Feeling refreshed after a good night of drinking and then sleeping Cath heads to the common room to settle up with Gripp. He will also check with Kaiylin and her kids to be assured they are settled in. After a hearty breaking of the fast he is headed to the Elfsong.
Kelten grimaces. "Wyrmhoof wasn't always vile," he says to you, Gramdal. "The gnome had a heart once. It beat madly for a very particular human female. Until, of course, he double-crossed her. She cursed him."
Jhaval, the recruiter Kelten explains, is an obese dwarf. "This way." He takes you down a few side streets, around a curved road, down a few steps, through several arches then approaches a shadowed alley below a catwalk.
A tall slender male steps out from the shadows. He's wrapped like a mummy but nothing about him suggests undead. Two rapiers dangle from a belt. "Password."
Gramdal nods as Kelten tells him Wyrmhoof's tale. "Aye...Women...that which vexes all men." He gives a chuckle "Truly an accursed figure...So, that means his Master wasn't after the Drow child? But he was killed for the information. There must be some truth in what he said, eh?" The Dwarf takes in the outer city sprawling around him. He'll need to be able to find his way around here. Suddenly he's torn from his thoughts as this bandaged, mummified figure steps silently from the shadows. Gramdal instinctively brandishes his crossbow, but the moment passes as the figure asks for a password. Gramdal looks to Kelten for an answer.
The Purple Wyrm is quiet this morning, Cath. Kaiylin is nowhere to be found and neither are her children. Gripplgold is etching runes into the rim of a table about twenty feet from you. He hums a little tune while fixated on his artistry.
Kelten replies to the guard at the door. "Brightest light. Deepest shadow."
The guard dips his head, and melts back into the recesses of the alcove from whence he emerged. "Watch your pockets. Your back. Your eyes. The Silver Queen is here."
The wall ahead of you dissolves. The illusion dissipates if only for a moment. Through the portal you see a wide corridor lit by floating orbs of white flame. Steps lead down for ten feet. To other side, hanging by nails, portraits of the patrons who frequent this establishment, the Red Cowl.
Kelten says to you, Gramdal, "Watch your step. Jhaval employs mimics. You never know if you're stepping on flooring or a rug."
Arutha looks over the cultists and singles the one to his right out for his first round of attacks. He crouches like a sprinter and runs at the targeted cultist bringing the swords up in a sweeping cross slash, attempting to disembowel the opponent and remove him from the fight almost immediately. He hoped that the move and subsequent attack would move him past the right side of the cultist and allow him to put the wagon at his back so they could not surround him.
Attack: 20 Damage: 10
Attack: 5 Damage: 5
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
Kelten replies to the guard at the door. "Brightest light. Deepest shadow."
The guard dips his head, and melts back into the recesses of the alcove from whence he emerged. "Watch your pockets. Your back. Your eyes. The Silver Queen is here."
The wall ahead of you dissolves. The illusion dissipates if only for a moment. Through the portal you see a wide corridor lit by floating orbs of white flame. Steps lead down for ten feet. To other side, hanging by nails, portraits of the patrons who frequent this establishment, the Red Cowl.
Kelten says to you, Gramdal, "Watch your step. Jhaval employs mimics. You never know if you're stepping on flooring or a rug."
Make a Perception roll.
So much to take in all at once! Still, Gramdal is no stranger to stepping into the weird. He tries to not make it obvious, but he eyes dart left to right, then back again. One thing's for sure, he isn't bored anymore.
The Cloak cultist wasn't expecting you, Arutha, to attack with such a swift and biting blade, falling after the second blow slices through his chest. Too slow to react, too dimwitted to accurately assess you, he falls under your sword strikes like a soulless manikin.
His allies watch you maneuver around the wagon, and prepare a counterstrike. How, though? One leaps on top, sacrificing his attack, intending to divide your attention between him and the two cultists racing around the wagon, following you.
Your keen eyes serve you well, most especially in the dim lighting conditions, Gramdal. Your dwarf eyes catch a shift of movement too slight for a human like Kelten to notice. The second portrait to your right adjusts. The frame of the painting opens slowly and reveals rows of hidden teeth—the first mimic of the day.
