This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As Casta strides forth beyond Fimrold, Rigor, and then Belmort, the tension among the Cultists of the Dead Three becomes palpable, their breathing heavier, their weapons and hands readied to unleash steel and dark magics trembling with the anticipation of taking the Paladin of Helm and aasimar to serve their Dark Gods’ hungers…
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The ragged voice of the Necromite to the south devolves into a low, wavering howl as his rage breaks, the spectral beast-hand hovering above his own flexing its smoking claws. The bleeding Fist of Bane across from him, however, growls as he watches the cultist of Myrkul's control slipping, and sidesteps to shove and disrupt him with a broad, armored shoulder, still with his arrow wrenched back taut on its black string, and trained upon Casta's heart.
"Not...yet," he mutters harshly. "The Dark Gods will take her when we meet again..."
OOC: Feldinor, please roll your second death saving throw. No issues with a public result this time. Good luck again!
OOC: Casta, there's literally no icon or symbol upon the Night Blade, beyond his dark, rank rags, for such trinkets do not serve this one's gruesome cause. You would observe, however, that his wicked, gleaming curved dagger is back in the narrow sewer tunnel where you first grasped his crumpled body...
OOC: Tactical graphic is inbound, with all of the recent developments. Murdoch has the initiative!
OOC: And the dice gods have answered with mercy...this time!
OOC: Adventurers, given the unconscious state of the Fist of Bane that fell in order after Murdoch, initiative passes to Fimrold, and then immediately to Rigor!
OOC: While waiting for Fimrold to respond, in the interest of moving the story forward, I doubt Rigor’s actions will conflict...
Rigor finds himself without a ranged weapon, and slips past Fimrold to reach the tunnel intersection. The Monk retrieves the downed Night Blade’s curved dagger for such a use, then starts his return to the standoff. He pauses immediately north of the reflective dwarf.
The Night Blade holding the limp Feldinor off the ground by his hair obliges Casta’s imperative, sliding silently up to the shadowed corner of the tunnel intersection. His red-limned eyes narrow to slits with the feral grin hidden beneath his cowl, and he masters himself, if just barely, against the urge to attack the Paladin.
“Not yet a murder…so close. Next time, you’ll let me finish the circle of tears, and skin its little face within…next time…”
The cultist offers the Rogue's body, the halfling's face still streaming twin lines of water-thin blood, to Casta with one hand, the other with the end of his gleaming dagger pressed under the base of Feldinor’s skull.
“You sanctify nothing, holy cow,” the wounded, torch-bearing Necromite coughs out from the shadows on the opposite side, fully in control of his vile faculties, “for the Dark Gods will restore us in the spilled blood of innocents.”
His own sorcerous, necrotic spectral claw is stayed once again, hovering above his left hand awaiting its deadly release.
OOC: Good Morning, Adventurers! Yokai, brilliant entry! Had a confluence of Program Management Review, real-world emergent threat response, and arrival of my bride in town for birthday celebrations within a 72-hour period, and only now recovering from it!
OOC: Through a dialog with Yokai, I'm also now "next" as well, and will plan to send out that one this evening.
OOC: In game mechanics, the Night Blade appears readied to hand over Feldinor at the same time as the other cultist, while the Necromite appears readied to attack in the manner of Murdoch. MTF!
Yokai continues his determined pace to Sorore’s west, striding to the entrance of the sewer tunnel, and the edge of the gloom. Pausing only to assess the surroundings beyond, the Warlock sheathes his longsword and steps through the rusted iron sewer gate onto the sloping cobblestone alley. Yokai’s stance and movement appear to subtly shift as he leaves the sewers, and within seconds his path takes him out of sight and hearing, heading south around the nearest corner…
The Fist of Bane defending the tunnel to the south quivers in bloody anticipation with Casta's close proximity, veins and tendons bulging down his neck as he looms over even the tall Paladin. His discipline cracks, and his mouth suddenly erupts in a bestial yell, spittle flying across her forehead. He flinches, however, as the torch-bearing Necromite grunts and lowers the guttering flame to the side of his scarred face, breaking the focus of his mounting, murderous urges, and the massive armored warrior roughly jerks back behind the edge of his red, black-handed shield. The mace still trembles in his gauntleted fist, however, and the Banite cultist shifts from his defensive stance to one of violent readiness.
“Get...this...done,”he growls through clenched teeth, eyes boring into Casta as his scar turns a lurid red. “Next...time...*****.”
OOC: Good Evening, adventurers! Apologies again for the delay - lost my window the following night as originally planned after heading up to the Laboratory, then headed out on a brief road trip with my bride. Nothing is easy - but PM commentary was most amusing! Sorore has the initiative, followed immediately by Casta and then Belmort!
