Dark Dragon Rising [IC]

[Lunix Vandal]

The Arena Grounds

Whether due to clerical error, late entry, or outright malicious underpaid government workers, you've been thrown together with four total strangers and placed in the thirty-seventh seed for the tournament. Lucky you.

As for the present, the opening ceremonies for the closing event have begun to end. Lord Derak has opted to deliver a speech to fighters (and the crowds watching them) before the first round of battles begins. The speech is a long, rambling affair, relating ES4's lowly beginnings as glorified riot control officers. And, of course, you have to stand through it all, right in the middle of the arena grounds, in tight formation with your alleged teammates, sandwiched between other groups of contestants. Almost invariably, the attention spans of those around you begin to waver, and their minds wander.

Should yours meet that same fate, you notice that most of the High Council is in its reserved box section -- a few of the older members have opted to avoid the stairs, and are likely enjoying the services of professional scryers from the comfort of their personal estates. The fighting area of the arena is around two hundred feet across, with dozens of rows of seats surrounding it -- it looks like you could fit a fourth of Gaela's population in here. Statues spaced around the outer edges of the arena depict the various members of ES4. They're a bit far off to recognize on sight, but from the relative sizes (and tails, or lack thereof) you think you can pick out a dwarf, a half-giant, and maybe a lizardfolk or two.

As Lord Derak wraps up his speech, one of the contestants in the row behind you -- a human male, from the sound of his voice -- mutters "I swear, when we win this tournament, I'm going to gut that swine of a nobleman Vorgyrn if it's the last thing I do." He is promptly shushed by the human female next to him. The drow in the row in front of you does not react, but his hand is a little too close to the dagger on his belt for comfort.

[OOC: Insert obligatory opportunity for "who I am, what I'm doing, what I look like" posts here. OOC thread is here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=135892). d20r Alpha thread is here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=132683).]

[Krazddndfreek]

Somewhere in the middle of the filed contestants, a short, blond-haired woman-really more of a girl by her height and short cut hair-rolls her eyes at the quiet upstart's claim. Hot-blooded fool's going to get himself killed. she thought to herself. Noting the drow's subtle hand movement, she sighs to herself, Maybe all of them are this stupid. Nothing ever goes wrong before the real fights... surely they weren't like this before the other tournaments. Then again, I wasn't ever viewing them from so close.

Tilting her head to reexamine her teammates, she sighs again. They were such misfits. They had a kobold, a creature that was half of her height, a gnoll, while ferocious, they often lacked in tactical ability. Then there was that other woman. She was tall, sure, but she looked like she hadn't seen a fight in her life. And then there was your average rookie on a get-rich-quick scheme. He was rugged and handsome sure, but he couldn't even afford a haircut and some of his clothes needed mending.

What hope did they have of winning. She nearly laughed aloud at the thought. It didn't matter to her, she had her own agenda, and it had nothing to do with winning or losing.

[Belobog]

The drow. He's too eager, too nervous. Desperate. Watch him. If you fight his team, he's the first to go down.

Aodh had been doing this even since the speech began, turning his cloudy gray eyes over the assemblage. He couldn't help himself; he had been taught that you couldn't tell a person's nature by appearance, you had to look at their actions, their movements, the little ticks of the face or the hands or the change in tone. That told you whatever someone was having a bad day or had just contemplated murder. Back home, he didn't have much reason to focus, beyond maybe catching a casual lie; here, it was starting to prove useful...If he could focus for long enough to look past the obvious.

It was one reason he worried about the people standing with him. Less what they would do, and more why they were here. The woman next to him looked more at home watching than fighting, the girl on the far end looked too young to be participating, the man to his right looked like a stiff punch'd knock him over, and the kobold on the far side of him looked...fidgity. A red hand came up, rubbing a brow studded with mottled black spots. Maybe it was the stress getting to him; most likely, each of them was competent in their own way, and they had as much as a shot at this as the next batch.

Or that clerk he dealt with was the vengeful sort. Either way.

His ears twitched at the boast from the human in the back, and he discarded it. Just another kid, talking big to give himself a boost. Aodh's eyes were focused straight ahead, on a black hand drifting ever closer to a sheathed dagger. He wondered how many people were as desperate as this man, if any of the ones beside him shared this drive. He wondered how desperate he would be, in keeping them alive.

[Voice of Reason]

Nerishana kept her eyes forward and fixed on the speaker, even as she let her mind wander. She'd heard this kind of dribble before, and knew well enough that anything useful to be heard had long since past. So, with half an ear she listened, as she took in her peripherals. Nerishana didn't know what to expect in a "good" team for an event such as this, but she certainly could have hoped for better; still, it could be worse.

Apparently, the man behind her is more confident in his teammates; they seem to know each other quite well. His confidence is laughable though: "when" he wins the tournament. Frankly, that's not going to happen. Nerishana is probably the least combat savvy on the field today, and she knows it. In fact, she's counting on everybody else to know it too. Being overlooked at this point is the best that she could hope for.

The drow ahead of her is fingering his knife a little to fondly for comfort, and she notes that a few of her new teammates move their hands a little closer to their own weapons in response.

