Made in Secret, and Smuggled Past the Border IC

[industrious]

Part I: So, you all meet at an inn…

Albright Inn-Originally known as the Red Dwarf, the name of this particular inn was changed approximately six months after it opened, due to an unfortunate accident involving a waraxe and a fireball…Notable adventurers who began their quest at the Albright include Valra the Mad, Gr’t, and several others…Yet the inn is most famous because of its role in bringing together the…unique group of individuals who would later be called…-Excerpt from A Brief Encyclopedia of the Arque Empire, Vol. II

The Albright Inn has a history. Located near the Velam border, in the foothills of the TelGlast mountains, the inn is known for being quite successful, as it is inevitable that anyone who attempts to cross the border via the roads must past it. The fact that the inn’s profit margins are increased by a certain degree of smuggling merely goes without saying.

As you walk towards the inn, a scrap of paper flutters beneath your feet. Picking it up, you realize that it is a recruitment poster for the Velam Army-Arque mercenaries are highly valued in the Second Beholder War. Tossing it aside, you don’t give it a second glance as it continues drifting along the empty road for the next traveler to stumble upon.

The inn is fairly large, and nearly empty. In a corner table, two humans in robes are vigorously arguing in some language you cannot comprehend-but from the tone, you assume they must be family. The bartender, a ruddy-faced dwarf, shrugs at you, and jerks his head towards a certain table. Apparently, they’ve been expecting you; while the table is empty, there are six chairs on one side, and only one in the middle of the other.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon Garland takes a quick look around as he walks towards the table. Although he's never stayed in the inn, per say, he has used it quite a few times to avoid the rain. He's never taken the proper time to look around but there has never been much to look at. Save for the quarreling humans (siblings? cousins, perhaps), that pattern is holding true.

Simon walks over to the left-most chair at the table, spins it 180-degrees (making a bit more sound than he intends), and sits down in it so he faces the table. He taps his foot against the ground as if impatient or playing out a good song in his head. the smile on his face suggests the latter.

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel approached the inn at a leisurely stroll, wearing no less than two coats at the moment. Nighttime vigilantism or not, he hated the cold, and today, atleast to him, was turning out to be rather disagreeably chilly. Trhoughout most of the journey, he barely notices his surroundings, much too preoccupied by the strange message he has recieved. Out of sheer curiosity, he began to consider what this job might be. Given the Albright Inn's location, whatever was required of him may well be illegal, possibly related to smuggling of some sort.

Or perhaps - a rather more forboding thought, this - it was a trap of some variety. After all, he had no shortage of enemies. Time would tell, as always, and time was easily molded.

Nathaniel reaches down and picks the paper up immediately upon seeing it, almost sure, for some reason, that it was linked to his being summoned to the Albright Inn. No such luck. It was, as it turned out, only a strange coincidence.

The armed forces... I'd even go back to that, right now. Better than haunting the streets and answering overly cryptic invitations...

As he enters the inn, first of all, he is grateful for the warmth. Anything beats staying outside. The bickering duo with a table to themselves almost brought a smile to his face - human emotions, especially the more volatile ones, could always be relied on. He knew them well, as the hammers and nails of his daylight profession. To see them here was, in some strange way, comforting amidst all the recent strange occurences.

The rest of the Albright inn, however, was rather empty. Oddly so, even. Still, the less noise, the better. What did surprise him, however, was the dwarf pointing him to the largely-empty table. That he was expected was hardly shocking, ofcourse, but that there were other seats near the one he was presumably to occupy. Five others, to be exact, and one of them was already taken.

He is not fazed for long, however, and soon takes a seat next to the only occupant present, putting his best friendly, honest expression on - first impressions were everything. Good day, sir. I am Nathaniel Colburn." Going out on a limb, by now rather convinced that this was no mere coincidence, he adds "I take it you were brought here by much the same invitation I recieved?"

[Tyrael]

http://img136.imageshack.us/img136/9036/femcopy.jpg

Iskellia

A cloaked figure approaches the inn, garbed in dusty travel clothes consisting of a brown cloak, green shirt, black breeches and dirty brown boots. The billowing cloak hides all indications of shape or identity from casual inspection. As it approaches the door, the figure looks up at the sign and nods to itself. Suddenly, the figure's garb shimmers and changes completely. In its place is a distinctly feminine figure garbed in a skintight black bodysuitsuit that stretches from her neck to its toes, but leaves her arms tantalizing bare. The fabric clings tightly to her body, outlining every curve of her rather impressively large, ample breasts, shapely hips and slender legs. Silvery belts cover the suit at odd places, creating a musical jingle as she walks. Even though it only exposes her arms, the tightness of the outfit leaves virtually nothing of her body to the imagination save for her identity, for her face is covered with a slender, featureless black mask whose only adornment is a pair of slits for her eyes and a blue glyph along her left jaw.

The woman shakes herself slightly, adopts an arrogant pose and saunters into Albright Inn, the door suddenly opening itself as she approaches, though nobody stood by to open it. As she steps inside, the door closes itself again in the same mysterious manner, smoke and mist form outside swirling around her boots.

As the busty woman slinks up to the bar, the majority of the male eyes in the room eye her appreciatively, their stares divided evenly between her ample, bouncing breasts and her swaying, shapely rear, their movement emphasized even more by the skintight fabric and the woman's deliberate gait. The dwarven bartender, however, seems unaffected as he jerks his head towards a corner table.

She saunters her way over to the table and stands above it for a moment, her expression unreadable through the black mask. Her hand waves slightly, and one of the chairs scoots itself out from the table, allowing her to lower her ample buttocks into it with a sigh, her chest bouncing slightly from the impact. The woman leans forward, her masked gaze staring at Nathaniel and Simon piercingly.

She remains silent for a few moments, studying them in an almost predatory fashion.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Sitting on the roof of the inn Aujir enjoyed the wind through his shaggy green hair. Deciding it was time to go in he lifted himself up taking care not to damage the roof he moved onto the wind, floating himself down.

Landing with barely a whisper he entered the inn, shaking the remaining water off his cloak as he did so. Seeing his apparent table already half full he cursed himself for sitting so long. Approaching he was actually shocked by the masked woman, what an unusual disguise.

"You are here for the same reason as me I take it?"

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The woman's piercingly green eyes gaze at him through the mask. "Well, that would depend on what you're here for, hmm?" she replies, tilting her head to one side. A cold, humorless laugh is muffled inside the mask.

[Cogwheel]

Those who knew Nathaniel well - no one at all, in other words - would know that one of an admittedly large list of things he could not abide was being watched. Examined. Perhaps it was born from his dual professions, where he always had something or the other to hide, or perhaps it was simply a trait of his personality. Regardless, he was more than a little unnerved by being watched silently like some sort of prey. The odd green man who entered shortly afterwards only served to make the situation stranger. Still, atleast he was not likely to be the odd one out.

He looks up from his seat at the two newcomers. "Assuming you were all brought here by a rather cryptic message, yes, you are correct. Nathaniel Colburn, at your service."

His appearance flickers momentarily, a pair of black feathery wings appearing at his back for a fraction of a second, enough to make the viewer doubt their own eyes, then vanishing again, replaced by a small smile on his face. Given that this crowd would likely be working with him, it was best to be upfront about such things.. "You may have heard of me a handful of times, by a different name."

"In any case, yes, we appear to be working together... Now, who might the rest of you be, if you don't mind my asking?"

[Tavar]

Ventrui
Arriving shortly after Aujir, Ventrui managed to catch Nathaniel's statement. He's a tall man of middling build, wearing garments favored by those of Wavecrest. His hair is pulled into a ponytail, revealing bright sky-blue eyes. He looks well maintained, except for the fact that he has what appears to be several days of facial hair growth, though by it's spotty appearance, it's doubtful that he could grow a decent beard or mustache. The only other thing of note about him are the blood red petals that flow about him, as if some breeze were constantly stirring them about. He glances at each of the others for a moment, only lingering on Aujir for any length of time, before approaching one of the open chairs and sitting down.
I see I wasn't the only one contacted. I'm Ventrui, and I doubt you've heard anything about me. I take it the one who sent the message hasn't shown?

[Cogwheel]

"Good evening, Ventrui," Nathaniel answers with a polite smile and nod. He takes care not to mention or spend too long at the swirling petals - such a move would be quite impolite, and making a bad impression at this stage would simply not do. Besides, he had seen stranger things, much of them caused by himself.

I'm afraid that, yes, you are correct. For the moment, our employer has not shown themselves - but then, it seems we are not all here just yet. I must say, we have quite the sense of timing - we seem to have arrived within moments of eachother. In any case, I'm sure we will have our answers soon enough."

If Nathaniel is annoyed by this development, he does not show it. Patience, not to mention a good deal of other virtues, were part of his tools, to be turned on and off as the situation demanded. That said, his patience was largely genuine, atleast for matters like this. Ofcourse, this is largely irrelevant in any case - he is hardly one to make his annoyance or other emotions visible, for the most part.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Actually I've been here for over an hour" says Aujir, taking a chair. "I was enjoying the light rain earlier from the roof."

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked young woman's gaze switches to Nathaniel. There's something vaguely frightening about her intently predatory stare. The look in her eyes reminds one of a small child trying to decide whether or not to squish a spider or to keep watching in case it does something interesting. It is as though she is examining him, studying him for classification to fit into her world, like an animal deciding whether someone is friend, foe or food.

After a moment, she appears to reach a decision and leans back in her chair, arching her back as she stretches like a cat, her large breasts swelling provocatively against the tight suit. Deliberately holding the pose, she remarks, "Maybe he's the sort to be fashionably late." She sneers the last words, rolling her eyes.

[industrious]

The bartender walks over to your table. As he exits the bar, you notice that he has a pronounced limp, and his left hand is sporting a cane. Peering disinterestedly at all of you, he announces, in a bored voice.

"Anybody want anything to drink? No need to pay; drinks are on your patron."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Well if it's free I'll have a double Firewhisky" says the green haired man.

[industrious]

"As you wish. Does anybody else desire a drink?"

Limping back to the bar, he fills a glass with the whiskey, limps back over, and places the glass in front of Aujir. The two in the corner table are still arguing, and have in fact degenerated to shouting, but a stern look from the dwarf is all it takes for the two to quiet down...at least a little.

"Sorry about the noise."

[Tavar]

Ventrui
I'll take an ale and some stew, if possible? No problem about the noise. I remember the Dancing Drake would get much louder than this.

[industrious]

The bartender hands over the stew and fills a glass of the stoutest house ale. "Here, you are then, sir." He ignores the comment about the Dancing Drake.

As you feel the alcohol burn through your system, you feel slightly warmer than you did before, and more confident as well.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon looks around at the assembled group. They seem to be okay people so far. Besides, anyone who'd get a double fire whisky can't be that bad. The bartender said that their drinks were covered, right? Simon smiled.

"Another double fire whisky for me, if you please. If you've got a deck of cards laying around, I'll pay you a couple gold to take it off your hands."

Simon turns back to face the others assembled, "Nice to meet all of you. The name is Simon, Simon Garland. I'll assume that all of you had your hands inked as well."

Simon raises his hand so all can see the message written on it.

" Speaking of which, has anyone found a way to get the ink off? I've tried washing it but I haven't tried soap yet."

Simon lowers his hand and gazes at it, his expression a bit vexed.

[industrious]

"No cards here, unfortunately. Bunch of hooligans ran off with them last night."

He rummages through the bar in a half-hearted attempt to find them.

"Oh. I could have sworn I didn't have any." He comes up with a newly printed deck of cards. "Well, I'll be. Tell you what, 3 gold for the deck." The arguing couple stops for a moment to stare at him. He glares back, and the two go back at it.

The firewhiskey burns down your throat, and you thank your unknown patron for the free drinks.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon walks over and places three gold on the counter before giving the bartender an exaggerated bow and taking the deck back with him.

"Who's up for a game of cards to pass the time?" Simon asks, slowly shuffling the deck, "I'll warn you, though, I'm pretty skilled."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Not for me, I tend to mark them" he says, wiggling his clawed fingers.

[Tavar]

Ventrui
Thanks, but I can't afford it at the moment, and not playing for keeps lacks the fun.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The amply-endowed woman's throaty laugh is muffled by her mask, still holding her provocative stretching pose. "You boys go on ahead. I'd rather watch."

[Balketh]

Picture, if you will, a tall humanoid figure. Approximately six foot two, broad shoulders, standing with a straight back. He is clad in a dark brown leather coat that reaches his feet, pulled closed slightly at his front. It has a large collar, raised, and combined with a similarly dark brown, large, strange looking hat, it is impossible to see the figure's face.

Heavy boots, clothing in various shades of brown, and no sign of a weapon make for a very peculiar sort of man to appear in this sort of bar.

Appear, being the key word. The door to the bar hits the wall, opened far enough for anyone in the frame to be seen, and yet... No one stands there, nor even touches the door.

Eyes in the empty bar are drawn from occasionally glancing at the amply endowed woman, to the door, where, they are treated to a disturbing flicker. A man, the very man described, flickers for a moment, in the doorway. It is impossible to make out any important features, as he only appears once, for less than a second, then disappears again.

The doors remain open, however, and cold air is slowly let in.

Then, it happens. From the doorway, a bright flash of white light occurs, and the doors release, slamming shut. A body, covered in a dark coat, indeed the very same man that briefly existed in the doorway, is launched across the bar at an intense speed. He slams to the ground, rolling across the floor.

Somehow, he manages to pick himself up mid-roll, and end up with his back to the bar. He sends nearby stools clattering during his roll, and as he smacks his back against the bar, ending his movement, he brings two very strange weapons to bear, pointing them at the door to the bar, his chest heaving with each breath.

At least, the metallic things in his hands look like they could be weapons, though no one has ever seen anything like them before.

Any who pay a little more attention than usual, to a man who was just flung into the room for seemingly no reason, can see his hands are shaking. Slowly, as seconds pass, and nothing else so very absurd occurs, the man lowers his weapons, and lowers his head, his shoulders heaving with each breath still.

Eventually, one foot drags up, and the man slides up the bar. His hands draw back the edge of his coat at hip-level, and he inserts the weapons into sheaths, letting the leather of the coat fall back to its original position again as he calms himself.

Panting slightly, with one foot, he kicks up a stool that he knocked over to a standing position, then the other, without ever taking his vision off the door. Not that anyone can see his eyes in the shade of his wide-brimmed hat.

Turning, still panting softly, the man is about to speak, when the dwarf nods gruffly to the table where five already sit. Gulping heavily, he raises a hand, the only visible skin on his body so far, and tips his hat.

"S-sorry 'bout that..." He whispers, before moving on.

With a slow, heavy stride, the man makes his way to the only empty chair, and stands behind it, gazing at the others. He tips his hat lower, but the most vague, human features of his face can still be made out.

"I... I a-assume this is the place..." He finally speaks in a voice that is audible to all, and it is instantly obvious, the tall, dark figure in the cloak is a young man, barely of age.

Taking a seat, he makes sure his hat his low again, and sighs. His arms rest between his legs, the coat masking most of his figure bar his broad shoulders. He remains silent for now.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked young woman reverses her pose, leaning forward on the table and folding her arms curiously. "And who are you, little boy? Hmmm?" she asks sweetly, though the cheer doesn't seem to reach into her eyes that gaze out of her mask's lenses coldly. "Are you the Mysterious Benefactor we've all heard so much about?"

[Balketh]

The figure leans back slightly, though whether it is out of fear, surprise, or generally being uncomfortable is impossible for one to tell. There is a long pause, and not even a peep of a breath comes from the figure, as if he's waiting for something.

Slowly, but surely, he raises his right hand, and points his palm at the masked woman. The same message scrawled across the hands of the five others, is scrawled on his.

"I'm neither your benefactor, nor a little boy. And if you don't already know who I am..." He states quietly, leaning forward again as he lowers his hand below the table, where it was previously.

"... Then best we keep it that way. At least until our... 'Benefactor' explains things." And again, the young man falls silent. His tone was a little rougher than last he spoke, losing some of that young-boy quality.

[industrious]

After the man in the duster arrives, the couple in the corner fall silent. The man gets up, and walks over to the table. When he reaches the far side, he begins to speak.

"Now that you are all here, we can begin. My name is Sir Marcus Valiant. And...by the authority of the Spell and Sword, as authorized by the Tribunal of Three, all of you have been sentenced to execution, for the crime of treason."

The robes that he and his partner were fall to the floor. Underneath them lie standard Sword and Spell chain shirts. The man draws a pair of swords, one longer than the other, and assumes a fighting stance. The woman has already done so, and an orb of lighting bursts from her hand to strike at Nathaniel. Behind the bar, the bartender winks, and twists a ring on his right hand, vanishing into the ether with a small pop.