Sorore is utterly unmoving in her current position of concealment, completely focused on her assessment of Feldinor during the handover of hostages, and still ready to cast her last spell of healing at a distance in any crucial life-threatening moment that emerges with him.
OOC: Well I’m so glad I checked this evening. Jury is still out on the "lesser of two evils" thing, but the fallout if they take the bait will be exciting to watch from my distance!
Casta is startled as spittle and bald fury wash over her. She shifts unconsciously to her back foot in preparation for the coming blow when the Necromite's torch falls to bridle the rage. A fracture in the command has shown itself that almost cost her dearly to learn. We can use this, she thinks. Zealous aggression is as much folly as running blindly into sewers. ... Next time. She steels her nerve against what must be done and presses on, lest this new information temp her to further folly herself. How will she later judge herself for what she has to do in the moment?
She looks at the Necromite holding the torch and eyes him warily, measuring. Her eyes then tighten and her forehead lifts. Her countenance communicates "Let's do it".
With her right hand, Casta hands the unconscious Nightblade to the Nightblade holding Feldinor. She takes the unconscious Feldinor with her left hand by the front of his jerkin, lifting him away from the wicked blade, and immediately pulls him in close to her chest, enveloping the small Feldinor fully under her shield as her feet begin to backpedal with her mortal prize. Such a devastatingly painful price to pay. It should only be the Gods themselves who chose life and death. Her mind flashes an idle wonder: Do those sacrificed to Bane remain judged by Kelemvor?
As she begins to fade behind Belmort and Rigor, when the Necromite and the Nightblade are out of sight, she plants one more seed for the next fight into the Fist of Bane. That's a good dog. Obey your leash master. Almost Tormlike, you know. Better luck next time, sweetroll.
She continues moving backwards until she brings Feldinor deep between the two clerics, and adjacent to Sorore in the T intersection. Back into the gloom of the open grate, she shifts her right foot and shoulder back so Sorore can see and begin administration to the halfling of great cost.
-----------------------------
Mechanically:
Non-action: Drop object - Stabilized Nightblade Free Interaction: Pick up object - Feldinor the Foolish (Brave?) Action: Dash Movement: Double move north 8 squares to the T, where I run out of movement.
The Night Blade reluctantly releases Feldinor’s dangling body to Casta with a guttural moan escaping him, the tip of his wicked dagger quivering and almost longingly following the scarred halfling from his grasp. The cultist’s empty hand roughly grasps the bloody, unconscious Night Blade offered by the aasimar, and half-lowers him to the wet stones to drag, his dagger remaining upraised should it have calling to again serve its unholy purposes.
As the Paladin of Helm draws her burden back from the line of conflict, the steady flow of thinned blood from the two tears cut deeply into the side of Feldinor’s face thicken and slow within seconds of stepping away from the Night Blade. Her focused and trained sense of others’ wellness further reveals to her that the Rogue was somehow already stabilized, and almost certainly before the ritual carving of his flesh began, given his earlier mortal peril…
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers; I hope this finds you well. An excellent and reflective move on Casta's part, with some small elements of discovery as well. The significance of the exchange and movement warranted another map update, to be disseminated following this missive.
OOC: Belmort has the initiative, as A Cuspide Corona is united once more!
Belmort remains on the front line and uses his ready action so he can make a tactical retreat in tandem with Rigors movement away from the Fist of Bane group.
The sounds of concerned voices closes in on the rusty sewer gate beyond Sorore in the wake of Yokai’s sudden departure, their forms becoming distinct in the pale light as they approach...
The Necromite masters his hate with Casta’s retreat in a rush of heaving, clotted breaths, his phantom talons still spasmodically flexing as smoke seeps from them. Gathering himself, he backs away to the west, beyond the torchlight and into the gloom of the yawning tunnel as he mutters…
"None further than the lizard," the cultist of Myrkul rasps, as he steps into the gathering shadow, “lest the Reaper’s claws take you now…vice later…”
The wounded Fist of Bane formerly at his side, black longbow in-hand with the arrow now held against the stave, roughly grasps the fallen one lying in the wet filth of the sewer floor by the edge of his chainmail. He prepares to fall back dragging the blood-soaked cultist, as the other followers of the Dead Three withdraw…
"Shame the cutting has to wait...Still, no “Flaming Piss” will be saving any of you from the Dark…"
OOC: Well-met, Adventurers. No death save required for the stabilized Feldinor, while the cultists have yet to break initiative...and thus on to Murdoch!
