Remnants of Cyre <Team Two>

[Kyeudo]

It's the third day of Syphros (mid autum for those who don't have the ECS), and the city of Darthun is in an unusualy festive mood. It's two days before the Festival of Moons, a night of costume balls, parties, and other revelry. The Festival continues dispite the War, and decorations of all sorts can be seen everywhere. Wreaths of autum leaves decorate many a door and everywhere russet-colored streamers dance in the wind.

The news from the front is also heatening. The fighting has died down along the north and west, while recent victories in the south over the traitorous hobgoblins and Valenar elves have bolstered morale. The atmosphere of merriment could not even be spoiled by the strange events earlier today. A blinding flash of vivid purple light washed across the sky shortly after noon, followed by a small earthquake. The quake caused little damage, although there was some looting in the confusion. The city watch put more guards on patrol and things soon returned to normal, back to preparing for the festivities and making the rounds of all the pre-Festival parties.

As always, a few crazy rumors are mixed in with the news. Tall tales of pink dragons marauding into Valenar from the southern reaches of the Endworld Mountains mingle with stories of pirate vessals, crewed by fairies, raiding the ships of the Lhazar princes over tall mugs of ale in the taverns and inns you've passed through.

The city is full of travelers, most come to enjoy the planned celebration dispite, or perhaps because of, the War. It was difficult to find an inn at which to stay the night, so you finaly had to settle for a room at the Dragon's Deal, a slightly run-down inn on the southeastern side of town, one of the poorer districts of the city. The price seemed exorbiant for such coarse accomidations, but it was either pay up or find a place to camp outside the city walls, and after several days on the road the prospect of a real bed and a decent meal were too good to resist.

The common room is crowded tonight, paced with people because some lordling decided to throw a party at the Dragon's Deal with free drinks for all comers. By the size of the crowd, he'll learn his lesson by morning when he finds his pocketbook alot lighter. The place is moderately clean, with tables and chairs battered by long use, and a bar worn by the countless hands of years worth of customers. There are several loud games of three dragon ante being played along the far end of the room, with plenty of cursing whenever money changes hands. Earlier one such game almost came to blows, but a few free beers soon calmed things down.

A cold draft billows through the room as a pair of workmen saunter in the inn and past your table on the way to the bar, where they take the last few stools in front of it and call for a couple of drinks.

Several others share the table with you for the evenening meal, fellow travelers from all across Cyre. Some are just passing through, some are soldiers back on leave from the front, and others are just here for the upcoming festival.

[Bitzeralisis]

Journeyman Alchemist Sripor, Telepath & Adventurer Wanabee

The inn is crowded. If one was to go to the corner of the room, shoving through masses of peoples, they would find a lone man, with something strange about him, sitting alone in the corner, drinking a cup of apple cider. He's in the clothing of a Alchemist, and indeed he is; Sripor was just visiting the town center in order to sell alchemical goods for his master, teacher, and guide, Urefines1.

This is Sripor2. He is a telepath, and an Elan3 at that. He flips a coin, his mind focused4. Business was hard; there was too much competition.


1Pronounced "Yure Phoenix."
2If any character is to attempt writing down Sripor's name, they will instead end up writing "Shrifor," as that is how Sripor's name is pronounced, and that is what most people would think how it is spelled.
3No, not :elan:.
4Starting Psionically Focused. See Psionic Concentration skill.

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris revels in the anonymity of the large crowd and watching strangers body language and manners. He takes a good look at the companions at his table then decides to be get into the spirit and stands up and says, "Greetings fellows I am Morries and I wish to propose a toast of good health to you all."

Morris is about as average looking as you can get and his clothes are of a simple artisan. Near his feet is a backpack stuffed to capacity with what looks like adventures gear.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin

A changeling sits at one of the table's ends. With long hair, flashy clothing, and theatrical movements, he makes it difficult for others to ignore him. Arranged in front of him are a series of cards marked with finely crafted drawings and draconic runes.

"A flash of silver, a shower of copper, either will buy you a glimpse into what will be. We all are victims of fate, pawns in the celestial game. Why not, at the very least, learn what shall soon occur? Love? Fortune? I can reveal to you your destiny."

[nekosama]

Morris

"Oi, fortune teller. I am pretty sure what my fate would be. I would be a silver poorer and you would be a silver richer."

I would like to do a sense motive check on Zin to see if he is running a scam or might honestly believe in the power of the cards. Not sure if you want me to roll, or you will, since failure means I might believe the wrong thing. Check can be done in 1 round due to class ability and Mo's total sense motive modifier is +7.

[Idiotbox90]

The fortune teller remains unabashed.

"Wealth is relative. What is a piece of silver when compared to knowing one's fate? Here, a sample." The changeling stacks the cards into a single deck and draws one from the middle. The image on the card is that of a cloaked human. "The Veiled Woman, a mysterious figure. A stranger with much to reveal. The hidden being brought to the surface. A sudden change of luck. Much can be meant by this card. More knowledge, of course, comes at a price."

Bluff +10
Zin does not believe in the cards, but is confident that some of the fortunes he tells will come true.

[Kyeudo]

The changling fortune teller seems quite convinced that he can tell fortunes with his cards. Wether or not his belief translates into practical skill is not so readily apparent.

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa, goblin warrior of the Bladesmark and Cyran stalwart

A pair of beady red eyes peers through a chink in the woodwork of the inn's doors. Shortly after seeing the volume of the crowd, they withdraw with a huffing and a growling.

A few minutes later, the doors burst inward and a goblin warrior saunters in, a surly scowl upon his face. He wears a leathern lancer's cap in faded colours of green and gold and his bulbous nose flares in annoyance at the crowd's gaity.

His tangerine flesh shivers from more than the evening draft and he tightens his short, weather-beaten cloak of green weave around his small body. The action does not obscure from view, however, his tabard of gold, the uniform of the loyal Cyran soldier. Upon this is emblazoned the symbol of a black paw-print, the insignia of the Blacklaw, the famed regiment of goblin wolfriders who refused to revolt along with the notorious Lhesh Haruuc, out of their century-long loyalty to the Cyran people.

As he walks into the tavern, his eyes rove the crowd nervously and his scowl deepens. I hate crowds! Stupid party-goers, they don't know that the Valenar are but five days' march away... Yet! Yet the Deneith commander expressly forbade me from raising the alarm to avoid causing panic! "Khyber take his caution..." the goblin mutters as he shoulders his way toward the bar.

Stronger of sinew and blood than the average goblin, Ja'khaa's body ripples with muscle beneath his suit of studded leather. He nimbly hops onto the nearest bar stool, slams a dagger down on the much-stained wood and growls to the barkeep, "I'th' name of the Lights, send some meat--- good meat, mind ye, to the wolf in yer stable. He's bein' kept by my cousin, you'll know from the lance I left there. And an ale here as well, if' ye please..."

[Kyeudo]

The barkeep, a middle-aged halfling, pours a tall mug of ale, aparently unfazed by the dagger stuck in his bar, and thunks it down on the counter in front of the goblin. "It'll be a silver for the meat. Lord ir'Gaer is only paying for the drinks, not the food. Anything for your cousin?"

[Grimfist]

Having just returned to Darthun from a two week long excursion into the wilderness to give himself some relief from the city, a rather unwashed goblin in rough leather armor leans against the wall next to the entrance to the inn. He attracts many curious looks: a soft white glow outlines his torso, and around his waist is a thick scale belt with a purplish hue that seems to have spread onto his skin*. He flashes a self-satisfied smirk whenever he notices another patron staring at him, then goes back to sloppily drinking his free ale.

Suddenly the doors to the inn burst open, smacking the surprised shaman in the face and knocking him over. After recovering from the shock, the livid goblin gets back on his feet and stomps over to the bar towards the muscular goblin who had hit him with the door.

"Here, let me pay for that meat friend" interrupts Meantooth, slamming a silver piece onto the table in a similar manner to the way the newcomer had slammed his dagger. Hey, what was the big idea charging in here like that??? You nearly broke my nose!".

*Shaped soulmelds- Blink shirt and Wormtail belt respectively.

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa's eyes narrow and his lip curls back, exposing one fang in a friendly snarl. "Khe'ter rok tak. Ky or'ne wok tar'uuz",1 he replies in somewhat broken Goblin.

The off-duty lancer turns to the barkeep and eases into a grin. Flipping a gold coin through gloved fingers, he slaps it onto the bar and says in the tongue of Galifar, "Sirrah, a beef stew with onions, beans and leaves for me, if'n ye please. Give my cousin a generous slab of tonight's roast, as well. Fill this fellow up" he continues, gesturing at the bruised goblin, "With whatever he asks for. Thak ye kindly"

Turning to the glowing goblin, Ja'khaa asks, "Ek'tuur sekhar?"2 His gaze turns grim, however, as the bitter memories of the past week flash before his eyes. He still feels the savage slashes the Valenar had dealt him, though Colonel Vakyr had had him healed.

He takes a long pull at his ale, draining half the mug in one gulp. "Or'ten khai dur Valenar'ii ja'sharaata! Kedrakaal dur evuur'ka...", 3 he remarks with a growl.


1. Apologies... and thanks. Didn't know ye were there.

2. Will that be enough to burn away my fault?

3. Not that it would matter. The Valenar come to kill us all. We should prepare, the people must know, but noooo, that would cause a panic, the high-ups say...

[nekosama]

Morris

His curiosity now piqued due to the fortune teller not obviously being a con artist, Morris reaches into his belt pouch and pulls out a silver.

For this silver and your name I would be happy to have you tell my fortune.

[Idiotbox90]

"Zin, sir. Now, let us see what fate has in store for you."
The next card flipped reveals a hooded man carrying an axe. Blood drips from its blade as ravens circle overhead.

"The Executioner. You will notice that the card is facing me, not you. This indicates that it is a positive symbol. Here, it can mean that you will recieve justice. You may make a tough decision that pays off. An enemy may be defeated. It is the third card that ties it all together."

The final card is that of a man of noble visage standing at the front of a ship. He leans on his sword as if it were a cane.

"The Wanderer. A free spirit that cannot be restrained. One who leaves his home to defend it. There are other meanings, but they are fairly unimportant. Yes, I think I can see what shall occur. You shall meet a stranger, one who is more than they seem. Fortune shall favor this meeting and you shall get what you deserve. The Wanderer shows that you cannot run from your problems. They will either follow you or you will encounter new ones. I would suggest that you trust your instincts and walk the straight path. If you do so, your fate in the close future will surely be good.

[Grimfist]

Meantooth's brow slowly unfurrows and he breaks into a grin. "Hmm, you are the first humanoid I've met that knows to show proper respect to a shaman-king. Very well, consider your blunder erased, and may we commune as acquaintances."

The placated shaman turns his head toward the barkeep " Bring me dead animal, cheapest thing you have" he orders in awkward common. He then turns back to introduce himself to Ja'khaa.

"To be honest I expected to start a fight with you, but you are well-spoken and fair. I am known as Yezt Meantooth. Who are you, and what are these 'Valenar' you speak of?

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa snarls again and replies angrily, his building rage no longer content with the privacy of the Goblin tongue. "The Valenar are elves of the sands who live for naught but slaughter. They are dishonourable brigands in the same league as Haruuc and his folk, traitors to the Cyran throne!"

He seizes his dagger from the countertop and twirls it while passing from in between one figer to another in a show of dexterity. Still idly moving the blade hither and yon, the soldier takes a savage pull at his ale, snorting impatiently as he waits for both his meal and his change.

He sets down his mug and clenches one fist, crackling the knuckles. Briefly, he considers punching Yezt in the manner of greeting of his more savage relations back in Droaam but reconsiders. A true Cyran always shakes.

He unclenches his hand and offers it to him to shake. "The name is Ja'khaa of the Blackclaw clan, lancer irregular of the Deneith-Cyran forces, formerly of Kheldan Valley"

[Bitzeralisis]

Journeyman Alchemist Sripor, Telepath & Adventurer Wanabee

Sripor stands up and walks over to the goblins. "You look like a pair of adventurers, would you like to buy some alchemical supplies?" he asks monotonously. His hair is messy, and his yellow eyes stare penetratingly at the two.