Battle Grid
http://www.celestine-empire.net/battlegrid/board.php?sessionID=All%20Homebrew

Attack Roll against Nathaniel
Damage Roll [roll1] electricity damage


Initiative

Spell: [roll2]
Sword: [roll3]

Simon: [roll]1d20+1
Ventrui: [roll4]
Nathaniel: [roll5]
Iskellia: [roll6]
Aujir: [roll7]
Tobias: [roll8]

[Realms of Chaos]

edit: nevermind

[industrious]

Spell: (1d20+2)[8]
Sword: (1d20+3)[9]

Simon: (1d20+1)[21]
Ventrui: (1d20+4)[21]
Nathaniel: (1d20+3)[12]
Iskellia: (1d20+2)[18]
Aujir: (1d20+2)[12]
Tobias: (1d20+3)[19]

Order: Simon/Ventrui, Tobias, Iskellia, Nathaniel/Aujir, Sword, and Spell

Wow, those are bad init rolls for my NPCs. Not so cunning of an ambush after all.

[Realms of Chaos]

Rolling initiative as it failed in the previous post.
[roll0] nevermind
Also, was the last attack targetting me or nathaniel? I can't tell.

Simon uses his bout of luck ability to protect himself (imitating the shield spell, duration 6 rounds).

with his move action, simon draws forth his weapon, a scimitar.

Edit: Wait a moment, I rolled a natural 20 for Init after you rolled a natural 20 for init on my behalf. Why do the gods of fate smile upon me in such needless matters? :smallfrown:

[industrious]

The attack was at Nathaniel.

[Realms of Chaos]

Due to the natural 20 on my initiative check, I get an impossibility point. Yay!

Also, I edited my action into my previous post.

Simon quickly raises out of his chair and turns to look at his new enemies. Draws forth a scimitar from its scabbard and waits for the others to react.

the deck of cards is left on the table, forgotten for the moment.

[Tavar]

Ventrui

For a second, Ventrui appears stunned, but the lighting from the lady seems to shake him back to his sensed. Yelling Frack this! as he jumping out of his chair, drawing his sword in the same action. Then, with a wave of his hand several blossoms make a beeline for the Sir Valiant. Unlike regular blossoms, however, where they hit they draw blood, and then return to Ventrui.
Move action to stand up and draw my sword.
Attacking the Spell
Ranged Touch attack 1: [roll0], Damage [roll1]
Ranged Touch attack 2: [roll2], Damage [roll3]

Edit; just remembered that they can only target those within 20ft. Changed to valid target.

[industrious]

The woman staggers back for a moment as the petal blades cut into her face and torso, but she is still standing, however bloodied she is.

Additionally, two things you are allowed to know:

The Sword has The Edge (Races of War) against all of you. Just saying.

You can find out what class the Sword/Spell are by rolling a knowledge(local)/(arcana) check. It can be done untrained.

[Realms of Chaos]

Knowledge (local) [roll0]

[Tavar]

Local:[roll0]
Arcana:[roll1]

Note, I changed the target due to range restrictions.

[Realms of Chaos]

forgot about arcana
knowledge (arcana) [roll0]

[Balketh]

The young man watches in horror as lightning arcs out from the woman's direction, though you couldn't tell just by looking. With a single step, he rises, and his right hand slips into his duster. Out of it, he draws the long, square, silver weapon, mysterious as it is, and points it at the Sword.

For a moment, he appears to merely stand there. Then, a second later, a bright flash fills the room for an instant, and a roar, like an explosion, passes through everyone's ears. The young man barely even moves, the weapon kicking upward, though he still holds onto it.

Somehow, anyone in front of the young man knows that something just passed them by; something had come out of the weapon, and it was deadly.

I'm assuming, firstly, that Tobias knows who they are, as not a fortnight ago, he was serving under them. So.

Move action to draw
Standard to attack

Rolls here: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=7156792&postcount=68

Wow. Very nice rolls. :D

[Cogwheel]

As Nathaniel sees the young man fumble his way through the door, one word crosses his mind: Harmless. This was not to say that he saw the world only as threats and non-threats, ofcourse, but it was always useful to keep such things in mind. He was, however, either being chased - in which case he suspected that those in the room could present quite a defense - or simply clumsy. He seemed friendly enough, in any case. Then came the pair of strange, metallic weapons.

Ah. Mostly harmless. Still, there was all of one person in the room that he did not trust with a weapon, and the new arrival was not one of them. To the barkeep, he looks up and answers "Thank you, but I don't think I'll be taking more than a glass of water. I don't take too well to alcohol."

One who lived primarily on his wits quickly learned to avoid anything that would drown those wits - if Nathaniel drank, it was a sign that he both felt safe and believed that there would be no need for any sort of work from him in the next day or two. Moments before an interview hardly counted as such a time.

..."Execution, for the crime of treason". What treason? And to think he could have even been useful to them if they let him be... Still, Nathaniel did derive some odd brand of smug satisfaction from having more or less anticipated this.

Then came the lightning. Lightning is a painful thing, when applied to one with considerable force. His veins glow blue for a split second as electricity arcs all across his body, charring his skin and leaving him twitching somewhat in place as the after-effects wracked his nerves. Smoke rose off him like a pall, leaving the man almost dead.

All in all, he'd been through worse.

"I beg to differ. Before you proceed with this pointless execution, I have a question for you to consider. You are attempting to kill no less than six rather accomplished fighters..."

Nathaniel's hood turns to a coating of feathers over the top and sides of his head, framing a pair of bird's eyes, while wings flicker in and out of existence around his form.

"Each of us equipped with powers completely unique in the entire Arque empire, and far beyond anything you could understand, let alone know well enough to prepare against. In addition..."

Nathaniel sprints across the room, one hand - now a talon - points at the mage, and the Raven mutters something under his breath. The change is instantaneous - decay seizes the elf. Skin withers, eyes sink back into their sockets, muscles atrophy and bones all but crumble under their own weight. Rotting wounds quickly spread as time takes its toll, sapping strength away. He tried not to use this particular method if he could help it - all else aside, it was sickening to see - but this was no time to be picky.

"We outnumber you three to one, and you come here with only two armoured thugs to end us? Do try to think before you act. Goodbye."

Despite having been ambushed and half-incinerated, Nathaniel finds himself thinking Those poor, overconfident fools.


Mega-post aside, here's what happened. I moved closer to the Spell and, once within 30 feet, used the Ravages of Time Mesmer on her as a standard action, dealing 2d6 damage (fort save halves, DC 15). No, really. That's it. I promise I'll stop being so verbose at some point.

Edit: I'm going to be busy today, so I'm just posting my actions while I can. This comes after Iskellia - the chatter and such can happen now, but the useful bit comes later.

Also, Nathaniel is now down to 3 health. I think he could use a bandage or something.

[industrious]

Everybody except Realms of ChaosThe Sword is a Samurai from Races of War
The Spell is a Warmage


The Sword jerks backward as..,whatever the man in the duster used...tore a hole straight through his torso. Coughing up blood, he slowly moves back to his original stance.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked woman abruptly bursts into a series of high-pitched giggles. "Heeheehee! You think you can hurt me? Hahahahah! That's really funny!"

Without even bothering to get up, she waves dismissively at the Sword-equipped warrior. His sword begins suddenly vibrating violently in his grasp, and without warning a bloody hole is ripped in the side of his face. "Just go away and die, mmkay?" she chirps cheerfully.

Move Action: Telekinetics(Disarm Attempt): [roll0]
Standard Action: Armament: [roll1], [roll2]
Enemy is flat-footed vs Armament attack, damage is Piercing.

[Kobold-Bard]

((So many posts....and RoC thought he'd have problems :smallannoyed:))
Aujir

As the attacks rain down Aurir expertly somersaulted over everybodies heads and with a roar (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V595oWP5tSE) unleashed a high pressure cloud of caustic green smog so thick it can't be seen through.

The acid cloud burned the wooden floors and cracked the stone walls, but once it hit the aggressors it seared their armour and melted their flesh, the pain running through them canot be known by any who have not met a similar fate. The acid of a Black Dragon will dissolve you quickly, but the horrifying gas of a Green eats away at your skin slowly, every inch of your reporting the pain to your overloading brain.

------------------
Move to B7 in the air.
Use Breath Weapon: Cone of Acid - [roll0]
DC 14 Reflex for 1/2 damage.

Both enemies hit take the same damage again on their next turn because of my Clinging Breath feat, and my Breath Weapon is reusable in [roll1] (minimum 1) rounds.

[industrious]

(I'll wait for K-B to resolve his positioning)

Iskellia: While the bastard sword in the man's right hand rattles, the man manages to still hold onto it. The hole that appears on his face, though, is not so easily defended against, and this, combined with his other wounds, makes the man look battered and about to fall over.

cog: [roll0] The elf's features twist and party of her hair turns white. You can see the effects of atrophy upon her slender frame, but she is still standing.

[Kobold-Bard]

Is there anywhere I can go and still get them both without getting anyone else?

[industrious]

Not really. On the map (http://www.celestine-empire.net/battlegrid/DM.php?sessionID=All%20Homebrew), they're on opposite sides.

[Realms of Chaos]

Industrious
Ugh. I'm heading to sleep, which means that everyone is going to start posting simultaneously.

That said, I will spend my next action, if in combat, to attack whichever enemy is closer (after walking towards them, obviously).

Rolling twice due to my fortunate strike ability
Attack 1[roll0]
Attack 2[roll1]

If either one hits:
damage [roll2] (add +2 bonus if both attacks hit)

and if either one threatens a critical hit:
confirmation [roll3]
damage [roll4]

If I am not in combat anymore, I will be following them when they inevitably run out of the inn seeking somewhere safe to recuperate.

[industrious]

Reflex save for Spell: [roll0]

The warmage attempts to twist away from the acid, but her efforts are in vain. The left side of her body is badly burnt, and she hisses and recoils away from Aujir.

[industrious]

Sword: The man is bloodied and battered, but he is still standing, and his two swords aren't any duller. Stepping to square D13, the Sword then unleashes a series of blows with the two weapons at Ventrui . In the middle of his attack sequence, he booms out a mighty battle cry.


Attack Roll [roll0]
Using Kiai attack to automatically make bastard sword attack a confirmed critical.
Damage [roll1]

Attack Roll[roll2]
Damage Roll[roll3]

Since this is A) the first battle, and B) not a boss battle, Ventrui stabilizes at -9 HP. Sorry, Tavar.

[industrious]

As Ventrui drops to the ground, the Sword uses the man's fall as an excuse to attack Tobias with a single swipe of his bastard sword.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[industrious]

Attempting to capitalize on the Sword's attack, the Spell moves closer to the group, and sends another electric blast, this time towards Iskellia.

"Hardly a pair of thugs, criminal," she sneers
[roll0]
[roll1]


After her lightning strike misses, though, Simon manages to get up and close with her, and while she is recovering from casting the spell, stabs her through the chest. She topples to the floor.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Seeing the Spellcaster fall Aujir rose into the air as his ally fell to the floor, urging the cruel acid within him to return.

---------------
Fly up 5ft so 10ft up and move to B9.
Breath Weapon usable: Next Round.

[Balketh]

The figure watches hell unfold as he pulls back a small metal lever on his weapon. He watches his acquaintances, in the few seconds that combat had initiated, be cut down around him. Lightning arcs across the room, and the disgusting stench of rotting and decaying flesh and wood fills the bar.

The young man turns to the Sword all too late - he had thought the man dead. Ventrui is hit as the Sword exerts some strange power, and he watches as the man crumples.

He looks up in horror, as the blade of the Sword suddenly swings downward - too late to block. The impossibly sharp blade slices through his hat, and would have done the same to his skull, if he hadn't lunged backward.

The lad howls in pain as the Sword's sword opens his face, cutting down his eye and into his chest. Staggering back, he glares at the one he once respected and revered.

"I'm sorry, but believe me, I already know how this ends." Raising the strange weapon with a heavy gasp, he levels the weapon with the man's head. There's no way he could miss. He practically has the barrel of the strange weapon in the man's face.

"You lose."

The beastly weapon roars, yet again.

Standard action: Shoot the Sword in the head.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[industrious]

The Sword's head jerks back, as the bullet slices through his skull. As a last, final action before he slumps to the floor, he swings his blade at Tobias

Attack of Opportunity at Tobias, then drops to -1 HP
[roll0]
[roll1]


As the man slumps to the floor, you notice a brief second of silence. The searched corpses reveal standard Sword and Spell field gear, as well as the Sword's beautiful, magnificent bastard sword. Additionally, you find a rolled up and sealed scroll in the Spell's pocket.


You Win! Loot:

2 mwk chain shirts with the emblem of the Sword and Spell(an unraveled scroll with a fist holding a sword branded in the parchment) on the right breast)

the Samurai's ancestral weapon (+1 ghost touch bastard sword)
mwk longsword
2 belts of healing


Then you hear it. The pounding of footsteps. The sound of a force of common soldiers attracted by the deaths of their commanders. They are heading closer. From the sound of it, there are at least 50. The inn only has the single door, but you know that from its reputation, there must be at a secret smuggler's escape somewhere. They are heading closer.

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel immediately begins running about the room, searching frantically for some sort of exit while shouting out orders. He was hardly used to commanding anyone, and a good deal of the ones in the room now looked as though they would kill him for daring to do so. Still, this was no time for their hastily-joined group to dissolve into a disorganized mob.

"Close and lock the door, bolt it if you can. It'll buy us a few seconds," he calls out. On the surface, atleast, he is calm - this is not entirely a mask, atleast for now. Being on death's door was something Nathaniel had come close to a few times before. For now, he needed to concentrate - panic could wait, but probably would come at a more convenient point.

"And could someone get the dead man back on his feet? Use one of the belts, or a potion, if you've got one. He's not dead yet, but we shouldn't push our luck. The rest of you, search for an exit wherever you want. Good luck, we'll need it."

Search roll! Probably a poor one. [roll0] I'm searching only within the room, by the by.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Seeing the armed man collapse Aujir wished he could lay claim to the sword, it was a fine piece of smithing; good enough that his father would have added it to his primary hoard pile.

But now wasn't the time for reminiscing, tking the belt from the burned Elf he lay it onto his dying "ally's" body and pressed a single button, sending a surge of healing energy into him.

-----------------
Healing Tavar (I think. Whoever's dying) for [roll0] (:smallfurious:) putting him on 1HP I believe. Sorry I'm AFB so I'm not sure how the healing belt works exactly.

[industrious]

As Aujir activates the belt, sparks of white energy crackle across the unconscious man's body. He breathes somewhat easier, but there is no conscious response.

As Nathaniel searches the room, he comes across a trapdoor hidden in the floor underneath the bar. Unfortunately, the trapdoor has a lock on it. The footsteps have stopped, but you do hear a pounding at the door to the inn.

"Open up, in the name of the law!"

[Cogwheel]

Does anyone really expect us to do as they say? Hm, this door's locked. Bother. If only I still had...

A wide grin crosses his face, and he motions for someone to apply another shot of healing to the prone human.

...Time?

A few small, grey tendrils creep out of his hand, and the lock begins to rust and crumble immediately, with large cracks creeping across its now orange-brown surface. Flecks of rust cascade off the iron as time rips through it.

What a silly question. There was always time.

Ravages of Time. Again! [roll0] Don't fail me again, damage roll.

[industrious]

Rusted through, the lock cracks open, and the trapdoor swings open to reveal a set of stairs descending into darkness.

The pounding at the door intensifies, and there is the sound of wood splintering against metal. A crack appears in the door.

"This is your last chance. Give yourself up, and come out with your hands bound."

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel picks up what he can of the spoils, leaving the belts behind, more to help carry the weight than anything. With that done, he rushes down the staircase, calling for the others to follow him.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to leave? Just do try to heal him one more time, please - we need all the help he can get, and I'm not fond of leaving people to die in any case. We have our exit over here."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

The healing belt didn't seem to be effective so he used a second charge, hopefully the damned man would get up after this one.

-----------
[roll0] That's more like it :smallcool:

[Tavar]

Ventrui

The last thing Ventrui remembers is feeling the sword slice into him, so he's pleasely surprised to awake to the sight of Aujir kneeling over him. Getting up, making sure to take his blade and the strange belt with him, he takes in the situation as he moves towards Nathaniel.

I take it we survived, then? And that the guard isn't to happy with us?

[Cogwheel]

"Correct, Ventrui. Now, if you're feeling up to moving and plan to stay alive, I suggest you follow me. The same applies to the rest of you. I really must apologize for my attitude, but we simply don't have the time right now. Could whoever goes in last close the trapdoor? They might not notice it."

With that, Nathaniel walks further into the darkness and down the staircase, holding a small, smouldering torch aloft. As he walks, his wounds and burs slowly vanish from him. Well, a few of them, at any rate.

