Skewered by Arthur's faintly glowing sword, the cultist is struck in quick succession by five separate rays of fire, setting clothing aflame and searing skin and flesh. He goes slump on the blade, his body sliding off of it and falling to the ground. The sixth scorching ray flies wider, striking the other cultist not under the effects of Sleep. You hear a grunt of pain, but they maintain focus on their spell - the spectral blade remains.
They struggle against the webbing, but are unable to free themselves.
"Ah well...Since we're all scorching hot tonight."Zerilmurmurs with a grin. Another shout of arcane words, and the crystal in his hand burns the color of sunset. A tri-beam of fiery beams shoot out, streaking towards the remaining conscious cultist.
Fire lights the street once more as three more scorching rays streak through the air, each one striking the cultist in the chest. The front of their robes burn away, revealing scorched skin underneath. This time he's unable to hold his concentration, and the spiritual weapon disappears.
The other two living cultists have since collapsed to the ground, asleep and entangled in webs.
"Rían," the longsword breaks into a thousand azure motes as the outline of a much longer weapon takes its place. The glow flares again, leaving behind a plainly forged glaive. Arthursteps to the side, sweeping the glaive in a low arc at the tangled assailant's legs.
Bonus Action: Pact of the Blade - Glaive Action:True Strike to hit - 17,16 radiant damage. Movement: 5 ft SE
The tip of the blade slices clean through their inner thigh, cutting a vital artery - first they sink to a knee, then collapse as blood loss takes them. Down the main thoroughfare you can hear a whistle as the city watch makes their way down it, you estimate them to be a few minutes out.
[ Out of Initiative for now. The sleep spells have about 40 seconds left on them though. ]
Bastian moves to one of those still unconscious, putting a knee on their back and restraining their arms. "Two to each one until the city watch can arrive, your spells will not last forever. Someone secure this one's legs."
The glaive breaks into a cloud of azure motes as the fight comes to an end, and Arthurwalks over to restrain the other unconscious cultist. He glances over at the body, the one these whateverthey were had killed before he and his friends arrived. "They spoke Draconic," he says slowly.
Selyne rushes forward after Arthur, putting her knees on the sleeping cultist's calves and bracing her hands on their upper legs. "More importantly, since when can you summon weapons out of thin air and use magic, en-ithar?!" She hisses urgently.
"I'm curious about that as well."The tiefling says as he moves to assist Bastion. "Did our dear little noble actually pick up a book at some point these past two years?"
"That's complicated..."Arthuranswers sheepishly, risking a glance back at the indignant elf behind him. "I didn't learn anything from a book. It's a long story. Not the kind you tell kneeling in an alley at the site of a murder!"
He looks towards the main street, desperate to change the subject. "Where's the damn city watch?" He mutters.
The robed assailants begin to stir less than a minute later, then begin struggling against your restraining holds almost immediately, hurling curses at you in draconic.
"Release us you fangless wretches!"
"By the Five I'll see you burn!"
"Her claws will tear out your throat!"
[ Everyone make an Athletics check. Arthur and Selyne with disadvantage still. ]
"Hmm,"Zerilhums curiously, sitting on the legs of his charge unceremoniously. "There's an abundance of ways someone can connect to the Weave. Through hard work and ridiculously natural talent, like me."He muses with a grin before gesturing to Selyne. "Or through your bloodline being marked by a being of natural magic potential, such as our esteemed Selyne. Or granted through the power of the divine as Bastian could tell you."
The tiefling pauses, tilting his head up towards the sky. "But you aren't studious. Nor are you particularly devout dear Arthur. So is it something about your ancestry, or have you done something truly dull-witted like make a deal you didn't fully understand?"
"I trust that you had good cause." He thought of how often the younger man had acted rashly in the past. With a reckless disregard for his own well being. An unsavory trait the cleric had often criticized him for. But even he would admit it was never without just reason.
As the cultist beneath him tries to rise, he quickly cuffs them on the back of the head. He glances sidelong at Arthur. "You will enlighten us later, after these miscreants have been dealt with."
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Skewered by Arthur's faintly glowing sword, the cultist is struck in quick succession by five separate rays of fire, setting clothing aflame and searing skin and flesh. He goes slump on the blade, his body sliding off of it and falling to the ground. The sixth scorching ray flies wider, striking the other cultist not under the effects of Sleep. You hear a grunt of pain, but they maintain focus on their spell - the spectral blade remains.
