Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid,Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions! I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
Darastrag hisses, and the frill on his head turns a muted grey-green as he looks for an escape. "This creature is beyond us! N'ruel, help Aerin!" He Dashes forward to grab Tovar...
(OOC: if he has more than 14 HP, Darastrag goes after someone else that needs help getting out of the room)
...and drags him towards the nearest exit.
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Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid,Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions! I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Int save: 19
d100: 61
d10:4
ooc: regardless of the result of the psychic damage, it is enough to reduce Tovar to 0 hp.
As the enormous stone fist descends upon Tovar's unarmored head, the contact of the blow rings throughout the room with an audible crack, not unlike a sound you would expect to hear in a furiously busy quarry. Despite the tremendous blow, Tovar remains standing, his eyes dazed, feet splayed and his frame slightly staggered, only to suddenly cry out in surprise and pain as all feel the effects of the monster's terrifying gaze. Tovar stands for a moment, tottering like a drunkard, before ponderously sagging backwards to the ground. His fall echoes the heavy footsteps of the creature now towering above him.
With Tovar down and being pulled out of the room by Darastrag, a sense of grave danger about this new foe comes over the monk. N'ruel rushes over the Aerin and drags (fireman carry if needed) attempts to drag the warlock out of the room. Though it appears shes is catatonic, he still offers a few words to try to motivate her, "Come, Aerin! We cannot stay here!"
OOC: Using action to dash, if allowed. Let me know if I need any sort of check here.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The party flees away from the approaching living statue after it smashes Tovar into the ground, the impact sending fissures creeping along the stone like tiny bolts of lightning. N'Ruel grabs the comatose warlock, carrying her away to the allure of safety. Darastrag drags the crumpled heap of the fighter, his life force leaving a crimson smear in his wake.
With a chiseled expressionless face the stone figure hefts up another clenched fist and brings it crashing down towards the ranger as he risks his life to save another.
"KEE-RRACK!" the stone fist collides with the head of the lizardman, and he slumps to the floor alongside his burden.
Death Save: 19
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Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid,Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions! I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
A ragged breath emits from Tovar's cracked and bleeding face. He mumbles through his broken lips, a feral growl as he strains to hold onto his dwindling life. Slumped on the floor next to the crumpled heap of the lizardman, he chokes out a cough.
"Grab who you can and drag them out," Esvele shouts, fear evident in her voice, "I'll try and provide some cover."
Esvele raises her shield... From a point just above the stone warriors head a fog cloud begins to grow out up to twenty feet in each direction (spherical).
If anyone is within reach of Esvele without needing her to move, she'll grab that person and start dragging she or he out of the room - otherwise, she stays where she is.
Esvele, fear plain on her face, dashes back out the door they came and continues retracing the path they came in but heading out.
Things keep going from bad to worse, and the monk begins to show signs of panic - eyes wide in alert and a cold sweat has broken out on his brow. N'ruel deposit Aerin back on the ground next to the fleeing Esvele (to his left on the map). "Please, Aerin, you need to get moving!" He turns to grab the lizardman at his feet and moving as fast as he can, he makes for the door.
(Unless I'm mistaken, I should be able to get out of the room even at half movement with the gecko.)
Tovar lies face down in a slowly expanding pool of wet crimson, an enormous cut on his head covering his face and upper body. Softly, his last breath leaves his cooling body on the stone floor, his corpse resting beneath the feet of the enormous stone creature. Tovar has fallen.
The construct, blood splattered over it's stone torso, grabs the leg of the fallen fighter and drags the lifeless corpse of the person once known as Tovar Shanka back into the shadowed darkness of the chamber...
Spoiler from the afterlife...
Tovar's eyes flutter open, the comforting warmth of the hearth caressing his face. His heart is pounding in his chest, his body slick with cold perspiration. He's just awoken from a terrible dream, no a nightmare, where he had been pummeled to death in some long forgotten temple by a stone construct. His grey eyes glance around taking in his surroundings before realizing he is laying in his own bed in his room from when he was but a boy. The stags head mounted above the fireplace, his first kill from his many hunting trips with his father. A well worn wooden dragon figurine, bought as a gift by his mother from a travelling merchant at the winter solstice festival. Voices can be heard echoing through the halls outside his door. He gets up, following the sounds of merriment to the great hall of the manor house, on the snowy island of Hyraeth.