That's my Everburning Torch, for reference. I'm using Time Heals All Wounds, which gives me Fast Healing 1 for the next 2 rounds. Other than that, I'm just moving down the staircase and hoping we're not way, way too slow.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The amply-endowed young woman waves her hand casually. The entire table in front of them suddenly lifts up into the air, zooming low over their heads, and soars across the room to barricade itself against the front door. Another wave of her hand, and the samurai's sword, any remaining belts, and the branded scroll lift themselves off the dead bodies of their foes. Standing up with a luxurious yawn, Iskellia saunters towards the trapdoor as the stool she was sitting on zooms towards the barricade as well. Before she exits the room, she turns around and makes a shoving motion with her hand. Al the other unattended stools in the room fly over to the door, adding to the impromptu barricade. Then, with the scroll, the belts and the bastard sword floating next to her, she walks down into the darkness of the trapdoor.

[industrious]

Long and narrow, with stone walls and a dirt floor, the tunnel stretches far beyond the light of Nathaniel's torch. The only noise is the sound of your footsteps, one after another, as you group closer together to stay within the torchlight. A few minutes after you descend into the tunnel, you hear the door break down. You hear the shattering of glass, and the roar of flames. Apparently, searching the inn would be too much of a hassle for them.

An hour later, you feel the tingle of the Arque-Velam border, and know that you are beyond the bounds and jurisdiction of the Arque. As the tunnel begins to slope upward, you hear the roar of thunder. The tunnel exits at the mouth of a cave near the peak of one of the shorter TelGlast mountains. It is night, and the light drizzle of earlier has evolved into a full-blown storm. The trees shake in the wind, and you are pelted by the harsh cold rain. There is a trail-beaten path going off to your left, heading down the mountain.

[Realms of Chaos]

OOCWell, I missed alot as I had expected so...

As the pair of enemies fall, Simon just stares at their bodies for a few moments before forcing himself to continue onwards. He sheaths his weapon, more than thankful that he found no reason to use it. He is still a bit amazed and more than a little bit humbled by the talent of his compatriots.

Simon sits down and finishes up his drink as everyone else worries about the guards. There's no point in getting all worked up. Everything will work out in the end or it won't. From personal experience, it tended to do so. He silently muses how the city should've used free drinks to lure him out in the first place and grins.

As a secret passageway opened up, Simon wastes no time passing through it, following closely after the strange, masked woman. His head bubbles over with all forms of questions but he remains silent, mildly concerned that guards may be lurking around every corner. Even as he feels himself passing the border, he does not speak, although he starts whistling a bit.
Then, a crack of lightning. As he emerges from the passageway, his hair is immediately drenched by the rain.

Finally feeling that it is safe to talk, Simon stops whistling. "WELL?" he yells, trying very hard to be heard over the rain and occasional boom of thunder, "DO WE HEAD BLINDLY DOWN THE PATH TO WHO KNOWS WHERE OR DO WE FIND A CAVE AND WORK OUT WHAT'S GOING ON FIRST?" a few seconds later, he shouts out again, "I PERSONALLY WOULDN'T WANT TO REST IN AN INN TONIGHT BUt THAT'S JUST MY OPINION."

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

As she traipses out into the rain, the masked woman's garb suddenly shimmers and changes into a heavy waterproof brown cloak, black breeches and a forest-green tunic, all of them constructed of a dense water-resistant fabric. The mouthpiece of her mask pokes out from the hood as the trudges along silently.

[Tavar]

After a couple minutes in the tunnel, Ventrui uses the belt to help close his wounds a bit more.

After arriving on the ledge, he flips the hood of his cloak over his head, and listens to Simon, nodding as he does so.

FINDING A SHELTER SOUNDS GOOD TO ME. AND I AGREE ABOUT AVOIDING TOWNS. SO, SHALL WE BE OFF?
Before stepping out into the raid, he pauses for a second. Suddenly, multitudes of petals spring into existence, swirling in a rough disc shape around where one normally would have a shield.

Last charge of the belt; [roll0]

Also, casts shield, raising AC by 4, up to 21.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon Garland looks around the area, taking in his surroundings. This was not turning out to be a fun day. Perhaps it was the rain... or being a wanted man. Either way, there'd be time to think about it later.

"OKAY." Simon shouts out, moments before another boom of thunder. Simon points to the uphill side of the path. "HELP ME SEARCH, WILL YA?"

Simon walks toward the mountain and starts looking around, looking for obvious openings and others that may be hidden behind rocks or bushes.


Well, I guess that I'm making a search check(?). That means I can't press my luck later but I'll spend 3 luck points to get a +6 bonus to this check (and if there is a hidden door or something with a Search DC of 35 or higher, or if I roll a natural 1, I gain a +5 bonus to the check due to my impossibility point)

Search [roll0]

Edit: I forgot how my own ability works. *facepalm*
the actual search result is 15

[industrious]

While searching, Simon quickly finds a cave hidden under a formidable array of overgrown plants. The mouth to the cave is wide, and there should be more than enough room for everybody...but the cave is blocked approximately two feet in, by a metal plate half-rusted and twisted with age. There is a closed door, made from what appears to be beaten-down shields fused together haphazardly; you can distinguish some obscure crests on some of them. There are letters scratched onto the door, on the oldest and most twisted portion, but you cannot read the writing; it is too faint to understand at a passing glance. The rain continues to pour, and thunder booms across the mountains. Not so far away, you hear the howl of a wolf pack on the hunt.

Simon

Luckily, you are able to understand the letters. In crudely scratched runes, they read A-C-E-R-E-R-A-K.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon smiles as he discovers the cave. As the wolf howls, he mutters under his breath a few words that are instantly stolen by the wind, "not a moment too soon." The message, of course, means nothing to him.

"HEY, EVERYBODY," Simon shouts over towards his friends, "I THINK WE'RE IN LUCK. I FOUND A SAFE PLACE FOR US TO REST, I THINK. IT EVEN HAS A DOOR TO KEEP OUT THE WOLVES!"
At this, Simon waves over all of his compatriots, a bright grin on his face.

Somebody! Anybody! PLEASE roll a knowledge check. *cries*

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel, talkative as he was, was not inclined to shouting, and so he remained quiet, searching through the brush for anywhere where they might wait out the rain. It was getting much too cold again, but he was pleasantly surprised. After all, they had all escaped alive, which was more than he had expected. Exile? Perhaps it should bother him, yes, but it wasn't as if he left anything behind. And now, there was only survival to think about. Well, survival and eventually getting hold of some poor fool's gold to go and get a better life for himself, but the principle remained.

At the first lull in the storm, once things quieten down slightly, Nathaniel answers, raising his voice only slightly. "I'm doing what I can. Tonight, we find a cave or some sort of similar accomodations. From tommorow on, we find the nearest town. I suspect we are no longer under any threat, as we have escaped the Arque empire, but I ask each of you to be on your guard regardless."

Almost as an afterthought, he adds "oh, and do let me know if any of you find yourselves tired or injured. I may be able to help," apparently ignoring his newly earned status as the most heavily injured one of the group. He could tolerate such things. The same was not true for other issues - it really was terribly cold out here in the rain, but no one else seemed to think so, and so Nathaniel remains silent.

He gives out a relieved sigh when Simon finds the cave - the man was proving himself to be incredibly resourceful. Looking slowly around the cave, he smiles and nods to himself, beckoning the others inside. Finally, some shelter. They would be safe here.

Behold my shiny, shiny lack of knowledge skills. I'll leave this one to someone with an education.

[Tavar]

Ventrui
Quickly hurrying over to Simon, Ventrui gives him a friendly clap on the back.
Good Job, Simon. Hmm, Any idea what those markings on the door say?

assuming that he tells me what it says, [roll0]

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon bends down to look at the door and squints, "THE DOOR SAYS 'ACERERAK'. MAYBE THIS PLACE IS CALLED ACERERAK. FORTS AND SUCH HAVE STRANGE NAMES, RIGHT?"

Simon shivers a little, his damp clothing chilling him to the bone. "NO USE STANDING OUT HERE. EVERYONE, QUICKLY, INTO THE SAFETY OF ACERERAK."

Simon opens the door, using his strength if necessary
strength check: [roll0]

[industrious]

The door swings open on rusted, squeaky hinges. As you enter the cave, you notice something. Strange markings along the walls, hieroglyphs and patterns...that come to an abrupt end about 15 feet in. Apparently, there was a cave-in sometime ago, and whatever lies beyond is buried under tons of fallen rock.

There is something strange about this place. And then it hits you-memories of nighttime stories of a tomb of horrors. Tales of traps and deadly snares that killed even the mightiest heroes. Stories of an insane demilich whose power was ever so close to victory. And then along came another band of heroes more resourceful and cunning than the lich, and who slew the undead before his plans came to fruition. Whatever this cave was, whatever had happened here, now there is nothing. Only memories.

[Tavar]

Ventrui

As Simon begins to open the door, Ventrui pales and moves to stop him, but is too late.
NO! DON'T!!!!!

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon looks inside and nods. The name Acererak seems a bit familiar now. Luckily, this is just a tunnel. Nothing too intimidating about that.

Simon walks inside and sits down at the far end of the hall, resting his back against the rubble. Its a bit rough but he's just glad to sit down.

"Well," says Simon, no longer shouting, "It looks like Acererak was destroyed. Even so, I think we could all fit in here if we tried."

[Balketh]

Earlier...

The young man flicks his head to the doorway, as it starts to splinter. His acquaintances, if they can even be called that, had stripped the bodies already, and had disappeared down the rabbit hole as it were. Turning, the bleeding lad watches as blood drips to the floor at an alarming rate, the searing pain running down his body having made him forget.

Drawing a second strange weapon, the same as the first, he points both at the table now barely holding the door in place, and squeezes them once each. They roar, and two small holes are blown in the table and door, and from the pinging metal and howling guards, no doubt there are holes now in stomachs too. With that, the young man turns and leaps blindly into the hole, pulling the door closed with him.

With a thudding roll, the figure lands and rises in the same move, walking face first into a wall, causing him to howl in pain his ownself. Having no time to spare, the lad grips the right side of his face after sheathing his beasts, and he sprints off down the dark hole after the others.

Every now and then, he'll trip on a rock, or nudge the wall during his run. After a while, the run slows to a jog, then the jog slows to a walk as he catches up with the others.

The storm doesn't bring a smile to his face, his vision already currently impaired by the Sword's attack on him. Sighing, he speaks over the storm, less of a shout and more of a loud talk.

"I can't see a damned thing right now, otherwise I'd help!" He moves to the edge of the tunnel, trying to watch those searching. When he hears the call of one man, claiming to have found a place to hide, he smiles, stepping into the rain. He hisses to himself as he is instantly dampened, and the blood running down his clothing is slowly washed away.

"Rain water stings..." He mutters. With his working eye, he eyes the woman, dressed so thinly, and is starkly surprised when she suddenly dons a full garb of winter clothes. "Huh..." He sounds in light shock. Edging forward slowly, the young man steps into the cave that had been found, glad to be at least out of the stinging rain.

"Well, this may do, though I feel... Off. Someone had to have lived here, with a door like this, I can't imagine they'll be too friendly." He says, leaning on one of the walls of the cave, taking his hand off his face to reveal the slice, running straight over his right eye, and down his cheek. The cut misses his jaw, but continues almost perfectly into his torso, down to the very top of his stomach. Not in the best of shape, but he at least could still run if need be.

Turning to the door, the lad shakes his head as the man tries to force it open.

"Acererak... I've heard that name somewhere before, but I can't put my finger on it. My brain's a bit, y'know, addled-" The door swung open, and the name Acererak suddenly becomes much more... Frightening.

Drawing both weapons, the young man leaps forward, rolling and coming to a stop just before the doorway, pointing both his strange armaments at the inner-side of the room.

Panting, and gritting his teeth as he opens what little of his wound had healed, the young man rises slowly, and peers inside.

"Well... That was interesting..."

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

As she walks towards the cave, the woman's outfit shimmers again, reverting back into the skintight bodysuit from the inn. As the rain and storm drench the outfit, the rainsoaked suit clings even more tightly to her shapely body, revealing every bounce and shimmy of her ample bosom to the rest of the group.

She steps closer to the door and lowers her head, the breath hissing menacingly through her mask. With a sudden, spasmodic motion, she shoves her hand at the door, her fingers contorted into a claw of angry force. Her bloodshot eyes gaze unblinkingly at the door as the force of her mind applies 1,300 pounds of telekinetic pushing force at the rusted metal. After a long time of trudging in the rain and storm, she is pissed, and she will not let a simple door stand between her and getting someplace warm, and woe betide any who get in her way right now.

Using Telekinetics to push an unattended object weighing up to my push/drag limit 5ft as a standard action...

Basically a super-duper Force Push vs the door. :smallbiggrin:

[Cogwheel]

"Do.. you have any idea.. what we just walked into? My god, of all the places to rest..." Nathaniel stumbles into the cave in stunned disbelief, leaning tiredly against a wall and slowly slumping down to the floor. It's been a long day. Eventually, he rises from his seat and begins pacing about the tunnel's remains, scouring every inch of it.

"I suppose I'll just check this place. Make sure it's safe and get a little sleep. Feel free to divide the spoils as the rest of you see fit - I won't lay any claims."

He then steps up to the gunman, holding a pocket watch out to him. Gently, Nathaniel holds the minute hand between thumb and forefinger, turning it around by force. Minutes pass. Hours. Days pass, and his wounds fade with time.

Now, unless anyone needs more help, I'd best get to work... Speaking of which, who are all of you? I can't say I've heard of a single one of you, and while I'm sure you all have secrets to keep, it seems like we'll be working together. Best if we get to know eachother a bit better, no?"

Taking 20 on a search check. Also casting Time Heals All Wounds on Tobias, giving him, as you know, Fast Healing 1 for two rounds.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon look up from his place on the floor as Nathaniel walks in. "Well, you all heard what those people said. We are all wanted for treason, right? That should give you a hint right there. I've got no clue what tropical fish have to do with the situation but its apparently serious."

Simon chuckles a bit before continuing, "Some strange country, huh? You abandon the army and they arrest you because of fish." Simon's face hardens a bit as he looks Nathaniel in the eye. "What did you mean when you said that stuff in the inn, that we were all special? Let me be the first to tell you that I'm nothing special. I don't cast spells, can't breathe acid, and..." Simon looks for a moment at Iskelia, "I can't pulverize doors without touching them."

[Tavar]

Ventrui
Slumping down with his back to a wall, Ventrui ***** his head at Simon
What does tropical fish have to do with anything? Treason means you betrayed your country, and deserting certainly qualifies. As for not being special, I remember when I was like that. Just an apprentice jewelry maker living in Wavecrest. Something...Ventrui pauses for a moment, several emotions playing across his face, horror and awe among them. ...happened though, a week before I started my service, and well, this is the result. Got kicked out for being some sort of freak, and now apparently I'm a traitor too. Damn Ober to Hell.

[Cogwheel]

Tropical fish? What on earth is he blathering about?

"My assumption partly came from the fact that, Simon, you were with us. If my situation is anything to go by, none of us have committed any major crimes. Nothing worthy of treason. We are being hunted, because we are different. Fear of the unknown - ignorance and terror are fuel for the fire of hate. If you are with us, you are different. If you survived that fight, you are special. Exactly what your ability is remains to be seen, ofcourse."

Nathaniel picks up the bastard sword, examining it. It really was a good weapon. Enough to make him wish he had taken his martial practice a tad more seriously.

"As for me, I am Nathaniel Colburn, better known in Rosemoor as the Raven. The short run of it is that I am a petty criminal, a hypocritical vigilante and a hypnotist, capable of manipulating time, who frequently turns into an oversized bird. The last three - four, even, to a certain extent - can be blamed on a fey 'blessing' I recieved. I can promise, at any rate, that I will do my best to be something more than dead weight."

A somewhat harsh analysis of himself, perhaps, but it was true - and at any rate, it was best to come clean from the start, for these purposes. Besides, he might have even seemed good or even, gods forbid, honest for making that confession. Such masks were always useful to have. And to think that this bunch made the man who periodically turns into a giant raven look normal... well, it was hardly a heartening thought.

"As to you, Ventrui, it seems we have a little in common. I joined the military shortly after these... changes as well. I did not last long, ofcourse - I did not desert, but instead I was unceremoniously discharged from the army's ranks. They did not take kindly to one as strange as me. And now it seems I am on the run from a crime I never committed."

[Balketh]

At first, the young man steps back from Nathaniel, his hand moving toward his sheath defensively. He even grips his weapon as the man raises a pocket watch. Slowly, his wound stops bleeding at least, and at the very least, the cut down his eye heals enough that he can open it. Blurry, bloodied vision, sure, but he can see.

The lad releases his weapon's hilt, and gazes at Nathaniel for a moment. He had heard of the man before, but never had he seen him. Bulletins were passed around when he was in the City Watch to keep an eye out for anyone matching the absurd bird-like description, and to make forceful arrests if seen.

The figure pulls his hat low, and nods to Nathaniel.

"Thanks..." He mutters, gently rubbing his forehead at what Simon was talking about.

"You twit. Treason's nothing to do with fish. Try not to talk when you don't understand the topic. Treason means you've committed a terrible crime against the state, and they want you dead for it. I know I have, he has-" The lad thumbs back at Nathaniel, "And I'm almost sure she has-" He points at the rageful, skimpily clad woman, careful not to actually look at her. "And he obviously did something-" The lad points to Ventrui as well.