They better not do anything foolish; fighting before rounds have even started is a good way to get disqualified, and I can't afford to be a teammate short. That danger sense could serve us well though. I can't wait until this is over and we can get a chance to plot.

[Entelechy]

Slaan made no attempt to watch the proceedings. Even halflings tended to be a head taller than Kobolds; almost no place was designed for those under two and a half feet. His did invest his attention to listening.

(ideally he wondered what it would be like to be an elf and have a keener sense of hearing. Would quieter sounds just become louder, or would there be an actual increase in the quality of the sounds heard?)

He clearly heard the comments of the man behind him, and the reaction of the dark elf, and felt... admiration. He admired they carelessness with which they lived. Slaan would have never dared utter the phrase the man did, it would be very unsafe for him to do so. Slaan would never reach for a weapon unless he planned to use it.

(intimidation is a use for a weapon. Slaan thought to many people believed the only use for a weapon was direct violence.)
It must be nice to take so much for granted, but he did not afford himself that luxury. Slaan tried to get a good view of his team mates, but could see nothing past the gnoll.

Slaan was not surprised to note he was half the height of the man beside him. Almost every human, and even the rare dwarf, was more than twice his height. Yet the troll was clearly at least three times his height. Maybe a bit more.

(Slaan mused that it would be nice to climb up on the gnoll's shoulders and watch from there. Then he could see everything. He imaged he could have a picnic up there, though he knew the gnoll's shoulders were not really that broad. Yet that might create a hazardous impression of him upon his team mates. They were still at such a delicate point in their relationship. It might alienate him forever, make him untrustable. Not that such a conclusion would be likely. It would be a good test of character. See how the gnoll reacts. See how his team mates react. He could learn a fair bit of information that way. It might also cause other contestants to underestimate him, which could be valuable. It could also cause them to see him as weak, and target him as natural prey. With a group of contestants this large, it was probably that both reactions would arise in varying individuals. However, based on the probably traits of those with a predisposition to enter a potentially lethal arena match, it seemed likely there would be more predators that underestimators. This would suggest the safe choice would be to do nothing, and remain where he was. But it was also, perhaps disastrously, unsafe to work with a team he knew so little about, and there was also a great potential for observing the reactions of his competitors, and ear mark who was cocky, who was predatory, who could keep an unreadable face and who was unobservant. Slaan knew that ignorance was not safe, and tactical risk often yielded greater future safety.
After all, believing Slaan to be weak prey was a form of underestimation, as well.)

Slaan was not sure when the transition between idle musing and serious consideration took place. He ran through the arguments for the notion again, quickly, but more deliberately.

There were advantages to being only 2'4." His legs were only as big around as some human's wrists. Slaan easily slipped past the man beside him and was soon wedged beside the Gnoll.

"Pardon me," Slaan said, " I cannot see. May I sit on your shoulders?"

Slaan looked up at the gnoll, who very literally towered over him.

Slaan was, for some reason, glad he had taken the time to treat his skin. It was a fashion affect, for a kobold to his skin with finely ground charcoal then brush most of it off. Slaan rarely bothered with such things, but had done so this morning. Not that it was likely that he would encounter a female kobold to appreciate a fine matte skin and regular rows of well formed scales, which would normally be to fine to notice, if not for the charcoal still resting in the edges. It brought his hide colour from a rusty, brownish red to a dull brown-red like old dried blood. Even though there were none present who could appreciate the effect, Slaan noted it did give him a boost of confidence, even in the face of someone thrice his height.

[Belobog]

Aodh's ears turn before his head does, pointing down to the kobold now at the gnoll's feet. At first, he considered how his teammate got there so fast...before his brow knitted when he realized what the kobold has asked. After a second or two, the towering paladin shrugs, sinking into a crouch while he straightened the armor covering his left shoulder. "I'd give you the right one, but touching this," he explains, nodding to the great club slung across his back, "before the tourney starts would probably get me disqualified."

[Tyrael]

http://img709.imageshack.us/img709/5886/72797143.jpg
Down the line of contestants stands a lean, lithe man in a motley assemblage of outfits. Fine, rich silks contrast sharply with crude canvas patches. A brilliant crimson sash is tied about his waist, but it encircles rough black workman's pants. His shirt is fine white silk, but his vest is patched together from brown canvas and red cotton. A simple black headband is tied about his brow, encircling long, unruly brown hair.

What turns him from a beggar into something more sinister, however, is the claw and the mask. Three wicked, slashings claw protrude from a bracelet on his right wrist and a blank, emotionless mask covers his face, with only slanted eye holes for him to glare out of. The left half has a strange, flowery design on one cheek, and the right side is covered with ornate metalwork and floral engravings. The carvings are beautiful, but the eyes glaring out of the mask ruin any beauty it might have. His eyes are a brilliant greenish yellow as they stare contemptuously down the line at the rest of the fighters.

Cyrus Vardalon glares disdainfully at the motley crew of warriors he finds himself amidst. If any of these were admitted into my fight club, they wouldn't stand a chance, he muses. A cold, wicked smirk twists his lips, unseen beneath the mask. Let them underestimate me, let them sneer at my garb. Once I win this and regain what is rightfully mine, nobody will ever sneer at Cyrus Vardalon again...