OOC. Keep in mind Paladin54 that Cath is a full 12 hours ahead of the other characters. You are not adventuring in their time/space. Feel free to do what you want. Everyone is adventuring parallel to the main story arc.
Gramdal grimaces at the sight of the Mimic. Horrible creatures. They can literally be anything! "Seems this place has a strict 'no touch' policy..." From this point, he definitely tries to stay as centered in the hallway as possible, following Kelten's lead. It's been a trying day, to say the least. Last thing Gramdal needs is to end it by trying to get clean wounds covered in that nasty Mimic mucus.
Can Gramdal tell what sort of establishment this is? Is it a dive? An irreputable inn?
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Hearing the foe climb onto the wagon more than seeing it Arutha smiles. With only two on the ground to deal with the threat of being surrounded was greatly diminished and he stepped forward away from the wagon to meet the first of the opponents in clear ground, only this time he is trying to funnel his opponents back towards the wagon, giving them less room to maneuver. He swings his off hand sword low and as his opponent responds brings Warrior around from the other side , aimed more towards his neck. "Dodge this," he thinks.
Attack: 23 Damage: 5
Attack: 14 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
"Someone's defiled this place this isn't right there are good people buried here!" says in a quiet rage. He looks down at Traever his momentary anger gone replaced by confusion "you don't seem fazed by undead. Are you alright did they get you?"
Gripplgold looks up from his handiwork. He wipes beads of sweat off his brow, and sighs. "Hello, adventurer. Cath, isn't it? The Redaxe? How were the sleeping arrangements?" He stands and smiles. "I'm sorry about last night. Kaiylin," he goes on to say, "she had to leave suddenly. Something about her son. She didn't explain herself. She left with the fires of hell on her heels." He shrugs. "Damsels. Always in distress."
Gramdal, the Red Cowl looks like a temple converted into a tavern. The stairs lead down to an audience chamber. Seedy characters describes the people assembled here. Against the far wall you see an obese dwarf seated on a pile of expensive fluffy silk cushions. He is surrounded by six female attendants, each vying for his attention. They offer him grapes, beverages, affection. He looks right at home in this establishment, at the center of everyone's interest. Jhaval notices you enter and gestures to the earth genasi standing beside him to dip closer to his ear. Jhaval never takes his eyes off you as he whispers an order to the guard.
The Silver Queen must be the lithe woman to your left. She wears—silver—silver sandals, a sheer silver skirt, a halter top with the emblem of Loviatar, embroidered in silver. Three halflings dressed in silver togas stand at her side. Though they are small, their eyes take in every detail. They carry no visible weapons.
In your travels you have heard of the Red Cowl, now that you have seen the seedy tavern for yourself. The lawless seek employment here.
Gramdal, the Red Cowl looks like a temple converted into a tavern. The stairs lead down to an audience chamber. Seedy characters describes the people assembled here. Against the far wall you see an obese dwarf seated on a pile of expensive fluffy silk cushions. He is surrounded by six female attendants, each vying for his attention. They offer him grapes, beverages, affection. He looks right at home in this establishment, at the center of everyone's interest. Jhaval notices you enter and gestures to the earth genasi standing beside him to dip closer to his ear. Jhaval never takes his eyes off you as he whispers an order to the guard.
The Silver Queen must be the lithe woman to your left. She wears—silver—silver sandals, a sheer silver skirt, a halter top with the emblem of Loviatar, embroidered in silver. Three halflings dressed in silver togas stand at her side. Though they are small, their eyes take in every detail. They carry no visible weapons.
In your travels you have heard of the Red Cowl, now that you have seen the seedy tavern for yourself. The lawless seek employment here.
Before Gramdal proceeds, he will give a gracious nod to this Silver Queen.
Would Gramdal be able to try and hear what Jhaval is whispering to his guard, or is he too far away?
I'll go ahead and do a Perception check here in case it is even possible. I'm throwing disadvantage on it as well. So feel free to take whichever is appropriate
He'll then lean in to whisper to Kelten "Ya sure we can trust this...Jhaval?" Gramdal scans the room and makes note of the mimic painting "Doesn't seem like the reputable type of establishment, eh?" Gramdal knows this place, The Red Cowl. He's never set foot inside of it, but he knows it. He's been to places just like it...okay, maybe not just like it, but he knows the kind. It was a den for the low, the desperate, and the greedy. The real question, then, is which is Kelten? Which is Gramdal? More over, which should he be? He has spent a life time learning to fit in with this ilk. Most of the time, being quiet and looking rough was enough to slip by without a second glance, but this place is different. It's paranoid. It's sick.
