This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
“Call that a blade?” taunts Floxin. “You’re trying to open up a Zhent’s guts, Hrabbaz, not a letter from your grannie. You need a real weapon? Well, take this!”
And with that, he hurls his sword at the half-orc’s face, and in the same motion whirls on his heel and makes a dash for the stairs.
The shortsword cuts through the air as straight and true as a bolt from a crossbow, sinking deeply into the half-orc’s right breast, just below the shoulder. The Gralhund bodyguard gasps and lurches drunkenly, blood erupting around the blade in his flesh, unable to catch up with the Zhentarim before the latter can dodge around the corner and bound away down the stairs.
In this moment Hrabbaz is gasping deeply, off-balance but still upright, clutching at the weapon lodged in his chest with one arm, the other hanging loosely at his side, the dagger limp in his fingers.
Urstul has just bounded out of sight down the stairs, the clatter of his boots and his ragged breaths echoing loudly.
Akai turns to address Falshen. "Tcheh! They go to steal glory, leave us to clean up. Where is fairness in that?" He then glances at the locked door. " Eh, might as well let'im out. Mebbe there's still something to gain. You any good with locks? "
Gregor, via Message to Irma and Ian, disguised as wheezing. Which is not hard to fake, because he does not make a habit of running, "Chase or capture?"
Up in the foyer, Hrabbaz the half-orc plucks the sword from his chest with a grunt, a gout of blood gushing from the wound. Casting the gory blade aside, he pulls a flask from his belt and drinks deeply, and the injury appears to close up on its own, the red flow staunching.
Akai, Falshen, what are you doing?
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Irma chooses to nothing for now and let the fight play out.
“Call that a blade?” taunts Floxin. “You’re trying to open up a Zhent’s guts, Hrabbaz, not a letter from your grannie. You need a real weapon? Well, take this!”
And with that, he hurls his sword at the half-orc’s face, and in the same motion whirls on his heel and makes a dash for the stairs.
Attack: 26 Damage: 11
The shortsword cuts through the air as straight and true as a bolt from a crossbow, sinking deeply into the half-orc’s right breast, just below the shoulder. The Gralhund bodyguard gasps and lurches drunkenly, blood erupting around the blade in his flesh, unable to catch up with the Zhentarim before the latter can dodge around the corner and bound away down the stairs.
In this moment Hrabbaz is gasping deeply, off-balance but still upright, clutching at the weapon lodged in his chest with one arm, the other hanging loosely at his side, the dagger limp in his fingers.
Urstul has just bounded out of sight down the stairs, the clatter of his boots and his ragged breaths echoing loudly.
Any party member may act, or wait.
Medicine check to determine the severity of Hrabbaz's wounds: 17
He’s in bad shape, but not mortal danger.
Falshen's look suddenly becomes simultaneously distant and focused, as if he were concentrating on an intense matter within the confines of his mind.
Gregor will pursue Urstul.
Please make an Athletics check.
Ian will help Gregor with chasing after Urstul.
Athletics: 17
Irma will assist in the pursuit of Urstul.
Athletics: 19
Athletics: 12
Akai turns to address Falshen. "Tcheh! They go to steal glory, leave us to clean up. Where is fairness in that?" He then glances at the locked door. " Eh, might as well let'im out. Mebbe there's still something to gain. You any good with locks? "
The DM rolls...6
Irma easily outpaces the fleeing Zhentarim agent, catching up with him by the time he's at the bottom of the stairs.
The paladin can choose to overtake Urstul Floxin, or let him run and follow him - what does he do?
Irma will let Urstul Floxin continue to run and he will follow him.
Ian and Gregor, trailing behind Irma, can choose to follow as the paladin pursues - what is your intended course of action?
Gregor, via Message to Irma and Ian, disguised as wheezing. Which is not hard to fake, because he does not make a habit of running, "Chase or capture?"
Ian replies with Message response, “Chase, warn others.”
Up in the foyer, Hrabbaz the half-orc plucks the sword from his chest with a grunt, a gout of blood gushing from the wound. Casting the gory blade aside, he pulls a flask from his belt and drinks deeply, and the injury appears to close up on its own, the red flow staunching.
Akai, Falshen, what are you doing?