They struggle against the webbing, but are unable to free themselves.
[ Initiative Group 2 ]
"Ah well...Since we're all scorching hot tonight." Zeril murmurs with a grin. Another shout of arcane words, and the crystal in his hand burns the color of sunset. A tri-beam of fiery beams shoot out, streaking towards the remaining conscious cultist.
Action| Scorching Ray Attack Rolls: 18, 18, 14 Damage Rolls: 5, 8, 6
Fire lights the street once more as three more scorching rays streak through the air, each one striking the cultist in the chest. The front of their robes burn away, revealing scorched skin underneath. This time he's unable to hold his concentration, and the spiritual weapon disappears.
The other two living cultists have since collapsed to the ground, asleep and entangled in webs.
[ Initiative Group 1]
"Rían," the longsword breaks into a thousand azure motes as the outline of a much longer weapon takes its place. The glow flares again, leaving behind a plainly forged glaive. Arthur steps to the side, sweeping the glaive in a low arc at the tangled assailant's legs.
Bonus Action: Pact of the Blade - Glaive
Action: True Strike to hit - 17, 16 radiant damage.
Movement: 5 ft SE
The tip of the blade slices clean through their inner thigh, cutting a vital artery - first they sink to a knee, then collapse as blood loss takes them. Down the main thoroughfare you can hear a whistle as the city watch makes their way down it, you estimate them to be a few minutes out.
[ Out of Initiative for now. The sleep spells have about 40 seconds left on them though. ]
Bastian moves to one of those still unconscious, putting a knee on their back and restraining their arms.
"Two to each one until the city watch can arrive, your spells will not last forever. Someone secure this one's legs."
The glaive breaks into a cloud of azure motes as the fight comes to an end, and Arthur walks over to restrain the other unconscious cultist. He glances over at the body, the one these whatever they were had killed before he and his friends arrived. "They spoke Draconic," he says slowly.
Selyne rushes forward after Arthur, putting her knees on the sleeping cultist's calves and bracing her hands on their upper legs. "More importantly, since when can you summon weapons out of thin air and use magic, en-ithar?!" She hisses urgently.
"I'm curious about that as well." The tiefling says as he moves to assist Bastion. "Did our dear little noble actually pick up a book at some point these past two years?"
"That's complicated..." Arthur answers sheepishly, risking a glance back at the indignant elf behind him. "I didn't learn anything from a book. It's a long story. Not the kind you tell kneeling in an alley at the site of a murder!"
He looks towards the main street, desperate to change the subject. "Where's the damn city watch?" He mutters.
The robed assailants begin to stir less than a minute later, then begin struggling against your restraining holds almost immediately, hurling curses at you in draconic.
"Release us you fangless wretches!"
"By the Five I'll see you burn!"
"Her claws will tear out your throat!"
[ Everyone make an Athletics check. Arthur and Selyne with disadvantage still. ]
"Hmm," Zeril hums curiously, sitting on the legs of his charge unceremoniously. "There's an abundance of ways someone can connect to the Weave. Through hard work and ridiculously natural talent, like me." He muses with a grin before gesturing to Selyne. "Or through your bloodline being marked by a being of natural magic potential, such as our esteemed Selyne. Or granted through the power of the divine as Bastian could tell you."
The tiefling pauses, tilting his head up towards the sky. "But you aren't studious. Nor are you particularly devout dear Arthur. So is it something about your ancestry, or have you done something truly dull-witted like make a deal you didn't fully understand?"
Athletics: 19
Athletics: 14
Arthur sighs as he switches his grip on the cultist, realizing they aren't going to just let this go. "The latter."
Bastian struggles briefly as the cultists begin to wake, tilting his head with a bemused expression as they begin to speak in their sharp tongue.
Athletics: 17
"I trust that you had good cause."
He thought of how often the younger man had acted rashly in the past. With a reckless disregard for his own well being. An unsavory trait the cleric had often criticized him for. But even he would admit it was never without just reason.
As the cultist beneath him tries to rise, he quickly cuffs them on the back of the head. He glances sidelong at Arthur.
"You will enlighten us later, after these miscreants have been dealt with."