[nekosama]

Morris

Thank you Zin. A very interesting experience that was well worth the coin.

Turning to people on the side of Zin Mo says,

You really should try Zin out here. His fortune really moved me.

Leaning back a bit in his chair to to get a better view of the bar he spies the odd grouping of two goblins and some sort of alchemist at the bar. Curiosity taking over he stands up and excuses himself. He tries moving casually up to the bar to a good spot to overhear what that group is talking about.

[Kyeudo]

The barkeep sweeps the coins off the bar and into a pouch at his belt before heading into the back. Soon he returns with the two goblins orders and a human kitchen boy is dispatched to the stables with a think slab of meat for Ja'khaa's mount and a meal for his cousin.

[Miraqariftsky]

Journeyman Alchemist Sripor, Telepath & Adventurer Wanabee

Sripor stands up and walks over to the goblins. "You look like a pair of adventurers, would you like to buy some alchemical supplies?" he asks monotonously. His hair is messy, and his yellow eyes stare penetratingly at the two.

"Eh, my good fellow?" Ja'khaa swivels upon his stool at the stranger's query and he leans back against the bar's counter languidly. His bushy eyebrows rise incredulously and his crimson eyes lock onto the alchemist's own gaze before breaking into raucous laughter.

Flipping his dagger through his fingers once more, he asks with a fang-baring grin, "Ye brung'd up two points there, stranger" He holds up his left index finger and balances the dagger's point there for nearly ten agonizing seconds before stabbing it onto the bar again. "Second is that o' yer alchemy. Well, riddle me this--- wot's both a-curved an' pointy and don't need no bloody alch'my ta wreak bloody murder? The Valenar, that's wot!"

"Well, juz fer meself, I ask'ee 'umbly--- would ye call being woken from just an hour's slumber to the sound of bloody murder an adventure?" His gaze turns hard in grim earnest.

Continuing his reply, he asks, "Would ye call gettin' yer **** beat out by treacherous allies at break o'dawn an adventure? Would ye call a week of eating naught but yer own festerin' boils and drinkin' wolf's blood an adventure? Would ye call wakin' ta see yer luvverly wife az not but a greasy smear an adventure? Would ye call such fight'n fer the glory an' honour of Mother Cyre an adventure?"

With this last question, he spits violently on the floor and slams his dagger back onto the countertop. Snarling sadly, he looks up and says to Sripor, "Alch'mist, eh? If'n yer brews can help the motherland, I urge ye, go ahead and may the Flame guide ye. 'Tis nae so much a war now, but a slaughter and a final stand. Can ye help us, lad?"

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"..." Sripor listens intently to what the goblin has to say, correcting his pronunciation subconsciously. He might nod or shake his head once or twice during the monologue, but so little as so that wandering eyes could not catch the movement. His face unchanged, his gaze still stuck on the goblin; wondering if the goblin really meant what he had just said.
Finally, Sripor drops the bag of alchemy stuffs he was supposed to be selling, leaning on the counter next to the goblin, still looking at him. Closer now, so that the goblin might notice how strange his messed-up hair looked, and how the texture of his skin was unusual compared to other humans.
"Adventure, you say?" he asks dubiously, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Well..."
Sripor grins. Note how even his teeth and mouth and gums look so unnatural... "That depends."
Still leaning on the counter, Sripor looks closely into the goblin's eyes. "I am not natural. I can cause your head to hurt, with so much force that it may kill you. I can create a tangible shield of force around my body, using just sheer will. I can make very, very slippery stuff appear out of thin air, coat you, and make you fall."
Sripor moves back. "In other words, yes."
"But," he says, too suddenly for the goblin to respond, "you have to do me a favor. Go to my boss, and tell him that I absolutely hate alchemy and that I'd rather study up on my knowledge of extraplanar creatures than learn alchemy and that the only reason that I learned alchemy from him was so I could have a living and that he can still be my friend and it's not because of him that I hate alchemy and most of all, tell him you're my friend. He never listens to me, and doesn't believe that I hate alchemy, and he says that he'll need proof, and I know he's a very trusting, yes I know that's ironic, person, and that way I know he'll listen to you." Sripor had said this all so fast that the goblin almost couldn't comprehend it. "So, what do you say?" Sripor picks up the bag of alchemy-stuffs.

[Kyeudo]

Suddenly, a man stumbles in the door. At first he seems like just another drunk, lurching in for a free drink, but then he keels over on the floor with a loud THUMP! His heavy-set face is pale and his clothing, a worn-looking outfit suitible for an unkilled laborer, has a spreading blood-stain on the left shoulder.

[Grimfist]

Ignoring Ja'k's offered handshake, Yezt pulls back his arm to deliver a friendly punch to the mouth, but halts in mid-swing due to the arrival of the strange alchemist. His smile slowly fades from his face as the Psion and the Barbarian exchange monologues, and by the time Sripor finishes speaking the poor shaman looks as if he's been struck upside the head with a greatclub.

"Funny man, you speak too quickly. Meantooth doesn't know if you used your powers, but you have given him a headache... and you" he continues, turning back to Ja'kha "I like you, but maybe you are crazy. Still, it has been a long time since Meantooth has been in battle, and for one so mighty as Meantooth this is shameful." He pauses here to stand up on his stool, raising his voice to match his words; his vestments of incarnum seem to pulse and glow brighter than before. "While Meantooth cares little for cities, the power of 1000 beasts rages within him, and they will not become calm until Meantooth has tested his courage against the cowardly magics and shiny blades of the tall ones. Though Meantooth cannot explain it, he feels he is urged on by the beasts to follow this path. I will join you, strange one and crazy one, to fight these 'Valenar'."

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor looks over at the person who just entered. "What's with him?" he mumbles, uncaring.

[nekosama]

Morris

"Oi, someone check to see if that man lives!" After shouting out Morris start checking if there is a back way out of the bar. He wants to go out scouting but through the front door.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin makes his way to the fallen man. "Hey, clear a table!" he says to those around him. Once his orders are followed, he lifts the stranger up and places him there.

"Sir, are you all right?"

[Kyeudo]

The man groans faintly as he is moved, but doesn't respond to Zin or to being placed on the table. The blood stain on his shirt spreads from his shoulder across his chest around a ragged-looking wound. Anyone who checks will find his pulse faint and rapid, his breathing shallow, and his temperature high.

As for a back way out of the inn, there presumably would be a back door to the kitchen that would let out on the alley.

[Miraqariftsky]

Fourth paragraph: Sorry if I may have used artistic license in controlling the actions of the patrons in that one instance. If you take umbrage at that, Kyeudo, I sincerely apologize

Ja'khaa smacks his chops at the exquisiteness of the meal that he had just consumed. Sitting back, he gives a loud belch in a public show of appreciation of the cuisine. Blowing on his neatly trimmed black claws, he inhales the autumnal breath-mist that forms and sighs contentedly, savoring the rich, spicy tang of the Cyran onions and beans in the stew he'd just consumed.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and a bleeding man collapses onto the dirty floor. "Khyber's crap!" Ja'khaa swears aloud at the sight of the injured man.

Sheathing his dagger absently, he bounds over the bar and swiftly seizes a bottle of strong brandy from the rack. He jumps back over the counter, shouting over his shoulder at the barkeeper, "Hoy-ba! I'm borrow'n yer vint'g '73! Medical emergency and we don't have a healer!"

The lancer barges through the legs of curious patrons and rickety chairs on his way to the stricken man. Not a few chairs are broken or upended, not a few patrons--- drunk or otherwise--- are jostled or tripped. Many heap curses on the lancer's head and many more crane their necks to see the what the commotion is. Ja'khaa snarls and clutched the brandy bottle tight and yelled for the crowd to back off. "Deneith surgeon, comin' through! Make way! Make way!"

Upon reaching the stricken man and the charitable fortune teller, Ja'khaa leaps onto the impromptu operating table. The barbarian snarls upon checking the man's vitals, swiftly concluding that besides almost having had his torso ripped asunder, the man has also contracted some sort of fever... maybe from poison or gangrene... "Somebod' getta clean cloth and a buckett'o cold water! This man's got a fever AND is wounded..."

Bah! I ain't no healer but I know how to hurt the hurts...

Not bothering with the finesse of a blade, he rips the stranger's tunic apart with his bare hands, intending to cause as much pain as possible. Pain burns away the dark death of sleep. Pain lets you know you're alive... The tunic peels away from the wound with a ghastly squelchig sound.

Ja'khaa slaps the delirious man around and warns him, "This will HURT. If you hurt, you alive. If you don't scream, you're already dead" Swiftly, he uncorks the bottle with his teeth and pours brandy liberally onto the still-bleeding wound.

[Kyeudo]

The man groans loudly and twitches as the brandy pours into the wound, but doesn't regain conciousness. The liquor washes away the blood on the man's chest, revealing a ragged, half-circle wound about 3-4 inches long and about an inch deep. The bleeding seems to have slowed down, but the wound still looks fairly fresh, as there is no pus or swelling of the wound. It looks like a bite mark of some sort.

[Miraqariftsky]

"KHYBER'S CRAP!" Ja'khaa spits as the brandy clears away the wound. "Somebody bit this fellow up sommat nasty!"

The mercenary cranes his neck around, trying to see over the heads of the curious crowd. "Git'yer water'nd rag 'ere soon, keep! The Keeper might claim this fellow 'cuz his fever weren't treat'd wi' nuthi' but shpit!"

Ja'khaa paces to and fro, thinking. No beast, that would could have caused, for there were no fang-marks... and yet the sheer length of the bite-mark indicates that it was no man either... Whatever it is, the Flame tells me somethig evil is afoot... Fang nose can track the culprit down, of that I am sure!

His patience runs out with waiting for the arrival of the medical supplies and he slips out the ajar doors. He makes his way through the tavern's courtyard and into the stables, sniffing around for the telltale rancid smell of unwashed sewer goblin and the slightly-fresher smell of an unwashed wolf. Along the way, he takes his shield off his back and straps it onto his left arm.

His right hand draws his dagger and holds it in an easy, ready-to-stab grip just to be ready. The half-light of the moons glints of the All-Seeing Eye symbol of Deneith set into the weapon's pommel.

He slowly opens the stable doors with a creaking of rusted hinges and, seeing that there are no overt threats about, flips the dagger into a more relaxed yet still ready stance. Walking across the straw-strewn floor and snorting at the fearful neighing of the horses at his wolf, Ja'khaa reaches the darkest, most stinking corner of the stable. His vision shifts to the heat spectrum and two bright forms burn in his eyes, devouring a still-smoking chunk of roast beef ribs.

He barks, "Garrah! Grah-grah-grah-rrrauh!" embraces his wolf-mount, Fang, around the neck and ruffles her ears. Ja’khaa then claps his cousin on the back and says, “Ghe’Flar orv suk’pa, vorg'den Itragn! Heh ku reza shr’aa Khyberit? Sr'e oor shr'aa ver'tan 'berit”1

1. Flame bless your hospitality, kinsman Itragn! Have you seen any madmen around, or at least creatures with large jaws, biting folk? Just now, a man came into the tavern, delirious from a bite in his chest...

[Kyeudo]

"Ain't seen nothin' but horses since we got here. Woulda remembered somethin' with big teeth." Itragn replies before going back to the rack of ribs.

[Grimfist]

Meantooth follows behind in the wake of strewn chairs and angry patrons that Ja'khaar leaves behind him and watches intently as the blood is washed away from the bite wound.

Staring silently at the grisly injury, Yezt pours over his extensive knowledge of beasts in an attempt to identify a likely culprit.

<OOC>Knowledge: Nature check at +4 [roll0]</OOC>

[Kyeudo]

Meantooth

Looking at the ragged injury, you decide that it is definately a bite wound, but not from any animal you've seen before. It almost looks to be sized like something a human or an elf could inflict, but the wound is too deep for the jaws of any humanoid you know of.

