Andarel quickly pulls the fallen elf to the side and looks at her wounds. "I'm no healer but she looks in a bad way. Who have we got that can take a stab at checking her over? Errr... pardon the pun."
(OoC @DM - Can you give us a description of her? How well nourished does she look, what is her clothing like, etc?)
Hearing Andarel calling out from the front about wounding but unsure who they mean "Wait, did someone get hurt? If someone comes watch the back.. I could probably create a blood producing pill or a crappy elixir, I have enough scraps left from before I was taken. I don't have much left until we get a chance for me to gather and synthesize.."
(Assuming someone comes and watches the back)
Fuse travels to the front of the pack, while digging into his alchemy set, removing a rolled up green plant, a small corked bottle. stuffing the small plant inside, adding in a strange blue liquid, followed by a yellow liquid, the plant seems to wither and disolve as the solution turns purple. "Where is she hurt?" dabbing some onto her injuries using his dirty shirt as a rag, taking a Pasteur pipette and dropping the rest of the medicinal alchemy into the unconscious elf's mouth.
(Assuming she's actually hurt; and requires healing, I don't have a herbalism kit, or healer kit, so Cure Wounds it is. Last spell slot for the day)
(If someone illuminates the area, I have a picture of her.)
The elf is pale skinned with light hair. She looks like she has just enough food, and is wearing rough bearhide armor. When Fuse applies his solution, a second later, she sits up with a groan.
Requiring light to help treat the wounds, Fuse enlightens the cork top with his applications. (5ft brigh light, 5ft dim light; the "footsteps" back at the armory fully disappate now)
Sheepishly considering it sounded like they were just fighting. "Ah, Hello. Please no knife play. Do you understand me?" inquires Fuse; yet all he can really think of is the fish. Fish. Food. Protien. not slave rations. pondering how he could fish if they have time.
Tilting his head to his side, "Because no one likes to be torture slave?" shortly therafter realizes her implications, then looking to the group with a plantive 'I am not good at this and I don't have good answers' face. "Were you captured and escaped? Or are you lost?"
Shio lets out a dry laugh. He looks the slender moon elf up and down, she did not seem like an enemy - possibly someone like them that just escaped the drow as well. He folds his arms and presses his hand against the wound on his shoulder, "because I'm a dickhead who realised his whole life is a mistake and want to rebel against Mistress Ilvara of House Mizzrym?”
It did make a bit of sense they wouldn't be the only ones marching through these tunnels. He couldn't say he wanted to blindly trust anyone they met down here but it seemed the attack had been more out of misunderstanding than malice so he didn't voice that slight misgiving. Haivern had never really been one for speech, he decided to leave getting to know this one to the others while he stood still and tried to stay alert.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Andarel brushes her blonde hair back behind her ears, showing the moon elf her distant heritage. "Our companion is with us because we trust him, you can either accept that or not. What is your name dear? And as my other friend asked, what brings you down here, and in such a fright that you would risk attacking us?" Offering her hand to help the elf up, and talking in soothing tones to try and diffuse the situation, Andarel tries to get some answers out of the elf.
Luriel has managed to progress her way down the tunnel and has reached Shio, Andarel, and Fuse. She stands behind them, watching the conversation with Sandiel.
When the woman was discovered, Zelk seemed too out of it to offer his healing services, his mind preoccupied with the daring escape that they just made although Andarel's questioning quickly snaps him back to the real world. Noticing Shio's disguise throwing the pale-skinned elf off, Zelk seems about to suggest that he drop it but decides against it and just waits patiently for the elf's response to his companion's question. As Andarel speaks to the elf, Zelk places his hand on the elven mage's shoulder and offers some quiet reassurance.
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“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
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Andarel quickly pulls the fallen elf to the side and looks at her wounds. "I'm no healer but she looks in a bad way. Who have we got that can take a stab at checking her over? Errr... pardon the pun."
(OoC @DM - Can you give us a description of her? How well nourished does she look, what is her clothing like, etc?)