[Lunix Vandal]

The next five or ten minutes pass without further incident, though a few people in the crowd stifle laughter at the sight of seeing a kobold sitting on a gnoll's shoulder. Lord Derak (finally) finishes his speech, and directs the contestants to proceed out of the arena grounds -- both to clear it for the first round of fights and so that they can view the tournament bracket posted in the arena's entryway. Remarkably, the masses proceed to do so in a fairly organized fashion -- until they're out of sight of the spectators, at least, at which point many of them break into a dead run to find their place in the bracket. One way or another, Aodh, Cyrus, Karmil, Nerishana, and Slaan are pushed to the rear of the crowd, which slowly dissipates as the various teams decide to make their respective ways to the stands or back to the grounds.

Another five or ten minutes pass, and our heroes are finally able to get within reading distance of the sheet of parchment that holds the bracket. All but two other teams have already left -- together, these (apparently) consist of nine humans and one half-giant. The humans on the team with the half-giant are all wearing hooded cloaks that obscure their bodies, the hoods pulled low over their faces, while those on the all-human team are clad in flimsy-looking leather armor. The half-giant himself is wearing a suit of studded leather armor, and carrying an outsized bastard sword and matching shield slung across his back. The apparent leader of the all-human team peruses the bracket for a moment, muttering to himself. "Twenty-eight, twenty-eight ... There we are. Fightin' number thirty-seven an hour after noon. That gives us what, two hours? Let's go grab some food an' watch a couple a' matches 'till then." You recognize his voice as that of the one who made the comment about killing Vorgyrn during Derak's speech. But before you can say anything -- if indeed you were going to say anything -- he and his clearly overconfident companions have already started hustling towards the vendors' stalls outside the arena.

The cloaked humans also scan the bracket for a few moments before one raises a green-gloved hand and points towards the far end of the bracket from where your own team is listed. The others nod silently, and as a group they turn back towards the arena grounds -- you realize that theirs is the first match listed (between teams 1 and 64), and most likely they're the favorites to win the whole shebang. One of the humans hangs back a bit, glances at the party from under his hood, and frowns momentarily. As he walks past Aodh, he pulls his hood back a bit, looks Aodh directly in the eye, gives a rather pointed nod towards Cyrus, and states, in a quiet but matter-of-fact voice, "I'd keep an eye on that one if I was you." He then pulls his hood back down and hurries after his companions before anyone can respond. (What's with the people in this city, always hurrying away like that? :smalltongue:)

Belobog/Aodh: When that last bit occurred, you (and probably only you) were able to see that the human's eyes were completely white, with no distinct iris or pupil to speak of. I suppose that if Slaan is still riding on Aodh's shoulder, he could have seen this as well.

Lacking ranks in the relevant Knowledge skills as he does, Aodh has no in-character knowledge about what could have caused something like that. Out of character, go check out Fax's Racial Feats pages. :smalltongue:

[Entelechy]

When Slaan could finally see bracket listing, he frowned a bit.

"It would have been so much easier if someone had just said the formula. 'You're fighting Team 65 minus your Team Number' or something like that." He said. He was no longer sitting on Aodh's shoulders, but standing a few feet back so he would not have to crane his neck to see the posting.

When the man gave his warning to Adoh, Slaan's mind broke it down into two possible facts, and many, many motivations.

Facts: Either tall, dark and scowling was untrustworthy, and a danger to them, or he was not. (Well, since he was a contestant in this contest he had to be dangerous, but he it was possible he posed some many of special danger to his team mates. Ever a danger to plain old everyone).

Firstly, assuming his warning was baseless, he could be trying to splinter team cohesion. Sow mistrust and paranoia, so that we could not function together effectively. This would surely increase his own odds.

Secondly, assuming his warning had cause, he could be trying to genuinely be helpful.

(Or, even if it was true, he could have given us the warning, thinking we would discard it as trying to damage team spirit, thus making us subconsciously extra trusting to compensate, and leaving us vulnerable.
Or maybe another team member was truely the threat, and he was giving us a red herring.
Or maybe....)

The possibilities were endless, and Slaan knew mapping them all lead to madness.

They all pointed to one function truth. His team mates were dangerous to everyone (not just the other team) and distrusting them was not safe, because his life did depend on them.
This, Slaan already knew, but the reminder was nice.

[Belobog]

Aodh watched after the blind man while he walked away, turning the warning over in his head. He looked over the human again; the mask and the claw made sure he would stand out, if nothing else. Seeing the kobold nearby, near enough to overhear, he leaned over, just enough to not warrant attention. "I trust you'll be able to keep that to yourself?"

Could I make a Sense Motive check to determine if the white eyed man was being truthful or not?

[Tyrael]

Cyrus Vardalon eyes the tournament roster dubiously, and then turns to eye the rest of his team with an equally skeptical glance. I wouldn't trust these jokers with a grocery list, he thinks grimly, let alone my life. Fate, it seems, has other things in mind.