A great feast is being held with every member of House Shanka in attendance, both past and present. Long dead relatives mingle with the living drinking wine and gorging themselves on the bounty before them. Tovar's father sits at the head of the table, raising his tankard in honor of his son as he enters. An unexplainable feeling of happiness wells up inside of Tovar being of the presence of that which he revered most, family.
The euphoria doesn't last for long as a cold icy gust of windy blows through the hall, extinguishing the fires in the hearths and the flames of the many candles. The ancestors of House Shanka begin to convulse wildly, their necks twisting back at an unnatural angle. Their eyes rolls back into their heads revealing the whites beneath as their flesh turns gray and sloughs off of their bones, plopping to the floor. Their mouths gap open into agonizing screams of horror as their bones turn to dust and blow away. At the end of the table where the last traces of his father swirl away a great lidless eye looms forth out of the shadows, boring a hole into Tovar's mind. He never sees the snake like tendrils that ensnare him as all goes black, the conciseness once known as Tovar Shanka is devoured...
N'rule deposits the lizardman just outside the door and turns to grab Aerin, who remains frozen a step inside the room. "Damnit..... I'm sorry, Tovar," the monk curses as he sees the lifeless body of their companion is drug into the shadows. "Aaagghh!" he shouts in frustration, then grabs the warlock and pulls her out of the room.
N'Ruel waits, listening for the impending thunderous footsteps of the stone construct. What feels like an eternity passes, only deafening silence pours out of the chamber where the specter of death has just visited.
You are now out of initiative and may act freely. The construct does not seem to be pursuing the party into the remnants of the tower.
The monk breathes a sigh of relief as it appears the construct is not following them out, but only relaxes for a moment noticing that Darastrag is stuff suffering from his wounds. He
Medicine: 10
(If that fails, he takes his healing potion out and pours it down the lizard's throat.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Esvele continues dashing for another forty or so seconds, weaving her way out the way they came before slowing to a jog and then finally stopping. She looks around, confused, as if a veil of fog had been lifted from around her.
Adrenaline still pumping, Esvele makes her way back, albeit carefully, whispering to herself, "I hope they are still alive - what came over me?"
As she makes her way back to where the others hopefully remain, she notices her the wounds throughout her body and casts cure wounds on herself.
// Healing 9 hit points, adding to the ONE hp she had left. //
N'ruel stays kneeling down at the side of Darastrag as Esvele returns, hoping for the healing potion to take affect. He looks up at the cleric and shakes his head. "Tovar did not make it."
Consciousness returns from a sea of oblivion. Aerin winces and takes stock of herself. Her two companions are clustered about her and Darastrag who seems to be unconscious. Tovar seems conspicuously absent and her heart plunges. She can't remember anything past that- that wave of something horrible beyond comprehension. Dreading what news she might hear, she sits up just in time to hear N'ruel tell Esvele that their large and jolly companion didn't make it.
She'd always known ruins and exploring them were dangers but her family had kept her away until they were swept clear. This was different. It wasn't just a story told to warn children. Aerin shuddered remembering that one-eyed thing. How foolish and brash she'd been thinking rats were the worst of what they'd find. Now Torvar had paid the price. Feeling sick at heart, she wonders just how far out of her depths she is.
"Tovar fell? I don't remember anything past that... thing emerging."
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Gwaihir screeches in pain as he disappears in a puff of blue-green smoke!
// 1/2 damage would have yielded the same result for Gwaihir. //
Esvele screams in fury as Gwaihir disappears, but grimaces in pain of her own as she faces the stone cyclops....
// INT Check(?) 1 //
... and she staggers as she yells is agony.
// d100 37 d10 1 //
Esvele's face contorts into one of fear.