"But the rest? I'm not sure of. Regardless, we killed two of the most elite warriors in the state. They want us, dead or alive..." The lad falls quiet, and paces to the edge of the cave, before leaning against the wall, near the masked woman.

Idly, he draws one of his silver weapons, and breaks it in half. It seems to hang onto itself by a small twisted part. Oddly, he begins pushing small metal tabs into a part of the weapon that spins. After a moment, he flicks his wrist, and the weapon makes a snap, becoming whole again. He places his thumb on the spinning part, and spins it, listening to the strange, fast clicking sound it makes as it spins. Finally, he begins to idly whirl the weapon on one finger, as one can do with a dagger, though this does not require pause - the weapon just keeps spinning.

He listens to the passing pleasantries of introduction.

"If you don't already, you don't want to know me. I don't even know me. Not anymore. But I intend to find out..." He falls silent, gazing from beneath his slightly cut hat at the weapon in his hand. His eyes can just be seen; a stark, light blue, the colour of the sky on a good day.

[Tavar]

Ventrui
As Nathaniel speaks, Ventrui nods, obviously agreeing with him.
Seems most of us are. As well as several that we've recently committed.

Listening to Tobias, however, provokes a much different reaction. As he finishes, Ventrui leaps up, hand on his sword.
Now just what do you mean by that? What crimes have I surely committed?

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon frowns as he listens to this. Apparently, treason isn't a type of fish. If the guard had called him a betrayer, then he would have understood. Still, much of what this man, Nathaniel, was saying didn't add up.
If Ventrui was right, Simon was indeed guilty of treason. Also, Simon's survival had depended more upon nobody noticing him and his allies winning the battle before he did anything.
Even so, better not to rock the boat. Let him think whatever he wants.

"As I've said, my name is Simon Garland. I've been homeless for most of my life. I was put in the military. I didn't like it there. I left. Not much more to say than that."

Simon turns to face Ventrui"As for your crime, I believe he speaks of those people we slew."

[Balketh]

Remember, Tobias hasn't told you his name yet. :D
Without a second thought, the young man points his weapon's business end straight at Ventrui, ending its spin. He still leans against the wall, completely unphased by the man's sudden movement, nor his reaction.

"Get it into your head. You were either pulled into something you didn't want to do, you did something stupid, or you did something evil. And even if you didn't, you were seen with us, and we're traitors, whether we like it or not. Ergo, you're a traitor for consorting with us. Believe me, I know how this works. A week ago, I would've been one of those guards trying to break down the door."

Even though his tone had dropped to something softer, the young man keeps his weapon trained on Ventrui, and even goes so far as to shift his thumb to a small metal thing at the top of the weapon. Ventrui may not know what this does, but the figure does. It makes it all the easier to use the weapon in a split second.

That is, if Ventrui gets stupid...

"Regardless, Simon here is right. You killed State-appointed lawbringers. They want your head now, too."

[Realms of Chaos]

"A bit high-strung today, aren't we?" Simon says with a grin to the man with strange weaponry, "Relax a bit. You'll never fall asleep if your that tense. Besides, everything's going to be all right."

With that, Simon crawls over the pile of gear taken during the previous combat. Unless he is stopped, he grabs the scroll and places it in his pack before crawling back to his spot.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

Finally within a cool and dry cave out of the storm, the woman seems to calm down as people begin talking. She shakes herself and stretches slightly. Her outfit suddenly shimmers and transforms into a bottle-green vest, plum-colored breeches and a grungy violet garment that seems halfway between a cloak and a coat. "Why am I special? Oh, I kill people," she says flippantly. "I make them suffer." Reaching up to her face, she pulls off the mask for a moment and shakes her hair free.

http://img12.imageshack.us/img12/2319/83582317.jpg
http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/1213/42261223.jpg

Underneath the mask, her face is horribly mutilated and scarred, covered with hideous gashes and wounds. One scar runs along the corners of her mouth, turning her expression into a permanent sneer. Out of the mask, her eyes seem even more radiantly emerald green than ever, almost glowing in their intensity.

The woman gives them all a good look before she gives a cruel, humorless smile. "I'm Iskellia," she rasps, her voice sounding hoarse and raw out in the open air. "There was a fire. My captain tried to rape me." Her cruel smile turns into a wide, maniacal grin of pure joy. "So I made his eyeballs explode! He screamed and he screamed and he screamed. Oh, it was so beautiful! Heeheehehehehe!"

Iskellia doubles over, giggling shrilly for a few moments before a rasping, coughing fit suddenly overtakes her. Contorted and wheezing, she fumbles for her mask and slips it back on, hiding her deformed face. The hiss of air is hears as she gasps in a breath, and her coughing stops. Slowly, she straightens back up, her intense emerald eyes blazing at the group from behind her mask. "I'm not a traitor. I just don't care about politics. Any of it," she asserts coldly, her voice once again muffled by the mask, her mutilated face concealed.

Her mood suddenly shifts as her voice brightens cheerfully. "But that's fine! People don't like me because I make bad things happen by thinking about it. They get scared, and no one wants to play with me..." She trails off sadly, staring vacantly into the air.

Iskellia falls silent, seemingly forgetting that she's even talking to anybody.

[Realms of Chaos]

Even as Iskelia describes the horrors of her past and present reality, Simon's stupid grin doesn't fade off of his face.

"Well," he says, "look at it this way. After all that you've been through, what are the odds of something else happening to you? You've had your fill of bad luck and things can only get better. Nothing can possibly go wrong."

With a simple wave of the hand, he returns his attention to the man with strange, silver weaponry.

[industrious]

As Nathaniel searches the caved-in room, he finds evidence of traps. A very large amount of deadly traps, all of which have been destroyed or disabled. He briefly ponders what sort of person would be this paranoid, but remember that the creator of this tomb was killed, so perhaps the paranoid was justified. The traps are unsalvageable, so you decide to sit down with the rest of the group.

However, as you begin to lower yourself onto the ground, something catches your eye. A pale blue notebook, partially hidden under some rubble.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Aujir has been incredibly quiet since you left the inn, almost like he was asleep. Though he seems to be waking up now. "So why would you guys be of interest to our assailants?"

[Cogwheel]

"Now now, I don't mean to sound rash or overly forward..." Nathaniel begins, pacing towards the trigger-happy duo and standing between them.

"But we have an entire nation after our heads. Perhaps the infighting, rivalries, insults, petty arguments, murder and other such pleasantries could wait until a later, more convenient date? A touch of civility won't kill anyone, as much as that might disappoint some of us."

The newly-minted fugitive drops his sleeping bag on the ground, spreading it out somewhat haphazardly. "And that applies to all of us. Play nice, or we might never live to regret our mistakes."
Good gods, I never signed up to run a kindergarten of psychopaths. How do I get myself into this kind of mess?

Throughout Iskellia's monologue and episode of insane cackling (though perhaps normal by her standards), Nathaniel remains quiet. Perhaps some of them had good reasons for their mental state, but he found himself wondering how many of those currently in the cave would try to kill him in his sleep. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel that his ending up in this sort of predicament was simply unfair.

As Iskellia's speech winds to a jerky close, he replies "None of us care about politics. I doubt most of us are truly traitors, either, in the eyes of most. But in the eyes of the Empire, we are, and unfortunately, their opinion carries a good deal of weight. Now... would anyone like to open the mysterious notebook found in a dead lich's ruined tomb? It might be.... educational."

[Balketh]

In the few seconds the young man had his weapon drawn, several people interjected, some talked, some reasoned, some civilized. He only has one good reason for sheathing his weapon in silence, and that is the horrified look on his otherwise-hidden face when he sees the scars on Iskellia's face.

"I... You... I mean..." He swallows softly, and falls silent, stepping away from the woman slowly and inconspicuously.

Nathaniel happens to point out something of interest, a pale, dusty notebook, cast aside almost haphazardly.

"I'll do it." The figure in the duster quickly answers. Without a second thought, the young man scoops the book up, and flicks it open, holding it close so he can read it without having to remove his hat or lower his collar.

[Realms of Chaos]

"You go ahead and keep arguing," Simon says as he suppresses a yawn, "While I get a bit of sleep. Wake me up in a couple hours to take the second watch. Let me know what you've learned and worked out in the morning."

Simon withdraws his everfull mug and takes a drink of water from it before placing it back and taking out his bedroll. Simon unrolls it and slips inside before turning towards the wall of rubble and trying to fall asleep, happy to be warm.

[industrious]

The notebook's writing is old, and faded. It appears to be a journal, and upon closer inspection, that of the famed archmage Valra the Mad. While most of it has become illegible due to time, some sections jump out.

"They have taken my best friend. He was a good man, if a little touched in the head. He had confided in me that he didn't want to become a cleric, didn't want to worship a god. He was interested in dreams, in those strange visions and experience we all share while asleep. For the life of me, I can't understand why anybody would want to or could make sense of them. Yet he did, in both senses, and even could manipulate the world around him, due to the prevalence of something he called an "archetype of the collective unconscious." And now he is dead. That he would do something idiotic is easily understood, but treason? Not a chance."

...

"It is an ironic nickname 'The Mad.' I am one of the calmest, most relaxed people in the Arque. Of course, I can feel rage, or anger, or am overcome by violence. Yet I do not show it, save when occasionally I focus it while casting. Sometimes, this affects my spells, empowering them beyond what most would say are their limits. It is an odd situation, but a useful one. Valra the Mad. One of my companions is a rage-filled barbarian, and I am the mad one."

...

"It is done. Acererak has been defeated, though at great cost. The mad demilich's plan was all the more brilliant for his madness, and he was closer than anybody had suspected to succeeding in making himself a god. As Cleric Ferst tells me, the most power a god has is during their first few moments of ascension. We are resting now in the antechamber, licking our wounds. The Tomb should be safe."

The final entry reads
"I have seen the future in my divinations, and hear my words, ye readers. I have left behind this journal to warn you that all is not as it seems. The world is larger and the planes more interested than they should be. The Arque will shrink by the time this note reaches you, and here, you will be in a new country. In nine hours time, you will be attacked by a pack of wild beasts; this is inevitable. One hour after that, your pursuers will come across this cave. Prepare yourselves, for the cycle is repeating, and this time, it cannot be stopped."

[Cogwheel]

"Gods above..." Nathaniel shakes his head, sighing in this belief. Why in the name of all that was fair did things like this keep happening to him? "It's destiny again, isn't it? Thrice-damned destiny. What did I do to deserve this? Wild beasts, pursuers, the tomb of horrors, the repeating cycle of time, and now bloody destiny."

Nathaniel throws his backpack aside in a rather annoyed fashion, but otherwise seems, past his initial mild outburst, strangely resigned to his fate. This, like almost any impression Nathaniel gave, was quite extraordinarily far from the truth.

"You heard the needlessly cryptic book. We have an attack of wild animals in 9 hours. I suggest we sleep for seven, perhaps eight. Perhaps less. There will be no need for any watches. Once we awaken, we leave. The beasts and police, army or whatever else is following us will find an empty cave. History plans to repeat itself, and Fate has already planned out our moves. We will not allow them this luxury - our paths are our own. It's time we took the reins of our lives and did something about this destiny nonsense."

Destiny. History. Fate. They were fundamental forces. They were reality itself. They dictated how the world functioned, and were as deeply ingrained into it as anything could be. They were unmoving, unchanging, and could not be swayed. To attempt it would be a fool's errand.

They said the same about time.

Nathaniel slips into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes, lost in thought. And deep within the nest of schemes, brambles and secrets that is his mind, the Raven watches. The Raven plots. The Raven laughs. For the Raven has considered, and the Raven knows. Knows better than Nathaniel ever could.

In case there's any confusion, I just mean that it's more cunning than him, and has a better idea of what to do with this.

[Balketh]

The lad's jaw drops as he reads the notebook out aloud, only the slightest motion visible from the exterior of his duster. The final words linger on his tongue like bad breath.

"Prepare yourselves, for the cycle is repeating, and this time, it cannot be stopped...." He parrots, and sighs. It is difficult, especially in the darkness, to see his eyes, or any expression at all.

With a heavy sigh again, people begin to lay down to sleep. Nathaniel and Simon seem to have the right idea, though the young man eyes Ventrui and Iskellia. Aujir's question seemed to have gone unanswered, and the lad isn't feeling so unkind as to leave it that way.

"Aujir." He motions, waving a hand up and down.

"It's best not to ask things like that. When people are ready, they'll let you know." Rising slowly, the lad cracks his back, and gently runs a finger along his wound, still healing slowly. Shifting from where he was, the lad moves around to find one of the belts of healing, the one that had been used to heal Ventrui already. Remembering Aujir had it, the wanderer shifts to him and takes it. He merely holds it, pondering something for a moment. He raises his free hand, and touches his face gently, behind his collar.

For a moment, he gazes back at Nathaniel, who seems to have taken his lightning bolt to the chest very well.

Looking back at the belt, he thumbs the button, and groans as the magic takes hold of his open wound.

The belt hisses and heats in his hand, and his eyes snap down to it. The wound seals up quickly, but heals rather poorly. As he blinks, finally able to fully see, he raises a hand to feel where the wound once was.

The young man's hand recoils, and he drops the belt in front of Aujir, turning to face the storm. For a moment, he stands there. Hanging his head gently, the lad takes a seat near the disturbing Iskellia, oddly unaffected by her tale.

He tips his hat and leans against the cave wall, falling silent.

The slice in his hat, however, betrays him. If Iskellia is looking, a flicker of lightning tells her that he is watching her through the cut in his hat, though it is impossible to determine if he is showing arousal...

Or suspicion.

Healing Belt with 1/3 Charges left today: [roll0]

[Tavar]

Ventrui
As the others intercede, Ventrui backs down from the standoff, slumping back down by the wall, and removing his hand from his blade. When Iskellia begins ranting, he looks on startled for an instant, but his expression swiftly changes to puzzlement, and this does not fade until the message in the notebook is revealed.
So our paths laid out for us. Well, at least we know about the attacks now. I think I'll be turning in as well.
Ventrui lays out his bedroll, and once he has laid down, he fall asleep quickly. It is not a restful sleep, however, and Ventrui tosses and turns for most of the night.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

As the group settles in for the night, Iskellia silently unfurls her hip bag and takes out a bedroll. Instead of sliding into it normally, however, she wraps it around herself and sits against the wall, huddled into a protective, fetal ball. The masked woman stares out the front of the cave at the darkness outside and shivers, pulling her coat and bedroll tighter around her.

She hasn't said a word to anyone since her startling revelation. Now, the audible hissing of her breath as she draws air through the mask deepens and slows. Slowly, her head droops forward, her sleep punctuated by the hisses and clicks of her mask as it feeds her air.

Unfortunately, she does not remain silent for long. In her sleep, Iskellia begins very softly weeping and growling (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aSzsaD2Q2c&feature=related) under her breath, clearly caught in some terrible nightmare. As the night goes on, her sobs gradually intensify, and about halfway through the night she suddenly jerks awake with a gasp of terror. Iskellia stares wildly around for a moment before seeming to collect herself.

Curling even more tightly into her bedroll, she shivers and trembles with cold, the mask hissing rhythmically as it feeds air into her damaged lungs. The sight of the shivering, wounded young woman huddled in the corner with her respirator is almost enough to stir the watching Tobias towards sympathetic pity....until he remembers her powers in the inn, her wrathful demolition of the door to the cave, her psychotic laughter and the rictus of twisted joy on her mutilated face.

What little sleep Iskellia regains that night comes in fits and bursts, short naps that are invariably interrupted by gasps or screams. When dawn finally begins peeking over the mountaintops, Iskellia is visibly relieved, slumping against the wall and letting her head droop with exhaustion.

[industrious]

As a new day comes, the clouds part, and the sky becomes clear. Those who stayed awake or awoke with the dawn see the sun rise over the forest downhill. In the distance, you see the smoke of a small village's communal fireplace.

As you awaken, you begin to pack up your belongings, and prepare to leave before your pursuers arrive at the cave. Yet as you are about to leave, you hear a rustling in the underbrush. Then another. Then another. Out from the bushes that had initially concealed the cave come five huge, bloated spiders, as large as wolves. Spotting you, they rush forward on powerful legs, the red blister on their backs glowing as they do so. As you look at them, a single thought enters your mind: The damned archmage was right.


I need everybody to place themselves somewhere on the grid. They have to be below the spiders. http://www.celestine-empire.net/battlegrid/board.php?sessionID=All%20Homebrew

Initiative Rolls:

Spiders [roll0]
Simon: [roll1]
Ventrui: [roll2]
Nathaniel:[roll3]
Iskellia: [roll4]
Aujir: [roll5]
Tobias: [roll6]

Status: Ventrui is nauseated for 1 round due to a hangover. That being said, he has no ability score damage. Everybody is at full health.