Pretending not to hear the warning of the hooded man, Cyrus simply waits for his team to finish assembling, and entertains himself by studying the crowd of other fighters in the meantime, sizing up any other potential threats.

[Entelechy]

"I will," Slaan said seriously, and mentally added until the others not knowing becomes dangerous to me.

Then he smiled, and gave Aodh what would have been a friendly clap on the back, should they have been anywhere near the same hieght. The net affect was more a friendly pat on the upper calf.

"You seem pretty alright," he said to Aodh, as he did so, looking up at the towering gnoll with a grin. He then stepped towards the main cluster of the team.

"May I suggest we retire to somewhere a bit more private and talk tactics? Just to avoid us tripping over each other in the fight to come." Slaan said in good humour.

[Lunix Vandal]

On questioning an usher, the party is directed to a relatively deserted portion of the arena's seating set aside for the contestants. Between the crowd's near-constant dull roar and the distance between you and anyone who would benefit from overhearing your conversation, it's highly unlikely that said "anyone" will be able to overhear.

[OOC: We'll say that any strategy discussion in the OOC thread is more or less mirrored by your characters IC during this time.]

Meanwhile, the fights progress in the arena below. There's a few upsets and tense matches, but the most impressive by far is the first, in which the cloak-wearing team from earlier is the unquestioned victor. No other team you observe in the time before your match fights with quite the same combination of flair, luck, magic, and sheer determination -- which lies in stark contrast to what you've seen of their demeanor outside of combat.

Just shy of two hours later, another usher asks you to report to the fighting pit's eastern entrance. As you wait for your match to be announced, your eyes are drawn to a large mural painted in the tunnel leading to that entrance. It offers a stylized depiction of ES4's original members in glorious combat against a rampaging behir in the capital building's fountain plaza, perhaps to inspire those on their way into the arena. Being Nora's national heroes, the mural was designed with ease of recognition in mind -- you can easily pick out (and name from memory) the individual Elites. For the curious, they are:
Urist Nil-Ikal, dwarf cleric of Los
Ellysia "Ells" paMesk suTobit, phoe-kun sorceress
Tomoshibi "Tomo" Ankeku, shifter greatbow-ranger
Maut Indew, lizardfolk TWF-ranger
and Logma-kai, half-giant dreadnaught (the group's designated leader).
A few minutes pass, and the head referee gestures for the party to enter the arena. He turns towards the far entrance, and frowns. Team 28 is oddly absent. He glances at the massive water clock that serves as the arena's official timepiece, and declares that they have five minutes to turn up before they forfeit. Given their leader's earlier comments, this is all rather surprising -- they can't very well win the tournament if they don't even show up for the first fight.

Two and a half minutes later, Team 28 bursts through the arena's western entrance. It is immediately apparent that something is wrong -- their faces are filled with fear and panic, rather than their earlier overconfidence. The reason for this soon reveals itself, as nearly two dozen arrows follow Team 28 into the arena and bury themselves in the latters' backs, causing them to fall to the ground, slain to the man. The crowd falls into shocked silence. Almost instantly, six armed Elites leap from their ringside seats and charge through the tunnel towards the unseen archers. They return just over a minute later, the leader shaking his head -- the presumed archers are nowhere to be found, and none have been observed leaving the other end of the tunnel.

Just as the (clearly shaken) referee is about to call the match in your favor, however, Lord Vorgyrn's magically-amplified voice echoes through the arena, half mocking, half serious. "Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. No." Lord Vorgyrn nods to one of the drow sitting with him, who rises, stretches a hand towards the corpses of Team 28, and begins a low, rushed chant. "More fun this way. Also, I have evidence they were involved in a conspiracy to kill me -- which I happen to recall is a capital offense -- so it really makes no difference either way, does it?" Abruptly, the other drow ends her chant, and the crowd gives a collective gasp as Team 28 stands up -- or, at least, their skeletons do. The other High Council members who are present are clearly disgusted, but say nothing. Lord Vorgyrn consults the water clock before continuing. "Ah. Three seconds to spare. Well?"

The referee grimaces, but complies with the implied command. "By the decree of Lord Vorgyrn, Team 28 is guilty of high treason, and shall be represented in this tournament by these undead. Their winnings, if any, shall be made payable to House Vorgyrn as restitution for their offense, and their remains will be denied honorable burial. The match shall begin in one minute."

One minute later, the skeletons roll for initiative.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
Map, spoilered for width:http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t71/Thrawn_KoL/Dark%20Dragon%20Rising/Fight1Round0.png{table=head]Symbol | Location | Represents
Skeletons | N4, O5, P3, Q5, R4 | Skeletons
Cyrus | N23 | Cyrus
Slaan | O25 | Slaan
Were-critter | P22 | Aodh
Mage | Q25 | Nerishana
Sword-fighter | R23 | Karmil [/table]There's a fair amount of room on all four sides of the map. It's not shown since zooming the map maker I'm using out too far causes a lot of detail loss and starts eating the coordinates along the edges. Each square is 5' by 5', so there's currently 80' of "dead space" between Aodh and the nearest skeleton. If you're not happy with your starting position, let me know -- you've got a minute (10 rounds) of game-time to prepare, so you can move around a fair bit, though I will ask that you stay to the right of column 20 before the fight starts.

