The Last Paladin IC (Ajadea)

[Maquise]

For countless years, the mortal races lived in peace and prosperity. Under the teachings of the Three Thrones; Oralius, goddess of love, Ashelon, god of Justice, and Akasha, god of Destiny, mortals knew little true strife. Their mistakes did cause them grief as is inevitable, but their wounds were tended and succor was given.

This golden age ended when mortals became full of pride. They began to seek knowledge and power of their own. Priests were replaced by wizards, and the secular grew more favored than the sacred. The mortal mages grew to overestimate their own power, and mastery over the fickle forces of the arcane.

In an act of cataclysmic foolishness, they attempted to bridge the gulf between the material realm and the other planes, so that they could be free to conquer. Instead, they quickly found themselves overwhelmed as the fiends of the Lower Planes poured through the gates they had created. The mortal lands were quickly reduced to nothing more than another front of the Blood War.

In this Time of Horrors, you find yourself struggling to make a difference. For you are of a dying breed. You took an oath as a defender of justice, and the virtues the Three Thrones gave to mortalkind. You are the Last Paladin.

Wind howls through the twilight, catching your jet braids and whipping them about. As you've headed northward up this craggy, desolate road, the wind has grown stronger and colder. Nevertheless you push on, knowing you cannot turn back.

You turn your face from the wind, and the scar tissue on your face pulls. While not terribly noticeable, the wound wrought by demon claw resists complete healing, even by your restorative powers.

The feeling of the claw wound reminds you of how you got it, at the last village you tried to defend. While sometimes you are able to protect a village and its inhabitants, this time you failed; the ravaging spawn of the Abyss rent the bodies of every man, woman and child. For some reason, after defeating you they let you live, perhaps as a way of salting the wound, or simply at a whim. Such is the nature of the demons.

Now, you continue your grim, lonely pilgrimage. It has been over a day since you've rested, but you do not slow down your pace; while you can't see anything amiss, even with your dark-seeing eyes, you sense something watching you.

[Ajadea]

Mirri absentmindedly scratches at the scar on her face. She does not mind the odd sensation, strictly speaking. Despite her best efforts, she had accumulated many small scars from the tainted weapons of the fiends. Each one reminded her of her past. Of her failures. Little pains that drove her on.

She pulls at the strings on her hat, trying to keep it from flying off in the wind. A cloak was simply impractical, and it was a good hat in any case. After a while more walking, she unsheathes her falchion, holding it steady in one hand as she proceeds onwards. She looks around, searching for evil presences with her second sight, her pace slowing only minutely.


Detect Evil.

[Maquise]

There can be no doubt; a powerful evil presence is trailing you. Why you do not know.

You continue on your trail, ever wary. Eventually, your pursuer makes itself known.

A dragon with the wingspan about 25 feet eclipses the moon. Its hide is the color of a motley forest canopy, but streaks of decay shoot through it. It gives one roar.

"Sahqo Luv. I am Vulthuryol, scion of the Harbringer. I have been hunting you for some time, Shadowborn. Feasting on the flesh of the last paladin would brimg me much honor."

The dragon swoops down towards the road, passing over you so low you can see the gleam of its talons.

[Ajadea]

Mirri laughs coldly. "What is honor worth in a world full of immortal murderers?" she asks bitterly. She has asked herself that before, and knows the answer already. She sheathes her sword, draws and strings her bow with unnatural ease. The seconds go too swiftly. The strangely bent stick resolves itself into a shape more associated with archers. "Honor, in eating a skeletal morsel that has happened to make a few promises to the gods. I fear I will never understand your traditions. Shall we duel then, or does the manner of my death matter not to you?" The longer she could keep the dragon talking, the longer she'd have to ready herself.


It's all actually one round of actions, I assure you. Talking's a free action, manipulating weapons 1 move action each.

Also two Knowledge checks [roll0] [roll1] Who's this Harbinger?

[Maquise]

You recall that the Harbinger was one of the mighty devils to first claim a domain in Validor.

You realize fiendish blood flows through this dragon's veins, reinforced by its diabolic appearance as it swoops over you again.

"The prey seeks battle? Mey Vokunkiin. You cannot see your doom is at hand. Naak Sahlo Mul!"

The dragon swoops down and barks a few words in a language which sound causes your ears pain. He ushers forth a twisting cloud of greasy black smoke which bolts towards you as though with a life of its own.

The cloud strikes you, sending a spike of pain into your very soul. Your entire body is wracked with pain, and you struggle even to stand.


Take 15 damage, 7 if Will save successful (DC 16)
Will Save [roll0]
If will save unsuccessful, sickened for [roll1] rounds

[Ajadea]

Mirri coughs, but ignores her irritation and pain. She dashes out of the cloud, whirls around to face the dragon. "In the name of the gods, you shall fall!" she declares. Her eyes seem to glow a little stronger.


Move action: Get out of that black cloud
Swift action: Smite Vulthuryol
Standard action: Called Shot on the wing. [roll0] [13 damage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=12385963#post12385963)

[Maquise]

Your arrow goes wide.

"Your gods have forsaken you, Vokunkiin. After I have consumed your flesh, your soul shall wander eternally the grey mists, while I grow ever stronger."

The dragon lands 50 ft. in front of you. This close, you can see it is about the size of a horse. It opens its mouth and issues forth a blast of corrosive wind. You can feel it burning upon your flesh.

Take 13 damage, Reflex save for half.
Reflex save: [roll0]
Success.
Perception Check: [roll1]
You can make out no advantageous terrain at the moment.
Don't forget your penalty for being sickened; it ends next round.

[Ajadea]

Mirri leaps out of the way of the worst of the gas, backing up along the trail. She touches her free hand to her heart, feeling instantly revitalized. She shoots again. "I don't judge the gods based on one arrow."


Yeh, sorry.

[roll0][roll1] 11

[Maquise]

Your arrow, empowered by the hands of Fate and Justice, sinks deep into Vulthuryol's chest. The wyrm gives a deafening roar as thick, hissing blood bubbles out.

The dragon leaps back into the air. He circles for a moment, before bellowing,
"You may have beaten me, but I will have your flesh. This I swear; the last thing you see will be me licking up your entrails and ripping your heart from your chest with my claw."

He then soars off, into the night.

[Ajadea]

Mirri sighs as the dragon flies far out of range of her bow. In wind like this, making a shot was difficult enough without factoring in the difficulty of shooting someone hundreds of feet away. A devilspawn dragon, seeking to eat her. It was hardly the only thing that had similar ambitions. Pretty much every demon she didn't kill with one blow tended to make similar threats.

She trudges on. She wasn't going anywhere in particular. Sometimes, she ended up at a bastion of civilization, or an old outpost now crumbling and filled with fiends. Mostly, she was trying to make some sort of difference. Somehow.

[Maquise]

The wind grows stronger and colder. You notice the sky has grown overcast, making the night even darker; even you strain against the inky blackness.

A snowflake sails past you. You didn't realize it was so cold; you ache all over, and you feel the chill in your bones. You can go no further tonight.