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
The noise reverberates in her mind wiping away concern for anything but the agony. Aerin is rendered senseless to the world around her...
INT Save: 19
Just in case:
d100: 53
d10: 8
Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid, Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck
Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions!
I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
Darastrag hisses, and the frill on his head turns a muted grey-green as he looks for an escape. "This creature is beyond us! N'ruel, help Aerin!" He Dashes forward to grab Tovar...
(OOC: if he has more than 14 HP, Darastrag goes after someone else that needs help getting out of the room)
...and drags him towards the nearest exit.
Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid, Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck
Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions!
I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
Int save: 19
d100: 61
d10:4
ooc: regardless of the result of the psychic damage, it is enough to reduce Tovar to 0 hp.
As the enormous stone fist descends upon Tovar's unarmored head, the contact of the blow rings throughout the room with an audible crack, not unlike a sound you would expect to hear in a furiously busy quarry. Despite the tremendous blow, Tovar remains standing, his eyes dazed, feet splayed and his frame slightly staggered, only to suddenly cry out in surprise and pain as all feel the effects of the monster's terrifying gaze. Tovar stands for a moment, tottering like a drunkard, before ponderously sagging backwards to the ground. His fall echoes the heavy footsteps of the creature now towering above him.
The horror of it is unending and Aerin remains locked within her own mind.
With Tovar down and being pulled out of the room by Darastrag, a sense of grave danger about this new foe comes over the monk. N'ruel rushes over the Aerin and drags (fireman carry if needed) attempts to drag the warlock out of the room. Though it appears shes is catatonic, he still offers a few words to try to motivate her, "Come, Aerin! We cannot stay here!"
OOC: Using action to dash, if allowed. Let me know if I need any sort of check here.
The party flees away from the approaching living statue after it smashes Tovar into the ground, the impact sending fissures creeping along the stone like tiny bolts of lightning. N'Ruel grabs the comatose warlock, carrying her away to the allure of safety. Darastrag drags the crumpled heap of the fighter, his life force leaving a crimson smear in his wake.
With a chiseled expressionless face the stone figure hefts up another clenched fist and brings it crashing down towards the ranger as he risks his life to save another.
Attack on Darastrag: Attack: 21 Damage: 6
SG HP: 70
"KEE-RRACK!" the stone fist collides with the head of the lizardman, and he slumps to the floor alongside his burden.
Death Save: 19
Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid, Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck
Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions!
I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
A ragged breath emits from Tovar's cracked and bleeding face. He mumbles through his broken lips, a feral growl as he strains to hold onto his dwindling life. Slumped on the floor next to the crumpled heap of the lizardman, he chokes out a cough.
Death save: 13
"Grab who you can and drag them out," Esvele shouts, fear evident in her voice, "I'll try and provide some cover."Esvele raises her shield... From a point just above the stone warriors head a fog cloud begins to grow out up to twenty feet in each direction (spherical).If anyone is within reach of Esvele without needing her to move, she'll grab that person and start dragging she or he out of the room - otherwise, she stays where she is.Esvele, fear plain on her face, dashes back out the door they came and continues retracing the path they came in but heading out.
// Full movement is sixty feet. //
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
Things keep going from bad to worse, and the monk begins to show signs of panic - eyes wide in alert and a cold sweat has broken out on his brow. N'ruel deposit Aerin back on the ground next to the fleeing Esvele (to his left on the map). "Please, Aerin, you need to get moving!" He turns to grab the lizardman at his feet and moving as fast as he can, he makes for the door.
(Unless I'm mistaken, I should be able to get out of the room even at half movement with the gecko.)
Tovar lies face down in a slowly expanding pool of wet crimson, an enormous cut on his head covering his face and upper body. Softly, his last breath leaves his cooling body on the stone floor, his corpse resting beneath the feet of the enormous stone creature. Tovar has fallen.
The construct, blood splattered over it's stone torso, grabs the leg of the fallen fighter and drags the lifeless corpse of the person once known as Tovar Shanka back into the shadowed darkness of the chamber...