[Tyrael]

Cyrus is glad of the menacing mask covering his face, for beneath it he blanches in surprise and fear as the dead bodies of these warriors arise, glowing with unholy hellfire. Again thankful for the mask hiding his expression, Cyrus settles into a limber, bouncing fighter's stance on his toes, the cruel claw on his arm hovering near face height as he stares at the monsters, waiting for them to get close enough to engage.

[roll0]
Readying Action: If a skeleton approaches within 30ft, Cyrus will attack it. Attack 18, Damage 6.

If a skeleton approaches within 60ft, Cyrus will Charge forward, lowering his AC to 13 as he [roll1], his claw's tines slipping through the ribcage to give the creature a substantial [roll2]

[Krazddndfreek]

Karmil

As Lord Vorgyrn resurrected the skeletons of their opponents, Karmil put her hand over her mouth, clearly disgusted. She looked up at Vorgyrn in the stands and wondered what he was thinking and how he could stand to do that. No matter, she tried to tell herself, the match is starting, I need to concentrate.

Though she wasn't familiar with fighting in a group, she would at least try to coordinate them according to their earlier discussions.

"Well this certainly changes things. Bloody skeletons haven't any hearts to pop. I'll take that one over on the left, and I suppose I won't really be needing a distraction to fight them." She pointed a finger at the closest skeleton to her as she strode up next to the Gnoll. She looked at the skeleton, and her vision swayed familiarly, and after several moments, she saw something strange. Skeletons lack organs, yet here they seemed to have them, though somewhat dark and seemingly vile. She looked back at the Lord in his seat, and then grimaced. "Strange... I can see... their organs. Perhaps they do have flesh after all. Aodh, I'm going to ask for that flank again."

She draws her blade and prepares for battle.

By the time the match starts, Karmil will be in R20 and have a similar readied action to Cyrus. You can't ready a full round action...
Initiative: [roll0]

And I'll figure out what to do after everyone has rolled initiative and talked and everything.

First!:smallcool:

EDIT: Use Red Eye feat on skeletons at O5, Q5, and R4. Spend last round moving to Q20.

[Voice of Reason]

[shou-common]Wolf-goddess protect us all...

[arch-elven]I never imagined Lord Vorgyrn would do such a thing so...fragrantly.

Nerishana's thoughts and mutterings abruptly cease when the referee declares one minute until battle begins. Faith in one's goddess is well and good, but Nelig should not be the only one doing the protecting in this group. Running to the gnoll, she says

Audh, please remain still while I weave my abjuration about you. It ought to deflect most of your wounds.

Nerishana weaves first one spell, then reinforces it quickly thereafter with a more confident second spell-weaving, drawing her mace as she does so. The weapon is a reassuring weight in her hand, but it has been quite some time since Nerishana has had to wield it in earnest. She hopes her skill has not dulled.

She moves next to Slaan, then to Karmil and Cyrus, placing her hand upon each as she works. Finally, with seconds to spare before the charge, she steps back and protects herself. She draws forth a javelin from her quiver, a weapon she is not wholly familiar with at all, and steels her nerves for the charge of the abominations.

Remember, they can't understand us (presumably), but the caster may still be able to direct them intelligibly. Be on your guard.

Alright. If I'm interpreting this correctly, we have 1 minute, or 60 seconds, or 10 rounds (6 seconds a round) to prepare before the battle begins. Taking this time, Nerishana moves to Audh, and casts a protection seed as round 1, keeping behind 3 spell-weave points. On round two, she casts again, adding the 3 spell-weave points from last round to her spell, thanks to the Residual Spellcasting feat. She has a move action left, so she can draw her mace before round three. Repeat for all 5 party members as follows:

Audh: Effect: Resist the next 10 points of physical damage done in the next 2 minutes. The spell was cast on round 2, so the duration has 12 rounds remaining. [11 spell-weave points (1 protection, 8 enhance, 2 duration)]
Slaan: Effect: Resist the next 10 points of physical damage done in the next 2 minutes. The spell was cast on round 4, so the duration has 14 rounds remaining. [11 spell-weave points (1 protection, 8 enhance, 2 duration)]
Karmil: Effect: Resist the next 10 points of physical damage done in the next 2 minutes. The spell was cast on round 6, so the duration has 16 rounds remaining. [11 spell-weave points (1 protection, 8 enhance, 2 duration)]
Cyrus: Effect: Resist the next 12 points of physical damage done in the next 2 minutes. The spell was cast on round 8, so the duration has 8 rounds remaining. [11 spell-weave points (1 protection, 10 enhance]
Nerishana: Effect: Resist the next 12 points of physical damage done in the next 2 minutes. The spell was cast on round 10, so the duration has 10 rounds remaining. [11 spell-weave points (1 protection, 10 enhance)]

[Belobog]

The feeling that settles over Aodh is not fear. It clears away the clouds in his eyes, sharpens them and puts a glint in their center. It is hot and heavy and turning in his chest. His lips pull up, revealing the row of white, curving teeth underneath. Aodh knows his anger well.

