dragonborn stood, rolled his armor-clad shoulders once, and turned to the remaining members of the party, scaled tail methodically lashing against the floor. "Find a shovel," he rumbled towards Kronk. Idiots had their use in brute muscle. "You and I will dig the grave ourselves. As a Paladin of the people, I am capable of sanctifying graves myself. The rest of you should make yourselves useful. Keep an eye on our employers." Not one for complaints, Isoldus scoured the burial grounds for a shovel or two and promptly went to work clearing an appropriate gravesite - ensuring the party and their employers never ventured far.
Digging in the sand was difficult and ungraceful work for someone of Isoldus's status, but Isoldus had come to realize accepting - and completing = his fair amount of work instilled an amount of respect necessary to effectively command subjects.
(There is no sand fit for digging graves in the Waste. The only way that bodies are typically laid to rest without simply being tossed into the Sands to be devoured by Waste creatures, or sent swirling down wyrmholes, the magical whirlpools of sound found scattered throughout the Waste (which have very concerningly been growing as of late) is by laying them in an undercroft like that of this church, with spells cast on their bodies to prevent them from decaying. Gentle repose, to be exact.)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Additionally: I understand that I've only given you a relatively brief summary of what the Waste essentially is, if you have any questions at all about the setting, please ask them. The setting's constantly evolving and has a whole lot of things that I haven't expressly stated, so please feel free to ask me.)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."