Traever hesitates. It's the choice he should not have made, but in this moment of fear, he panics. The kind, reserved look in his eyes darkens and he draws his weapon.
"Not again!" he shouts, and strikes at the crawling hands: Attack: 9 Damage: 2
His aim is good but the attack itself isn't strong enough to deliver a wound, and he has sacrificed whatever opportunity he had trying to save you, Norvalor.
Dozens of zombie hands grapple him. You see him fall to the ground. Many more hands assist, clawing and pawing at him, pulling him into the ground, deep below the ground. You see true fear in his eyes as the ground swallows him up. You right behind.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The Cloak cultists now have two opponents, though they don't seem intimated buy the half-orc. Arutha, you sense this ambush was well-planned. They might know more than the attack site, perhaps the people who might play a part in the Grumblestone Delivery.
The first cultist strikes out at Skorbor. Attack: 16 Damage: 40
The second cultist strikes at you. As he lifts his weapon you feel your wrist turn involuntarily, guided by some unseen force. The light of the sun flashes off the flat of your blade.
Warrior cackles. Typical, the sentient blade says. The battlefield is an ever-moving, three-dimensional arena. Simple-minded rogue. Strike now, Arutha!
Scanning those seated around the table, you, Cath sense an honest interest in Kaiylin's well-being. The conversation leads you to believe that Gripp, Kristine, and yes, even the others see themselves in her somehow. There's something more than acceptance at play here. Something almost otherworldly. Some influence you cannot explain, but you see it in their eyes, the way the light reflects off of their convictions.
Gripp most of all appears genuinely interested in helping save innocent people. The way he carries himself, the manner with which he speaks, the commanding yet neighborly way he invited everyone to the table suggests a history with the downtrodden, the unlucky, the commoner mistreated by those who catalogue others into this or that column. Perhaps there's a bit of the paladin in Gripp. Perhaps a bit of the ranger as well.
Pleased that the group gathered is genuinely interested in aiding Kaiylin Cath relaxes a bit. That's one less thing to worry about, the intentions of the others. But what to do, where to start? That still was the most pressing issue at hand and they were no closer to answering those questions.
"So what do we do? Where do we start? If no one has any concrete ideas then I'm going to head to the local garrison of soldiers to see if any know him or where he might be. The only organized soldiers in the city would be the Fist right? So he must have been Fist. I'll start there unless someone has a better plan. "
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Arutha, Feeling Warrior's urging drops the 2nd sword, takes Warrior in both hands, and with all the power he could muster swings at the cultist. Attack: 16 Damage: 11
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
"Wait!" Gripp bursts from his chair and leaps onto the table. He points to you Cath. "Did you not say Kaiylin and her children came through the Wyrm's Gate?"
You are engulfed in darkness. You smell damp, old earth. Your hands, bound by the wrists, have been pulled high over your head. You hear muffled voices. How many and where, you cannot be certain but one thing is for sure: you sense the cold hand of death curling its fingers around your throat.
"Well then I know what I need to do. I'll go find Zavakk right now and get him to help. I'll figure out a way to convince him. At minimum he don't want a drow running loose, lost in the city. "
Cath gets up grabs his axe and heads for the door. He turns back and calls to Gripp.
"Flaming Fist HQ right? Unless you know him to be stationed somewhere else, I know the way. I've been to the city enough. "
Traever hesitates. It's the choice he should not have made, but in this moment of fear, he panics. The kind, reserved look in his eyes darkens and he draws his weapon.
"Not again!" he shouts, and strikes at the crawling hands: Attack: 9 Damage: 2
His aim is good but the attack itself isn't strong enough to deliver a wound, and he has sacrificed whatever opportunity he had trying to save you, Norvalor.
Dozens of zombie hands grapple him. You see him fall to the ground. Many more hands assist, clawing and pawing at him, pulling him into the ground, deep below the ground. You see true fear in his eyes as the ground swallows him up. You right behind.
The Cloak cultists now have two opponents, though they don't seem intimated buy the half-orc. Arutha, you sense this ambush was well-planned. They might know more than the attack site, perhaps the people who might play a part in the Grumblestone Delivery.