He focuses on the victims here, the walking remains that were once people. They had been braggrats, idiots, or just unlucky. They hadn't deserved this. Aodh keeps his eyes away from the offender, knowing his anger and the direction of it would be apparent, and slides out the large, marked club on his back from its sheath. It was time to put this abuse of power to rest.

His ears perk up at Karmil's assessment, the gnoll starting forward all the while. "I will try my best to leave something for you." Before he can move, though, Nerishana interrupts him, coating him with divine protection. His focus does not waver, though his voice calms. "Thank you." He then waits until the match begins, before beginning his march towards the 'adversary'.

Init (if we're using it):[roll0]

Once the match begins, Aodh moves 30' straight towards the skeletons, and readies a standard action to whack the first one in range.

[Entelechy]

Slaan can't help but take a half step forward in fascination before his survival instincts kicked in and froze him mid-step. The dead and their animation where of professional interest to Slaan. He was already initiated into the study of life, death and blurring the line in between. When he was presented with a corpse, Slaan could already find the find impressions that the soul made upon the body itself, and coax it to speak. Already he had some limited success with the creation of the undead. The psiumbral lurking within his body was proof enough of that. But what Slaan saw was well beyond his current abilities, and the process itself alien; it rooted in magic, not psionics.

Slaan felt a wave of admiration, a stab of fear, and a sickly glimmer of something. It wasn't satisfaction, but perhaps justification. The extreme caution with which Slaan lead his life had been justified, in a small way. The reckless path, once more, proved fatal.

Speaking of not being reckless, Slaan knew his crossbow was next to useless. He opened a sack tied to his waste and dug out his old sling, and moved his supply of bullets to his belt pouch. He had brought it with him as a reminder (and it never hurt to have another weapon at hand), but it suddenly it had become his strongest offensive power.

"I am going to hang back and start cracking skulls," Slaan said, and he gave the sling a few slings to re-familiarize himself with the weight of it. "See if I can't drop one before it reaches us, or at least draw one away from the others."


Slaan is going to start a L25. He is going to use his sling to attack the closest skeleton who is not in melee. If some are equal distance, priority goes to any skeletons that appear to be moving towards Slaan specifically. Second priority goes to the half giant.

If any skeleton finishes his move within 130 feet of Slaan and is not already in melee, Slaan is going to add a move actions to put distance between himself and that skeleton.

You will have to modify the roll for range increment, with a -2 every full 50ft.

EDIT: Damn, I must have entered the code wrong for the roller. Will try again in the OOC

[Lunix Vandal]

The first skeleton to break formation hefts its shield and battleaxe and begins marching towards the party. Whether because skeletons are just that dumb or because the caster is having trouble controlling them all, it seems unprepared to guard or counterattack.

Cyrus takes advantage of this to rush forwards and slip his fighting claw into the skeleton's ribcage. It seems to do a fair amount of damage -- Karmil's enhanced eyesight indicates that another hit like that would destroy it.

The next two skeletons to act perceive that two of their targets has suddenly gotten a whole lot closer, and move to attack Cyrus. The first blow is completely absorbed by Nerishana's protection spell -- but the second shatters it, landing a telling blow.

Aodh, seeing Cyrus' predicament, hefts his greatclub, charges, and swings at the nearest skeleton. However, Aodh's potentially-decapitating blow hits only air.

The fourth skeleton hangs back and hefts its longbow. It pauses momentarily before loosing an arrow towards Aodh -- which flies cleanly straight through the melee and lands in the sand beyond.

The final skeleton charges into the melee and attacks the paladin as well -- a clumsy swing that Aodh easily dodges. At this, Karmil moves in to attack, but her strike glances off her foe's shield.

Slaan's sling bullet goes wide, missing all of the skeletons. The skeletons seem to be ignoring him and Nerishana, perhaps because neither they nor the caster consider them much of a threat at this point.
The first skeleton moves from O5 to O11.

Cyrus moves to N17, then charges to O12 and attacks (and hits) the skeleton.

The next skeleton Q5 to P11 and attacks Cyrus:
Attack: [roll0] - Hit
Damage: [roll1] (absorbed by spell)

The third skeleton closes half the distance from N4 to N11 before charging Cyrus:
Attack: [roll2] - Hit
Damage: [roll3] (6 of which is absorbed by the spell, 4 of which does actual damage)

Aodh moves from P22 to P16, then charges to P12 and attacks the skeleton at P11:
Attack: [roll4] - Miss
Damage: [roll5]

The fourth skeleton stays where it is (P3) and attacks Aodh.
Attack: [roll6] - Miss
Damage: [roll7]

The final skeleton moves halfway from R4 to Q11 before charging Aodh:
Attack: [roll8] - Miss
Damage: [roll9]

Between the -2 range increment penalty and the -4 for firing into melee, Slaan's attack is reduced to a 1. I don't think that hits. :smalltongue:

The map, spoilered for width:http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t71/Thrawn_KoL/Dark%20Dragon%20Rising/maptool-13b63.pngRed swirl: Red Eye'd by Karmil
The skeleton at O11 has lost half its HP.
Nerishana is actually at P19.
Karmil is actually at R11.