Order: Tobias, Iskellia, Simon, Ventrui, Nathaniel, Spiders, Aujir.

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel sees the bizarre spider-beasts skitter towards the cave, and draws his rapier in an instant.

The archmage. Valra. Valra was right.

Quickly, he sprints towards one of the spiders, weapon drawn, but cautious not to let it strike at him.

Valra was right. Prophecy. Destiny. History. The cycle of time. Fate. These words tumble through his mind at an alarming speed - it was not the fact that the mage was correct that surprised him. He had merely expected to avoid this fight, thus derailing the course set before them. If he had failed, than there would be a second chance. There was always a second chance.

History. Fate. Time. Destiny. Implacable, unswerving, indiscriminate, unchanging, immutable, unmoving... but unstoppable?

Nathaniel takes the final step forward, driving the rapier downwards towards the enemy.

As if. Nothing was unstoppable.

Staring up at the heavens, he smiles, letting loose a small and, considering the circumstances, oddly triumphant, knowing chuckle. Those who see him closely might notice him first mouthing the words "Well played."

As he makes his strike against the spider, two more words escape from his mouth, loud enough this time to be barely audible, if one were next to him and had a keen ear. "Next time."

And through this, the Raven once again watches from its nest. The Raven knows and, despite the circumstances, the Raven is pleased. But this time, it does not laugh - fate has won this round, however briefly, and it would not do for the Raven to have any laugh but the last.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

The green-haired man wakes once someone pokes him in the side. "Yeah I know, inevitable beasties and all that." He lets out a low growl, he hated waking up quickly, slowly coming around was one of the pleasures he afforded himself ever since he went solo.

Gathering his belongings he stretched and prepared for the battle, but even so he was a little surprised when the spiders actually appeared.

"I hate fate. Always leads to trouble."

-------------------------
Stick me at G9. If I was going before the stupid spiders I could have got them all at once :smallannoyed:

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked young woman gives a chilling laugh through her mask as she rises to her feet. Her outfit shimmers and shifts, changing back into her usual skintight bodysuit, apparently her preferred costume for combat. Her chilling laugh spirals upward into a hysterical shriek as she raises her arms. The two shields that comprised the door to the cave emit shrieks of their own as they are torn from the surrounding rock. Whirling like shuriken, the makeshift missiles streak towards the spiders with a deadly whoosh, burrowing into their carapaces with a sickening splortch.

Launching one buzzsaw at C8
[roll0]
[roll1]
Launching the other buzzsaw at B9
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Realms of Chaos]

When my turn comes around, Simon walks to G6, turns, and walks up to E6 before attacking the spider in D7.
If that spider is already slain, Simon instead walks up to D6 and attacks the spider in D6.

I use the higher of these 2 rolls
Attack: [roll0]
Attack: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2] (+2 bonus if both attacks hit)

Critical Threat Roll: [roll3]
Critical Damage: [roll4]

I leave the description of what I end up doing to Industrious as the battlefield may change by the time I make my turn.

[Balketh]

The young man had literally slept in that one spot, knees bent, elbows resting on them with his hands hanging limply between his legs. The brim of his hat was low, and he slept surprisingly soundly. The rain helps. He does love the sound of rain.

Iskellia's shrieks and frights did not even budge the lad. He was fast asleep, undisturbable, or so it seems.

At dawnbreak, the lad merely rises from his sitting position, stretching and sighing. He stands for a moment, and cracks his back, leaning to the left, then right, stretching himself. He has nothing to prepare, nothing to gather. The way he likes it.

He pats his duster for a moment, feeling the leather gently. Thank Fharlanghn for oiled leather. The lad catches a glimpse of the writing still inked onto his hand, and grimaces. Reaching into his pocket, he draws out a pair of leather gloves, a part of the most basic explorer's garb he snatched en route to the Inn the night before. Slipping them on, he pauses as he pulls the first glove tight, and a tiny grin splits his otherwise stony, face.

The gloves are neatly cut from the middle knuckle of each finger, up. Fingerless, is the correct term. The grin disappears as quickly as it had arrived, and he finishes donning his gloves. Stretching and clenching his fingers, the young man flicks back his duster, and places his hand on the hilt of his first silver weapon. Spreading his legs, with his other hand out slightly for counterbalance, he draws it suddenly, and points it out the exit of the cave. His draw is quick, and his stance indicates some sort of practice.

Then, the screeching hits his ears. Weapon already drawn, pointing in the right direction, the lad watches the grotesque creatures dash forward, his eyes wide in horror. He doesn't like spiders. Mostly the small ones, but the big ones are just as bad. Skittery, clacky, little things that get in under your clothing and bite and bite, sneaky and unwanted, with beady eyes and ulterior motives. He hates spiders.

With that in mind, however, the lad drags his consciousness back, kicking and screaming, into the fight. Lining up his weapon, the figure aims for the pulsing, angry-looking red... Thing on the back of the front-most spider, and squeezes his weapon. The cave lights up for an instant again, the thunderous crack amplified by the shape of the cavernous, yet small, cave.

Put me at E10.

Move action: Draw.
Standard action: Attacking D7.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

[industrious]

Tobias reacts immediately, drawing one of his strange weapons and firing it at the lead spider. Unfortunately, his aim was not on par with his reflexes; the shot goes wide.

Iskellia's telekinetic missiles, on the other hand, are more effective. Both hit their targets, cutting deeply into their flesh. The legs of the two spiders twitch in pain.

Simon, on the other hand, lands a lucky blow directly on the head of the lead spider. The insect crumples beneath his scimitar.


The spiders have The Edge against everybody except Ventrui. Not that they can do anything with it, since they aren't sapient...


Ventrui's Turn

[Tavar]

Ventrui

Ventrui stumbles forward, drawing his rapier as he does so, his movements blocky and uncertain. He obviously doesn't feel 100 percent, and you note a bit of green in his cheeks.
Oi, I think something I ate last night disagreed with me. Wonder what these buggers are, though. Don't look normal...

Move to D8, drawing sword as I do so.
Know:Arcana[roll0]

[industrious]

Nathaniel's attempt to emulate Simon fails, as he finds the spider's hide too tough to pierce.

Aujir's Turn.

[Kobold-Bard]

Auijr

Running between the nubile Psychic and Tobias Aujir took a practised aim to burn the spiders but avoid his new allies. Unleashing another roar his Acid cloud moved at high speed, the rushing, searing clouds clinging to the spider's hides and burning into them, whilst skilfully avoiding any humanoid targets.

-----------------
Move from G9 to C10 (via F9, E9, D10).
Use Breath Weapon: 30ft Cone covers C9-C4 Horizontal and B10-A10 Vertical.

All Spiders are affected and suffer [roll0] Acid damage.

DC14 Reflex for 1/2 damage, and all suffer half as much as they took again on their next turn.

[Kobold-Bard]

((Breath Weapon reusable in [roll0] (Minimum 1) rounds.))

[industrious]

Reflex throws:

Spider at B9: [roll0]
Spider at B5: [roll1]

[industrious]

While the near spider manages to avoid the worst of the blow, the one further away from Aujir catches the full blow. Ironically, the near spider looks the most wrecked, due to its prior wounds.

Spider's Turn
The spiders at C8 and B5 fire a blasts of spider silk towards Ventrui and Simon, mandibles clicking ominously as they does so.
C8[roll0] B5[roll1](touch attacks) While Ventrui avoids the spray, Simon is not so lucky, and is entangled within a cocoon of webbing, unable to move. Suddenly, the white silk turns red as it begins to bore into the man.
C8[roll2]
B5[roll3]

The spiders at B9 and C6 each leap at Aujir and Simon, respectively, attempting to bite them with their oversized jaws.
B9 [roll4] damage [roll5]
C6 [roll6] damage [roll7]

Tobias's Turn

[Balketh]

Growling as his attack misses, the young lad pulls a small metal lever on the weapon with his thumb. This causes the rotating section to turn a little, with a soft click. Without even needing to move, his aim shifts to the next available spider, as the first dies to a rather... Rather lucky attack from Simon.

This time, he takes a second to properly line up his attack, aiming dead on with his target's pulsing, glowing sac-like thing. Whatever it is, it seems crucial, and it's going to hurt if he hits it.

With a squeeze, again, the weapon roars and lights up the cave. Not the most subtle of attacks.

Boring post, I know. C'mon big hit! I wanna see it writhe and die when its bloodsac explodes!

No move.
Standard: Shooting C8.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

[industrious]

This time, Tobias's shot goes exactly where he aimed for. The blister on the spider's back begins to drip red blood. But while it is obviously badly injured, it is still alive.

Iskellia's Turn

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

Iskellia raises her arms towards the ceiling, her unblinking gaze fixated on her bleeding targets. Her mask rasps hollowly as her fingers contort into claws of rage. "RRAAAAHH!" She howls in fury. With an enormous rumbling CRUNCH, three enormous boulders, at least 100 pounds each, wrench themselves free of the ground, bouncing and hurling towards the spiders, narrowly missing Ventrui in the process. The first two boulders CRUNCH into her target, but the third boulder merely bounces off the creature's carapace.

Free Action: Telekinetic Fury, using Telekinetics twice in a round in order to throw all three boulders at once. Two boulders target the spider at B9, and one targets the spider at C8.
Attacking B9:
[roll0]
[roll1]
Attacking C8:
[roll2]

[industrious]

The boulder slams down on top of the spider, crushing it squarely flat, and leaving a greasy stain on the bottom of the rock.

Simon's Turn

[Realms of Chaos]

Slowing down his breathing, Simon forces himself to calm down and focus on the problem at hand. There is an angry spider next to him. That is a problem. Simon can deal with it later. Simon in in a very painful coccoon. that is a bigger problem. Better solve that now. Simon slowly squirms as he presses against the cocoon, hoping to break it.


Str: [roll0]

[Tavar]

Ventrui
Come on, this is no time to get sick, Ventrui. Toughen up Shaking off his nausea, Ventrui calls out the the others.
Watch out for the webs: they drain your blood and strengthen the spiders.
With that, he lunges forward, engaging one of the spiders in the hopes that it will be too busy fighting him to fire another web.


Five foot step to D8.
Attack, power attacking for 2.:[roll0], Damage[roll1]

[industrious]

Simon easily tears himself free of the webbing, albeit covered in blood.

Ventrui's skillful attack with his quickblade impales the spider, and it dies; legs twitching all the while, the blister full of blood bursting to soak the cave's stone floor.

Nathaniel's Turn

[Cogwheel]

Violence was clearly not the answer here. Or rather, it was an answer, but not his. Every time in the last two days that he had attempted to cause any serious harm, he had failed. His companions appeared to have no trouble tearing these spiders apart, but such was not the case for him. And so, he falls back on rather less conventional methods. There is a spider attacking Simon. He may die. This will not do.

In the span of a few moments, Nathaniel reaches into the pouch of sand at his belt and sprinkles a handful of it over the spider attacking Simon. Ordinarily, he would have some words to guide the subject into sleep - when dealing with giant blood-draining magical spiders, however, words were often far from applicable. Instead, he simply hopes that magic alone will be enough to incapacitate the strange beast.

Using Sandman's Slumber on the spider. Making a Bluff check (DC 10+its hit dice) [roll0]

If I succeed the roll and it fails a will save (DC 17), the spider falls asleep. Also, not moving this round.

[industrious]

Spider Will Save: [roll0]

The spider at C8 collapses upon itself, legs twitching, as it falls into a deep slumber.

The one spider remaining conscious withdraws, scurrying off into the forest.

[Tavar]

Ventrui carefully lines up his attack, and runs the spider through. Carefully wiping the icor off his blade, Ventrui turn to the group.
No sense in taking chances. Simon, you all right? give me a second and I think I can help you.
Reaching into his bag, Ventrui pulls out a wand of some sort, and touches Simon lightly with it.
Medicor
Soft light begins to play over Simon's wounds as they close.
So, apparently the Journal has some truth to it. I guess that mean we should expect the military to arrive soon. Do you think that we should stay here to fight them, or move on? I'd prefer to avoid them if possible.
As he says this last part, Ventrui lightly brushes his stomach, where the Sword had cut him deeply.
Coup De Grace. Power attack for full, so [roll0] I think that should kill it. Assuming that we're off combat time, I'm then going to get out my wand of lesser vigor and try and activate it:[roll1], DC 20. If successful, Simon gets Fast Healing 1 for 11 rounds.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

Iskellia's breath rasps harshly through her mask as she pants tiredly, fatigued from tossing so many large objects around in quick succession. "How about...open the tomb...lure them inside..." she gasps between breaths. An exhausted chuckle makes her shoulders shake, more from habit than there being anything truly funny to laugh at. "Heh...heheh...should be...funny...to see..."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

The Dragon-man brushed the dust caused by Iskellia's stony assault off his clothes and returned to his pack. "I don't know what you're all complaining about, I feel fine" he says with a smirk, pulling a wrapped cloth from his bag and beginning to munch on the rations within.

"So what did that psychic book say would happen next friend?"

[Tavar]

It said that we'd be attack 9 hours from when we found the notebook, by magical beast. And an hour afterward, our pursuers would find the cave. So, I think we should get moving to avoid them.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Sounds like a plan to me" Aujir said, finishing his breakfast.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

Still wheezing faintly, the masked woman turns towards the boulders blocking the cave-in and extends her arms. Slowly, the piles of rubble and debris blocking the dungeon entrance begin moving aside.

Giving someone else a chance to interrupt and stop her, if they want.

[Balketh]

The young man grins, though none can see it, as the spiders lose the battle quickly, though the grin is overridden by a single thought - The Book Was Right. A cycle, something Valra had seen, was happening right now, and in under an hour, someone would find them; and they didn't want to be found.

The man in the duster watches the final spider back away slowly. Approaching with a slow, purposeful step, the man's head shook slowly, left to right, and back again.

"No escape for you..." He chants softly. The spider makes a run for it, off into the scrub. Raising his weapon, the lad watches, and waits. His arm very slowly moves, as if he is tracking the creature. Suddenly, his weapon kicks, lightning cracks and bushes ripple as he makes his attack again. The screeching howl of the spider, some distance away, fills the small area, before silencing.

All is quiet, all around now.

Flicking his weapon, the lad reloads his strange creation, and sheathes it.

Turning to the others, the lad waits quietly for the next move.

[industrious]

As you gather your belongings and exit the tomb, you briefly look back upon it. The door and shield wall that stood there not 12 hours ago is gone; there is only the tomb itself, free and open for anyone to enter. You yourself might wonder what the demilich's tomb might hold, but you restrain your curiosity for the sake of survival. You pursuers are coming, you think. Let them explore the cave.

Following the path from last night down the mountain, you eventually come to a crossroads; the path diverges into two other roads. The signpost that usually indicates where each path takes you has been painted over; a usually precaution during the frontlines of war, but hardly one near the rear. Looking to your right, you spot an old man, dressed in faded blue robes and resting against a nearby tree,his staff tucked across knees. At the sound of your footsteps, he awakens, grumbling all the while.

"Stop!" He commands you, speaking quickly in a yipping, high-pitched voice. "Or I make you left-handed!"

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked young woman stops and stares at the old man with an air of a vaguely curious noble awaiting entertainment. Her expression is unreadable through the mask, but Iskellia crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently.

[Tavar]

Ventrui

Placing his hand out placatingly in front of him, Ventrui tries to defuse the situation.
There, there oldtimer. We don't mean you any harm, just passing though, though we seem to be a bit lost. Can you perchance tell us where these paths lead?
Diplomacy:[roll0]
Bluff:[roll1]

[Realms of Chaos]

As the battle with the giant spiders ends, Simon takes the opportunity to look at his wounds. With a bit of help, the wounds are soon closed and all is as it shoudl be.
With the anouncement about a psychic book, Simon is thoroughly confused. As the only one who was asleep when it was found, he wonders what it could possibly predict. Then again, he figures, perhaps it's best not to read it and to just follow the lead of his new friends.
A bit hungry, Simon hurridly eats his rations and washes it down with a quick gulp of weak ale, figuring that he'll be in a town by supper.
Walking down the path, an old man offers to change Simon's hand of preference if he continues walking. Figuring that this would involve magic, Simon stops to consider this possibility.
"Well, that's an odd spell. I wonder if he could make me ambidextrous," Simon mutters to himself, "just like Two-Knife Jim."

Using bout of luck to imitate cure light wounds, targetting myself
Healing: [roll0]
Edit: Full health, baby! :smallcool:
I guess that the web gave me a few hundred papercuts or something.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Hearing the old man's shout Aujir chuckled. "You take my hand and I'll take your face old man." He may have been a nice guy, but he didn't take orders without a damn good reason.

[industrious]

Getting up, the old man squints at you through brown eyes.

"I'm guarding this place! Keep away from Euathil spies! Don't toy with me! I'll make your liver to a chicken! How do I know you're not spies!" The old man speaks so rapidly that it's almost impossible to tell what he's saying. While he's delivering this speech, the man moves closer to you, and with the tip of his staff, lightly pokes Aujir's chest. You don't feel anything, aside what you would normally feel from being lightly prodded with a long stick of wood.