Perception (take 20): 19
You notice what looks like an entrance to a cave beside the road. You proceed into it, realizing you don't have much of an option at this point.

There is a dank, musty smell as you proceed into the cave. Slime clings to the walls, where there isn't pale fungus or mold. The floor is worn smooth, and occasionally you see a bone.

The cavern opens outward, into a chamber approx. 20 ft. across. While it is for the most part empty, you see what looks like scorch marks on the floor. Aside the way you came in, there is a small crack in the back wall, concealed behind a row of stalagmites.

[Ajadea]

Mirri hasn't survived this long by giving into her exhaustion whenever it starts bothering her. She searches the chamber for any other little holes, then cautiously pokes one of her blunted arrows into the crack in the wall. Reaching into strange places with her own hands, even if they were in gauntlets, seemed a terrible idea.


Take 20 on Perception: 19. Searching specifically for other cracks or whatnot in the walls.

[Maquise]

You find additional signs of habitation within the cave room. Bones with teeth marks, broken stone and metal tools, and occasionally a scrap of cloth. The hard, damp stone of the floor shows little in the way of footprints, and you are no ranger.

You prod the inside of the crack. You find what seems to be a groove in the wall. Upon applying pressure, the crack opens up, revealing a small, rough-hewn tunnel, about four feet tall and three feet wide. A dim, orange light emanates from the other end, and you think you hear the sounds of combat.

[Ajadea]

Things were never easy, were they? Fighting. Dammit. Mirri crouches down and goes through the tunnel, bent nearly double in an attempt to avoid bashing her head on the roof.

[Maquise]

Crawling on your hands and knees, you fit through the too-small tunnel barely, your quiver scratching the ceiling. However carved this tunnel was a relatively poor craftsman; even you can tell that. The stench is nearly unbearable, and somehow gets worse as you push on.

Eventually, you come to the other end of the tunnel. Crouching behind a stalagmite, you look into the large room beyond. Near your position, you see a human woman (hf) armed with a large sword and shield struggling against a band of goblins (g). Across a river, there is at least one other visible goblin watching. A particularly nasty one is running across a wooden bridge. To your right, there is a pit, to your left a large but shoddy looking gate.

Stealth: [roll0]
None of the goblins seem to notice you. The human is on her knees, bloodied and nearly defeated. The goblins begin viciously beating her, with the blunts of their weapons.



Map: (Google Doc) (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AoH1w8LcWuFgdGNPSTA2VExJRmZtcl9aS25jaC00S 0E)

[Ajadea]

Mirri strings her bow and silently shoots at the goblin nearest to the woman. She knows she has no chance of remaining hidden after this. Which was at least half the point. She could take a couple blows from a goblin.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your arrow misses, calling the attention of the goblins. They bark something in their ugly, guttural language. The one you aimed at charges you, thrusting at you with his sword. You deflect his stab.

(No AoO with current equipped weapon)

The rest of the goblins move to flank you. One sends an arrow shaft your direction, missing.

(Same map, updated)

[Ajadea]

Mirri grimaces, drops her bow, draws her falchion, and slashes at the goblin's sword arm.


Called shot to the sword arm!

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Critical Confirmation:
[roll0] Extra damage:[roll1]

[Maquise]

The goblin clutches its profusely bleeding arm, and collapses to the floor.

At the site of their fallen comrade, the goblin archers fire another volley in your direction. One of the shafts nicks you (take 3 damage).

Another goblin runs up to you, this one has strange flames dancing in its mouth.

AoO:
[roll0], [roll1]
You strike at the malevolent creature, and it crumples to the ground next to the first.

[Ajadea]

Mirri steps over the two goblins and swiftly crosses the few paces more to the nearest archer. She swings at the goblin again - downing it was a bit easier than trying to hit a bowstring.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

You block the goblin's swing as you come up to it, but it deflects your blow with its shield.

The two goblin archers send a couple more shafts in your direction, but their aim is terrible. The goblin on the opposite shore holds position; the stalagmite obstructs its shot.

PERCEPTION: [roll0]
The battle takes your full attention.

[Ajadea]

Mirri slashes at the goblin again, her teeth gritted. It would be unseemly to laugh at the terrible aim of one's foes in any case.


If this goblin drops, she'll move to F10.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

The blow lands, leaving a gash in the goblin's torso. It recoils, but still stands. You parry its retaliatory strike, as two more arrows fly. One embeds itself in your shoulder armor, but fails to break skin.

[Ajadea]

Mirri barely spares a glance to the arrow wedged in her shoulder armor, ignoring it in favor of attacking the goblin once more.


Same plan as before with the movement. Also, Called Shot to the leg, because I don't take any penalties for trying it.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

You cut the legs out from beneath the goblin. It falls to the ground, bleeding out.

You move up to the next goblin, an arrow from behind you skidding off your armor. The goblin in front of you drops its bow and pulls out a rusty looking short sword. It quickly makes a stab at you, which pierces a chink in your armor. You feel a warm wetness beneath your armor on your abdomen.

Take 3 damage.

[Ajadea]

Mirri grimaces and quickly heals herself, then strikes the goblin's sword arm.


Called shot to the arm.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[Maquise]

The goblin blocks your strike with his shield. Another arrow buzzes past your shoulder. The goblin before you stabs up, but you dodge to the side.

[Ajadea]

Mirri glances towards the bloodied woman. The goblins had been beating her... was she even alive? Dammit. She was supposed to protect people. She was also supposed to practice not getting skewered. Very important skill. Especially if she was supposed to make any sort of difference.

She attacks once more. She'd be doing that woman no good if she just got her attacked again.


If the goblin drops, move to H10
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your distracted blow is deflected by the goblin, who skirmishes back. You think another arrow flies past.

In the distance, you hear drums. The goblins seem to get excited by this.

[Ajadea]

Focus. She has to focus. What in the name of the Thrones do the drums signal? Don't think about that. Focus. Kill. She strikes. She does not intend to miss this time. She backs up as soon as she swings, moving to protect the bloodied female from whatever those drums may signal.


Attack, move to J9.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your attack wounds the goblin, and you fall back without taking a swing. The wounded goblin picks up its bow and retreats around the stalagmite. The others shoot at you, neither injuring. The drums continue to sound.

[Ajadea]

Mirri doesn't even bother to check for a pulse. "In the name of the Thrones, be healed," she whispers, touching her hand to her holy symbol and then to the woman's chest. No need to yell. Especially not around creatures with knowledge of basic tactics. She'd found that any creature that knew of her religion tended to not like it. Especially the monstrous sort of creature. She sheathes her sword. Paladins really weren't supposed to run. She figured running to grab her own damned bow so she could finish the goblins off properly didn't count as running though.


[roll0]

[Maquise]

The woman struggles to her feet. She turns and charges the nearest goblin, slaying it. The other two turn and flee at full speed.

The woman turns and looks at you. "You healed me. Are you a- what are you?"
Fear and suspicion are evident in her eyes.