{table=head]Character | Initiative
Skeleton (O11) | 18
Cyrus | 16 1/2
Skeleton (P11) | 16
Skeleton (N11) | 14
Aodh | 13
Skeleton (P3) | 9
Karmil | 8 1/2
Skeleton (Q11) | 8
Slaan | 7
Nerishana | 1[/table]

[Voice of Reason]

Nerishana says something completely un-ladylike as Cyrus charges into the fray, scoring the first blow, but being massacred by the skeletal army immediately thereafter. The weave of her spell bends with the first strike, but breaks under the powerful swing of the other, hideous undead. At this range, there's little she can do, and she knows it. Cyrus is far out of her range to re-apply her abjuration, and trying to throw the ungainly javelin in her left hand would end in disaster.

Instead, she moves slowly to the front lines cautiously, and with weapons held high.

Nerishana is 65' away from Cyrus by my calculations, and the skeletons 70'. A javelin throw into melee at 40' takes a -6 penalty, and somehow, I doubt 1d20-6 is likely to hit. Charging would be a very nice option at this point, but they're a tantalizing 5' out of melee reach on a charge. Even readying an action is pointless when you're at the bottom of the initiative order, because I'd lose my action this round and next round to accommodate it. So Nerishana will simply move up to [P, 19] and use a total defense action (+4 AC) in case of a bow or charge attack. It will put into range for a spellweave or charge attack next round, depending on how things go.

[Tyrael]

Cyrus staggers and lurches to one side with the blow. His left arm hangs limply, blood running down from his shoulder. His eyes narrow behind the mask as he re-readies his righting stance, still heavily favoring his injured arm. Bringing the rotation of his torso into the blow, Cyrus steps forward, spins, and launches a cruel slash into his opponent's ribcage before dancing out of reach.

Attacking Skeleton at O11.

[roll=Damage]2d4+3+
Free Action: 5' step to O13.

[Krazddndfreek]

((This is before anybody else does anything))

Karmil moves to reposition herself further from her enemies and allies, and prepares to launch an assault as soon as she can.
On her turn, Karmil will use a move action to get to T15 and then ready a standard charge action.

As soon as the skeleton she had her sights on moves, she dashes forward, and with equal speed, plunges her blade forth, aiming between the skeleton's ribcage.
Standard action charge on the skeleton which moved to Q11, moving to R11.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: 1d6+1

[Belobog]

Aodh regains his balance in time to duck the claw blow, the arm sailing overhead before he attacks, springing from his crouch to open with a wide swing.

Attacking O11.
Attack roll:[roll0]
[roll1]

[Entelechy]

Slaan yips out a draconian oath as his stone goes wide. He hates the idea of hurling sling stones past his allies' heads, but it is a far better alternative to getting in the archer's line of fire.
He pops a new bullet into the sling and whips off another shot at a nearby skeleton on the edge of combat.


reload sling, shoot Sling at M 11 skelleton
[roll0]

[Lunix Vandal]

The skeleton immediately in front of Cyrus stumbles and swings at Aodh -- just before Cyrus' own swing connects, of course. As Cyrus pulls his claw free and nimbly steps out of the melee, the unholy fire in the skeleton's eyes is extinguished, and there is a muffled *crunch* as its bones shatter and fall to the ground in a pile of dust. Though the skeleton's first/last/only swing makes a solid connection, Nerishana's spell prevent it from harming Aodh.

The second skeleton, undeterred, begins to maneuver around Aodh, bringing its axe to bear in the process. The third skeleton, meanwhile, takes a step toward Cyrus, accompanied by a wild swing of its longsword. Both attacks are fairly clumsy, and neither strikes true.

Aodh's response to this is succinct and to-the-point: his greatclub breaks the former skeleton's axe arm before plowing through its ribcage. This skeleton, too, shatters completely and adds its dust to the arena sands.

The archer draws its bow and fires towards Karmil, seemingly unconcerned that Cyrus and Aodh have just destroyed two of its former companions. The arrow hits only thin air and the sandy ground.

Karmil maneuvers into a flanking position against the final skeleton and attempts to score a hit with her rapier, to no avail.

Slaan's second bullet connects with a satisfying *crack.* Nerishana's spell begins its work as intended.

The final skeleton whirls around to face Karmil, swinging its longsword in her direction. Merely swinging in the correct direction is not enough, however -- as Karmil proves by dodging the attack effortlessly.
The first skeleton's attack (Aodh): [roll0] - HIT
Damage: [roll1] - Absorbed by Nerishana's spell; 3 points of damage absorption remaining.

And the second (Aodh): [roll2] - MISS
Damage: [roll3]

And the third (Cyrus): [roll4] - MISS
Damage: [roll5]

And the fourth (Karmil): [roll6] - MISS
Damage: [roll7]

And the fifth (Karmil): [roll8] - MISS
Damage: [roll9]

The map, spoilered for width:http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t71/Thrawn_KoL/Dark%20Dragon%20Rising/Fight1Round2.pngRed swirl: Red Eye'd by Karmil
Green cross: Round 2 actions not posted (yet)

{table=head]Character | Initiative
Cyrus | 16
Skeleton (N12) | 14
Aodh | 13
Skeleton (P3) | 9
Karmil | 8 1/2
Skeleton (Q11) | 8
Slaan | 7
Nerishana | 1[/table]

[Tyrael]

Cyrus

With a victorious snarl beneath his mask, Cyrus ducks low to the ground, rolling nimbly through the dust and around his companion before springing to his feet with a wicked upward slice aimed beneath the creature's ribs.