Spoiler from the afterlife...
Tovar's eyes flutter open, the comforting warmth of the hearth caressing his face. His heart is pounding in his chest, his body slick with cold perspiration. He's just awoken from a terrible dream, no a nightmare, where he had been pummeled to death in some long forgotten temple by a stone construct. His grey eyes glance around taking in his surroundings before realizing he is laying in his own bed in his room from when he was but a boy. The stags head mounted above the fireplace, his first kill from his many hunting trips with his father. A well worn wooden dragon figurine, bought as a gift by his mother from a travelling merchant at the winter solstice festival. Voices can be heard echoing through the halls outside his door. He gets up, following the sounds of merriment to the great hall of the manor house, on the snowy island of Hyraeth.
A great feast is being held with every member of House Shanka in attendance, both past and present. Long dead relatives mingle with the living drinking wine and gorging themselves on the bounty before them. Tovar's father sits at the head of the table, raising his tankard in honor of his son as he enters. An unexplainable feeling of happiness wells up inside of Tovar being of the presence of that which he revered most, family.
The euphoria doesn't last for long as a cold icy gust of windy blows through the hall, extinguishing the fires in the hearths and the flames of the many candles. The ancestors of House Shanka begin to convulse wildly, their necks twisting back at an unnatural angle. Their eyes rolls back into their heads revealing the whites beneath as their flesh turns gray and sloughs off of their bones, plopping to the floor. Their mouths gap open into agonizing screams of horror as their bones turn to dust and blow away. At the end of the table where the last traces of his father swirl away a great lidless eye looms forth out of the shadows, boring a hole into Tovar's mind. He never sees the snake like tendrils that ensnare him as all goes black, the conciseness once known as Tovar Shanka is devoured...
N'rule deposits the lizardman just outside the door and turns to grab Aerin, who remains frozen a step inside the room. "Damnit..... I'm sorry, Tovar," the monk curses as he sees the lifeless body of their companion is drug into the shadows. "Aaagghh!" he shouts in frustration, then grabs the warlock and pulls her out of the room.
N'Ruel waits, listening for the impending thunderous footsteps of the stone construct. What feels like an eternity passes, only deafening silence pours out of the chamber where the specter of death has just visited.
You are now out of initiative and may act freely. The construct does not seem to be pursuing the party into the remnants of the tower.
The monk breathes a sigh of relief as it appears the construct is not following them out, but only relaxes for a moment noticing that Darastrag is stuff suffering from his wounds. He
Medicine: 10
(If that fails, he takes his healing potion out and pours it down the lizard's throat.)
Esvele continues dashing for another forty or so seconds, weaving her way out the way they came before slowing to a jog and then finally stopping. She looks around, confused, as if a veil of fog had been lifted from around her.
Adrenaline still pumping, Esvele makes her way back, albeit carefully, whispering to herself, "I hope they are still alive - what came over me?"
As she makes her way back to where the others hopefully remain, she notices her the wounds throughout her body and casts cure wounds on herself.
// Healing 9 hit points, adding to the ONE hp she had left. //
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
N'ruel stays kneeling down at the side of Darastrag as Esvele returns, hoping for the healing potion to take affect. He looks up at the cleric and shakes his head. "Tovar did not make it."
Consciousness returns from a sea of oblivion. Aerin winces and takes stock of herself. Her two companions are clustered about her and Darastrag who seems to be unconscious. Tovar seems conspicuously absent and her heart plunges. She can't remember anything past that- that wave of something horrible beyond comprehension. Dreading what news she might hear, she sits up just in time to hear N'ruel tell Esvele that their large and jolly companion didn't make it.
She'd always known ruins and exploring them were dangers but her family had kept her away until they were swept clear. This was different. It wasn't just a story told to warn children. Aerin shuddered remembering that one-eyed thing. How foolish and brash she'd been thinking rats were the worst of what they'd find. Now Torvar had paid the price. Feeling sick at heart, she wonders just how far out of her depths she is.
"Tovar fell? I don't remember anything past that... thing emerging."