[Ajadea]

Sometimes, oaths not to lie really put her life at risk. "A paladin. If you're asking why I look like I just crawled out of my own grave, I don't know either," Mirri says with a shrug. "I mean you no harm." (Which should be obvious, given that I just healed you, but frankly, I think everyone's suspicious of the others these days. Can't blame them, either.) She walks over to the mouth of the tunnel to retrieve her bow. Not wanting to appear hostile, she immediately unstrings it and sticks it in her quiver. "Name's Mirri, by the way. Don't got a last name, on account of being a foundling. Who're you?"

[Maquise]

"Mirabelle. We had better get out of here; more are coming." She tilts her head, indicating the drums. "How did you get here?"

[Ajadea]

Mirri points at the mouth of the tunnel. "Through here," she says. "It's a bit on the short side, but I got through well enough. There's a cave on the other side. Dunno how safe it is."

[Maquise]

"It's safer than here. At least through here the goblins can't make full use of their numbers or bows."

You crawl back through the hole, arriving back in the cave. Mirabelle looks around. "We should be able to hold them in here for a while."

[Ajadea]

Mirri nods. "Sounds good. Doubt they'll be back for a bit." She pokes around the wall with the tunnel in it with her fingers and the blunted arrow she'd used earlier, trying to find the groove and close up the hole again. "What brought you up into this frozen waste?"

[Maquise]

The crack seals up again. "Hold on a moment, I have an idea," Mirabelle says. Pulling a metal spike from her pack, she hammers it above the crack with the pommel of her sword. The tunnel collapses. "There, that should hold them off. If I remember correctly, the main exit from the goblin hold is on the other side of a ravine; it should take them at least a day, and not even they like going out at night any more."

Mirabelle sits down on the cave floor. "I'm pursuing an orc warlord named Gorgeroth. I lost his trail, but I heard he collected tribute from goblin tribes. You saw where investigating that led me." She looks at you. "So, you're a paladin. Forgive me, but you aren't what I expected."

[Ajadea]

Mirri smiles crookedly and sits down as well, taking off her pack and leaning it against the wall. A welcome respite, no matter how miniscule. "No call for knights in shinin' armor these days. I fight demons, protect the weak... fairly sure there's something about spreadin' the virtues of the Thrones, but never been much for speeches and such." She laughs, a little bitterly. It's been a while since she's had someone to talk to. Despite the welcome distraction this brings from... really, everything, she does not let herself lose awareness of what happens around her. "So, what sorta person did you think a paladin should be?" she asks Mirabelle. Hah. Mirri and Mirabelle. Two girls out here in the cold waste, questing against evil. Does she feel small and alone sometimes too?

[Maquise]

Mirabelle works to get a fire started. "When I was a girl, I would sometimes hear stories of the great champions of the Thrones. How they would battle monsters, defend innocent people and go on great quests. I always imagined them, I guess, larger than life, clad in armor that would shame the knights of the cities and such. Never thought I would meet one in person." She gives you a sheepish grin. "Not to say I think you're a bad paladin. You've done well by my account. I haven't said it, so thank you. I didn't think I was going to make it out of there alive."

After she gets the fire started, she begins unpacking a basic camp layout. She pushes a few loose, short brown hairs back under her leather head band. "So, do you want first or second watch?"

[Ajadea]

How about 'fixing the world' for a quest? It really wasn't all that grand. Certainly didn't have an end in sight. "I'll take the first watch," Mirri says. Mirabelle was probably exhausted after being so beaten up by goblins. She herself could go nights on end without sleep thanks to her healing, but it wasn't exactly healthy by any means.

[Maquise]

Mirabelle removes her armor, revealing a battered, travel-worn outfit of poor cloth. She has a sturdy build, more muscular than yours, but she is also lean. She hasn't exactly starved, but she is definitely more accustomed to labor than large meals.

You keep watch for four hours. The night is quiet. At some point in time, you think you hear digging at the tunnel, but it stops after a while and does not resume. Half way through the night, Mirabelle wakes and relieves you.

[Ajadea]

"There was some diggin' at the tunnels, jus' so ya know," Mirri says with a yawn. She takes the time to look around, checking everything, including her newfound companion, for signs of evil. The digging had put her slightly on edge. She regretted not doing this during her watch, but it couldn't be helped now.


Detect Evil.

[Maquise]

You sense no corruption upon your new ally, nor anything else out of place.

After aiding Mirabelle in the donning of your armor, you remove your own. Crawling into your bedroll, you quickly fall asleep.

Your dreams are troubled. You see demonic hordes rampaging across blasted landscapes, the ruined remains of once-great cities, and the faces of those you have failed staring accusingly. Eventually, all fades to inky black.

You awake, sore and cold but at least revived. Mirabelle sits beside the fire, nibbling on a stale biscuit while watching the cave entrance. She turns her head to acknowledge you.

"We should get moving. The goblins won't be much longer."

[Ajadea]

Mirri nods, putting the nightmare out of her mind. She pulls on her chain shirt, followed by the rest of the scale mail. Knowing speed was a priority, she pulls out a wandermeal. Not like there was much to forage for up here anyways. She makes a face and breaks it in half - half for now, half for later. She stows the other half of the wandermeal in her backpack. She nibbles half-heartedly on the tough, rather peppery, cake and gulps down a mouthful of water. "Right. Let's get goin', then," she says with a sigh.

[Maquise]

You are back on the trail. After putting a reasonable amount of distance between you and the cave, you find a wagon next to the road. The horse is missing, and a pair of decomposing humanoid bodies lie next to it, crude arrows protruding from them. Carrion have already reached the bodies; they are no longer recognizable. Anything of value is missing.

You find a journal inside the wagon, apparently overlooked. It details how two young people from the city of Angrove sought to flee their diabolic masters and find a place to start anew. It is written in a very optimistic tone.

Mirabelle curses. "This world gets worse every day."

[Ajadea]

Mirri grimaces at the scene. Her expression makes her look even more ghoulish than normal. "Thrones, grant these people peace in the afterlife," she says quietly. She tears strips off the tattered remains of their clothing and covers their eyes, since they no longer have eyelids to shut. A poor substitution of burial, but it's all they have time for.

With the sad attempt, almost a mockery, of a funeral done, she continues on. It isn't until the two women get almost out of sight of the wagon that she speaks again. "Things like that... I always wish I could have been there to stop these atrocities. Foolhardy wishes, but there you have it."

[Maquise]

"You can only do so much. That is still more than most. As for me, I just try to do as much good as I can. Seems like following you would be the best way to do that. Speaking of which, what are you planning on doing now?"

[Ajadea]

Mirri almost instantly perks up. She'd been sick and tired of being alone all the time. A companion... ha. Who'd have thought? "I didn't really have a plan. I just needed to get away from the latest batch of commonfolk I've pissed off through some combination of looking like one of the beings I'm trying to kill and working for the good of all," she says dryly. "Long-term, gettin' those thrice-damned gates shut up. If we can do that... well, I'm not gonna pretend that'll fix everything, but it'd makes the fight start lookin' like it could be won. But that's the future. How about you tell me more about this Gorgeroth character you were chasin'? Ya said he was takin' tribute from the goblins?"