[nekosama]

Morris

Once at the door Morris will peek out to make sure nobody is watching the door.

Spot 1d20+5

If he sees nothing he will leave moving quietly and trying to hide in a shadow at the end of his move.

Move silently 1d20+6
Hide 1d20+6

[Kyeudo]

Morris

OOC: Looks like you tried to edit in dice rolls. Doesn't work. Luckily, I have real dice, and will just roll them for you.
Spot: 15+7
Move Silently: 11+6
Hide: 16+6

Morris only sees several drunken party goers stumbling along the street in the light cast by the street lamps. They don't seem to notice as you slip out into the night.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor


Sripor had not realized that the man was hurt until the goblin had shouted. He blinks, and slowly makes his way over to the man. He looks at the wound,not uttering a single word. Then he silently1 walks outside to see if there's anything there.

1Not D&D literal.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Ain't seen nothin' but horses since we got here. Woulda remembered somethin' with big teeth." Itragn replies before going back to the rack of ribs.

"Twice tak", he says simply before, retrieving his lance and clucking at Fang to get her away from the food before mounting up. Blood and oils from the roast rib-rack drip from the wolf's neck-fur and she snarls at her master, unwilling to part from the feast though the bulge of her belly tells Ja'khaa that the bitch is already more than full.

[roll0] Handle Animal check Edit: Methinks 'tis safe to assume that this is a pass?

After a few nose-pats and ear-slaps, sha calms down and Ja'khaa leaps onto her back. Briefly, he adjusts his leathern rider's cap and then gives his mount a couple of nudges with his knees, guiding her to the stable doors. "Flame shine on ye, kinsman", he says before turning the corner

THOK!!

Suddenly, something small and metallic whirs through the stale air within the stable and hits the visor of Ja'khaa's helm. As it falls off, he instinctively bites down on it and winces when his teeth indeed strike metal.

The lancer spits it into his palm and his brow furrows in bemusement when he sees a slightly dented flask in his hand. He glances back at Itragn and the other simply says, "Fer Dur, me sister, yer wife. Greet her fer me an' tell 'er life ain't all Cyre and Flame and glory..."

Ja'khaa's crimson eyes dilate in shock and his nostrils flare in shame. The hand holding his lance in a white-knuckled sorrow trembles as he replies without looking back, [Goblin] "She died a week ago in a Valenar raid. I'm sorry."

As he walks Fang around the corner of the stable's doors, he hears the agitated whinnying of the horses, the repeated thumps of frustrated fists against stubborn walls and the anguished cries of a brother bereaved. But then, beyond the ties of blood, he is a soldier of Cyre and will do whatever it takes to protect the homeland. Slowly, silently, he goes back to the tavern to recruit some stout fools with whom to hunt either a fiend or a madman...

[Kyeudo]

Sripor finds the street mostly deserted. The houses and shops that line the road are mostly dark, with a few bright windows shinging out of the blackness. The street lamps make pools of light between which a few people still wander, probably heading towards one party or another.

Ja'khaa gets the reluctant Fang up with relative ease.

Ja'khaa

First, is Fang male or female. You refer to the wolf as him, but then call it a bitch. Second, what tricks does Fang know?

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa makes his way back to the still-ajar doors of the tavern, the woud of his heart torn afresh with the gift for his dead wife. Twisting the cap off slowly, he takes a single swig... the the world spins.

Pointing at the still-unconscious patient, he shouts to the crowd in the tongue of Galifar, "Zat vellow vas vikkeg vy heidurr a badban or some viendigg avobi-abominatiogg! I go ta hudd it down. Who here is fool or brave hedubb ta h'aid he, h'O doble volk h'ob Cyre?"

[Kyeudo]

Ja'khaa

Make a Listen check please.

[Miraqariftsky]

OOC: Ja'khaa's Listen check [roll0]
Fang's Listen check: [roll1]

[Kyeudo]

Ja'khaa

You don't hear anything out of the ordinary. Most of the inns patrons have gone back to their drinks or card game, trying hard to ignore the wounded man laid out on the table.

Make a Spot check please.

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris will watch the drunks to see if any of them look like they have blood or other signs of a recent fight on them. If none do he will move on to the other side of the building.

Spot [roll0]

[Grimfist]

Meantooth draws his tarnished morningstar and dons his prized buckler then pushes his way to the front of the inn where he can catch Jak'haar's attention. "I was about to ask the same question, unworthy as most of these drunkards seem to journey with me. A fellow goblin and his wolf would make fine companions, however."

Noticing the Sripor hovering about outside the inn, Meantooth calls out to him as well. "Hey, alchemist! You want to help Meantooth and Ja'kharr track down the nasty creature? Maybe we accept your offer if you join us."

[Kyeudo]

Morris can see no signs of blood or a struggle on the passerby, but whether that is due to poor lighting, distance, or lack of any evidence would be impossible to determine.

Anyone near the wounded man, would you please make Spot and Listen checks? I'll wait for most everyone to get a chance to post before continueing.

[Idiotbox90]

Spot:[roll0]
Listen:[roll1]

Zin responds to the goblin's shout, "Fortune favors both the foolish and the brave. I'm both. Let me retrieve my things."

The fortune teller gathers his cards and pockets them, before making his way to his room to get his polearm and chain.

[Bitzeralisis]

(( [roll0] [roll1] ))

Sripor

"Maybe, eh?" Sripor had already made his way back into the inn, and walks past the injured man and towards the goblin. He passes several tables, some random people, and ultimately ends up next to the goblin.
"Name?" asks Sripor, extending his arm, no expression on his face. Again, this close, the goblin may get a feeling that the being he is looking at is possibly not be human...

[Miraqariftsky]

Listen [roll0]
Spot [roll1] Daaaagnabbit!


Reeling drunkenly from his six tall ales, Ja'khaa lists on his mount's back. Gesturing with his lance at those who had voluteered, he slurs, "Hooooy! Giddover 'ere guddrn quick! If'n ye ain't no coffee got, punch me, by Khyber! Novoggy goesh a-hunting thrunggk"

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris will stay outside searching for another 10-15 minutes then return to the bar to see how the man faired.

[Kyeudo]

Sripor and Zin

What you here isn't the surprising presence of something, but rather its sudden obvious lack. The man laid out on the table has stopped breathing.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

While waiting for the goblin to tell him his name and shake his hand, Sripor's mind subconsciously processes some information...





> Scanning [right ear input:level 3422:depth 9344s]
> Scan Detects (various alternating pitches)
> Analyze Result [prev]
> Scan Native Knowledgebase [level 396903:sector 5435:type br00&]

etc. etc...

> Concludes (no breathing:injured man:table:entrance:warning)
> Activate [fj83ljg:g03js:g089r]


Wait... people's minds aren't computers...



Anyhow:

"Huh?" Sripor turns around. Did I think what I just thought? That man... he wasn't breathing when I came in... not good? Definitely. Slowly, he makes his way over to the man, and puts his ear real close to his nose, and watches his chest...
There's no breathing noises. The man's chest isn't rising and falling in its natural air intake pattern. So, I was right.
"This man needs medical attention! He stopped breathing!" shouts Sripor, obviously not knowing what to do, hesitant, sweating, looking for help, any help, there has to be someone who knows something about making people breathe, a cleric maybe? Someone get over here already! Who? When? ...

Death would come swiftly, if not a person is to help.

[Miraqariftsky]

(( [roll0] [roll1] ))

Sripor

"Maybe, eh?" Sripor had already made his way back into the inn, and walks past the injured man and towards the goblin. He passes several tables, some random people, and ultimately ends up next to the goblin.
"Name?" asks Sripor, extending his arm, no expression on his face. Again, this close, the goblin may get a feeling that the being he is looking at is possibly not be human...

"AAGH!" Ja'khaa shouts in complete shock as Sripor seemingly materializes from the depths of the shadows. From sheer confoundment, he vomits violently.

Smiling but pale, he grasps the alchemist's hand and pumps it vigorously. "Thousand thanks for the sobering shock... um, alchemist. I am Ja'khaa of the Blackclaw"


"Huh?" Sripor turns around. Did I think what I just thought? That man... he wasn't breathing when I came in... not good? Definitely. Slowly, he makes his way over to the man, and puts his ear real close to his nose, and watches his chest...
There's no breathing noises. The man's chest isn't rising and falling in its natural air intake pattern. So, I was right.
"This man needs medical attention! He stopped breathing!" shouts Sripor, obviously not knowing what to do, hesitant, sweating, looking for help, any help, there has to be someone who knows something about making people breathe, a cleric maybe? Someone get over here already! Who? When? ...

Death would come swiftly, if not a person is to help.

"Khyber's crap, now what?!" Ja'khaa shouts.

My captain always said that there's nothing wot can't be cured by good strong drink...

Ja'khaa digs his heels into his mount's flanks, spurring into the tavern, leaving his lance leaning against the doorframe to avoid hitting any innocents. Riding swiftly over to the stricken man, he pours some of the bugbear brandy into the patient's open, reeking mouth.

While waiting for the stricken man to react to the liquor, he yells for the barkeep over the din of the crowd. "HO! Dispatch a runner to the nearest temple... either that or get some Jorasco over here! And blight it all, where's that Khybercrapped bucketto water and rag we needed?!" With that, he veritably hurls another golden Galifar onto the bar.

[Kyeudo]

The barkeep, to this point largely unconcerned (knifings happen every now and then in this part of town, most survivable), flings open the door to the kitchen and barks orders to the kitchen boys. The slamming of the back door can be heard in the common room, and one of the kitchen boys scurries out of the kitchen with a bucket of water and some relatively clean rags.

[Grimfist]

Spot and listen checks:

[roll0] For spot.
[roll1] For listen.

(( [roll0] [roll1] ))

Sripor

"Maybe, eh?" Sripor had already made his way back into the inn, and walks past the injured man and towards the goblin. He passes several tables, some random people, and ultimately ends up next to the goblin.
"Name?" asks Sripor, extending his arm, no expression on his face. Again, this close, the goblin may get a feeling that the being he is looking at is possibly not be human...

"You call me Meantooth, strange alchemist." Yezt replies, following the concerned Elan over to the table where the injured man lies.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin returns, wearing a chain shirt and carrying a glaive. It is difficult, but he manages to avoid breaking anything with the large weapon.

When he sees the others surrounding the man on the table, he shakes his head. "Don't bother with him. He's dead."

[Kyeudo]

The kitchen boy, hearing the man is dead, leaves the bucket at the table and scurries back to the kitchen, just in time to miss seeing the man's body twitch.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor simply pokes the man. So simply, in fact, that it only took two sentences to fully describe his reaction and any emotions that may have gone through him.

[Kyeudo]

The man's arm jerks clumsily in the direction from which Sripor poked him.


Had to LoL at that last line.

[Miraqariftsky]

"LOOK!" Ja'khaa shouts, gesturing at the quasi-corpse. "The blaggard moved! Fortune teller, are ye certain he wasn't breathing earlier? If he still ain't breathin' we might be a-havi' the work o' some Karrnathi spies on our hands!"

With that, he walks over to the tavern's wall, picks up a lit lantern and holds it near the man for a better look.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Spot [roll1] Listen

[Kyeudo]

The corpse suddenly animates, lurching off the table towards the goblin. Thankfuly, it moves like a drunken man, and falls to the floor instead of being able to grab the goblin. (You try getting off a table without falling when you don't know how to move your legs.)

Everyone roll inititive.

Corpse's Inititive: [roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

((Ja'khaa's Initiative roll: [roll0]))

"BLOODY BLASTED BLAZES OF KARRNATHI KHYBER-CRAP!", the lancer swears violently as the corpse lurches to its feet.

Fang bucks beneath him, horrified at the unnatural abomination. "Kyaa!" Ja'khaa shouts as he tries to calm his wolf down and prepares to throw the lantern in his hand at the corpse's alcohol-soaked face and torso.