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Hearing Andarel calling out from the front about wounding but unsure who they mean "Wait, did someone get hurt? If someone comes watch the back.. I could probably create a blood producing pill or a crappy elixir, I have enough scraps left from before I was taken. I don't have much left until we get a chance for me to gather and synthesize.."
(Assuming someone comes and watches the back)
Fuse travels to the front of the pack, while digging into his alchemy set, removing a rolled up green plant, a small corked bottle. stuffing the small plant inside, adding in a strange blue liquid, followed by a yellow liquid, the plant seems to wither and disolve as the solution turns purple. "Where is she hurt?" dabbing some onto her injuries using his dirty shirt as a rag, taking a Pasteur pipette and dropping the rest of the medicinal alchemy into the unconscious elf's mouth.
(Assuming she's actually hurt; and requires healing, I don't have a herbalism kit, or healer kit, so Cure Wounds it is. Last spell slot for the day)
Cure Wounds: 8
(If someone illuminates the area, I have a picture of her.)
The elf is pale skinned with light hair. She looks like she has just enough food, and is wearing rough bearhide armor. When Fuse applies his solution, a second later, she sits up with a groan.
Requiring light to help treat the wounds, Fuse enlightens the cork top with his applications. (5ft brigh light, 5ft dim light; the "footsteps" back at the armory fully disappate now)
The river is about 30 feet wide, but is only about 6 inches deep and is not very swift. Fish swim in the surprisingly clean water.
Sheepishly considering it sounded like they were just fighting. "Ah, Hello. Please no knife play. Do you understand me?" inquires Fuse; yet all he can really think of is the fish. Fish. Food. Protien. not slave rations. pondering how he could fish if they have time.
"Why do you have a drow friend?", she spits in perfect common.
Tilting his head to his side, "Because no one likes to be torture slave?" shortly therafter realizes her implications, then looking to the group with a plantive 'I am not good at this and I don't have good answers' face. "Were you captured and escaped? Or are you lost?"
(OOC, she is referring to the disguised Shio)
Shio lets out a dry laugh. He looks the slender moon elf up and down, she did not seem like an enemy - possibly someone like them that just escaped the drow as well. He folds his arms and presses his hand against the wound on his shoulder, "because I'm a dickhead who realised his whole life is a mistake and want to rebel against Mistress Ilvara of House Mizzrym?”
It did make a bit of sense they wouldn't be the only ones marching through these tunnels. He couldn't say he wanted to blindly trust anyone they met down here but it seemed the attack had been more out of misunderstanding than malice so he didn't voice that slight misgiving. Haivern had never really been one for speech, he decided to leave getting to know this one to the others while he stood still and tried to stay alert.
Andarel brushes her blonde hair back behind her ears, showing the moon elf her distant heritage. "Our companion is with us because we trust him, you can either accept that or not. What is your name dear? And as my other friend asked, what brings you down here, and in such a fright that you would risk attacking us?" Offering her hand to help the elf up, and talking in soothing tones to try and diffuse the situation, Andarel tries to get some answers out of the elf.
9 Persuasion is +2
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Still looking distrustfully at Shio, she answers "Sandiel. I assume the same reason you are in this lightless place."
Luriel has managed to progress her way down the tunnel and has reached Shio, Andarel, and Fuse. She stands behind them, watching the conversation with Sandiel.
"My name is Andarel. So what do you assume we are doing down here?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
"Well, given that you are an elf and you are all wearing drow-made gear, I would guess you are escaped drow slaves."
"So you escaped the drow by yourself? How long have you been out here?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
"Several months, by my count."
When the woman was discovered, Zelk seemed too out of it to offer his healing services, his mind preoccupied with the daring escape that they just made although Andarel's questioning quickly snaps him back to the real world. Noticing Shio's disguise throwing the pale-skinned elf off, Zelk seems about to suggest that he drop it but decides against it and just waits patiently for the elf's response to his companion's question. As Andarel speaks to the elf, Zelk places his hand on the elven mage's shoulder and offers some quiet reassurance.
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”