"Young People! I fought in the last Beholder War! Don't toy with me! I will not be toyed with! Why are you here?!"

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon thinks for a moment before responding, "If we were spies, we'd have some idea of where we are. We'd be watching people in towns rather than wandering through passes. Besides," Simon says, briefly casting his gaze to Iskelia, "do you think people looking like us could blend in well enough to be spies?"

Making a diplomacy check. I'll spend 3 points to use my Luck modifier in place of my charisma modifier (as per luck pool) and another 2 points to add my luck modifier as a bonus (via without trying). If the result is below 10, I'll reroll by spending 2 more points.
Oh god I'm spending these things far faster than can be good for me. :smallfrown:
Diplomacy: [roll0]
Possible reroll: [roll1]
Reroll uneeded. :smallsmile:

[industrious]

The old man deflates. "Damn your logic! And I had such plan! I would have whooped all of you!" Flailing his staff and free hand around, he continues. "I have powerful magics! Turn men into mouse! Make lady even more ugly! But you make sense! Need directions! Road to Fort Rensen is on left, road to Lilifield is on right! Me no have any fun anymore! Me turn you left handed anyway!"

The man's left hand twists what appears to be either a series of convoluted arcane gestures or a seizure, and through the gloves all of you are wearing, you see your hands briefly glow for a second. However, nothing else happens; you find that your prowess with either hand has remained the same.

"Damn! And it should have worked!" The man wrinkles his nose, and thumps his staff on the ground several times in what some would call suggestive, but on him goes for irritable. Walking back to his tree, scratching at his robes irritably, the man sits back down, crosses his arms across his chest, and glares at your before swiftly dropping back to sleep. A thin line of drool seeps out of the corner of his mouth. The man, whoever he is, was clearly insane.

[Tavar]

Ventrui slowly blinks, then turns to the group, a slightly amused grin on his face.
Well, that was...interesting. I suggest we go to Lilifield: I've had my fill of soldiers for the moment, even if there probably wouldn't attack us on sight. That sound good to everyone?

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

Even though it's invisible behind her mask, Iskellia scowls anyway, clearly reluctant about something. After a moment she shakes her head and sighs, "No problems. Let's just move..."

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon looks at the old man, realization beginning to dawn upon him. There was no reason to send this man to guard this route, not if any passersby could use the same excuse he did. No, it was far more likely that someone sent him out to keep him out of his or her hair. That, or maybe just to point travellers in the right direction.
As Simon starts walking towards Lilifield, he tests his hands a bit and finds that all is more or less the same. Perhaps the ink on his hands protected him from the wizard's might. Then again, Simon had never been left-handed before so maybe this was just what it felt like.

[industrious]

The beaten path continues for perhaps half a mile before the mountain forest ends, and the open plains begin. Before you exit the forest, however, Simon unexpectedly trips on a rock, sliding off the path to find himself staring at a single enormous ruby, easily worth 2000 gold, or as in the official currency of the Velam Confederation, 1000 ivory. After everyone awes over the sight of the egg-sized gem, they continue onward towards Lilifield.

The city of Lilifield, as its name suggests, was named in honor of the nobleman who scouted out the plains. While his name has been lost to the annals of historians, his emblem, a white lily against a blue banner, has been the city's banner ever since. The gated city was one of the last to secede from the Empire during Velam's successful bid for independence, and looks very similar to Rosemoor in design. Approaching famed darkwood gates of the city, you notice a problem: the guards are stopping all travelers before entering, and checking their palms.

[Cogwheel]

Perhaps fate wasn't so bad after all. The crazed old man had provided some amusement, atleast, and the ruby was... well, that was just Simon. He seemed to have a knack for finding the best that the world could offer, albeit only in the form of random and sudden occasions. Plus, they had escaped the spiders, and likely the pursuit of any Arque guards. Destiny was a better deal than it seemed, to be sure - there were many who would leave it at this. Going against such forces could and most likely would end badly, while the path he was set upon certainly had its rewards. Most people would accept such a proposition.

Nathaniel was, perhaps unfortunately for him, not like most people, and the Raven... well, the Raven was hardly a person at all. Both shared a few things in common, however, and one of these was the refusal to be bound by any force, mortal, god or greater still. History, fate, destiny: All these were simply more unwanted fetters to be cut apart.

Nathaniel was many things. He never claimed to be wise.


Any thoughts of safety upon reaching Lilifield are soundly dashed upon finding the guards at the gates. Checking everyone for the messages on their hands, ofcourse. Taking care to make sure that the gloves are still on his hands, Nathaniel motions for the group to back away a little, moving back himself, then turns around to face the rest of the troupe.

"Guards." he says simply. "This could end badly. Do you suggest that we avoid the town entirely? If not, I could try to speak with them - that sort of thing is one of my specialities. While I'm sure one or two of us would prefer to simply kill the lot of them, that would end poorly - all else aside, there's more of them than us. Now, what will it be?"

[Realms of Chaos]

After sliding through the dirt, Simon is a bit too preoccupied with shining it and tossing it to himself to notice much else for awhile. As the town approaches, however, Simon tucks it into his backpack and starts brushing dirt off of himself. When he brushes it off of his hands, he finds that... the back of his hand is very itchy.
"What should we do now," Simon asks, looking around at his companions.

Wow, I feel very silly for not doing this in the first place.

Bout of luck for... Erase :smallamused:

If the ink is mundane, it is erased automatically.

If it is magical, here is my caster level check: [roll0]
Crosses fingers

Edit: Ouch. At least I can try again later. In the meantime, if the ink has any special qualities, they just activated. :smallredface:
Edit: Also, let me know if the ink isn't magical so that I can edit the above post.

[industrious]

As Simon brushes the dirt off his hands, he notices something odd. The message, which had resisted all previous attempts to be rid of it, was gone. As Simon looks at his now clean hands, the rest of you pull off your gloves, only to find the same thing: the message which summoned you to the trap at the Albright Inn no longer marked any of you.

[Tavar]

Well, that's certainly convenient. Wonder if that old man actually did something after all.
Ventrui first settles the petals, then moves to the back of the line.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon is happy to see that his mark is gone, but not that surprised. Stuff like this is rather commonplace for him. After all, Simon's wit had gotten him out of far more troubling situations.
Moving forward to be admitted through the gate, Simon says to everyone, "When we get to a bar, I'm treating everyone to drink in Gootchabecka's name. It's the least I can do after he sends such a gift our way."

[Tyrael]

Iskellia examines her hand curiously for a moment, then shrugs, dismissing it for later consideration. "Who's Gootchabecka?" she asks curiously.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Glad that the message was gone Aujir accepts the offer of a drink gladly after the night they've had.

[Realms of Chaos]

"Don't feel bad for not knowing him," Simon says, "Gootchabecka is the god of spare change. He teaches to take what you get and drop what you can for others to find. He's never sent more than a couple of silvers my way but I can't think of another reason for our recent... good fortune."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"God of spare change you say?" Aujir thought hard. He'd never heard of Gootchabecka, but then again he hadn't exactly had an upbringing that liked the idea that there were more powerful beings than his father.

"Can't say I've ever heard of him, but if he's getting me a drink then praise be to him."

[industrious]

Moving through the line, your hands are quickly checked by the guards; finding nothing, they hurriedly wave you through into the city proper.

The streets of Lilifield are nowhere near as crowded as they should be. While the streets are still filled with the noise of merchants and customers haggling, and the inns are still rowdy, one the whole, it is far quieter than normal. Because of the war, trading has decreased, and pairs of soldiers randomly patrol the streets in case of attack. Why they would do such a thing is beyond you, seeing as how the city is hundreds of miles behind the border. Perhaps it's merely to reassure their citizens.

[Tavar]

Ventrui
"So, shall we meet back here in, say, 3 hours? And while we do so, how about we spit up the loot to sell: it'll be less suspicous that way, instead of one man selling all the items. I can sell the ruby: was a jeweler before the change, so I think I can get a good price for it."

After a decision is reached, Ventrui heads over to the jeweler section, and if he has the ruby, sells it. In any case, he chats up the assorted jewelers, telling stories about his apprenticeship(though he never mentions where it was specifically) and getting what new he can.

Gather information[roll0]

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked woman begins making her way around town, searching for shops that might deal in magical goods. As well, she begins inquiring about possible sales, as well as items that enhance one's...natural assets and force of personality. On the side, Iskellia also looks around for masks, either decorative or functional. However, many of the townspeople are rude and fearful, spooked off by the rasping breath through her ghoulish mask.

[roll0]

Stupid dice...

[Realms of Chaos]

At Ventrui's request, Simon hands over the gem unless he is stopped by an outside force. Then he starts walking through town, looking for a good pub or tavern. He waves to Aujir, saying "Let's see how much ale that little frame of yours can take, shall we?"

[industrious]

OoC: Posting some of the results of some various interactions.

Iskellia

The glares from most of the folk around you keep you from learning much about anything, but you do manage to learn that the "official" reason for the current Beholder War was caused by a trading disagreement.


Ventrui

While selling the ruby, you are surprised to get a very good price for it: 2600 gp. When you ask why, you learn that the Beholder War has caused a great scarcity for such gems, as they are normally imported only from Euathil, and large gems are always in high demand due to wizards. While asking about the war, you hear repeated references to something called "telewarfare." The odd word is said with such hatred and familiarity that you daren't ask any further.

[Cogwheel]

War. Nathaniel never had any use for it - it was a troublesome character flaw in every sentient race, it seemed, and apparently impossible to be rid of. Not to mention war was what had him wrapped up in this mess.

Nathaniel had a good deal of unpleasant memories - dwelling on them would do no good. Atleast the guards had let them through... though he was still curious as to how no one commented on the strange mask Iskellia wore. "That sounds like a decent enough plan, Simon - I'll meet you there later. I do hope it ends a little better than the last time I was offered a free drink..."

He quickly begins collecting the spoils of the previous battles from the rest of the group, cramming the contents into his increasingly heavy backpack. Nathaniel wasn't exactly strong - or particularly adept at packing, for that matter - but someone had to carry and sell all this.

"Now, if no one has any objections, I will keep one suit of chain for myself, as well as the belts for the use of whoever has need of them at the time. If anyone wants to lay a claim to the rest of this, now would be a good time. If not, than I will sell the lot of this and pool the money to buy whatever is needed for us. Agreed?"

Assuming I get permission, Nathaniel will run off to sell stuff, using my premade diplomacy roll from the OOC thread (29) if applicable.

[Balketh]

With a quiet sigh, the young man wonders to himself exactly why he continues to follow these people around. Surely, there was a reason. He had just met them in an Inn, last night, and as such someone had tried to murder him. He is a wanted man, that much is certain, but how badly would the country want his head if he continued to travel with these... People?

Encountering a man along the way, the lad remains quiet, as what appears to be the usual for him. The hollow threats of a gibbering old man concern him little, though the possibility that the old codger knows more than he is letting on did make the figure wonder. As he watches the exchange, the man finally wanders away after being convinced so, the young man feels a strange compulsion to do things with his left hand. This bothers him considerably more than it would most.

The sighting of the guards gives the young man little time to think. By the time he even registers a viable idea to bypass the guards, the others are already slipping off their gloves, discovering they lack the ink across their hands. Checking his own hand, the lad discovers the ink has entirely disappeared from his palm.

With gloves off, he follows the group quickly into the town, and once his hands are checked, he puts his gloves back on. It is decided that they would now split up, and return to this particular location in a few hours.

In silence, the lad never broke his stride, marching straight past the group. As soon as he set foot into the crowd hustling and bustling in the market, he seems to just disappear, even his easily distinct outfit didn't help anyone find him. Clearly the young man moves with purpose, and has things to do in the town.

[industrious]

Nathaniel:

While the city one the whole is far quieter than it should be, the shops and marketplaces are still just as loud as they would normally. With the shops you're going to, some of them are even louder. Because of the war, the demand for weapons and armor, especially fine ones has increased, and Nathaniel's charm and wit allow him to haggle the merchants up to 5700 gold for the two swords.


Aujir and Simon:

Looking for an inn, the two of you enter the first one you find, a rather large one called The Sword and Board. The inn has a healthy crowd, especially around noontime, and from what you can see from the other patrons, the ale is both cheap and well-brewed. A pair of twin bartenders, both female, fend off the advances of their customers long enough to cry out "What'll it be, boys?"

[Balketh]

Within the hour, the lad sits quietly in the tavern, awaiting the return of the others. He sports a large sack of items at his side, as well as a much more full backpack of his own. He waits quietly, sitting in front of a glass of water, for the rest to finish up. Two hours more was the curfew that had been imposed, but his list of items to acquire has forever been in his mind, items that he had always had a fondness for, especially when he was in the City Watch.

The young man sits, and waits, in silence.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

After making her purchases (a new filter for her mask and 16 daggers sheathed all over her bodysuit), Iskellia sits quietly in the tavern at the same table as Tobias, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her breath hisses loudly through the dark mask as she squints through the lenses at the small leatherbound journal in front of her, the quill skittering across the page without any apparent hand to hold it.

http://img91.imageshack.us/img91/8701/49893861.jpg

The breath in Iskellia's mask quickens and deepens in distress and anger as she sucks in gulping gasps of air. Her body vibrates in fury, and abruptly a mug on a nearby table shatters for no apparent reason. A muffled groan escapes her mask as she young woman leans her elbows on the table and buries her "face" in her hands frustratedly. Slowly, her shoulders stop heaving and she stares down at the journal page, appearing drained and exhausted. She closes her eyes inside the mask and her breath slowly calms down, evening out. She almost seems to drop into a meditation for a moment or two, the sound of her raspy breath the only noise she makes.

Shaking slightly, she raises her head up and glares venomously at Tobias. A mug on the table slides over by itself, and on the bottom of her mask a small tube slips out of a pouch, inserting itself into the mug. The young woman then begins sucking her drink through the straw, apparently content.

[Tavar]

Ventrui

Having sold the gem for what he feels is a good price, Ventrui continues to look around, running into Nathaniel near a shop selling some magical packs. Thinking back on the way his own pack seemed to cut into his back, Ventrui brought up the possibility of pooling money to buy one. Agreeing, they have a short haggle session with the merchant, and leave with a Handy Haversack, which Ventrui offers to carry. He then continues wandering throughout the market, buying a few mundane goods and replenishing his rations, unsure of where they will be able to get more. Finally, he arrives at the inn, ordering a bowl of stew(carefully avoiding any ale), and sitting down at the table.

So, how did your afternoon's go? I think I got some useful equipment.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Sporting his newly enchanted cloak Aujir responds to the barman's question. "Take the strongest thing you offer, then double it. And a pint of regular mead to go with it. My good friend here's paying."

[Realms of Chaos]

"Indeed I am" replies Simon as he walks forward with his money pouch. "As for me, I think that I'll start with a cup of ale, nothing too strong. Nothing good happens when I get drunk."

*Timeskips one hour, to when allies start arriving at bar*

Simon tips back and forth in his seat, 40 wooden mugs arranged on the table, on his lap, and on the floor around him. Thus far, he has allowed nobody to take his precious mugs. After all, you never know what they'll do with the mugs. After a small hiccup, Simon finally notices a couple friends enter the bar. Sweeping the mugs out of his lap, Simon stands up and waves to them.

"Hey guys, O'er heer. Le's drink til wer drunk asa mule. No treazon on da menyu, o'coorse, but da drinks ar goooood."

Simon takes a couple stumbling steps forward before coming to a halt. He seems to think something over with a dreamy look in his eyes. Walking once more, he continues past his allies, saying, "I gotta plan. Feel free ta drink. Yuse my wa'ever mony. Gootchabecka's gonna love me fur dis."

Industrious
The remainder of the 100 gp that Simon set aside for drinks, if any, is still on the table among the pile of mugs.
After heading outside, Simon is going to start looking for a moneychanger.

[industrious]

It's afternoon as Simon heads out of the inn, drunken eyes squinting at the harsh blaring sun. A pair of patrolling guards pass by and laugh at the clearly inebriated man. The inn is located near the market square and past a row of stalls selling items that you don't have a clue about, you notice a prominent stall whose sign simply reads "Rosemoor Moneylenders," manned by a silver-haired elf.

[Realms of Chaos]

Industrious
Simon takes out a pouch with the rest of the money that he currently has on hand (although I wrote down the money that I'll shortly get from the sold items, I currently have about 100 gp not counting the remnants of the other 100 gp left on the table).

Simon totters over towards the silver-haired elf, pouch in one hand and other hand shielding his eyes from his new arch-enemy, the sun. As he places the pouch on the table, Simon says to the elf, "I'd liek dis chanje into silver, plees. If not enuf, copper also gud. Don't need gold right now." Simon giggles a bit before continuing onwards, "jus ralized Iv never yusd wonna yu guys b'fore. How much doya charj? What about haf? Is haf okay? I'm sirry sir bu' haf is ma final ofer. Els Il take ma biznes elzwer." At this, Simon points to a nearby fruit stand and nods, grinning from ear to ear.
"Corse, wudent take yur mony witowt given yu a chans to getit bac. Gootchabeka'd never furgive me. So, how'bout'it, pal? Canya helpaguy owt?"
With that, Simon tips over a bit and uses the stand to ready himself, big stupid grin on his face.