Taking 10 on Knowledge (local): 11. Where does this cold, miserable, road lead?

[Maquise]

You are currently in the former borders of the defunct nation of Pryvirium. Once a unified human-ruled nation, the land is now controlled by independent city-states governed by the former Pryvirian nobility and whatever powers have managed to claim a hold. This road was likely a former trade route, connecting the cities, but you've never been in this region.

"All I know is hearsay; I haven't laid eyes on Gorgeroth or his warband in three years. The soldier I talked to said orcs often supplied their warbands by demanding tribute from goblins and other such creatures. So then I decided to wander in the direction I had seen Gorgeroth go, and investigate any goblin tribes I encountered along the way. A stupid plan, in retrospect."

As you walk, ou come round a bend in a rockier location to find a column of 3 skull-headed, vulture-like devils moving up the road. Upon the lead's back is perched an imp. Between the second and last is a bound prisoner.

"Begone, mortal. This is the business of the Harbinger. Do not interfere," says the imp.

[Ajadea]

Mirri wasn't that stupid. A horse-sized dragon? Sure. An imp? Easy. Three vulture-devils was enough to give her pause. She wracks her brains, trying to remember what sort of devil looked like a vulture wearing a skull. She averts her eyes, trying to look a little more like a random traveler and a little less like the Last Paladin. Particularly considering that these guys worked with Vulthuryol's dad, and as such would probably consider her a fine morning snack.

"Jus' lookin' for an orc, sirs. Gorgeroth. Claims he's some sorta chief?" She adds a little quaver, mimicking one of the thousands she knew that feared their dark fiendish overlords. From under the brim of her hat, she attempts to get a look at the prisoner. The deception, no matter how necessary, leaves a bad taste in her mouth.


[roll0] I'm totally not The Paladin :smallwink:!
[roll1] What are those ugly vultures supposed to be?

[Maquise]

The small, spear-toting devils are gaavs, or lesser host devils. They serve as grunt troops in the diabolic legions, and are quite skilled in coordinated combat.

You surreptitiously glance over the fiends' prisoner. A human male, he a wore dirty, sackcloth outfit, and his face was obscured by grime and scar tissue. He bore a dejected countenance.

"I have no time to pander to a pair of lowly travelers such as yourselves. Though perhaps, I could find a way to make the time?"

[Ajadea]

Gaavs. Hmm. Their coordination could be difficult to deal with. Just spears? A ranged attack might be easier, and she held little risk of hitting their prisoner in any case. Mirri wondered how much information she could get out of the imp before she executed it. They were known for being tricksters, though it was rare for them to actually lie so much as use the exact wording to trap others... she grits her teeth. Use the words of an evil to catch another... "m listenin' sir," she mumbled.


Are the gaavs wielding anything besides spears?

[Maquise]

The gaavs carry nothing besides their spears, but their hands are tipped with sharp claws.

"Perhaps you could render a service to me. If you agree, I'll tell you what I know."

[Ajadea]

Well, what did I expect? Really now, they don't exactly hand out information for free. She could, technically, work, temporarily with evil for the sake of good. This whole world was a massive exceptional circumstance. She hoped the imp wasn't quite as bright as he could be. "m listenin'," she says at last. She would promise the imp no more than that. She was indeed listening. Anything else... well, she hadn't said anything about anything else.

[Maquise]

"If you desire to know what I do, you must agree to give me one thing on your person. Once I have it, I will uphold my end of the agreement. I will only state my price once you give me your word. Beware, you will be hunted if you break your vow."

You notice that Mirabelle has grown visibly tense.

[Ajadea]

(Tell me something I don't know). It was comforting to know she made a good lackwit, should the need arise. Play dumb, now, Mirri. Uphold your vows as best you can. Don't promise anything you can't deliver. Don't speak a word of untruth. She rests one hand on Mirabelle's shoulder, hoping it will provide some sort of comfort. She couldn't explain, not now. Not in front of the imp. She fishes a copper out of her pockets with her other hand and hands it to the imp. "I've given ya somethin', sir," she says smugly, with the air of an idiot who's convinced she's outsmarted someone. "So, where's Gorgeroth?" All the while, she keeps her eyes downcast. Candlelight eyes were a dead giveaway to her race, and therefore identity.

[Maquise]

The imp cradles its head in its hands. "You know what? Fine, we'll do it your way." It snatches the copper. "I said I'd tell you everything I knew about Gorgeroth. Well, I've never heard the name before. Now get out of my sight, you stupid waif!" The diabolic procession continues down the road, the last devil hissing at you.

[Ajadea]

Mirri watches them leave. At least until they're a good eighty or so feet away. Then she calmly strings her bow and shoots at the imp. "The little one's the leader. The rest are grunts," she explains to Mirabelle. "Wish that he had known something, but it's not like we're worse off than we were a few minutes ago."


Combat!
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[Maquise]

The arrow strikes the imp, piercing it all the way through. It shrieks as flames consume it, leaving no sign it was ever here. The host devils retaliate. One opens its skeletal beak, belching forth a cloud of noxious fumes.

Fortitude (dc 14): [roll0]
if failed, sickened for [roll1] rounds

[Ajadea]

Mirri calmly nocks another arrow and shoots at the nearest gaav. She moves backwards up the trail, motioning for Mirabelle to do the same. Her eyes never leave the pack of devils, nor does she forget the prisoner.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your arrow strikes the gaav, but you can tell the wound had little effect on the unnatural flesh. Mirabelle moves in between you and the devils, engaging them. The gaavs all begin struggling with Mirabelle, who takes a couple of injuries.

[Ajadea]

Well, now it's pretty apparent how the goblins got you. Dear gods lady, we need to get you a proper ranged weapon. "Gods lend me strength to destroy these abominations," she hisses, pointing at one of the lesser hosts that she hasn't already injured. With that, she shoots again, this time aiming at the one she had so marked.


And that would be...
[roll0] Precise Shot means I take no penalties for shooting into melee.
[roll1] Bypasses DR.

[Maquise]

(Mirabelle has a bow)
Your arrow produces a fountain of fire and smoke from the devil it struck. The creature reels, greatly injured. Mirabelle cuts it asunder with a mighty swing from her sword, and dark flame swallows it up. She twists during her follow through, striking a second, drawing smoke. The remaining two continue the attack.

[Ajadea]

Mirri immediately shoots another arrow. She tries a blunted one this time. Perhaps that will damage these devils better. It's odd, how that works, but she's never really been one to question phenomena that worked in her favor. She moves closer, so that she wouldn't be quite so far away from Mirabelle. She had to be able to provide healing if things started going badly.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your arrow is deflected by the swarm of flies which encircle your target. Mirabelle scores a good hit, leaving one nearly consumed in flames and lightly wounding the last. Their retaliation, however, causes a visible wound upon Mirabelle.

[Ajadea]

Mirri continues her approach and looses another arrow at the more damaged one. She tries to remain out of the reach of the devils without letting too many of them get between her and Mirabelle. She sneaks a glance at the prisoner again, trying to see what's happened. They clearly weren't carrying him anymore.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

As the combat continues, Mirabelle is noticeably worn down. You notice that she is now visibly bleeding in multiple places, and her blows have a lag to them.