The first cultist strikes out at Skorbor. Attack: 16 Damage: 40
The second cultist strikes at you. As he lifts his weapon you feel your wrist turn involuntarily, guided by some unseen force. The light of the sun flashes off the flat of your blade.
Warrior cackles. Typical, the sentient blade says. The battlefield is an ever-moving, three-dimensional arena. Simple-minded rogue. Strike now, Arutha!
OOC. You are awarded a one-time reaction attack.
Cath looks around the table trying to determine the motivations behind what is going on.
Insight 20
OOC: well **** me i just got eaten by the ground lol
Scanning those seated around the table, you, Cath sense an honest interest in Kaiylin's well-being. The conversation leads you to believe that Gripp, Kristine, and yes, even the others see themselves in her somehow. There's something more than acceptance at play here. Something almost otherworldly. Some influence you cannot explain, but you see it in their eyes, the way the light reflects off of their convictions.
Gripp most of all appears genuinely interested in helping save innocent people. The way he carries himself, the manner with which he speaks, the commanding yet neighborly way he invited everyone to the table suggests a history with the downtrodden, the unlucky, the commoner mistreated by those who catalogue others into this or that column. Perhaps there's a bit of the paladin in Gripp. Perhaps a bit of the ranger as well.
Pleased that the group gathered is genuinely interested in aiding Kaiylin Cath relaxes a bit. That's one less thing to worry about, the intentions of the others. But what to do, where to start? That still was the most pressing issue at hand and they were no closer to answering those questions.
"So what do we do? Where do we start? If no one has any concrete ideas then I'm going to head to the local garrison of soldiers to see if any know him or where he might be. The only organized soldiers in the city would be the Fist right? So he must have been Fist. I'll start there unless someone has a better plan. "
Arutha, Feeling Warrior's urging drops the 2nd sword, takes Warrior in both hands, and with all the power he could muster swings at the cultist. Attack: 16 Damage: 11
"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
"Where do we start?" Kristine says. She repeats your question as if the thought might trigger her own memories, Cath.
"Wait!" Gripp bursts from his chair and leaps onto the table. He points to you Cath. "Did you not say Kaiylin and her children came through the Wyrm's Gate?"
"Aye, yes the Wyrm's Gate. That's the one we came through." Cath looked up at him standing on the table.
"Yer point, Gripp?" Kristine says.
The others look on, not sure where he's going with it.
"Those new fancy security rods the Fist use to screen visitors," Gripp starts.
OOC. Make a Perception roll, Cath.
"Aye. They used those on us when we passed in. That's what broke the spell concealing the boy's identity as a drow."
Perception 128
Oops. Try again
9
OOC 106! Holy mackerel!! LOL
You're not quite sure, Cath, what Gripp is eluding to, but you get your answer soon enough.
"Me friend's a Harper. Made good and sure the rods work exactly as ordered," Gripp says, settling into his thoughts. "The rods have many properties—"
Kristine rolls her eyes. "Are we getting a history lesson in magic! Get on with it, Gripp!"
The halfling smiles broadly. "Aye, lass. The rods can detect," he says wryly. "They detect many things, and they can track as well."
Norvalor...
You are engulfed in darkness. You smell damp, old earth. Your hands, bound by the wrists, have been pulled high over your head. You hear muffled voices. How many and where, you cannot be certain but one thing is for sure: you sense the cold hand of death curling its fingers around your throat.
"Norvalor," Traever whimpers. "Are you awake?"
"Me takes it you have connections then? Do you think Zavakk will allow us to use it? Or help us? "
Kristine snorts.
Gripp's face turns red. "Let's say the marshal and I aren't ... acquaintances."
"Well, that's putting it mildly," Kristine balks.
"You might have better luck than I, friend," Gripp says to you, Cath.
"Well then I know what I need to do. I'll go find Zavakk right now and get him to help. I'll figure out a way to convince him. At minimum he don't want a drow running loose, lost in the city. "
Cath gets up grabs his axe and heads for the door. He turns back and calls to Gripp.
"Flaming Fist HQ right? Unless you know him to be stationed somewhere else, I know the way. I've been to the city enough. "