Move Action: Tumble to P11.
Standard Action: [roll0], [roll1]

[Belobog]

Aodh waits for Cyrus to roll past him before leaping forward to the skeleton behind the claw fighter, adjusting his grip to bring down a continuation of his moving rhetoric down upon his opponent's head.

Take a 5' move north, make an attack against the skeleton at N12.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[Entelechy]

Slaan pops another bullet into his sling and tries to down the skeleton now free of the melee.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Lunix Vandal]

Cyrus deftly tumbles away from the northern skeleton -- planting his claw in the southern skeleton's ribcage as he comes out of the roll. Karmil's vision indicates that it is on its last legs, so to speak.

The northern skeleton, seeing that Cyrus has (once again) slipped away so easily, steps forward to attack him -- and barely connects, the blow absorbed by Nerishana's spell. Again.

Aodh's swing hits home, but not nearly to such dramatic effect as before.

The archer draws another arrow and fires towards Karmil, once again missing its target.

Karmil takes another step around the southern skeleton, in the opposite direction this time. This time, her rapier finds itself buried almost directly in the skeleton's "organs." As she pulls it back out, the skeleton drops its longsword before collapsing in a pile of dust.

Slaan advances towards the melee -- perhaps seeking a better shot, perhaps not willing to risk friendly fire.

Attack on Cyrus:
Attack: [roll0] - HIT. In related news, I should really make sure I know what things' AC actually is before I assume hit/miss.
Damage: [roll1] - absorbed. 7 points remaining.

And on Karmil:
Attack: [roll2] - MISS. For reals.
Damage: [roll3]

Map, spoilered for width:http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t71/Thrawn_KoL/Dark%20Dragon%20Rising/Fight1Round3.pngNerishana is at O13. Protection on Aodh is back up to 9 points.

{table=head]Character | Initiative
Cyrus | 16
Skeleton (O11) | 14
Aodh | 13
Skeleton (P3) | 9
Karmil | 8 1/2
Slaan | 7
Nerishana | 1[/table]

[Voice of Reason]

Nerishana sees Cyrus take yet another blow, but this one bounces off her shield easily, and she can discern that her spell on Cyrus remains quite strong. Therefore, she feels justified in turner her attention elsewhere and she steps up behind Audh, lays a hand on the gnoll's furry shoulder, and re-weaves the spell of protection that was nearly broken by a skeleton's powerful swing.

We've got them on the run now. Let's mop this up and move on.

Nerishana is feeling good about the outcome of this battle. She is certain the enemy will not last much longer under the combined assault of her teammates, who are showing great ferocity.

5-foot step to [O, 13] and then cast the protection seed spell over Audh again (8 spellweave points, investing 1 into the initial effect, and all 7 others into augmenting it, for a total of 9 physical damage protection over 1 minute)

[Tyrael]

Cyrus

Springing forward lightly, Cyrus sprints towards the final skeleton, his eyes narrowed in concentration. As he reaches the creature, he ducks down into a roll, somersaulting on the ground before unrolling and plunging his claw between its ribcage.


Full-Round Action: Charge
[roll0]
[roll1]
AC is now 13.

Doing my extra +1d4 takes a Standard Action, so it can't be combined with a full-round action.

[Belobog]

Aodh glares when the skeleton continues to ignore him, and, intending to finish his work, whirls the club around in a decapitating swing.

Attack on the O11 skeleton.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

If the skeleton chooses to continue after Cyrus, this will probably change.

[Entelechy]

Slaan trusts that his team mates have the last skeleton in melee under control, so he darts forward to launch his sling stone at the skeleton archer.


see OOC]

[Lunix Vandal]

[OOC: Sorry for the delay on this. This week was not kind to my sleep schedule.]

Cyrus' charging strike hits home, doing rather visible damage to the skeletal archer.

The final melee skeleton takes one last, desperate swing at Aodh before Aodh's blow pounds him to dust.

In like manner, the archer steps back to loose an arrow at Cyrus, apparently failing to notice Karmil's approach. It snaps its attention towards her just in time to dodge the point of her rapier.

It matters little, however -- clearly disgusted by the ineffectual performance of the skeletons, Vorgyrn's spellcaster waves dismissively towards the archer. One muffled gasping noise later, the skeleton collapses and shatters.Attack on Aodh:
[roll0] -MISS
Damage: [roll1]

And on Cyrus:
[roll2] -MISS
Damage: [roll3]

Karmil's charge:
[roll4] -MISS
Damage: [roll5]

[Tyrael]

Cyrus halts abruptly in his whirling pirouette of death as the skeleton crumbles. Breathing heavily and glaring beneath his mask, Cyrus looks around wildly, preparing himself for the next threat.