[Ajadea]

As soon as she notices, Mirri rushes forward the rest of the way, ignoring the blows of the demons. She takes up a stance next to Mirabelle. "By the power of the Thrones, be healed!" she exclaims. Hand to holy symbol, touch of healing. Not quite what she's used to, but she'll work with it.


[roll0]

[Maquise]

Mirabelle responds to your touch by finishing off the dying host devil. She remains locked in combat with the last one, neither giving quarter. You notice the prisoner is no longer on the road.

Perception: [roll0]
You see no trace of him, in fact.

[Ajadea]

Damn it. She can't really blame the Mirri glares at the last remaining devil. Why won't you die already? Save us some trouble. Her arrows are doing next to nothing against the damned thing, and she doesn't have the right spells memorized. What she needs to do, maybe, is help Mirabelle land a hit on that thing. She drops her bow (again), draws her sword, and quickly moves past the gaav, so she's standing opposite to Mirabelle, within prime striking distance. "Over here, you big lunk!" Her attack is flashy, intended to distract rather than hit effectively. What matters is that her stronger companion lands a good hit.


[roll0] Giving Mirabelle +2 to Attack vs the gaav, in addition to the flanking bonus. Wish I had Bless Weapon prepared now. Alas, 'tis not to be...

[Maquise]

You aid Mirabelle in finishing off the foe. The three of you are locked in combat. Mirabelle blocks the gaav's thrusts while she delivers more cuts.

Then, the gaav makes a lightning fast strike that bites deep into her thigh. She drops to her knees, blood visibly seeping down her leg. As the gaav moves in, brandishing claws, she delivers one blow that shatters its skull. It fades into black smoke and sparks.

[Ajadea]

Mirri quickly heals Mirabelle again before she puts her weapons away. As soon as her hands are empy again, she looks around for the scarred man. "Did you see where he got off to?" she asks. Before she gets an answer, she looks around again. "We're not here to hurt you, sir," she calls out. She does not speak too loudly, for fear of bringing more fiends down.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

You neither see nor hear any trace of him, save a few strands of rope on the road; it appears his bonds were cut. "Looks like he got away," Mirabelle says. "I don't think we should linger here."

You continue up the road unmolested until dusk. About that time, the path you are on joins another road. This road is much broader than the one you came from, and there is a signpost. Several of the posts have been scratched out or removed but several are still visible.

Going to the left, which leads northwest: Azkard, Whiteveil, Angrove (a crude pentagram is drawn next to the name), Dragonsroost.
Going to the right, which leads east: Vitharn, Cabathad, Yultz (a skull is drawn next to it), Stronghaven.

Beside the road, an old, stone fort stands.
PERCEPTION:[roll0]
You notice nothing amiss about the fort.

[Ajadea]

A fort provides some walls, cuts off angles of attack. "It doesn't look infested," Mirri says cautiously. "But given that I've just run into a fiendish dragon, a horde of goblins who may be payin' tribute to some orc, and a battalion of devils up this damned pass that I thought looked pretty much abandoned... well, I'm not sure if I'm the best judge of that."

She looks around for evil again, taking a few steps towards the fort. "I'd rather go into the fort than sleep in the open, personally. Assumin' it's safe."


Does the Fatigue Mercy eliminate fatigue from >8 hours of traveling?

Also, Detect Evil.

[Maquise]

(Yes, it does)
The fort seems innocuous enough. Mirabelle agrees with your plan. At the entrance to the fort, you meet a hooded figure. "That's close enough. You are surrounded. State your name and business here."

[Ajadea]

"M'name's Mirri. We're lookin' for a place t' stay for the night, cause it's gettin' dark an' all." She's found going back to the accent of her homeland (she will always consider it home, even though they did not want her there) makes her look more like a country bumpkin and less like a hero. Mirri once more pulls her wide hat low. "Are there rooms here?"


Detect Evil again.

[Maquise]

The figure bears no taint. He looks you over. "You should be more careful, but don't seem like too much trouble. Come with me."

He takes you inside the fort. You notice that, despite appearing abandoned, there is a garrison carefully concealed here.

You enter the main room of the fort. The room is dark, illuminated only by a few scattered candles. Long tables fill the room, at which sit only a few figures. You can feel their gaze upon you, sizing you up.

Your guide takes you to a large counter along the side of the room. Upon it sits everything from weapons and armor to food and drink. Hanging on the wall there are several animal trophies along with a large and ornate battleaxe. Behind it stands an amber-haired dwarf woman, her hand resting on a large and complex-looking crossbow. She regards you for a moment, her eyes staring into yours after scanning your form. After a moment, she bends over and retrieves a pair of clay flagons.

"They're good. Thank you Trevor, you were smart to bring them here; they look like they could use it." Trevor goes back outside.

The dwarf lady turns back to you. "Name's Gaeba Dunthal. Welcome to the Crossroads Inn. Didn't mean to startle you, but we can't just let anyone in these days. Trevor's job is to look out for decent folk in need of good food and bed, like you."

[Ajadea]

Mirri carefully averts her eyes, trying not to seem suspicious. Gloves, long sleeves, and a properly arranged scarf could hide death-pale skin, but nothing she knew of would hide her candlelight eyes. She smiles, though it is somewhat of a rehearsed reaction. "Thank you, Gaeba," she says. That at least is sincere. "I understand the need for caution, especially these days." Especially considering a dragon tried to eat me.

She wonders how Gaeba can tell she is good. Hoping to find another paladin would probably be too much. Gods. Finding someone else who worshipped the Thrones was rare enough. More likely the dwarven woman is just good at reading people.

"Some devils came down that road through the mountains. Ran into them earlier today, actually. Did you see them go by this place earlier?" she asks. Which way to the devils? Which way to the war and the chaos and the evil? Which way to leap back into the neverending carnage?

[Maquise]

"You could try asking the other patrons. I'm sure you could find what you're looking for."

You see one of the figures, previously leaning on a wall in the far side of the room, step forward. In the dark light, you can tell his features are wild and almost beast-like, with a heavy jaw under a dark beard, low-set brow, and large canines poking out from under his lips. "Gaeba, perhaps I shall play for our new guests?"

"Now why would you want to do that? Are you trying to drive away my business?"

The half-orc produces a lute. Despite Gaeba's comment, his music is actually quite pleasant to listen to. While grim, you sense no evil within the room.
__________________

[Ajadea]

Mirri smiles despite herself. She turns to the half-orc minstrel. "Your music is lovely," she says politely. "I don't suppose you happened to see the devils passing through earlier?"

[Maquise]

"I usually get below when devils come around. They care not for music, beauty, or any such things. If I had to guess, I'd say they came from Angrove. Poor city. Nobility submitted to infernal dominion for protection. Now the devils rule it. Some mighty hellspawn going by the title Harbinger roosts up in those parts."

[Ajadea]

Angrove. The pentagram - marked name on the sign. The Harbinger. That definitely fit. "Him and his servants and spawn," Mirri says, more to herself than the others around her. "What about the warlord Gorgeroth? Do you know where he can be found?"