Bloody Khyber, no! Remember those Karrns up at Scions' in dad's stories? They fought on even as they burned! I'll only bring this place down if I do this...!

He hesitates, then sets the lantern down on a nearby table. He backs up, nearly to the doors in preparation for a charge. He takes his lance in his right hand once more, feelig the good ashwood of the haft then couches it in his arm before lowering the visor of his leather-and-iron lancer's helm. Flame guide me!

[Idiotbox90]

[roll0]

"He wasn't breathing. I'm tell-" By the Traveller! He's... he's moving. Dead men, they don't move. "You, dead man, stop moving or face the consequences."

Zin, due to the environment, is unable to maneuver as well as he would prefer. Still, he is able to position his glaive between him and the corpse.

[Bitzeralisis]

[roll0]

Sripor

"Do not be alarmed. This is merely an undead creature." And yet, my mind powers are useless against it. Death will come swiftly to those whom do not banish such creatures as these. Sripor's voice is riddled with uncertainty.

[nekosama]

Morris

[roll0]

Rolled because you said everyone, not sure how you you think it i will take to notice the fight and get indoors.

[Grimfist]

"Yipe!" squeals Yezt, who quickly scrambles to get out of the crazed lancer's way. Hefting his mace and buckler and turning his body sideways to minimize the target, he prepares to engage the moving corpse.

Initiative: 1d20+3

Stats:
Hp: 11
AC: 21
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Soulmelds:
1. Wormtail belt (+1 essentia)
2. Blink shirt (+0 essentia)


Edit: Roll didn't work. Trying again...
1d20+3
Editedit: You can just roll for me Kyeudo

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Attack
[roll1] Threat
[roll2]*2 Damage with lance on a MOUNTED CHARGE.


"FOR CYRE!", Ja'khaa yells as he charges forward, lance's keen point gleaming in the lamplight.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin raises his weapon slightly and steps forward. Once within range of the creature, he brings the glaive downward strongly.

Attack:[roll0]
Damage:[roll1]

[Kyeudo]

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b30/Kyeudo/TeamTwoInn.jpg

Inititive Order
Inititive 23: Ja'khaa, at I9 after charging
Inititive 19: Zin, at G9
Inititive 18: Yezt, at G11
Inititive 11: Corpse, currently prone at I10
Inititive 9: Morris, outside the inn.
Inititive 9: Sripor, at H11

At the sight of the dead man rising from the table, most of the crowd is horriffied, and small shouts of panic and surprise can be heard amoungst yells of "Karrnathi devilry!" Several patrons make a break for the door, others back away into the corners of the room.

[Grimfist]

Meantooth leaps foreward, growling, and brings his morningstar crashing down on the prone undead.

Attack: [roll0]
Threat: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa grunts as he heaves back on his lance and it exits the walking corpse with a sickening splortch. Fully two-thirds of the ashwood lance drips with stale blood from the malevolent cadaver.

He prances backward just as Zin's blade slashes in. The wolfrider turns and readies himself once more for either another charge or to brace against one.

Use Ride-by Attack to get away, over to I8

[Kyeudo]

The corpse has stopped moving, its cold blood spreading across the floor from its wounds.

[nekosama]

Morris

Hearing the commotion from the inside the inn Morris runs in to see what last he say as a helpless dying man, now having been recently run though by a lance.

"Zin, what has happened in here?"

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa spits savagely and growls, "Karrnathi crap is what it is!"

"By the fury of the Flame, this city might just have some sorta necromongrel saboteur on its hands!" he continues as he tilts his lance downwards, trying to get the blood to drip off.

[Kyeudo]

OOC: Since it looks like everyone's been afforded a chance to act, Can everyone make a Listen check?

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"I wonder what just happened." Sripor looks a bit nervous for a split second, but then becomes calm again.

[roll0]

[Idiotbox90]

Zin leans against a nearby table, polearm lain over his lap.

"Karnathi monster. Why, though, was it here?"

[roll0]

[Grimfist]

Yezt snorts derisively, puffing out his chest a little. "You call that thing a monster? Meantooth has found nastier beasts in his shoes, polearm-swinger."

Listen: [roll0]

[nekosama]

Morris

Still feeling lost as to what is going on Morris listens carefully to try and get caught up.

[roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

Listen check [roll0]

Spitting once more, Ja'khaa takes a scrap of oilcloth from his pack and wipes his lance clean of gore. He then slings his shield onto his back, lays his lance across the pommel of his saddle and draws his dagger.

He flips it through his fingers absently and stares at the mutilated body of a man who, less than an hour ago, they had been trying to save. May the Flame preserve us...

Suddenly, his furry ears prick up. He hears an erratic buzzing... dak-dak-kkadakka-dak-dak-dak-dak... Reaching into his ear with a grimy black nail, he squiggles around and fishes out a strange, earwax-coated beetle.

Flicking it away, he remarks, "Check yer ears, folks! Afore a-huntin' we go, we best need ta mak sure we're in top form..."

[Kyeudo]

Sripor, Zin, and Morris all can hear the faint sound of screaming coming from outside, some distance away.

[Grimfist]

"Check yer ears, folks! Afore a-huntin' we go, we best need ta mak sure we're in top form..."

"Hah. Some men say shaman-kings like Meantooth have the ears of bats" the goblin brags, "but really it is the bats who have ears like Meantooth does!"

Yezt crosses his arms and smirks, oblivious to the screams coming from the streets.

[nekosama]

Morris

"Oh what now! Do you not hear more screaming from the village. Something is definitely going. I would feel more comfortable with someone to go with me to check it out. Anyone willing to come?"

[Grimfist]

Morris

"Oh what now! Do you not hear more screaming from the village. Something is definitely going. I would feel more comfortable with someone to go with me to check it out. Anyone willing to come?"

"Doubt Meantooth's words, do you stranger? Fine, Meantooth will follow you outside, just so he can laugh at you when nothing we see. Then maybe you understand why not to challenge a shaman's words."

And with that, Meantooth grabs the taller changeling by the arm and pulls him over to the door, kicking it open impetuously.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Bloody blazes..." Ja'khaa mutters as the others move out.

"Hold up! Ye need cavalry support, that ye do...", he says as he spurs after them.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"Excuse me? Can you please wait for me...?"

Sripor watches as the changelings and goblins get smaller and smaller from increasing distance.

"OH COME ON! AT LEAST WAIT!" Sripor shouts angrily. He runs after the others, whilst putting up a invisible Inertal Armor.

[Kyeudo]

Outside, the sounds of screaming can be heard more clearly. The sounds of pain and terror, while still faint, are heard by all. Several of the patrons, obviously unsettled by the talk of Karnnathi invasions and fight against the undead creature that took place before their eyes, have proceeded you out the door. They stand, listening, shocked by what they hear.

"By the Host, what is going on?" one man asks. Another suddenly bolts down the road with a fearful cry of "My Wife!"

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor sighs. "If your wife is to die, the she will most likely be, oh, reanimated as a creepy undead monster thing. So tread carefully," advises Sripor, drawing his shortspear.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Listen [roll1] Spot

If something's up, could we please have another map? Twice tak.

Fang bucks beneath Ja'khaa and sniffs, snorts and snarls. Knowing the moods of his mount, the lancer knows that somethig is up.

Hearing the screams and seeing the general confusion, Ja'khaa moves over to a slightly more open space in the road, in preparation for the inevitable charge. He straps on his shield, sheathes his dagger and couches his lance.

He then cranes his neck, straining eyes and ears forward, eager to learn of the cause of the commotion.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin allows himself to be pulled along. The goblin is odd, but he seems to mean no harm.

"Alchemist, don't be so pessimistic. Noone's going to die. After all, that corpse at the inn was weak, slow, and stupid. What threat could more be?"

[nekosama]

Morris

Rapier drawn and ready Morris says, "So I hope one of you veterans will take the lead. I an not very good in combat."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zin allows himself to be pulled along. The goblin is odd, but he seems to mean no harm.

"Alchemist, don't be so pessimistic. Noone's going to die. After all, that corpse at the inn was weak, slow, and stupid. What threat could more be?"


Ja'khaa overhears this and hisses, "Don't say that! The Mockery will likely make it true!" Flame preserve us!

[Kyeudo]

The man running down the road is soon lost in the darkness. The screams of terror and cries of pain are coming less often, but the sounds of them can still be heard.

A man, the front of his clothing covered in blood, stumbles towards you from out of the alleyway across the street.

From inside the inn, sudden shouts can be heard.
"Crap!"
"Host protect us!"

[Miraqariftsky]

Ja'khaa remembers what had happened earlier with the other dying man... how, upon death, he had been reanimated as an undead beast. He stares hard at the man before them, debating within him whether the man would be better off if they killed him now.

No. That would still be murder. His countenance darkens in a deep frown and he says in a low voice to Morris, "You. Cover him. Give him some water and guard him well. If he dies..." at this the goblin's eyes dart to the butchered corpse within the tavern. "You know what to do. Have no mercy to that which is evil"

Turning his burning gaze atthe wounded man, Ja'khaa barks, "Hail, Cyran. What is the cause of the commotion? What are ye fleeing from?"

[Idiotbox90]

Zin keeps up with the others, his polearm at ready.

When the bloody man approaches, Zin backs away a few paces. The last time he went to help one of them, he ended up fighting an undead.

The changeling is prepared to follow the orders of Ja'khaa, who seems to have taken charge. "Sir, what do we do next?"

[nekosama]

Morris

"I second that. I am no military man and not used to all this confusion. What should I be doing?"

[Grimfist]

For the first time since the rest of the makeshift party has met him, Meantooth looks unsure...

This quickly passes.

"Grr... bloody man, you speak now, or do you want Meantooth's weapon buried in your skull?" The shaman shakes his weapon at the advancing man. Despite his confident words, he sets his stance back a little and raises his tiny buckler.

<OOC>Can I settle into a full defense before combat starts, assuming this guy is an enemy?</OOC>

Stats, just in case.

Hp: 11
AC: 21 (25 if full defense is taken)
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Soulmelds:
Worm tail belt: 1 essentia (+3 natural armor)
Blink short: 0 essentia (teleport 20 feet as a standard action)

[Kyeudo]

The man lurches forward towards Ja'kha and attempts to bite the mounted goblin. As he lunges, you can see that his throat has been torn out.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

From the inn comes a cry of pain, and the sounds of fright and terror are coming from the common room grow louder.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Attack of Opportunity with lance! [roll1] AoO damage

[roll2] Initiative

Ja'khaa jerks back and stabs reflexively with his lance at the undead but it is surprisingly swift. He misses wide and the beast gets below his guard.

In a trice, sharp yellow teeth have crunched through the goblin's flimsy leather armour. Blood spurts from a jagged shoulder wound. Ja'khaa's mouth gnashes in a silent scream of pain. The lance drops from spasming fingers... already he feels a foul taint in his flesh. Fang bucks away from and growls at the unnatural, arcanely animated corpse.

The beast's maw opens, its grinning rictus dripping goblinblood. Ja'khaa frantically signals with his knees to his wolf to back them out of there. Once they are a good five feet away, he raises his shield and draws his dagger...

But then, as he flips the small blade through his usual routine, it almost slips from his fingers. He winces both in shame and pain as he tightens his grip on the dagger's bone-wrought hilt, the blood from his wound making it slick.

"Fortun-teller! Get yer glaive-totin' arse over here and hold the center!" Ja'khaa shouts, raising his blade, making ready for a charge. "Yezt, left flank forward, mak ye ready fer melee! Morris, left flank rear, ranged support. Alchemsit Shrivver! Reserves, ranged support!"

The lancer pumps his arm, getting the blood going in muscles suddenly gone cold. His lip peels back in a snarl but he holds his temper in chack, helds back from raging, seeking to conserve his strength. "Move it, men, MOVE!"

[Miraqariftsky]

((Just in case I don't get back in time.
[roll0] Regular melee attack [roll1] Damage for a puny pathetic 2-buck dagger))

[Grimfist]

Meantooth swiftly maneuvers to his assigned position and swings his morningstar at the creature's head.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

"Methinks we should retreat back to inn, sounds like there is trouble!" The goblin grunts.