As Casta strides forth beyond Fimrold, Rigor, and then Belmort, the tension among the Cultists of the Dead Three becomes palpable, their breathing heavier, their weapons and hands readied to unleash steel and dark magics trembling with the anticipation of taking the Paladin of Helm and aasimar to serve their Dark Gods’ hungers…
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The ragged voice of the Necromite to the south devolves into a low, wavering howl as his rage breaks, the spectral beast-hand hovering above his own flexing its smoking claws. The bleeding Fist of Bane across from him, however, growls as he watches the cultist of Myrkul's control slipping, and sidesteps to shove and disrupt him with a broad, armored shoulder, still with his arrow wrenched back taut on its black string, and trained upon Casta's heart.
"Not...yet," he mutters harshly. "The Dark Gods will take her when we meet again..."
OOC: Feldinor, please roll your second death saving throw. No issues with a public result this time. Good luck again!
OOC: Casta, there's literally no icon or symbol upon the Night Blade, beyond his dark, rank rags, for such trinkets do not serve this one's gruesome cause. You would observe, however, that his wicked, gleaming curved dagger is back in the narrow sewer tunnel where you first grasped his crumpled body...
OOC: Tactical graphic is inbound, with all of the recent developments. Murdoch has the initiative!
Murdoch eyes the Night Blade, fingers held lightly against the lever of his crossbow.
Mechanically, he's still ready to fire if any of these cultists makes a hostile move.
To be ... or not to be...that is the question I ask the dice gods....
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OOC: And the dice gods have answered with mercy...this time!
OOC: Adventurers, given the unconscious state of the Fist of Bane that fell in order after Murdoch, initiative passes to Fimrold, and then immediately to Rigor!
OOC: While waiting for Fimrold to respond, in the interest of moving the story forward, I doubt Rigor’s actions will conflict...
Rigor finds himself without a ranged weapon, and slips past Fimrold to reach the tunnel intersection. The Monk retrieves the downed Night Blade’s curved dagger for such a use, then starts his return to the standoff. He pauses immediately north of the reflective dwarf.
Fimrold holds his position and dodges, waiting for the deal to complete.
OOC: Apologies for the delayed response.
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The Night Blade holding the limp Feldinor off the ground by his hair obliges Casta’s imperative, sliding silently up to the shadowed corner of the tunnel intersection. His red-limned eyes narrow to slits with the feral grin hidden beneath his cowl, and he masters himself, if just barely, against the urge to attack the Paladin.
“Not yet a murder…so close. Next time, you’ll let me finish the circle of tears, and skin its little face within…next time…”
The cultist offers the Rogue's body, the halfling's face still streaming twin lines of water-thin blood, to Casta with one hand, the other with the end of his gleaming dagger pressed under the base of Feldinor’s skull.
“You sanctify nothing, holy cow,” the wounded, torch-bearing Necromite coughs out from the shadows on the opposite side, fully in control of his vile faculties, “for the Dark Gods will restore us in the spilled blood of innocents.”
His own sorcerous, necrotic spectral claw is stayed once again, hovering above his left hand awaiting its deadly release.
OOC: Good Morning, Adventurers! Yokai, brilliant entry! Had a confluence of Program Management Review, real-world emergent threat response, and arrival of my bride in town for birthday celebrations within a 72-hour period, and only now recovering from it!
OOC: Through a dialog with Yokai, I'm also now "next" as well, and will plan to send out that one this evening.
OOC: In game mechanics, the Night Blade appears readied to hand over Feldinor at the same time as the other cultist, while the Necromite appears readied to attack in the manner of Murdoch. MTF!
Yokai continues his determined pace to Sorore’s west, striding to the entrance of the sewer tunnel, and the edge of the gloom. Pausing only to assess the surroundings beyond, the Warlock sheathes his longsword and steps through the rusted iron sewer gate onto the sloping cobblestone alley. Yokai’s stance and movement appear to subtly shift as he leaves the sewers, and within seconds his path takes him out of sight and hearing, heading south around the nearest corner…
The Fist of Bane defending the tunnel to the south quivers in bloody anticipation with Casta's close proximity, veins and tendons bulging down his neck as he looms over even the tall Paladin. His discipline cracks, and his mouth suddenly erupts in a bestial yell, spittle flying across her forehead. He flinches, however, as the torch-bearing Necromite grunts and lowers the guttering flame to the side of his scarred face, breaking the focus of his mounting, murderous urges, and the massive armored warrior roughly jerks back behind the edge of his red, black-handed shield. The mace still trembles in his gauntleted fist, however, and the Banite cultist shifts from his defensive stance to one of violent readiness.
“Get...this...done,” he growls through clenched teeth, eyes boring into Casta as his scar turns a lurid red. “Next...time...*****.”
OOC: Good Evening, adventurers! Apologies again for the delay - lost my window the following night as originally planned after heading up to the Laboratory, then headed out on a brief road trip with my bride. Nothing is easy - but PM commentary was most amusing! Sorore has the initiative, followed immediately by Casta and then Belmort!