[Maquise]

"I think I heard one of the other travelers mention that name. You may wish to ask around."

DIPLOMACY (take 20): 28

You come across a wizened old figure wearing a tattered cloak. "I know the orc you speak of. Last time I saw him, he was holed up in the old elf fort Lindekaima." He gives you directions. "Not sure if he's still there, but 't would be the best place to start. Put out an eye for me."

[Ajadea]

"I'll make sure of that."

Mirri pays for a bowl of soup and two places to sleep for the night. One for her, one for Mirabelle. Even if all they had was space by the hearth, that would be well worth the coin. In the morning, they eat breakfast and set out for Lindekaima. Orcs are marginally easier to deal with than fiends and dragons, and quite frankly she had not desire to face Vulthuryol twice in such a short timespan.


How much does that cost (two bowls of soup, two places to sleep, two breakfasts)?

[Maquise]

You pay Gaeba 2 pieces of silver for your food. "I run the policy of not charging for beds, on account that while you're here, we've got two more sword arms in case anything unsavory comes calling," Gaeba informed you.

As you depart, Mirabelle remarks, "I didn't think there were people that decent still in the world."

You follow the old man's directions, passing a broken bridge, what looked like an abandoned campsite complete with rotting corpses, and a skirmish between some lemures and dretches.

At nightfall, you crest a hill, seeing the elven ruin of Lindekaima. A watchfire glows brightly within a circular courtyard surrounded by a crumbling wall. The fort has two structures: A tower tipped with a strange bulb-like glass room, and a domed, flat building. At the front gate, which is a rusting portcullis, there flies a banner: a red gaping maw on a black field.

"Do you have a plan?" asks Mirabelle.

[Ajadea]

Mirri frowns and after a moment of consideration, tucks her holy symbol inside her shirt. "Er, sorta. Stay out of the way, so that if it comes to battle, we won't draw too much attention. Try not to die. I do want to check out that tower though. That's a bit outta the ordinary, all things considered." She squints at the old fortress, looking for movement.


[roll0]
So, how tall does that tower look? Also are there a lot of guards?

[Maquise]

The tower is about five stories tall. You see about half a dozen guards in the courtyard, along with one posted on top of the wall above the gate.

[Ajadea]

Mirri spends a bit of time planning out possible routes of action before she speaks again. The image of her very tentative plan is clear in her mind. "If we make a big circle around and come up behind the dome, then we could probably climb up without attracting the attention of the gate guard too much. That's a pretty short climb. One of us gets up, and ties a rope to make it easier for the other. Then I've got a spell that can deal with the rest of the height...." she trails off. "And then I guess we see what's in that glass room."

[Maquise]

"Sounds like a decent plan. Have any idea of how we're going to deal with the guards once we're inside?"

[Ajadea]

"Kill 'em," Mirri says with a shrug. "Quickly, before they can raise the alarm. Though that's less a plan and more sense."

She heads around to the base of the dome, keeping well out of sight. "You any good at climbing?" she asks with a frown.

[Maquise]

"I'm good enough. Let's do this," she says anxiously.

[Ajadea]

Mirri takes the braided rope out of her pack. "Then you're probably better than me," she says quietly, so as to not alert the guards. Her wry grin isn't forced, despite current circumstances. "Here." She hands Mirabelle the rope. "Be careful."

[Maquise]

Mirabelle struggles to climb up, but is unable to get very high up.
"I don't like it, but my best bet is to take off my armor." You aid her in its removal.

She tries again several times. One her last attempt, she gets a perilous distance up before a rock shifts. She falls hard, flat on her back, moaning.

[Ajadea]

"Dammit," Mirri mutters, placing a hand on Mirabelle and silently praying for the Thrones to heal her. "Here, new plan. I'll fly up to the dome, we'll take out the guard up there, and find some bloody stairs."

Once Mirabelle's armor is is back on, Mirri takes a deep breath and adjusts her patched shirt so that her holy symbol is clearly visible. Her quiver is strapped to her back, and her sheathed falchion slides under it quite well. She draws and strings her bow, just in case. After a moment of consideration, she leaves her backpack on the ground - the load would only slow her. Preparations done, Mirri takes the rope, backs up a distance, and leaps into the air. She speaks the words of the spell no louder than she has to, trying (perhaps futilely) not to draw attention to herself.


30 feet diagonal up movement... I'm not quite sure how that works. Do I go up 30 feet and over 30 feet or do I move 30 feet at a 45 degree angle, which moves me 21.2132 feet both up and across?
[roll0] Healing Mirabelle.

[Maquise]

(According to the flight rules, you move half-speed horizontally while ascending. So you would move 15 feet on the grid. I'm a little confused about what you are doing, however. Could you clarify? Possibly reference the map.)

[Maquise]

You notice that the glass dome has been broken ; you manage to squeeze inside. The room is mostly empty: A broken pedestal sits in the center. There is no sign anyone has been up here for some time. A set of spiral stairs descent through the floor, without handrails.

STEALTH: [roll0]

The orcs below do not seem to have noticed your ascent.

[Ajadea]

Mirri grits her teeth, and proceeds cautiously down the stairs, keeping her eyes out for a window big enough for Mirabelle to fit through. The last thing she wanted to do was leave her ally out there.

[Maquise]

You find a window to the outside. It is a fairly tight squeeze; It was originally nothing more than an arrow slit, but has since crumbled to a barely workable size.

However, about one-third the way down, the stairway has collapsed. The gap is about five feet in length.

[Ajadea]

Mirri lowers the rope, wiggling it slightly to try and draw Mirabelle's attention. She remains mostly silent however, as the guards' attention was really something she did NOT want to draw.

[Maquise]

You hoist Mirabelle up. She looks at the gap. "I suppose we could use the rope here."

[Ajadea]

Mirri nods and looks for a place to tie the rope. She also peers down through the hole, looking around at what lies below them. If Gorgeroth was still here, the last thing she needed was to drop onto his head.


[roll0]

[Maquise]

You look beneath you. The floor level of the tower seems to be being used as a storage room. There are no orcs present.

You tie the rope to an empty sconce. "You want to attack down there, or up here?" asks Mirabelle.

[Ajadea]

"Looks t' be just a storage room. We should check it out. Might be something worth takin'." Mirri climbs down first. In most circumstances, Stealing Was Bad. But frankly, leaving stuff to orcs that could be useful against demons and devils and such was just stupid, and it wasn't like there were useful stores dotted conveniently around the landscape.

[Maquise]

You rummage through the supplies. You find some dried meat, several bolts of coarse cloth, and such other things. More importantly, you find a quiver of silver-tipped arrows, and three vials containing a bright red liquid. On the vials, there is a strange symbol.