Sick, just like this Jhaval. An obese Dwarf? Even the most noble of Dwarven kind, kings and lords, do not waste away or grow fat on their luxury. A Dwarf's life is his duty, and by Moradin' beard that's the way it's always been! An obese Dwarf like this, like Jhaval, is a Dwarf not serving any purpose or toil. It is sickening! Gramdal is already disgusted.
Feeling refreshed after a good night of drinking and then sleeping Cath heads to the common room to settle up with Gripp. He will also check with Kaiylin and her kids to be assured they are settled in. After a hearty breaking of the fast he is headed to the Elfsong.
Gramdal nods as Kelten tells him Wyrmhoof's tale. "Aye...Women...that which vexes all men." He gives a chuckle "Truly an accursed figure...So, that means his Master wasn't after the Drow child? But he was killed for the information. There must be some truth in what he said, eh?" The Dwarf takes in the outer city sprawling around him. He'll need to be able to find his way around here. Suddenly he's torn from his thoughts as this bandaged, mummified figure steps silently from the shadows. Gramdal instinctively brandishes his crossbow, but the moment passes as the figure asks for a password. Gramdal looks to Kelten for an answer.
The Purple Wyrm is quiet this morning, Cath. Kaiylin is nowhere to be found and neither are her children. Gripplgold is etching runes into the rim of a table about twenty feet from you. He hums a little tune while fixated on his artistry.
Kelten replies to the guard at the door. "Brightest light. Deepest shadow."
The guard dips his head, and melts back into the recesses of the alcove from whence he emerged. "Watch your pockets. Your back. Your eyes. The Silver Queen is here."
The wall ahead of you dissolves. The illusion dissipates if only for a moment. Through the portal you see a wide corridor lit by floating orbs of white flame. Steps lead down for ten feet. To other side, hanging by nails, portraits of the patrons who frequent this establishment, the Red Cowl.
Kelten says to you, Gramdal, "Watch your step. Jhaval employs mimics. You never know if you're stepping on flooring or a rug."
Make a Perception roll.
(I rolled this earlier and it failed and then I redid it and it showed as a 15 but now it is missing altogether so once again.)
Initiative:
21
(I like this roll better anyway :))
"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
Nice roll.
Let's see how the cultists fare? 16
Looks like you're going first, Arutha.
Arutha looks over the cultists and singles the one to his right out for his first round of attacks. He crouches like a sprinter and runs at the targeted cultist bringing the swords up in a sweeping cross slash, attempting to disembowel the opponent and remove him from the fight almost immediately. He hoped that the move and subsequent attack would move him past the right side of the cultist and allow him to put the wagon at his back so they could not surround him.
Attack: 20 Damage: 10
Attack: 5 Damage: 5
"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
So much to take in all at once! Still, Gramdal is no stranger to stepping into the weird. He tries to not make it obvious, but he eyes dart left to right, then back again. One thing's for sure, he isn't bored anymore.
Perception: 23
The Cloak cultist wasn't expecting you, Arutha, to attack with such a swift and biting blade, falling after the second blow slices through his chest. Too slow to react, too dimwitted to accurately assess you, he falls under your sword strikes like a soulless manikin.
His allies watch you maneuver around the wagon, and prepare a counterstrike. How, though? One leaps on top, sacrificing his attack, intending to divide your attention between him and the two cultists racing around the wagon, following you.
Your keen eyes serve you well, most especially in the dim lighting conditions, Gramdal. Your dwarf eyes catch a shift of movement too slight for a human like Kelten to notice. The second portrait to your right adjusts. The frame of the painting opens slowly and reveals rows of hidden teeth—the first mimic of the day.
OOC. Keep in mind Paladin54 that Cath is a full 12 hours ahead of the other characters. You are not adventuring in their time/space. Feel free to do what you want. Everyone is adventuring parallel to the main story arc.