[nekosama]

Morris

Happy to not be in close with the zombies Mo stand about 10 ft behind Ja'khaa and fires his bow

[roll0] -4 taken for shooting combat
[roll1]

[Idiotbox90]

Zin is not a military man. He has never been in a battle before; he has never killed a man. Under his former tutor, he did some training in the arts of warfare, but that was not the same. He has lived a relatively easy life, never encountering trouble that he could not charm or run away from. The sudden appearance of these creatures has shocked him and he seems to be acting on instinct.

The fortune teller follows the orders of the goblin, Ja'khaa. He maneuvers himself himself in front of the undead and readies his glaive. With a cry of "For Cyre," he brings the weapon crashing down.

Attack:[roll0]Dmg:[roll1]

[Kyeudo]

OOC: Those who haven't rolled inititive yet should.

[nekosama]

Morris
[roll0]

"I did not feel sure that my shot was not going to hit you instead of the dead thing. Are you sure you want me to try shooting into combat with my bow Ja'khaa?"

[Grimfist]

Initiative: [roll0]

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

[roll0]

"See. I told you he would become a zombie-thing." Sripor sighs.

[Kyeudo]

Initive 20: Yetz's morningstar smacks into the zombie's flesh with a sickening smack, but causes little damage.

Inititive 16: Morris's arrow strikes the zombie in the leg, but causes no damage.

Inititive 15: The zombie changes its focus from Ja'hkaa to Yetz and attempts to bite the other goblin.
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]

Inititive 13: Zin glaive slices deep into the zombie's flesh, grating against bone before pulling free.

Inititive 9: Sripor sighs and shakes his head, disapointed no one listened to him when he predicted the undead.

Inititive 5: Ja'hkaa slashes at the zombie with his dagger, but his wounded arm throws his aim off.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Attack [roll1] Damage
[roll2] Knowledge Religion--- to see what my character knows about undead
[roll3] Knowledge Arcana--- ditto. I'm not sure about checks.
[roll4] Knowledge Local--- Where the heck are the temple complexes in this bloody city? Is it a city at all? Where's the bloody town watch, Flamesakes?
[roll5]Knowledge LocalInt/Wis check to remember where the Deneith enclave is in Darthun (Ja'khaa reported to the said enclave upon entering the city, right?)

PS: not yet raging, saving it for the inevitable pack.

Karmariffic!:smallbiggrin:

Ja'khaa's vision blurs with a sudden fury as he stands in the stirrups, bashes the beast's arms away with his shield's rim and slashes away in a screaming silver arc. His arm meets a certai sickly sweet, fleshy resistance but the Deneith-forged blade parts the rotten flesh easily. He ducks reflexively to avoid the sudden spurt of blood but belatedly realizes that undead hearts do not beat and their blood does not flow.

He hears the outcries of his comrades and sees the ineffective attacks of some of them. He hears the bloodcurdling screams of dying folk, civilians of Cyre within and without the walls of the tavern and his lip pulls back in an outraged snarl. "Yezt! Pull back, fla'k an' bash tha' damned thing from behind! Zin, keepit good and steady!"

The goblin's eyes cast about and his ears flick hither and yon, assessing the situation. "Morris, and Sripor, tactical wi'drawal! Scout back on the tavern, the alley and the the general bloody premises! Git a gander on if'n we bein' snuck up on! Oh, and if'n ye can, get us some torches and lots of oil!"

Despite the chaos of combat, Ja'khaa thinks back and tries to remember the ways and paths of this city as he had stumbled into Darthun, bleeding from the blades of the Valenar who ow seem so far a threat... Surely the might of the gods can turn these abominations back... damn, did I pass ay temples on my way? And where in blazes are the guvner's palace and the Deneith stronghold? I need to tell Colonel Vakyr wots happening and ta get off his fat arse!

[Kyeudo]

Ja'khaa

First, these are fresh zombies, not week old rotting ones. More pleasant to smell, not much different in a fight.
Second, What Ja'khaa knows about undead from his breif stint on the Karnnathi front can be summed up thusly: If its bony, hit it with a mace. If its fleshy, cut it with a sword. If it won't go down, get a cleric. If you don't have a cleric, use holy water.
Third, There are small churches scattered around the city, but no major temple complexes or monestaries anywhere in the city that you know of. Most priests in Eberron can't cast actual spells anyway, and most that can don't have much training in dealing with the undead.
Fourth, The day shift of the town guard is just going off watch and the next shift coming on, so right now the watch is probably scattered all over the city.
Fifth, the Deneith enclave is located to the south west of your current location, where the Orien trade road leaves the city. The enclave has been a valuble staging point for Deneith mercenaries on their way to the southern border. The compound is defensible, so unless something horrible happened, the place should hold for days or even weeks against anything short of a total assault.

[Miraqariftsky]

In a blast of cold, stinging memory, Ja'khaa remembers the bitter Karrnathi winter when fallen comrades clawed their way out of snow-dug graves and assailed their former friends. His nose flares in chagrin and he barks out, "Belay that order, Yezt! Fall back and aid the scouts! Save yer bludgeon fer the skeletons!"

The goblin pulls back his blade with a sickening splortch and pumps his arm in preparation for another strike. Damnit. I need a heavier blade...

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris stow his bow and starts running back to the inn. Looking around for other threats.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Grimfist]

"Damnit, Meantooth wants to FIGHT!" The goblin screams, nearly tossing his useless weapon to the ground in a fury. Still, he realizes the value of Jak'haa's orders and manages to restrain himself. He swiftly disengages the zombie, following Morris and Sripor back to the inn.

"Strange one... stranger one, have you a bladed weapon for Yezt?" He prompts his companions on the way back.

<OOC>Full retreat, so as not to provoke an AoO</OOC>

[Idiotbox90]

With the goblin also attacking the undead, Zin has to readjust his placement. He circles around the beast, placing it between himself and Ja'khaa. He then makes another assault, a sideways swipe aimed at the creature's torso.

[roll0](Extra +2 for flanking)[roll1]

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"That depends — would you count a spear as a blade?" Sripor puts away his shortspear, draws a crossbow, and loads it.

[Kyeudo]

Morris turns and hurries back towards the inn, stowing his bow as he does.

Realizing his morningstar is largely ineffective against undead such as these, Yetz joins Morris in heading back to the inn.

The zombie turns to the nearest creature, Ja'hkaa, and attempts to bite the goblin again.
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]
From the shadows of the alley ways branching off the streets, you can see the lurching motion of man sized forms shambling towards you, and from the inn the sounds of fear and panic are continuing to rise in volume and frequency.

Zin's glaive again strikes home. His slash opens the creature's belly, exposing the thing's intestines.

Sripor stows his spear in favor of his crossbow and quickly loads a bolt.

Ja'hkaa's knife slashes through undead flesh, exposing pale white bone.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Fire! [roll0] [roll1]

"Urh... uh oh. Why did it have to be undead!? Immune to only damaging power creatures! Grrgh!" :smallfurious:

Watching as the bolt either 1) misses or 2) bounces off the creature's skin, Sripor starts moving towards the protection of the inn. In other words, hustle.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin retains the momentum from the previous strike. He spins, taking the polearm with him, before bringing it down with an overhead attack.

"More are arriving," he shouts. "Shall we retreat?"

[roll0][roll1]

[Miraqariftsky]

The zombie bites again, yellow teeth gleamig with sickly ichor in the pale moonlight. Ja'khaa rams the base of his shield into the thing's mouth then shoves it off.

He glances around and snarls at the unholy menace ravaging his beloved motherland. Seeing the lurching shadows in the windows of the inn and having little doubt as to what they are, his mind wrestles with his conscience.

Making up his mind, he shouts out, "Scout'n party! 'Ware the undead, they're alrea'y inside! Bust the doors quick-like! If there be too many, fall back, full bloody retreat... if it be just a few, dodge 'em and loot all the liquor, oil, blades and torches ye can carry!"

"Zin, ye have the longer weapo'--- trip the damned thing and keep it down!... Oh, and watch yer back" Ja'khaa calls out. "Once they get back with either the report on enemy positions... or the flammables, we get the bloody blazes out of here, an' make for the Sou'West--- for the Deneith strong'old"

"STAY DEAD!" he shouts as he slashes out once more, disbelieving the ineffectiveness of his blows.

[roll0] Attack [roll1] Damage

Uh-oh, I'm beginning to thik this thing's got Plot Armour...

[Kyeudo]

OOC: There seems to be a small bit of confusion. There is something going on at the inn, but the new zombies coming into view are out here on the street with you.

[Miraqariftsky]

WHAT?!? Could we pleeeaaase have a map? I understood they were still comig in from the alleys... and I thought we were in the middle of the bloody street! I will change me post upon the... ahem, tacmap update...

[Grimfist]

Yezt bursts through the front door of the inn and looks around for trouble. If nothing is immediately apparent, he listens for the noise of disturbance and heads there.

[nekosama]

Morris

Coming through the door right after Yezt Mo draws his dagger and takes a good look around.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Kyeudo]

Yetz and Morris burst into the inn's common room to see the dead man back on his feat, currently clutching one of the inn's patrons and attempting to rip the man's shoulder off with its teeth as the man screams in pain and hammers upon the zombie with all his strength, but his blows have no effect upon the zombie.

Outside, the zombie turns from the goblin to the changeling with the glaive and attempts to bite the one causing it the most harm.
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]
From the alleyways shamble the corpses of a half-dozen of Darthun's citizens, clothing bloody from their own violent deaths. They could possibly charge the three warriors remaining on the street next round, even with their lurching gate and poor reflexes.

Zin steps back and brings his glaive down upon the zombie, splitting through the undead's ribcage with a snap of breaking bones.

Sripor's bolt stikes the zombie just as he realizes the futility of such an action, watching the bolt sink into the corpse's flesh with no effect.

Ja'hkaa's dagger catches the zombie in the back of the neck and rips through its spine, severing its head from its body. The zombie drops like a puppet with its stings cut.

[Grimfist]

Yezt, screaming a hundred curses in goblin, charges the reanimated corpse in front of him, attempting to bash its head in with his mace.

Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

<OOC> why didn't I invest in a freaking slashing weapon... </OOC>

Stat block:
Hp: 11
AC: 21
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Soulmelds:
Worm tail belt: 1 essentia (+3 natural armor)
Blink short: 0 essentia (teleport 20 feet as a standard action)

Edit: By the way, not actually charging. I don't really fancy having a low AC for the zombies to hit.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"EeeEEek!!! I suggest we run!" Sripor runs in any direction that is as away from the many zombies as possible.

[nekosama]

Morris

"I agree we must flee. There is little or nothing we can do without a strong cleric to save the town if each person who dies just raise up. Very soon we will be horribly outnumber and we had problems putting one down. Forge scrounging for gear lest just run."

However when he see Yezt rush into combat he can not just let him go alone. Mo will move up while drawing his dagger and slash the zombie from the oposite side.


[roll0] Removed the +2 if you think he can not get a flanking postion.
[roll1]

[Idiotbox90]

Previous turn:

The momentum from the spin added more power to Zin's attack, but also exposed him to danger. The corpse bit him hard in the forearm, easily tearing through the bright fabric that made up his sleeve. The changeling cursed, screaming in fear and pain. He was able to rip free from the beast and move backwards away from it, before bringing the blade down.

***

Current turn:

"The South-West?" The changeling is wary to go there, but even more frightened of remaining. "Let's go!"

[Grimfist]

<OOC>This post will occur as soon as the zombie gets his counterattack on Yezt</OOC>

More frustrated than ever, the goblin roars at the top of his lungs. "IT... WON'T... DIE!" He screams, "We leave now!"

Actions: Full retreat from the zombie so as not to provoke AoO, heads out of the inn while beckoning the psion and the rogue to follow him, then looks around to see if he can spot Jak and Zin.