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel takes his seat quickly after arriving, explaining his afternoon. "I've picked up some odds and ends - tools of the trade, nothing that would interest the rest of you. Between Tavar and I, though, we did manage to pick up this backpack. While I don't have a great deal to carry, some of you might find it useful. Now, let's see what this place has to offer..."

In spite of the building he finds himself in, when Nathaniel examines the menu, his eyes skip straight past anything even remotely alcoholic, scanning the list instead first for coffee, should any be available, and second for some sort of food. He did not plan on living on trail rations if it could be helped at all.

[Balketh]

The young man sits quietly, tipping his hat slightly lower when Iskellia appears and sits opposite him. The lad sits stock still, in silence, though the slice in his hat remains, allowing him to watch the masked woman curiously.

The shattering mug, of course, makes the poor lad almost leap out of his skin. Unsurprisingly, his left hand is perched eagerly on the holster at his left hip. Gripping the strange metal wand tightly, he glares at the shards of the mug through the slit in his hat. Gently though, he manages to release the weapon, and relax a little. He doesn't even try to read the notes of the woman. It would only be a death sentence.

"I-Iskellia?... I'm not... Too good at this, b-but... If you... If you want to talk-" The young man's voice was weak at first, but a soft clearing of his throat, and he speaks loud enough for the woman to hear, as he sits up straighter, still gazing only through the cut in his hat.

Then, of course, fate intervenes. Ventrui appears; this is not to say that he is the first, what with Simon and Aujir having taken a good, long glare from the lad as they had become quite inebriated in the absence of their companions. The young man's words fall into the annals of memory alone, most likely only his own, as Iskellia may not have even heard him.

Nathaniel appears shortly after Ventrui, and as Simon exits for one reason or another. In the silence that the figure exudes, as Nathaniel peruses a menu, the lad reaches over gingerly and takes the otherwise plain, well-worn backpack into hand. Through the slit in his hat, the figure quirks an eyebrow at Nathaniel, then Ventrui.

Opening the bag, however, the lad's eyes widen quickly. Complete darkness fills the bag, and he stares in shock. He has seen these only on the most respected Sword and Spell. Instantly, without fear or hesitation, he sticks his arm into the bag, and grins only slightly, as the bag reaches his shoulder, and his arm does not touch the other side.

Taking his limb from the bag, the young man reaches down and grabs the pile of things he had next to him. Firstly, he drops on the table a tightly rolled, green tent.

"Tent." Closing the main section of the bag, the lad opens a second, smaller pocket, one of two, at the sides of the bag. Holding this open to the edge of the table, the lad slides the tent into the bag, and to no great surprise, the bag takes the entire tent without so much as a bump in its side. The next thing he drops on the table is a bag in itself.

"Fishing tackle." He identifies the bag, and before the reels of line, hooks, sinkers, feathers, and more, can spill out, he sweeps it into the bag. The third item is slightly more delicate, but not by much. A small, simple leather pouch, big enough for eight potion vials, with its own nice clasp and all. Inside, four of the slots are filled with vials, the other four remain empty.

"Four Oil vials." He says, sweeping it again into the seemingly endless bag.

"These are mine. I'm sorry for taking up some weight already here. It'll only be this way 'til I can get one of my own, which, I guarantee, is next on my list." He says to Iskellia, Nathaniel, and Ventrui, before closing the haversack, and placing it on the table again.

"Fourteen of the supposed one hundred and twenty pounds a haversack can hold. The pocket hold around twenty pounds. The main, eighty. I'd carry the stuff myself, but my mobility is more precious than a tent, some fishing gear and oil.." Nodding, the lad sits back, and takes his water, gulping it down.

He leaves his words to Iskellia forgotten, unless she brings it up.

"I did buy other things, but surprises are always fun." He smirks under his hat as he leans back. Something about him feels... Much more armed. More deadly.

[industrious]

Realms of Chaos

The elf raises his eyebrow at the obviously drunken man. "Sir...there is no charge for the service, as it is provided by the city." Taking the pouch of money (slowly, it wouldn't do to have the drunk attack him), the elf weighs the gold in the magically crafted scales, and hands the man his pouch back, now filled to bursting with silver and copper coins. "Here you are, sir." When he doesn't get any response, he raises his voice. "Sir, could you please move along, so that others may approach? Sir? Don't make me call the guards, sir."


Everybody else

Safe inside the busy inn, you nonetheless hear somebody shout "Call the Guards!"

[Tavar]

Hearing the call, Ventrui's head snaps around, searching for the source of the noise. For a second, his body tenses, like a startled rabbit. When he realizes that they don't appear to be the target of the call, he relaxes.
Well, glad we aren't the only....
....
Where's Simon?

Already having an inkling for the reason of the call, Ventrui gets up, moving to the bar's door in order to have a better view of what's going on.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Damned fool can't handle his drink."

Aujir stands to follow, a definite sway in his step as he does so.

[Cogwheel]

"Good grief. Can't keep himself out of trouble for a moment, can he?"

Nathaniel stands from his seat, sighing tiredly. It had been a long two days, and now Simon was, predictably, going out of his way to make it worse. Oh well, nothing for it.

"If anyone plans on doing something about this, I'll be outside, trying to figure out what he's done this time."

With that, he opens the door of the tavern and steps outside, searching for Simon.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia sits hunched at the table, rasping through her respirator. She turns her head slightly and the light shifts, piercing her mask's lenses to reveal her stunning emerald eyes glaring venomously at Tobias, her breath hissing in and out of her mask like the snarl of some predatory beast.

[roll0]

She holds the angry glare for a long moment, her emerald orbs staring into Tobias's eyes. Suddenly, her breath catches and she hunches over, coughing. Her hands fly up to the mask, scrabbling for a metal cylinder on the side of her face. Frantically, Iskellia turns a small knob under the side of the cylinder. A faint hiss comes from the mask, and the young woman gasps in a new breath of relief. Her back arches with the effort and her full breasts strain against the suit, shoving the zipper of her neckline down an inch or two. Iskellia then doubles over, coughing and wheezing through her mask, her slim shoulders shuddering with some unidentifiable emotion.

Slowly, she raises her gaze to Tobias again and glares, but this time her heart doesn't seem to be in it. She flinches away after a moment and attempts to resume her drink.

[Realms of Chaos]

Industrious
Simon accepts the bag of coins with a grin and turns around, readying himself for his next maneuver. Feeling himself get into a drunken second wind of sorts, his legs steady themselves a bit against the ground.
Turning around, Simon opens the sack and mutters a quick, improvised prayer:

"Find what oders hav lost
Looz so oders can find
watever be de cost
too late to chanj ma mind"

With that, Simon walks away from the stand at a surprisingly swift pace, teetering and stumbling all of the way. As he does so, he reaches into his sack with one hand and starts tossing handfuls of coins into the square.

As he throws the first handful, he let's out a single triumphant shout:
"TO GOOTCHABEKA!"

Simon uses bout of luck to imitate expeditious retreat. Each round, he is taking out a handful of coins and throwing them .

Everyone Else:

A loud cry is heard from the market square.

"TO GOOTCHABEKA!"

[industrious]

The guards that the currency trader has summoned take one look at the crazy drunken man running around the square, take another look, another look...

Finally, they decide to act. While the free silver is always nice, they are supposed to uphold the law, and anyway, six months extra worth of pay is enough. Waiting for Simon to head their way, they politely state that

"Sir, you're going to need to come with us."

[Tavar]

Ventrui

Ventrui approaches the officers, slowly shaking his head as if in despair.
Officers? Is there a problem?

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel follows shortly afterwards, appearing similarly exasperated. He approaches the guards with an apologetic expression, shaking his head slightly.

"Not again... my apologies, officers. Simon always was a bit of a clown, to put it gently, but I assure you he's quite harmless. I'm afraid he's simply drunk at the moment - it's no excuse, ofcourse, but I didn't realize it would end quite this badly. I assure you, it won't happen again. Is there any way he might be let off lightly this time? I realize it's hardly enough, but whatever you choose to do, I feel it would only be right to compensate both of you for your trouble."

So saying, Nathaniel fishes out fifteen ivory, holding it out to the two guards. All the while, he appears and sounds appropriately apologetic and concerned - practice makes perfect, after all.

Diplomacy... [roll0]

[Realms of Chaos]

With his boost of speed having long since worn off, Simon slowly stumbles towards the guards that wave him over. Understanding enough to know that he's pretty much under arrest, Simon takes a last look at the town square.

Hmm... people are going for the money, of course, but nothing too bad so far. At least throught his incredibly thick ale goggles, property damage seems minimal and nobody seems to have been stampeded yet. Surely Simon's work is charity at his best.

Then Simon finally understands. They're not here to arrest him. That would make no sense. They must be here to take him to the mayor or viceroy, give him a medal for his good work. Yeah, a medal. That's gotta be it.

Simon smiles as he makes a halfhearted bow, "I waz wandering wen yu guyz wud sho up. I gotta say, perfect timin'. Reely 'preciate wat yu guyz do fur da sity. Widoucha, da street ud be literd wit drunkards, theevs, saikos, and... whatever that fish is called. Sory yu had to get cald 'way frum yur duti jus' ta do dis. Must be a wast a your time. If wer not inna rush, I got drink or three that I didn't finnish at yondr' tavern. Wy not join me fur a rownd... on me? Yu guyz deservit."

As Ventrui approaches Simon waves to him and shouts, a bit louder, "Hey, look at dis. I can hardly beleeve dis is happenin, can yu? After all my charity, I'm finally gettin' wat I deserv."

[industrious]

At Nathaniel's words, the guards relax, and while Simon's drunken ravings severely irritate them, they don't arrest him.

"Truth be told, we really can't afford to lock him up. Thanks to the Pelor-**** (forgive my blasphemy) telewarfare, we have to patrol the street all the time; can't spare many men as jailers. But you would know about that wouldn't you...no...wait...you're from the Arque, right? How goes the Sundered Crown?" The guards' tone lightens up as he talks; obviously the city gets a good bit of trade between the two countries.

[Cogwheel]

Nathaniel smiles, nodding thankfully to the two guards. "The empire is well - at least, to my knowledge. You are correct, of course, that I am from Arque, but I never had a great deal of patience for politics and the like, so the finer details of the empire's state elude me. Still, I shouldn't think a great deal has changed recently. Excuse my ignorance, but how is Velam these days? I keep hearing of some sort of Telewarfare, but I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what it is."

[industrious]

The attack comes swiftly and without hesitation.
"Telewarfare is the main strategy of the Euathil army. I don't know what they call it but the premise is simple. You see-"

The guard's explanation is cut off by the blaring of alarms. "Oh Pelor, it's another raid. Get inside, board up the windows. We'll han-" And his instructions are abruptly cut off by the battleaxe sunk in his head. His partner shares the same fate. Behind him, you see 10 men, dressed in scale mail, wearing the crest of the Euathil army and wielding battleaxes. Leading them is another, stronger man, bare-chested, an enormous axe in his left hand. Telewarfare. Looks like the theory will have to wait.


Initiative
Raiders: [roll0]
Leader: [roll1]
Simon: [roll2]
Ventrui: [roll3]
Nathaniel:[roll4]
Iskellia: [roll5]
Aujir: [roll6]
Tobias: [roll7]

Notes: Tobias and Ventrui both have the Edge against the raiders. The leader has the Edge against Simon, Nathaniel, Iskellia, and Aujir.
Battlegrid has been updated(1st page of OOC thread)


Iskellia's turn.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The masked young woman glances over her shoulder, her breath hissing through the mask exultantly. Finally, she has found a better way to take out the whirlwind of emotions on somebody else. A way to make them hurt for what was done to her.

Iskelliaarises from her seat and steps towards the doorway, bringing the bandit leader in sight. With a muffled snarl, her hand curls into a cruelly grasping claw. As she does so, the swords rise from the dead guards' bodies and suddenly whirl towards the raider leader's throat!

Woohoo, nat20 Initiative!

Free Action: 5ft step to square H3.
Full-Round Action: Telekinetics, Throw Object 2x.
[roll=Attack1]1d20+5
[roll0]
[roll=Attack2]1d20+5[/spoiler]
[roll1]
[/spoiler]

[industrious]

The swords slice into the leader's flesh, and the man roars in pain. One of the swords has lodged itself into his right forearm; the other lies some 10 feet away.

Either Tobias or Aujir's turn, whoever posts first

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Seeing the underhanded attack on the guards Aujir lets out a roar. He was all for stealth warfare when needed, but you don't kill a man off his guard. Lunging forward he shoved past Ventrui and unleashed his caustic attack cloud.

--------------
Move to G9 and use Breath Weapon. 30ft Cone of Acid that hits all enemies and deals [roll0] damage to each of them.

DC14 Reflex Save for half damage, and each enemy takes [5] extra damage at the start of their turn.

Re-usable in [roll1] rounds (minimum 1).

[industrious]

Reflex Saves:
Leader: [roll0]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll1]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll2]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll3]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll4]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll5]

Euathil Soldiers: [roll6]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll7]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll8]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll9]
Euathil Soldiers: [roll10]


While a great deal of the soldiers manage to scatter, and avoid most of the cloud, their skin still burns red from the acid. The Leader is grimacing in pain.

[Balketh]

Iskellia's display of growling, then hacking and wheezing, goes almost entirely unnoticed. The young lad's attention has already shifted, even though his body hasn't. With eyes, and ears, pointed squarely at the door, the figure listens intently to the goings on in the street.

Within moments, before even Nathaniel, he leaps out the door, only to see Simon making an ass of his drunken self. Fist clenched, the young man walks forward with a growl, but Nathaniel beats him to the punch, though not as literally as the young man had hoped.

Some banter, and a bribe, went across, but that bribe didn't last, as the recipients didn't last.

Back-pedalling toward the door of the Tavern, the lad draws one of his strange weapons, and lets it loose, roaring and lighting the world for an instant. His target: the leader. His goal: His head.

Start me at H5.

Move: Draw.
Standard: Standard attack against Leader.
Attack: [roll0]
Crit Confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit Damage: [roll3]

[industrious]

The leader's right ear is blown off by the shot, but roaring with rage, the man deftly moves to the right of Ventrui, and swings his monstrosity of an axe a broad arc, one whose path threatens both Aujir and Ventrui. The two can see the foam spewing from his mouth.


Moving to H8
Attacking Aujir and Ventrui.

AttackA:[roll0]
DamageA:[roll1] +[roll2]


AttackV:[roll3]
DamageV:[roll4] +[roll5]


Nathaniel's Turn

[Cogwheel]

Despite what had occurred only moments ago, Nathaniel appears to be largely unfazed. Perhaps such matters as a squad of raiders appearing out of thin air seemed mundane after recent events. Fear of death? For the moment, there was no such thing. Destiny would see it through - who was he to argue with fate? At least, so long as its effects continued to be exactly what he wished.

"Foam? Really? I really do pity Euathil, if rabble like this are the best they can come up with... I must say, you haven't the best sense of timing, gentlemen. I am not normally a violent man, but in light of what you've just done, I'm afraid the lot of you simply must die."

The last word rings out all across the street, almost like a command in tone, and the air around the bandit leader becomes slightly tinted, as tendrils course through it, leaving no sign of their presence save for slight grey patches in the world. When they reach their mark, the effect is instantaneous.

Skin peels, revealing white bone beneath... for a time, at any rate. It does not take long for the bone, too, to crumble away, buckling under the weight of more years than any living thing should be made to bear. Nathaniel looks away as time takes its toll, addressing the other bandits in an unexpectedly friendly tone.

"Do feel free to run away if you feel the need to. I haven't the slightest idea how Euathil treats deserters, but I'm quite sure it will prove more merciful than some of us."

[industrious]

Of the two claws that Aujir attacked him with, only one connected, scraping across the man's chest.


[roll0]


And while the barbarians skin cracks and peels, he manages to shrug off the worst of it. Time, it appears, has decided to be less harsh on the man.

Ventrui's Turn.

[Tavar]

Ventrui

Clutching at the rather large gash that decided to open up in his side, Ventrui backs away from the made man, moving his hand in a short gesture. As he does so, petals again fly out and form a rough shield shape.

Five foot step back, casting shield.

[industrious]

At an unseen sign from the leader, seven of the raiders peel off, heading to attack other, easier targets. It makes sense; a raiding party cannot be held up. The remaining raiders, on the other hand, attack. As one steps in to back up his wounded superior, the other two charge against the main group, attacking the drunkard and the man who had mocked their devotion, their willingness to die for their country.


One takes a five-foot step to F10, flanking Aujir.
Two charge to D8/E8 respectively.