Gramdal grimaces at the sight of the Mimic. Horrible creatures. They can literally be anything! "Seems this place has a strict 'no touch' policy..." From this point, he definitely tries to stay as centered in the hallway as possible, following Kelten's lead. It's been a trying day, to say the least. Last thing Gramdal needs is to end it by trying to get clean wounds covered in that nasty Mimic mucus.
Can Gramdal tell what sort of establishment this is? Is it a dive? An irreputable inn?
Hearing the foe climb onto the wagon more than seeing it Arutha smiles. With only two on the ground to deal with the threat of being surrounded was greatly diminished and he stepped forward away from the wagon to meet the first of the opponents in clear ground, only this time he is trying to funnel his opponents back towards the wagon, giving them less room to maneuver. He swings his off hand sword low and as his opponent responds brings Warrior around from the other side , aimed more towards his neck. "Dodge this," he thinks.
Attack: 23 Damage: 5
Attack: 14 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
"Someone's defiled this place this isn't right there are good people buried here!" says in a quiet rage. He looks down at Traever his momentary anger gone replaced by confusion "you don't seem fazed by undead. Are you alright did they get you?"
Gripplgold looks up from his handiwork. He wipes beads of sweat off his brow, and sighs. "Hello, adventurer. Cath, isn't it? The Redaxe? How were the sleeping arrangements?" He stands and smiles. "I'm sorry about last night. Kaiylin," he goes on to say, "she had to leave suddenly. Something about her son. She didn't explain herself. She left with the fires of hell on her heels." He shrugs. "Damsels. Always in distress."
Gramdal, the Red Cowl looks like a temple converted into a tavern. The stairs lead down to an audience chamber. Seedy characters describes the people assembled here. Against the far wall you see an obese dwarf seated on a pile of expensive fluffy silk cushions. He is surrounded by six female attendants, each vying for his attention. They offer him grapes, beverages, affection. He looks right at home in this establishment, at the center of everyone's interest. Jhaval notices you enter and gestures to the earth genasi standing beside him to dip closer to his ear. Jhaval never takes his eyes off you as he whispers an order to the guard.
The Silver Queen must be the lithe woman to your left. She wears—silver—silver sandals, a sheer silver skirt, a halter top with the emblem of Loviatar, embroidered in silver. Three halflings dressed in silver togas stand at her side. Though they are small, their eyes take in every detail. They carry no visible weapons.
In your travels you have heard of the Red Cowl, now that you have seen the seedy tavern for yourself. The lawless seek employment here.
The moment you take your eyes away from the cemetery is when you notice the trouble at your feet. Hands break through the path and grab at you.
Make a Dexterity save.
Traever makes a Dexterity save: 16
DEX Saving: 18
Cath looks at Gripp with concern in his eyes. "Left? Where? Do you have any idea where she went? What of her daughter? Is she with her or safe? "
Before Gramdal proceeds, he will give a gracious nod to this Silver Queen.
Would Gramdal be able to try and hear what Jhaval is whispering to his guard, or is he too far away?
I'll go ahead and do a Perception check here in case it is even possible. I'm throwing disadvantage on it as well. So feel free to take whichever is appropriate
Perception: 10
He'll then lean in to whisper to Kelten "Ya sure we can trust this...Jhaval?" Gramdal scans the room and makes note of the mimic painting "Doesn't seem like the reputable type of establishment, eh?" Gramdal knows this place, The Red Cowl. He's never set foot inside of it, but he knows it. He's been to places just like it...okay, maybe not just like it, but he knows the kind. It was a den for the low, the desperate, and the greedy. The real question, then, is which is Kelten? Which is Gramdal? More over, which should he be? He has spent a life time learning to fit in with this ilk. Most of the time, being quiet and looking rough was enough to slip by without a second glance, but this place is different. It's paranoid. It's sick.
Sick, just like this Jhaval. An obese Dwarf? Even the most noble of Dwarven kind, kings and lords, do not waste away or grow fat on their luxury. A Dwarf's life is his duty, and by Moradin' beard that's the way it's always been! An obese Dwarf like this, like Jhaval, is a Dwarf not serving any purpose or toil. It is sickening! Gramdal is already disgusted.