[Miraqariftsky]

Snarling at the incomig hostiles, Ja'khaa flicks strings of gore from his dagger and jams it back ito its sheath. Leaping Fang over to where he had dropped his lance, he uses the toes of one foot to snag the butt of the weapon and pass it up to his hand whereupon he hefts it handily, couching it in the crook of his arm.

Brandishing the long lance, he calls out, "Scout'n party! Fall back! Barricade the doors o'th' way out if ye can and grab some window-poles and torches an' liquor! If we can't cut 'em, we'll roast 'em!"

Ja'khaa then motions with his shield-arm at Zin and Sripor, "Alchemist! Help the scouts with the barricade! Teller! With me, we'll hold off these buggers tell th'others're safe!"



((TO BE CONTInUEDDone.))

[Kyeudo]

Sripor, Zin, and Ja'khaa may want to actualy declare combat actions, such as moving, now that they have discussed their tactics.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"Sigh. I hate it when these kind of things happen." Sripor seems bored and unconcerned now that he got some time to calm down and is somewhere away from the zombies, but he still moves quickly as he rushes to barricade the door.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin moves forward quickly, slashing at one of the creatures that have invaded the town. The blow is powerful, but it is clear that it unbalanced him.

((OOC: Charging, if possible. Attack:[roll0][roll1]))

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] charging mounted attack with lance [roll1] Damage *2=14[roll2] Spot--- relative positions and anything that can be used [roll3] Listen --- how's the fight inside going?

Used Ride-by Attack to avoid AoOs and to extend movement rate. Currerntly oh-so ready for more AoOs provoked from lance's reach.

Poke and run! Ja'khaa charges the zombie closest to the inn's doors. The lance's point skewers the abomination through and through but, not wanting to waste his momentum, he rips it free of the walking corpse and wheels around then dashes back to where he started.

There, side-by-side with Zin, he sets his lance once more, prepared to either charge or repel.

[Kyeudo]

Yetz's morningstar slam's into the undead, but the creature ignores the heavy blow.

Morris slashes at the zombie, but the man the zombie is grappling with gets in the way. Morris barely averts the slash in time, slicing through empty air.

Zin charges the advancing undead, but his swing fails to connect.

Sripor flees back to the inn, away from the advancing undead. Once inside, he begins to barricade the door, hoping that the others can deal with the undead already inside.

Ja'hkaa charges, his wolf mount loping down the cobbled street as swift as the cold wind blowing through the city. His lance connects solidly with the abomination's head, tearing it from the things shoulders and sending it rolling down the street like some grotesque ball. As the lifeless body falls to the ground, the goblin wheels his mount around and moves to the side of Zin, prepared to face the undead together.

Inside, the zombie ignores the new comers and continues to gnaw upon the man in its clutches. The man's struggles against the zombie are growing weaker, as he is losing blood quickly.
Outside, the zombies charge, but several block the others ability to charge, so all six can't attack the two fighters still on the street.

Zombie1 (against Ja'hkaa)
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]

Zombie2 (against Ja'hkaa)
Attack:[roll2]
Damge:[roll3]

Zombie3 (against Zin)
Attack:[roll4]
Damge:[roll5]

Zombie4 (against Zin)
Attack:[roll6]
Damge:[roll7]

Ja'hkaa

As for things you may be able to make use of, you might be able to use a lamp post for some cover, but otherwise the street lacks anything useful.
You can't hear any different sounds coming from inside, so you have no idead if things are going better or worse.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

As soon as the door is effectively barricaded, Sripor will begin looking for things that can quickly destroy zombies.

[Grimfist]

Yezt becomes extremely agitated by the uselessness of his weapon, and his voice trembles as he runs back toward the bar. "MY KINGDOM FOR A DAGGER!" He screams at the barkeep and remaining patrons, simultaneously scouring the bar top for a large bottle of wine or something similar.

Actions: 5-foot step to the side (he withdrew from the zombie's reach last round) and then move toward the bar. If no one is able to provide him with a dagger, grabs a large bottle (should there be one in the area) and use a standard action to break it for use as an improvised dagger. (I'll gladly take the -4 to attack if I can just do some freaking damage...)

[nekosama]

Morris


"I will have your kindom if you ever get one, here have my dagger."

Mo hands his dagger to Yezt and then draws his spare.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0]AoO! with lance [roll1]
Drop lance as free action then whip out the trusty ol' dagger. RAGE!<<which, if I'm not mistaken, will last for a maximum of 8 rounds.
[roll2]regular dagger attack [roll3]

((Story post pending))

[Grimfist]

Action: Ok, with the standard action he would have used last turn to break a bottle, Yezt puts his mace back and shifts the dagger to his main hand.

Next round: Yezt charges the zombie confidently, taking a vicious swipe with Morris' dagger in an attempt to sever it's head.

Attack- [roll0]
Confirmation, just in case- [roll1]
Damage- [roll2]

Stat block:
Hp: 11
AC: 19 (-2 from charge)
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
1 essentia in wormtail belt, none in blink shirt

[Idiotbox90]

The final bite was all it took to brings Zin down. From a mixture of pain and blood loss, Zin collapses. He is not yet dead, but is clearly losing life by the moment.

((OOC: Zin is at -3 now.))

[Kyeudo]

Yetz takes up Morris's dagger and this time manages to sink the blade deep into the zombie's shoulder.

Morris draws his other dagger and watches for an oppourtunity to attack the undead.

Zin falls, bleeding from the bite wounds inflicted upon him.

Sripor works to drag one of the heavy nearby tables over to bar the door, ignoring the fight going on nearby. As he works, the remaining patrons stream from the room, taking any exit availible from the room. People flee from the front doors, rush up the stairs, and into the kitchen and presumably out through the back door in droves.

Ja'hkaa's lance pieces one of the undead as it closes in, wedging deep into the zombie's chest, but the undead struggles on towards you, driving the lance deeper into its chest. Releasing his lance, Ja'hkaa once more draws his dagger, slashing the undead across its belly, spilling blood and entrails on the cobblestone street, but the walking corpse continues to attack.

Outside, the zombies break off their attack on Zin as he falls, the brightness of his life force diming, and turn to attack Ja'hkaa.

Zombie1
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]

Zombie2
Attack:[roll2]
Damge:[roll3]

Zombie3
Attack:[roll4]
Damge:[roll5]

Zombie4
Attack:[roll6]
Damge:[roll7]

[Grimfist]

At the sight of the gaping wound he inflicted with his attack, all traces of doubt flee Meantooth's face. Fire returns to the shaman's eyes, and with a loud growl he viciously rips the dagger from the zombie's shoulder and prepares for another strike.

"You, dagger man!" He yells to Morris, cautiously circling the grappling undead. "Step foreward, we flank him NOW!"

On this last word Yezt springs forward, thrusting the dagger into the skull of the undead horror.

Actions: I'm not sure if Morris is in melee range of the zombie or not. If he is, Yezt moves around the creature until he is in a flanking position. If Morris is not, Yezt moves to the square opposite the most convenient square for Morris to move to on his action. Regardless, he attempts to finish the zombie off.

Attack: [roll0] Subtract 2 if flanking does not apply.
Damage: [roll1]
Threat: [roll2] Subtract 2 if flanking does not apply.

[nekosama]

Morris

Mo Takes a 5 foot step back into range of the zombie to flank it with the goblin.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Miraqariftsky]

dagger-slash [roll0] slash-damage [roll1]
wolf-bite [roll2] bite-damage [roll3] t-t-trip [roll4]

AC 20 HP is down to 7 / 15.

"NGYYAAARRRGGGHH!" The goblin shouts as clammy teeth rake across his leg. Fang growls deep, then, shaking herself free of the unnatural stupour of the zombies, the bitch lunges and clamps her teeth heavily onto the undead's thigh. She pulls back hard, ripping away both flesh and mayhap some modicum of balance from the shambling hulk of unbreathing flesh.

"DIE, YE DAMNED NECROMONGRELS!", Ja'khaa yells as he leans forward into yet another shorthanded slash across the zombie's other thigh, attempting to topple it.

[Kyeudo]

Yetz and Morris take daggers to the undead still grappling with the dying man. Their flashing blades sink home, and the zombie falls to the ground.

Zin's bleeding has staunched itself, but he is not in good shape. (Assuming the use of an action point.)

Sripor continues to work on barricading the door.

Ja'hkaa continues to make a stand against the undead. His slashing dagger and his vicious wolf mount rip into dead flesh as he fights. His wolf's teeth sink deep into the zombies leg and pull the undead down. The corpse lays there on the cobblestones, unmoving.

The remaining zombies close around Ja'hkaa, attempting to sink their teeth into him. Strangely, none attack the wolf.

Zombie2
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]

Zombie3
Attack:[roll2]
Damge:[roll3]

Zombie4
Attack:[roll4]
Damge:[roll5]

Zombie5
Attack:[roll6]
Damge:[roll7]

Zombie6
Attack:[roll8]
Damge:[roll9]

[Grimfist]

Snarling savagely, Yezt leaps upon the felled corpse and brutally decapitates it, slashing the neck open and ripping its head off with his bare hands.

"Good work, dagger man. You make a worthy ally, even to shaman-king Meantooth." He proclaims to Morris, punching the changeling's arm in admiration. "See if hurt-man can be saved, or kill him. Then maybe you help strange-man with the door. Meantooth is going outside."

Let's see what sort of mincemeat my allies have made of the other zombie... He thinks as he strides over to Sripor's makeshift barricade. Focusing his mind on his spiritual vestments, Yezt unleashes the power of his blink shirt, teleporting through the wall and 20 feet into the street in front of the inn. "Grak'tak!" He swears, seeing the downed hexblade and Jak'haa surrounded by a half-dozen fresh zombies.

[Miraqariftsky]

dagger-slash (1d20+6) slash-damage (1d3+6)
wolf-bite (1d20+3) bite-damage (1d6+1) t-t-trip (1d20+2)

Ja'khaa's stats: HP 6 (inclusive of the 2 temp HP from rage) AC 20

"GYAARAAAGGGHH!" yells the goblin as the foe he fought fell heavily onto the cobblestones, sinews severed ad entrails spilled and reeking.

The foul undead swarm once more upon Ja'khaa, Fang and Zin, swiping dumbly with stiff arms and snapping madly with slavering jaws. Ja'khaa glimpses through the sweet, blood-mad haze of his rage that the fortune-telling spearman twitches on the ground and manages to curl himself up into a protective fetal position right before having to defend himself against the foebeasts' storm of strikes.

One of the zombies stumbles over Zin's prone form and its snapping jaws gnash empty air. Ja'khaa jerks his left knee, making Fang leap to her left, neatly sidestepping another zombie.

The space is too crowded, however, and the undead pile in hard and fast. GRZZZKKK! Two of the beasts lunge at Ja'khaa with open mouths but only manage to latch onto the heavy oaken surface of the wolfrider's shield as he swats it at them.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] regular attack
[roll1] damage
[roll2] Fang's bite
[roll3] damage
[roll4] wolf's trip-check

With his shield thus occupied and his arm's reflexes weakened from blood loss, the goblin is unable to properly defend himself. A hulking brute of a zombie, fire-eyed and bristle-bearded, charges forward, opens its mouth to a ghastly width and bites down on Ja'khaa's head.

The lancer recoils from the monstrosity but he still feels the bruising force of its jaws and the scraping of its teeth on his cheeks. Thankful for the grace of a helmet, he pulls himself back, then slams his dagger into the beast's neck, ripping it across the throat as he screams, "VOR ZYRE! NYARRAGAAAAH! THE BLACKCLAW FOR CYRE!" Beneath him, he feels Fang lunge at the brute, her jaws snapping at the blighter's belly.

Suddenly, he sees a flash of light behind the undead mob and starts back in surprise when he sees Yezt Meantooth step into the road from thin air. "Pull them down or push them back, comrade! I need some space!"

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"This is just getting pathetic, now, really..." mumbles Sripor. "And my name is Sripor! 'Strange-man' is slightly insulting."