Attacking Aujir:[roll0]
Damage:[roll1]

Attacking Nathaniel1:[roll2]
Damage1: [roll3]
Nathaniel2: [roll4]
Damage2: [roll5]


But while their devotion has been proven, their aim might need some work.

Simon's Turn

[industrious]

Unfortunately for Simon, his mind and body have been fogged up by alcohol. Attempting to talk the raiders down, the man's words are unintelligable. The man attempts to backpedal, but he then trips on one of his previously thrown silver coins, and falls prone onto the square.


Iskellia's Turn

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The young woman spreads her arms like some ominous raven, throwing her head back and hissing through her mask exultantly as she continues to summon her telekinetic fury towards the raiders. A set of four chairs around the bar suddenly pick themselves up and fly towards the leader. The first chair is slow and easily dodged, but Iskellia counts on him dodging the first one and uses his slower reaction times to pummel him with the heavy oaken furniture.

Full-Round Action: Telekinetic Fury: 2x Telekinetics, throwing four objects.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Unable to conjure more Acid, Aujir clawed at the bandit leader, hoping to take him down as quickly as possible. After all, the rest would fold like a cheap suit with him gone.

--------------------
Claw 1: Attack: [roll0] / Damage: [roll1]
Claw 2: Attack: [roll2] / Damage: [roll3]

lol no chance.

[industrious]

Battered about by the barrage of chairs, the leader finally kneels over when Aujir slashes at the half-naked man, blood pooling around his large frame. But while their leader is down, his men hold firm; Euathil must invest a considerable amount of time instilling discipline in their troops.

Tobias's Turn

[Balketh]

The young man growls at his pathetic shot, yet Aujir finishes the job superbly, after a disturbing display of flying furniture from the femme fatale, Iskellia. From where he is, the lad can't get a clear shot at any of the raiders, and he is quite afraid of clipping any one of his 'companions' with a shot.

Thankfully, all he really needs to do is slide forward a little, and a raider comes into view. With a small smirk and a flick of his wrist, the weapon cuts a thunderous blast yet again.

Move: Move to H6.
Standard: One attack on F8.
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Crit Damage: [roll3]

[industrious]

The gunslinger's shot goes exactly where Tobias placed it...unfortunately, that place is also armored. The raider grunts in pain, but doesn't seem to be harmed.

Nathaniel's Turn

[Cogwheel]

"Miss me twice in a row? Now, that can't be right, not with the training you have.." stepping nimbly aside, Nathaniel begins to mutter to himself, largely for the benefit of one of the raiders attacking him.

"But of course, it must be the weapons. I'm sure they're quite heavy. No one should be expected to carry anything of the sort without tiring, let alone swinging it."

Fishing out a handful of sand, he tosses it into the air, in the direction of one of the raiders. In a battle, a sleeping foe was a dead one. In a way, it was more harm than he could hope to cause otherwise.

"It's a wonder you haven't fallen asleep already..."

Hint hint. In case it's not clear, I'm using Sandman's Slumber. DC 17 will save or fall asleep.

[industrious]

[roll0] The raider drops his axe, and slumps to the ground, eyes closed. He snores; looks peaceful. It's hard to believe that a few seconds ago, he was trying his hardest to kill you.

Ventrui's Turn

[Tavar]

Ventrui
With a flick of his wrist, several petals fly off the shield, striking the raiders, then returning. At the same time, Ventrui moves forward in order to help support Nathaniel.

Using Petal Blades, both targeting bandit at f8.
Touch Attacks:[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Moving to G7

[industrious]

The Raider is badly injured; in addition to acid scarring, the razor-sharp petals leave gaping gashes in his torso. Barely able to stand, he somehow manages to force himself to look at Ventrui with hate-filled eyes.

[industrious]

With only two of them in the game, the raiders are getting...desparate. They both exchange a look, and roaring in anger, attempt to beat Aujir and Nathaniel to the ground, with their bare hands.


Ladies and Gentlemen...grappling. Please refer to your copies of Races of War. The two are using the "Hold Down" maneuver.

Nathaniel:
Touch Attack:[roll0]
Grapple Check:[roll1] vs. DC of 11
If it succeeds, you are prone, and cannot move. Plus, you take
Unarmed Damage:[roll2] nonlethal

Aujir:
Touch Attack:[roll3]
Grapple Check:[roll4] vs. DC of 14
If it succeeds, you are prone, and cannot move. Plus, you take
Unarmed Damage:[roll5] nonlethal

Painless, wasn't it?


And while the Raven is currently pinned to the ground getting choked, Aujir manages to avoid the man's clumsy attempt at grappling. The man then retreats, and picks his battleaxe up again.


five foot step to E10.
Pick up battleaxe(move action)


Simon's Turn.

[Realms of Chaos]

More than a little bit confused and disoriented, Simon stumbles a couple feet before kicking a small rock that flies straight towards the raider holding Nathaniel down.


As I doubt I could help in any other way, bout of Luck for Magic Missile. :smallwink:
Damage: [roll0] nonlethal damage.

[industrious]

The stone hits the raider just under his eye; if he survives this, he's going to have a nasty bruise there later.

Iskellia's Turn

[Tyrael]

Iskellia

The young woman's eyes narrow behind her mask and her fingers contort graspingly. Suddenly, the battleaxe that the raider just picked up vibrates in his grasp. However, flushed by the adrenaline of battle, the man barely notices, merely tightening his grasp around the weapon.

Standard Action: Using Telekinetics, attempting to [roll0] the raider at E10.

AAAARGH NAT 1!:smallfurious:

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"You're not getting away that easy you axe wielding lunatic. Come 'ere."

-----------
5ft Step to F9.

Attack Bandit in E10

Claw 1 - Attack: [roll0] / Damage: [roll1]
Claw 2 - Attack: [roll2] / Damage: [roll3]

I'z sad Kobold now :smallfrown: Stupid dice :smallannoyed:

[industrious]

The raider slumps over dead due to the gashes in his side, combined with the burns from Aujir's acid.

[industrious]

Since Bal hasn't posted his actions...

From his current position, Tobias is able to aim at his target, and fire a single shot.


[roll0]
[roll1]


Said shot is perfectly aimed, and the raider on top of Nathaniel is blasted off, his face a bloody mess. As you look around, you see that there are no more live raiders, only dead bodies. Additionally, you hear the sound of approaching footsteps, rapidly approaching you.


You win combat! Collect 200XP each.

[Tavar]

After cleaning off his blade, Ventrui takes out his wand, and uses a charge on himself.

UMD roll:[roll0]. If it hits 20, I gain fast healing 1 for 11 rounds.

....

....
A natural 1. Great. No more healing.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

The Dragon-ish considers claimng his reward from the raiders, pockets, but hearing footsteps coming he takes to the air, leaving that to someone more skilled.

[industrious]

Looking from above, Aujir sees a trio of men in chainmail heading their way, led by an older-looking man in a breastplate, wearing a plain steel band on his head.


Make a Spot check and/or a Wisdom check.

[Kobold-Bard]

((Spot: [roll0]
Wis: [roll1]))

[industrious]

You have a feeling that they are familiar, but you don't exactly recall from where.

They finally reach the main group. "Everybody freeze! Drop your weapons and get down on the floor!"

[Tavar]

Holding his weapon in what he hopes to be a nonthreatening manner, Ventrui looks at the newcomers.
If you don't mind me asking, who are you, and why should we?

[Tyrael]

Beneath her mask, Iskellia gives an ugly smile of amusement; a cold, meaningless twitch of her lips as she lowers her arms and leans against the doorframe, looking for all the world as though she was just watching the spectacle.

[industrious]

The man with the steel headband steps forward. "Sergeant Lister of the Velam Armed Forces. There is a group of Euathil raiders in this area...oh. You...dealt with them....I see." The man is noticeably older than the rest of his troops; his hair is peppered with gray, and he has a scar on his left temple. "Wonderfully done. I don't suppose you're here to sign up as mercenaries?"

[Tavar]

It's not as if they gave us much choice in the matter: it was do or die. And we might just want to take you up on that offer. Is there any place in particular we should go if we decide to?

[Tyrael]

Iskellia drifts closer, interested.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Aujir continues to float just out of melee range, but close enough that he could melt the man if he needed to.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon looks around at the fallen guards before pointing at the one that his rock hit (for nonlethal damage).

"Dat one mite stil be 'live, 'case you guys wanna talk to'im."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Mercenaries you say. What's the pay like?"

[industrious]

"A group like this? Able to take down a Euathil raiding party? Five ivory per week each, plus (reasonable) expenses, plus salvage on special operations. And those, since the Sundered Crown doesn't enjoy putting you Arque's on the front line, are pretty common."

The Sergeant prods at the unconcious raider with an armored toe. "We'll be taking this one for questioning, boys."

[Tyrael]

Iskellia's breath rasps ominously through her mask as she draws closer. "We'll do it," she assures the Sergeant. "We", she marvels quietly inside her mind. How strange to name myself as part of a group again.

[industrious]

"Then, assuming that everybody agrees, could you please follow me to the barracks, where there are just a few forms to sign?" The sergeant pauses for a few moments mid-question, his hand resting lightly on his chest, nodding slightly to an unheard beat.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia follows him back to the barracks.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

The green man will land and follow them, debating whether this was a good idea or not. He didn't like taking orders, hopefully they'd be on long journeys with few command updates. And besides, he could always defect.

[industrious]

Leading you into the barracks, the Sergeant pulls out several pieces of paper. You sign your names(slightly changed, as you are still technically on the run) in the indicated margins, and without ceremony, you are all in the employ of Velum.

"Your first mission will be a joint effort. We've been harassed by telewarfare raids for the past two weeks; we also know that the Euathil forces must have a base somewhere within a 10 mile radius. Because of this, we have sent scouting parties into areas where their base would probably be. It needn't be big either; in fact, from their size and frequency, we believe that the actual forces stationed at their base are quite small." Walking over to a shelf, he pulls out a map of the surrounding area. Pointing at a mark labeled "Holly's Bane," the Sergeant continues.

"We believe that this ruin might contain the Euathil base. Scout it out, and report back if it is. If the forces are small enough, you should be able to disrupt their teleportation entirely. Somewhere in that base is a circle marked with several gemstones at key points. If you can, find and remove the yellow diamond, if you have the opportunity."

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon follows everyone else, slowed down immensely by his inebriation but stumbling onto accidental shortcuts whenever everyone leaves the range of his vision. At long last, he arrives at the barracks just as everyone else enters.

After signing his name in a drunken and illegible scrawl, he walks in and absorbs (kind of) the mission at hand. He is safely in his own little world, at the moment.

[Tyrael]

After signing her name as "Estrea", Iskellia sits quietly and listens to the presentation. Afterward, she raises her hand and asks, "How long will we be given for this mission? Will we receive any sort of support or equipment?"

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

Signing as Austin, Aujir listens to the mission, balking at the idea of this man controlling his actions. "Will we be paid partially in advance? I'm working for you, but I can't say I've known you long enough to trust you just yet."

[Tavar]

Ventrui
Signing his fathers name (Julius) Ventrui listens to the task. The gemstone array is what allows them to teleport? What do the other gems do, then?

[Cogwheel]

Truth be told, it was not any sort of payment that motivated Nathaniel - he had signed his name as Sebastian Colburn - but two entirely different factors. On one hand, this sort of line of work would make him rather more conspicuous. On the other hand, government work typically meant he could rely on some measure of protection from them. A risk, to be sure, but one worth taking. The only stray thought that bothered him at the moment was the idea that he might have somehow been meant to take this path. Pre-ordained, that was the word. Still, what could he do about it? Everything, of course.. but that would wait. For now, this will have to do.

All of this is summarized in two words, as he writes his most recently acquired name, spoken in a largely unreadable tone - it had taken him years to learn it. "I accept."

[industrious]

"The other gems focus and refine the spell. The diamond, however, allows for incoming teleportations. With that piece removed, the raids will stop, and we will be able to send our own forces through the circle."

The Sergeant pauses. "Payment in the army is biweekly, or at the end of each mission if you are away from a base for longer. As for support, most of the garrison has to stay in the city to prevent more raids; everybody else is investigating other sites."

[Tyrael]

With no resources committed to us, if we die in the attempt it affects Velum not at all, Iskellia thinks cynically, but is careful to keep the thought to herself.

The young woman nods, her expression unreadable beneath the mask. "No oth--" she rasps, but is cut off mid-sentence by a terrible coughing fit, her lungs hacking and heaving. Hands trembling, she fumbles at her mask until she presses a release valve on the canister at the side. She abruptly gasps in a great rush of air, coughs only once or twice, and slowly gets her tortured lungs under control as she lowers her hands.

"N-no other questions," Iskellia repeats shakily. The young woman closes her eyes and leans back in the chair, concentrating only on the rush of air inside her body until the trembling slowly passes.

[Cogwheel]

"A small question, if you will allow it... may we keep the gems acquired in the course of the raid, or are they to be handed over to the army? I don't mean to sound petty, of course, but magical or not, half a dozen gemstones are no small matter."

[industrious]

"The other gemstones are to remain untouched. We'll be sending our own raiding parties through the circle, and for that, we're going to need the rest of the lot."

[Tavar]

Well, I guess we should get started then. We might want to stock up on some sundry supplies, though. I don't think anyone intended to be leaving quite this abruptly.

[Realms of Chaos]

Simon lazily smiles and nods, taking in about half of what is said. Still safe in his own little world, Simon mutters, "Corse weel help. No reezun not to."

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Could always take the stones and do a runner I suppose. We'll see how this goes" Aujir thought to himself.

"Indeed, at minimum we'll need rations and maybe some cold weather gear if you've got it. Oh and some high end liquor. Just because."

[industrious]

The Sergeant nods, in response for your requests for provisions. He then puts you in barracks for the evening; in the morning, Simon bitterly complains about a hangover.

You set off, following the crude map that the man gave you, packs full with the requested provisions (though the "high-end" liquor was barely above average). Eventually, you encounter what appears to be an abandoned mine; it looks to be abandoned by far, at least. Old metal mine carts, half-destroyed by rust, litter the area.

[Tavar]

Well, looks like this just might be the place. So, is anyone here decent at scouting, or should we just go in loud?

[Tyrael]

Iskellia looks around the area curiously. Wind whistles through the jagged struts of abandoned minecars and sweeps over the ground, stirring up a small carpet of dust and occasional small pebbles. The silence of the abandoned mine creates a sense of isolation that is almost palpable.

The young woman shivers, a twitch of premonition that has little to do with the coolness of the air. "I'm no scout," she says aloud through her mask, dispelling her fears about the future by diving into the conversation of the present. "Anyone want to go in first?"

[Cogwheel]

"You, Iskellia?" Nathaniel asks jokingly. "Turning down an opportunity for murder? What is the world coming to? Ah well.. I suppose I might as well go ahead. I don't suppose I'll be too easily spotted."

Nathaniel does not make the mistake of diving straight into the mine. There were precautions to be taken, first. He creeps through the outskirts of the mines silently - or so he hopes, at any rate - sticking to the shadows whenever possible, and peering around for any sign of hostile activity. Should this prove safe, the mine will be the next step. Still, there was no harm in examining the perimeter. Better safe than sorry, after all.



Hide [roll0]
Move Silently [roll1]
Search [roll2]

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Well I've tasted worse" is Aujir's response to the alcohol in their packs.

When they reach the mine Aujir decides to take up to role of scout, if only because he didn't trust the group to not get themselves tele-attacked again.

"I'll go first, lest any of you skin your knees" he says with a smirk on his face.

----------------
Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]
Move Silently: Flying, so auto Succeed.

[industrious]

As Nathaniel and Aujir creep through the ground above the abandoned mine, they find abandoned carts filled with iron ore, pick-axe heads with rotting wood shafts, and signs that a group of people has been there recently. But the boarded-up entryway remains closed, and there is nobody besides the six aboveground.

[Tavar]

WhisperWell, looks like there's no one up here. Shall we join our colleges, then?
At this, Ventrui begins to walk forward to join the scouts.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"Sounds good."

The dragon man will float out again the way he came in and report to the rest of the group.

[Tyrael]

Iskellia plods along behind them, curious.

[industrious]

The group comes back together, and finds that while they are the only ones currently above ground, the mine entrance has been boarded up comparatively recently. Straining their ears, they can make out faint sounds coming from below.

[Tavar]

[whisper]Looks like someone down there. Can someone help me take these boards off?
Ventrui goes to the left of the entrance, and prepares to move the boards if someone else gets the other side.

[Tyrael]

Ventrui's answer comes in the form of twisting and creaking wood as Iskellia's telekinetic might rips the boards away from the entrance one by one.

[Kobold-Bard]

Aujir

"So the subtle approach then?" says Aujir, a smirk on his face. "I like it."

[industrious]

The boards now removed, the sound becomes more clear; it is the sound of chanting, obviously for some ritual or invocation. The chanting begins to grow, in volume and speed; they've obviously heard you.