[Ajadea]

Mirri grins. Silver arrows. Now that was a find. Those things were good against select fiends. She picks the quiver up, frowns, and attaches it to the side of her backpack. She knew carrying around two quivers looked a bit ridiculous, but frankly, hers was full already and there were more important things than looks. She takes the meat as well, sticking a bit in her mouth. Extra food. No reason for a girl to complain about good-or at least edible- food. After some careful consideration, she takes three yards or so of the coarse cloth, and wraps the vials in it. The cloth and the vials go in her now quite a bit heavier backpack, and she climbs back up. "Unless you want some sackcloth, don't think there's much more of interest in there," she tells Mirabelle. "Got some meat though."

[Maquise]

Mirabelle nods. "I've been thinking. Since they can't get up there," she indicates the top of the tower, "we could shoot them and not have to worry about reprisal. They only seem to have javelins, and I don't think even they could throw that high."

[Ajadea]

"Snipe 'em from their own tower. Sounds promising. An' javelins do have crap for range. They'll have a harder time shootin' us than I would tryin' to hit an apple at twelvescore with this," Mirri says, tapping her bow. She unties her rope, and heads back up to the tower. She looks around for a way to barricade the door. It probably wasn't all that necessary with that big hole in the way (and jumping was liable to make you bash your fool head on the ceiling), but no reason not to play it safe. She strings her bow and motions for Mirabelle to do the same.

Once their preparations are done, Mirri takes a moment to orient herself to face south. She takes a deep breath, and brushes a loose strand of hair out her face. It was a nice tower. Such a shame. Then she picks up a chunk of the pedestal and throws it to break the glass in that direction so that they can shoot out of it.

[Maquise]

You block the ascent with a chunk of masonry. Mirabelle strings her own bow. You break out the glass.
Surprise round Initiative:
Mirri: [roll0]
Mirabelle: [roll1]

The orcs look up, startled and confused. One of them is quite large, and painted red.

[Ajadea]

A red one. Huh. That was interesting. Generally, when one of them looks out of place, that's a sign that they are somehow special, unique... and ripe for shooting. She shoots at it.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your arrow embeds in the red orc's armor. Mirabelle's arrow just misses.

The orcs run for cover, ducking behind the debris piles in the courtyard.

[Ajadea]

Mirri frowns and shoots again, this time not going for any particular orc so much as whatever bit of orc was stupid enough to come out from behind the debris.


[roll0]
[roll1] +8 critical: 14.
Critical Confirmation: 24
See OOC for rolls.

[Maquise]

You put an arrow directly in the head of one of the orcs. Mirabelle wounds another.

The orcs all duck behind the rubble, shielding themselves.

(All orcs now have cover)

[Ajadea]

Mirri grins. One down. Course, now they had to go and make themselves all hard to hit. She targets the nearest one and tries to see how that works. If she missed more than a couple times, it was probably time to try a new tactic.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Despite the orc's cover, you manage to wound it. Mirabelle's arrow bounces off the rock.

[Ajadea]

Mirri grins and shoots at that orc again. "You might want to save your arrows for anyone who tries to run," she tells Mirabelle quietly. She didn't want to chance any of those bastards knowing Common. "They're no devils, their patience has its limits."


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

You strike again. The orcs move around behind their cover; you can't tell what they're up to.

[Ajadea]

"Mm. They're tryin' somethin' now. Hope it's not too bad. Stay on your guard." Mirri shoots the near orc one last time, hoping that this blow will slay it.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Despite your repeated hits, the orc refuses to die.

The big red one sprints from cover directly for the tower's base. You notice that he moves with great speed.

[Ajadea]

Mirri swings around, nocks an arrow, and releases it at the red orc. All thoughts are focused on making the one shot. There is no decision. It's just a reaction to the sudden charge of her foe.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

The large orc takes arrows from both you and Mirabelle, but keeps coming. He breaks down the tower door with his axe.

[Ajadea]

Mirri grimaces as the tower door shatters (how strong must that bastard be, to break a door like a cow on thin ice) and loses another arrow. "Thrones guide my arrow, Thrones strengthen my blow," she whispers. It would be a mantra, if she bothered to repeat it. Her candleflame eyes glow a tiny bit brighter.


Smite Evil, targeting that red orc. Red for blood. And targets.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Your arrow flies true, and the red orc dies. Two of the orcs on the far side of the fort make a run for the dome.

[Ajadea]

Mirri moves to grab another arrow. By now, it's near automatic. She notes she's running low on the plain sort, and switches to her blunts. It was hard to make a blunt arrow that hurt, but this design worked well enough, bruising and breaking bones instead of making you bleed. "I suppose it'd be too much to hope that the big red guy down there is Gorgeroth?" she asks Mirabelle.


Shoot the nearest running orc.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

Mirabelle curses as her arrow misses.

"No, he wasn't near big enough." The two orcs, one wounded, disappear into the dome.

[Ajadea]

Mirri puts her bow down and cracks her knuckles. She does not, however, move away from the window. "They're probably plannin' on tryin' t' get up here. 'Course, between that hole in the stairs and the rock in the door, don't think they'll have much luck with that." She looks down at the red orc again. "So, exactly how big is this Gorgeroth guy supposed to be?"

[Maquise]

Mirabelle shrugs. "I'm sorry, but my memory of that encounter isn't terribly detailed. I was..." She sighs. "He's bigger than I am, and bigger than the rest of the orcs, but there's more than that. I'm not sure, but I think he may possess some form of magic. When he fights, it doesn't seem natural."

[Ajadea]

"What do you think they're doing in there?" Mirri asks, gesturing at the dome below. She takes the time to quickly stretch, which makes her look even taller than she is, before drawing another blunt arrow and shooting the near orc.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

You drop another orc as he peeks out to try and spot you.

The three remaining orcs charge out of cover up to your tower.

[Ajadea]

Damn them. Another blunt arrow, shoot. Like clockwork. Pray, hard, that the orcs in the dome aren't activating some kind of doomsday device. No, don't think about that. Focus.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

The orcs keep coming, barely slowed by your arrows.

[Ajadea]

Mirri attempts to target the same one again.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Maquise]

The combined arrows of Mirabelle and you bring down the middle orc, but the other two get inside the door. You can hear them beneath you, doing something.

[Ajadea]

Mirri tenses. "I'm all for letting them wear themselves out tearing down the door, an' lettin' em get all tired 'fore we behead 'em. What say you?"

[Maquise]

"As long as they don't try anything clever."

Just as Mirabelle says this, acrid black smoke rises up from the floor.

Fortitude Save vs Sickened (DC 17): [roll0]

[Maquise]

Both you and Mirabelle struggle as the smoke blinds you and makes you struggle to breathe.

[Ajadea]

Mirri coughs. "They're setting the damn tower on fire?" she exclaims, half-blind with the unwilling tears streaming down her face from the acrid smoke. I should be angry, but I'm not. Mirri puts away her bow, the action as easy as - easier than, at the moment - breathing, and draws her sword. She moves to her right, to the door, throwing the masonry aside, running down the stairs. They're probably just as choked as we are down there. We might be able to put it out.... "Come on!" she growls, coughing again. She remembers there is a hole, and braces herself for the fall.

[Maquise]

The two of you leap down, landing with a crash on the stone floor of the tower.
Take 3 damage.
As you land, the orcs strike at you. You take the hit to a vulnerable point on your armor, suffering a terrible hit.
Take 17 damage.