Stop barricading and go look for something that'd kill a bunch of zombies at once. I prefer something that makes fires and goes boom, too.

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris watchs the injured man very carefully. Fully ready to plunge his dagger into him if he appears to be changing.

[roll0]

[Kyeudo]

Yetz decapitates the corpse, then vanishes from the inside of the inn, reapearing outside on the street. (Last I checked, Morris looked like a human. Zin is the one who looks like a changeling.)

Morris examines the injured man carefully. He still breathes, though his breathing is rapid and shallow and his bleeding has not stopped.

Sripor finishes bracing the front door with the heavy table, then begins to search for something that may help against the zombies, something of a pyrotechnic nature. (You're in a bar, so I'd go for the hard liquor. Probably kept behind the bar *hint hint*)

Ja'hkaa and his mount continue to make a stand against the undead. Snaping teeth and slashing dagger cut through dead flesh, desprately trying to .

Still surrounding Ja'hkaa, the zombies ignore the newly arrived goblin, focusing their attacks upon the wolf rider.

Zombie2
Attack:[roll0]
Damge:[roll1]

Zombie3
Attack:[roll2]
Damge:[roll3]

Zombie4
Attack:[roll4]
Damge:[roll5]

Zombie5
Attack:[roll6]
Damge:[roll7]

Zombie6
Attack:[roll8]
Damge:[roll9]

[Grimfist]

"We need to drag our other friend from danger!" Yells back Yezt. [goblin]"Fight defensively and move out of range next time we down one! Try to draw them off so I can drag him back to the inn, then meet up with me."

And with that he charges what looks like the most injured zombie, ramming his dagger into the creature's spine.

Attack: [roll0] (including 2 for flanking and 2 for charge)
Threat: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

Stat block:

HP: 11/11
AC: 19 (-2 from charge)
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Essentia: 2 in wormtail belt, none in blink shirt

[Miraqariftsky]

OOC: I did not know about the defensive fighting option until Grimfist mentioned it. Newb, yes. Sorry and thank you. Oh, and I forgot that barbarians lose 2 AC when raging... so technically, three of those previous attacks hit... and thankfully none of the current attacks hit AC 18. Yes, he's been knocked down to -7 HP. These actions might very well be Ja'khaa's last heroic stand... if they are at all counted.

Ja'khaa's attack against Z#1
[roll1] damage from dagger
[roll2] Fang's attack against Z#5
[roll3] damage from wolfbite
[roll1d20+2 trip-check



((Story-post pending))

[Miraqariftsky]

((Trip-check take 2: [roll0]))

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor grabs some very alcoholic beverages, and sets off to find some matches or a similar item.

[nekosama]

Morris

Unsure of how is companions are fairing out of doors Mo runs to the window to try and asses the situation.

[roll0]

[Kyeudo]

Charging the mass of zombies surrounding the wounded wolf rider, Yetz rams his dagger into the base of the walking corpse's spine, severing it cleanly. It falls with a thud upon the road.

Inside, Morris peers from the glass window of the inn. Outside on the street he can clearly see Ja'hkaa battling a four zombies in a fierce rage, aided only by his wold mount and Yetz, the body of Zin lying nearby.

Sripor heads behind the bar to search for flammable liquor. His search yeilds several bottles of Cyran whiskey, as well as the halfling barkeep, sitting on a short stool underneath the counter, muttering to himself and looking, of all things, to be extremely annoyed. "Of all the days I had to give the bouncers off, why did I have to pick tonight?" Spotting Sripor, he says gruffly, "What da' ya want?"

Back outside, Ja'hkaa savagely plunges his dagger up to the hilt through the eye of one of the undead, then rips the blade free. The undead creature falls backwards and lays unmoving across the Zin's body. Ja'hkaa's snarling wolf mount snaps at the zombies, only biting a few fingers off a zombies hand, but pulling the undead off its feet.

The zombies are unrelenting, however. The zombies that remain standing savage the berserker goblin with their powerful bites. The fire goes out of the goblin, and he slumps over in the saddle, bleeding and unconcious.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"You got anything that can make a fire?" asks Sripor to the barkeep. "A match, torch, lit candle, they'll all work."

[Grimfist]

Before most of the zombies can turn around and react, Yezt dashes over to the last unmangled zombie corpse, plunging his dagger through its eyesocket to ensure that it will not rise again. Unfortunately this leaves him in a vulnerable position, and he braces himself for the impending attack of the nearest undead.

Stat block:

HP: 11
AC: 21
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Essentia: 2 in wormtail belt, none in blink shirt

[nekosama]

Morris

Not wanting to go outside Morris will draw his bow and try and fire through a window or slot in the door. Knowing that it will not do much damage but might slow the mass of zombies down.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Kyeudo]

Yetz makes sure that a zombie will never rise again. With his guard temporarily down, a zombie lunges at him, jaws wide.

Zombie5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Morris fires from inside the inn. His arrow punches through the glass, sending a spray of shards tinkling down upon the stone road. The arrow, deflected off course by the window pane, imbeds itself into the corner of a building on the far side of the road.

The barkeep digs in his shirt pocket, pulling out a pipe and a packet of tindertwigs. He hands the tindertwigs to Sripor, saying "Here ya go. Just don't burn the place down."

Fang snaps at the zombie, loyaly defending her fallen master.
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Trip Attempt: [roll4]
Zombie's Strength Check: [roll5]

The zombies turn from the fading Ja'hkaa to the newly arrived goblin and attack. The zombie pulled to the ground by Fang, rises to its feet (As well as the zombie tripped this round, if Fang was successful) and attacks as well. (AoOs for both Fang and Yetz)

Fang's AoO
Attack: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Zombie2
Attack: [roll8]
Damage: [roll9]

Zombie5
Attack: [roll10]
Damage: [roll11]

Zombie6
Attack: [roll12]
Damage: [roll13]

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"I'll try not to," says Sripor, who then rushes over to the window, opens it, and stares out at the morbid scene.

[Grimfist]

Yezt skillfully throws himself out of the path of the first zombie that attacked him while he knelt, only to find himself in the path of two others. Cursing in goblin, he manages to punch the first away with his buckler. The second zombie actually clamps onto his arm with powerful teeth, but the shaman's skin is hard as bark, and he quickly shakes the creature off before it can do him any real damage. Ignoring the pathetic swing by the third zombie, Yezt takes a swipe at the rising zombie and then lunges toward the one that bit his arm.

AoO attack- [roll0]
AoO damage- [roll1]

Normal attack- [roll2]
Normal damage- [roll3]

Stats:

Hp: 11
AC: 21
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Essentia: 2 in wormtail belt, none in blink shirt.

[nekosama]

Morris


I sure hope I do not hit any of the living people

"Get out of there!"


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Kyeudo]

Yetz's flashing knife guts the off balance zombie, and it falls once more, this time unmoving.

Morris's arrow finds its target this time, striking the last standing zombie in the back, but to no noticable effect.

Sripor arrives at the window, to see a scene somewhat less bleak than the last time he glanced out upon the street. Only one zombie remains standing, with an angry wolf and the knife wielding goblin facing the mindless corpse.

Fang lunges for the nearest zombie's throat. Her jaws close around the undead's neck with sound of vertebrae snapping. She shakes the limp body once before dropping it to the ground with a thud, then lunges for the last one standing.

Fang
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip Attempt: [roll2]
Zombie's Strength Check: [roll3]

The zombie continues to attack, mindlessly unaware that it is now outnumbered.

Zombie6
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

[Grimfist]

Letting out a roar unfitting for one his size, Yezt literally leaps upon the last standing undead, throwing all of his weight behind the dagger and driving it deep into the creature's ribcage.

Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"...well, so much for that." Sripor waits patiently for more orders.

[nekosama]

Morris

"I do not see any more undead yet. We should grab the wounded or dead that we can and leave as quickly as we can. Is there a cart and a beast to pull it in the stable or near by?"


[roll0]
[roll1] To try and remember something that could carry the hurt or dead out of town relativly fast.

[Kyeudo]

Yetz's dagger plunges into the zombie's chest, but does not stop the shambling corpse.

Morris searches for some way out of town. Nothing capable of carrying several people is visible on the street, and he doesn't recall any carts or wagons in the inn's stables.

Sripor stands still for a moment, trying to figure out what to do.

Fang lunges again, trying to bring down the last threat to her master.

Fang
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip Attempt: [roll2]
Zombie's Strength Check: [roll3]

The zombie once more attempts to bite the goblin, somehow ignoring the large wolf attempting to disembowel it.

Zombie6
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

[Grimfist]

Glancing back at the tavern where the crowbow bolts came from, Yezt notices Morris standing in the window. "Crossbow man, please get tavern door open for when Grimfist retreats!" He yells back, plunging his bloody dagger into the gaping chest wound he'd inflicted on the zombie with his last attack.

Attack- [roll0]
Threat- [roll1]
Damage- [roll2]

Stats-

Hp: 11
AC: 21
Fort: +5
Ref: +5
Will: +0
Essentia: Two in wormtail belt, none in blink shirt.

[Grimfist]

<OOC>Bad roll. I'm gonna use an action point to modify my attack, leaving me with 4 left.

Modifier to last attack- [roll0]

Edit: That brings it up to 16! Bite 6 lethal damage zombie!</OOC>

[nekosama]

Morris

Hearing the plea to get the door ready Morris moves the tables just enough that one person at a time can get through. He then steels himself to make a dash out to try and grab one of the downed fighters.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor counts the tindertwigs before putting them and the wine into his backpack.

[Kyeudo]

Yetz's dager strikes home once more, slashing deeper into the fallen zombie's chest.

Morris moves the table back from the door enough that someone can get through the door.

Sripor counts 6 tindertwigs before stuffing them and the whiskey into his pack.

Fang goes for the tripped zombie's throat.

Fang
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

The zombie staggers back to its feet (AoOs for Yetz and Fang), and continues to try and sink its teeth into the small goblin.

Fang's AoO
Attack: [roll2]

Zombie6
Attack: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]

[Kyeudo]

Forgot to roll damage for Fang

Damage: [roll0]
Crit Confrim: [roll1]

[Grimfist]

Yezt once again throws his weight behind the dagger, sinking the blade deep into the zombie's chest cavity.

Attack- [roll0]
Threat- [roll1]
Damage- [roll2]

[Kyeudo]

(Skipping Sripor and Morris's actions to save time. Looks like we can drop out of inititive for the time being.)

Yetz's dagger grates against bone as he stabs it into the zombie's shoulder, doing little damage. Fang's teeth find the undead's throat and crush the thing's spine with the loud snapping of bone. The thing falls limp from the wolf's jaws.

For now the street is clear, but from the way the wolf warily watches the shadows, growling softly, you expect more of the walking dead soon.

For Everyone:

480 XP for everyone. Enjoy.

[nekosama]

Morris

Seeing the last moving zombie stop moving he checks the man at the bar. Readying an action to stab the man in the heart if it looks like he is dead or turning.

[Kyeudo]

The man is unconcious, but is still breathing, but just barely. He's still bleeding heavily from his wounds.

[Grimfist]

Yezt, hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush of combat, walks over to Zin and grabs the unconscious changeling's arm, starting to drag him toward the door of the tavern. "C'mere, wolf. Follow the desperate and uninjured goblin!" he says soothingly in the wolf's master's language, whistling quietly and trying to get her to follow.

[Grimfist]

<OOC>Forgot the wild empathy check.</OOC>

Wild Empathy- [roll0]

[Kyeudo]

Can I get a Handle Animal check from Yetz?

[Grimfist]

Can I get a Handle Animal check from Yetz?
I guess my wild empathy check didn't do the trick. Will it net me a bonus on the handle animal though?

Handle Animal- [roll0]

Edit: Wow, nice rolls.

[Kyeudo]

(Wild Empathy is like Diplomacy for animals. Handle Animal is getting them to do what you want them to do. Also, last I checked, one of the zombies bit you for 5 damage. It got a 21 on its attack roll.)