Sorore is utterly unmoving in her current position of concealment, completely focused on her assessment of Feldinor during the handover of hostages, and still ready to cast her last spell of healing at a distance in any crucial life-threatening moment that emerges with him.
OOC: Well I’m so glad I checked this evening. Jury is still out on the "lesser of two evils" thing, but the fallout if they take the bait will be exciting to watch from my distance!
OOC: Preceding graphic in support of Casta's upcoming post, per PM discussion...!
Casta is startled as spittle and bald fury wash over her. She shifts unconsciously to her back foot in preparation for the coming blow when the Necromite's torch falls to bridle the rage. A fracture in the command has shown itself that almost cost her dearly to learn. We can use this, she thinks. Zealous aggression is as much folly as running blindly into sewers. ... Next time. She steels her nerve against what must be done and presses on, lest this new information temp her to further folly herself. How will she later judge herself for what she has to do in the moment?
She looks at the Necromite holding the torch and eyes him warily, measuring. Her eyes then tighten and her forehead lifts. Her countenance communicates "Let's do it".
With her right hand, Casta hands the unconscious Nightblade to the Nightblade holding Feldinor. She takes the unconscious Feldinor with her left hand by the front of his jerkin, lifting him away from the wicked blade, and immediately pulls him in close to her chest, enveloping the small Feldinor fully under her shield as her feet begin to backpedal with her mortal prize. Such a devastatingly painful price to pay. It should only be the Gods themselves who chose life and death. Her mind flashes an idle wonder: Do those sacrificed to Bane remain judged by Kelemvor?
As she begins to fade behind Belmort and Rigor, when the Necromite and the Nightblade are out of sight, she plants one more seed for the next fight into the Fist of Bane. That's a good dog. Obey your leash master. Almost Tormlike, you know. Better luck next time, sweetroll.
She continues moving backwards until she brings Feldinor deep between the two clerics, and adjacent to Sorore in the T intersection. Back into the gloom of the open grate, she shifts her right foot and shoulder back so Sorore can see and begin administration to the halfling of great cost.
-----------------------------
Mechanically:
Non-action: Drop object - Stabilized Nightblade
Free Interaction: Pick up object - Feldinor the Foolish (Brave?)
Action: Dash
Movement: Double move north 8 squares to the T, where I run out of movement.
The Night Blade reluctantly releases Feldinor’s dangling body to Casta with a guttural moan escaping him, the tip of his wicked dagger quivering and almost longingly following the scarred halfling from his grasp. The cultist’s empty hand roughly grasps the bloody, unconscious Night Blade offered by the aasimar, and half-lowers him to the wet stones to drag, his dagger remaining upraised should it have calling to again serve its unholy purposes.
As the Paladin of Helm draws her burden back from the line of conflict, the steady flow of thinned blood from the two tears cut deeply into the side of Feldinor’s face thicken and slow within seconds of stepping away from the Night Blade. Her focused and trained sense of others’ wellness further reveals to her that the Rogue was somehow already stabilized, and almost certainly before the ritual carving of his flesh began, given his earlier mortal peril…
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers; I hope this finds you well. An excellent and reflective move on Casta's part, with some small elements of discovery as well. The significance of the exchange and movement warranted another map update, to be disseminated following this missive.
OOC: Belmort has the initiative, as A Cuspide Corona is united once more!
Belmort remains on the front line and uses his ready action so he can make a tactical retreat in tandem with Rigors movement away from the Fist of Bane group.
The sounds of concerned voices closes in on the rusty sewer gate beyond Sorore in the wake of Yokai’s sudden departure, their forms becoming distinct in the pale light as they approach...
The Necromite masters his hate with Casta’s retreat in a rush of heaving, clotted breaths, his phantom talons still spasmodically flexing as smoke seeps from them. Gathering himself, he backs away to the west, beyond the torchlight and into the gloom of the yawning tunnel as he mutters…
"None further than the lizard," the cultist of Myrkul rasps, as he steps into the gathering shadow, “lest the Reaper’s claws take you now…vice later…”
The wounded Fist of Bane formerly at his side, black longbow in-hand with the arrow now held against the stave, roughly grasps the fallen one lying in the wet filth of the sewer floor by the edge of his chainmail. He prepares to fall back dragging the blood-soaked cultist, as the other followers of the Dead Three withdraw…
"Shame the cutting has to wait...Still, no “Flaming Piss” will be saving any of you from the Dark…"
OOC: Well-met, Adventurers. No death save required for the stabilized Feldinor, while the cultists have yet to break initiative...and thus on to Murdoch!
Murdoch stays ready to shoot, silently tracking the movement of the talkative Necromite.
Someone ought to be prepared for the worst. Its hard to trust anyone with "Necro" in their title.
Fimrold moves 15ft N and readies an action to follow Casta once she leaves the tunnel with Feldinor.