Initiative:
Mirri: [roll0]
Mirabelle: [roll1]
Orcs: [roll2]

[Ajadea]

Blinded, mildly nauseous, but even so, she fought. She was a paladin. The paladin, more or less. She could not fail. She could not let herself fail, really no matter how weak or tired and hell tired didn't even matter any more she just charged herself full of divine energy and kept walking, fighting because someone had to fight for those who could not fight and speak for those who had no voice and defy the ones who could not be defied. And if not her, who else?

A touch to her heaving chest, easing the pain. Wishing she had more power, but wishes never did anyone much good. With a wordless scream, she slashes at the nearest orc. Specifically, at its arm. Even like this, there had to be thoughts. Had to be tactics. No use in letting rage blind you.

Of course, she reflected as her blade whistled past the enemy orc's head, sometimes even stupid useless things happened.


[roll0]
[roll1] ....
[roll2]

Including Sickened penalties.

[Maquise]

The orcs both attack Mirabelle next, apparently believing her the greater threat. She blocks one, but takes the other, grunting in pain. In retaliation, she decapitates one and wounds the other.

[Ajadea]

Mirri heals Mirabelle, eyes darting around and trying to take stock of their situation. Where is the smoke coming from? Can we use it?


[roll0]

[Maquise]

It appears the orcs were burning some random supplies in the middle of the room.

[Ajadea]

Mirri takes one step to the side so she won't hit the newly healed Mirabelle and slashes again at the orc with her falchion. Less thought, more focus. Certainly less hoping. Wishing upon a star was one of the most useless things you could do, and she had skirted that folly just a few seconds before.


[roll0]
[roll1]
Includes sickened penalties.

[Maquise]

You cut into the orc, spilling more blood. You note that it seems these beast-like warriors can fight much longer than they should be able to.

Mirabelle impales it upon her sword, finishing it off. "You take too damn long to die," she hisses venomously at the dead orc. Shaking her head, she asks, "I guess it's the dome now?"

[Ajadea]

Mirri grimaces, beheading the orc for good measure. "Yeah. Don't like it much though. Could be walking straight into an ambush." She dumps water over the flames to end them and gets out of the storage room, out of the tower if at all possible. She tries to stay hidden while also trying, very hard, not to breathe any of the sickening smoke. Her knuckles are white, though this is very hard to notice. "Wonder how many javelins they have," she mutters.

[Maquise]

You arrive at the front of the dome. Mirabelle examines the door. "Doesn't seem too strong; I doubt we'll have much trouble opening it. How do you want to proceed?"

[Ajadea]

Mirri regards the door for a bit. "Reluctant though I am to admit it, I think I'll take the orc's own tactics this time. Let them suffocate in there." She tears off some of the coarse cloth, trying not to break any of the vials, and wedges it (the cloth, not the vials, vials don't deal well with being wedged into anywhere) under the door and into the cracks as best as she can. "Here goes nothing," she mutters. With that, she takes out her flint and steel and sets the cloth on fire, then backs away. Very quickly.

[Maquise]

The cloth burns poorly, not catching into a true fire. You struggle with it for a while, before all that is left is charred rags.

[Ajadea]

Mirri frowns at her failed attempt at fire. "They're not attacking us, and I have no intention to lose that bit of advantage right now," she grumbles. No use going in unprepared. The red one was biggest. Possibly a leader, possibly merely some weird red orc. Not Gorgeroth, but that didn't make it useless. No use taking chances. She searches its body.

[Maquise]

The orc carries nothing but his axe and armor.

[Ajadea]

"Fine," Mirri hisses. "Be that way." It is unclear who she is talking to. Perhaps the world. She wondered why the orcs had been wearing armor. People didn't tend to wear bulky, uncomfortable, things unless they had to. What did they fear out there, that they ran around in leather and mail from dusk to dawn?

She puts that out of her mind and brings her sword down on the door. Once, twice. Again if necessary. Waiting for the door to snap and for the orcs to burst out.

[Maquise]

The door snaps, falling off its hinges and revealing a great room. Tables and such are scattered haphazardly throughout. Weapons line the walls. In the center, there is a great fire pit. By the main entrance, there are two arched doors. On the other side of the room, two stairwells curve downwards.

Inside this room, there are about a dozen unarmed goblins, milling about and performing various tasks. They take one look at you and run away squealing, down one of the descending stairs.

[Ajadea]

Weapons. From fallen foes or more warriors off duty? Four doors. Four unknown places. Four places for foes to hide. Mirri pushes tables against each door, and wedges another into the opening of the staircase the goblins ran down. She descends the last staircase, sword at the ready. Trying to use archery on staircases was folly.

[Maquise]

You and Mirabelle seal off the main chamber, then head for the last staircase.

Descending the second set of stairs, you find something very peculiar. A sealed stone door, upon which sets a series of rings. A note, written in orcish which Mirabelle can apparently read, says the orcs fought some form of elemental spirits here, before being stymied at the door.

You recognize the symbols as being of the Celestial language. The rings contain the following runes:
Outer ring: T D M
Middle ring: uT eR Ru
Inner Ring: Y C tH

[Ajadea]

"Of course," Mirri murmurs, tracing the runes with the tip of her finger. It seemed one had rubbed off. "What would orcs know of the gods?" She twists the outer ring counterclockwise, so that the words read D Ut Y, M Er C, and T Ru Th. Duty, mercy, truth.

[Maquise]

As you turn the rings into the position, the stone slab sinks into the floor, revealing set of stairs which descend even further down. A pale blue light shines ahead.

"Looks charming," Mirabelle states flatly.

[Ajadea]

Mirri stares at the place where the slab was. "Don't suppose they could have used the door like ordinary folks," she comments. She heads down the glowing stairs. "Those letters were in Celestial. I think it's safe," she adds.

Even so, she checks for evil. The last thing she needed to do was accidentally release more demons upon the earth.


Detect Evil. Obviously.

[Maquise]

"Since I have a shield, I'll go first," says Mirabelle. You detect no evil.

You descend into the gloom. The walls are not as aged down here; the marble is still a gleaming white, and the floor shows no signs of exposure to the elements. A lair of dust has settled over everything, though. At regular intervals hang glass orbs which shine from within with watery blue light.

The passageway opens up to a vaulted chamber. The walls are lined with small alcoves in which rows of elegant porcelain urns stand, covered in flowing scrollwork. In the middle of the chamber stands a marble statue.

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see a figure standing, but when you turn your head to look, it is gone.

[Ajadea]

Mirri clenches her hands into fists and tries to ignore the uneasiness that the glimpse of a ghostly being had put in her mind. She brushes some of the dust off the statue. It didn't seem right to leave such clearly holy ground like this. The possible presence of a third being still remains in her mind. She looks around for it.


Take 20 on Perception: 19. Where'd that possible person go?

[Maquise]

Most of the writing is in an intricate, flowing script you do not recognize. At the back of the room there is large, opaque glass panel. As you examine it, you notice that there appears to be more chamber behind it. You perceive nothing further concerning the third figure.