Yetz is able to drag the changling back toward the inn without incident. Fang follows the goblin, though she seems uneasy. As the pair make it to the door, more undead can be seen shambling out of the gloom towards the inn.

[Grimfist]

(Wild Empathy is like Diplomacy for animals. Handle Animal is getting them to do what you want them to do. Also, last I checked, one of the zombies bit you for 5 damage. It got a 21 on its attack roll.)

Yeah, I have 21 AC. When attack ties AC the attack misses, right?

Edit: D'oh, nevermind. I just checked SRD.

[Kyeudo]

Yeah, I have 21 AC. When attack ties AC the attack misses, right?

Nope. AC is like a Save DC. You have to at least meet it to suceed, so the zombie bit you.

EDIT: Just got ninja's by the SRD! How'd that happen?

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris will go out into the street to help move the fortune teller into the dubiously relative safety of the Inn.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"Uhm... that was weird. And unexpected," says Sripor, addressing the recently-fought zombie attack. "Let's not leave the other changeling and sir bossy gobli person outside."

Sripor will start moving aside the barricade, but keep it somewhere were it can quickly be reassembled.

[Kyeudo]

All of a sudden, from behind the bar you hear an incredulous voice say "Unexpected! Unexpected would be Valenar raiders popping up in the middle of town! Do you realize the Karnnathi border is at least fifteen hundred miles from here? What are undead doing in the south of Cyre?!"

The halfling barkeep comes out from around the bar, surveying the damage caused by the fleeing patrons and the brawl with the zombie. He does not look happy.

[nekosama]

Morris

"We do not have much time to ponder more of the undead are coming this was. Probably attracted by all the noise the fighting made. Arrggh! My rapier and bow are almost useless and going into fight with a dagger is never a good plan. Do you happen to have any edged weapons anywhere in the inn? Like a short sword or machete?"

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor
"And I'm angry because I'm useless without really being able to damage those undead! ...do you want me to throw some Grease on them? And it's that very spooky threatening grease I was talking about, too. Should make those undead slip-'n-fall. Slip-'n-fall."

[Kyeudo]

The barkeep rolls his eyes at the mention of weapons. "Edged weapons? What do you think this place is? an armory? The only sharp objects around here are the cook's knives." The halfling sighs, then seems resigned to his fate. "We might as well head upstairs. If we are being invaded by undead, it will be easier to hold them off at the top of the stairs instead of down here."

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris carries helps carry the sick where everyone decides to make a stand. After the first trip upstairs he checks to see if the staircase could somehow be knocked down after the all got upstairs.

[Grimfist]

After helping to carry the wounded inside and upstairs, Yezt pokes the bitemark on his arm gingerly, wincing slightly. It'll heal... he thinks to himself, spitting in the wound and clasping his free hand over it.

"Should Meantooth see how far dead-ones are spread?" The wounded goblin asks, gesturing toward the roof and teleporting forward a couple of feet in demonstration. "Or need you his great muscles to help with the... moving things?"

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor, who seems to be getting more and more annoyed with every passing second, finally yells in frustration. "Useless! I'm so useless! But just wait 'til I level, heh."

And pay no attention to the fourth-wall breaking.

[Kyeudo]

"Quit your whining and help me with him." The barkeep barks at Sripor, pointing at the wounded man on the floor. The halfling moves to pick him up by the feet, obviously intending Sripor to carry the man's shoulders.

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

"Fine." Sripor proceeds to help with the wounded man.

[nekosama]

Morris

"I do not have much hope that the zombies will pass us by here. Hey Innkeeper is there a way to the roof from inside the inn?"

[Kyeudo]

The bartender puzzles for a minute, then says "No, not from inside the inn. That reminds me, though. There should be a trapdoor to the attic in one of these rooms somewhere. It's been so long since I used them that I can't remember which one. Help me stow this stiff in one of the rooms and then we'll look for it."

Downstairs, the sound of heavy fists banging on the door can be heard. It seems that Morris's predictions are correct and the undead have decided the inn contains the living.

[nekosama]

Morris

"Unless that stuff is worth your life drop it and help me look now. That barricade is not going to stall them for long and we will have to hoist the unconscious bodies up into the attic. Not sure how to get the wolf up there though."

And that badly bleeding guy looks like he might be a goner. Maybe leave him for the last trip and if we run out time he could a distraction to the undead.


Cuple search checks for the ceilings
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[Kyeudo]

The halfling heads his own way down the hall, looking in the rooms as he goes for the trapdoor. Morris, heading down a different hallway, doesn't find the trapdoor in any of the rooms he searches. Instead, he finds a door, locked or barricaded from the inside. When he first attempts to open the door, a small shriek of fright can be heard from inside. A man's voice, obviously worried, calls from inside the room "Who's there?"

[nekosama]

Morris

"My name is Morris. The ground floor is soon to be overrun by undead attracted to the inn because we were able to kill off the first dozen or so. Does you room have a hatch or panel in the ceiling?"


[roll0]
[roll1]

How many rooms are there?

[Kyeudo]

"Thank the Host, I thought you might be the undead come to kill us." There is the sound of something heavy being dragged across the wooded floor, then the door opens. In the doorway stands a human man, well-muscled with dark hair and a blue-green dragonmark visible on his upper arm. "There isn't any trapdoor or panel in here. Why do you ask?"

Behind him in the room is a slim human woman, looking much relieved that it's not zombies on the other side of the door.

Morris

The man believes he's telling the truth.

[nekosama]

Morris

"Looking for a way place to hide that the zombies can not climb too or is very defensible. Also maybe cut a way onto the roof and move to an adjacent roof so they lose our immediately trail. We have wounded if either of you are healers."

[Kyeudo]

The woman looks up at the mention of wounded. "My skill isn't as great as a Jorasco healer, but I might be able to do something for your wounded. Please, take me to them."

I'll see if I can find your trapdoor for you." The big man moves off down the hall, searching each room as he goes.

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris show her to the room that the downed fighters are in.

"Thank you for your efforts. If you can get them to their feet we would have a much better chance of getting out of here alive."

[Kyeudo]

The woman first kneels by the worst injured, the goblin Ja'hkaa. She lays her hands on his chest and speaks a few soft words, and his wounds instantly begin to close. She repeats the process with the fallen changling as well.


10 hp to Ja'hkaa, and 4 to Zin.

[Idiotbox90]

Zin's face changes as he is revived, mimicing both the goblin who fought alongside him, the zombie that nearly killed him, and the woman who just healed him. Finally, his face returns to normal, noseless and pale. He blinks rapidly and takes in his surroundings. The changeling stares at his wounds and then at the woman who just healed him.

"The Traveller smiles upon me once again, for I am allowed to walk the world for another day. Thank you, ma'am. I thought I would die."

[nekosama]

Morris

"I wish we could tell you that we are out of danger but there still is an imminent threat. The wave that took you and goblin down was defeated but the din brought a 2nd wave that is even now trying to get through the simple barricade. The undead are renowned for their patience and I doubt if they will just give up. Not to mention that what ever made them might be attracted to the scene."

[Kyeudo]

"Don't thank me. Thank the Host instead. I am but their tool."

[Idiotbox90]

"My thanks to the Host, then. So, we're still under attack?" The fortune teller seems oddly calm. "Did anyone bring my weapon? If not, no matter. I have a spare blade I keep hidden."

[Grimfist]

Still in the main room of the tavern and listening to the repeating pulse of undead hammering on the doors, Meantooth grows ever more restless, pondering his situation whilst piling more pieces of furniture on the crude barricade.

How is it that the great shaman-king Meantooth is reduced to sitting helpless in a tavern, waiting to be beset by a crowd of the walking dead? He thinks. Never since my salvaging days have I been reduced to being a victim.

As he glances about the room, Yezt's gaze settles upon the limp figures of his fallen allies. Truely, this situation seems hopeless, he considers, eying the ceiling and imagining the safety which lies beyond on the rooftop. For what seems like an eternity guilt and remorse hang upon his face and his spiritual vestments begin to glow...

"No!" he barks, extinguishing the glow of his blink shirt. These two wouldn't run away, so if I did what kind of beast-lord would I be? He thinks to himself, walking over to take a stand by his fallen allies and sneering defiantly at the front door as it shivers under a rain of blows. Just then Morris reenters the main room along with a woman- Yezt stares dumbfounded as she walks over, reviving Zin and Jak'haa.

Suddenly realizing that someone may be watching him, Yezt quickly recomposes himself, puffing up his chest and yelling in common at his fellow zombie-slayers. "Finally waken, you are??? Well good! Meantooth was about to leave you for dead if you slept much longer!"

Despite his brash behavior, the goblin shaman is obviously a little bit embarrassed.

[Kyeudo]

The woman does what she can for the wounded man, but after expending most of her abilities on Ja'hkaa and Zin the most she can do is stabilize his condition.

[nekosama]

Morris

"Any luck finding the attic door?"


going back to the rooms, and pop into any room unchecked o the way.
[roll0]

[Idiotbox90]

Zin sits up with some difficulty and presses a small button on the heel of his boot. With an audible click a sharpened blade pops out.

"I'd rather have a real weapon, but this will do. This inn, it's secure for now, right?"

[nekosama]

Morris

"There is a barricade in front of the door, but it will not keep them long if they put any real effort into getting in."

[Kyeudo]

Morris

The next room after the closed room contains a trap door in the cieling.

[nekosama]

Morris

"I found the door to the attic. Lets get it open and check it out."


Morris looks around something to move under the hatch temporally to ease getting into. I.E. table, dresser, end table.

[Kyeudo]

Morris climbs drags the bed over underneath the trapdoor, and opens it up. The space above is dark and foreboding, although considering whats outside its as welcome as the sight of home.

[nekosama]

Morris

"Hey guys I am going to check this space out to see if might work as a place to hide. Anyone have a light source and some rope for me to tie up hear to help others get up?"



Not if it is a climb check or something like a str check to see if Morris can pull himself up into the attic.
[roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

Three foul befanged mouths ripping into his flesh. His dagger hanging limp in a hand bloody and bruised. Hot arterial blood spurting from gashes on his neck. Cold pain as he is eaten alive.

His vision blurs. The rage fades. The pain dims.

The breath of death washes over him. The doors of Dolurrh open, the maw of the sepulchre gapes wide in undying hunger for yet another soul.

Silvern suffering. Burning bliss.

Suddenly, the being that was once a goblin named Ja'khaa opens his eyes and sees not the darkness of Dolurrh. He opens his eyes to see an everlasting day, an undying Flame.

Beyond, below, all around, there swirl threads of shadow and of darkness, seething with malice. The sulfurous fumes of Khyber and the choking reek of Xoriat tremble at the touch of the Flame, but still they hold their claws poised above the heart of the world, beyond the Flame's purifying tongues.

Ja'khaa feels his very essence dissolving into the

Dur, my love, I come for you at last. Please forgive me. I wasn't able to protect you... His voice, silvern smoke, drifts from lips that only he can now but faintly feel.

The firestorm whose pulse beats around him and through him rumbles in spirit and in song. The voice of his wife, more fair than ever in mortality he heard her, reaches forth from the chorus of the righteous.

Their lips meet for the briefest instant and his throat burns. Thy sinew and steel, thy righteous rage--- these the Flame more needs than thy soul-strength. If ye love me true, then begone from a nameless grave and live thy life! Her now-sewrpentine song sears itself in his ears and he recoils with the anguish that only a lover sundered from his beloved can know.


"NYAAARRRGHH-ack-ack!"

((Sorry. Still TO-BE-CONTINUED... in next post.))

[nekosama]

Morris

hearing the scream Mo yells,
"What is going on down there?"

[Bitzeralisis]

Sripor

Sripor pokes Ja'hkaa. "You okay?"

[Miraqariftsky]

((LA CONTINUATION))

Ja'khaa's vision suddenly flares with newfound sight, the sudden light burning and blurring. Strength drains away, to be replaced by salvation. A thousand sensations rip through his consciousness all at once.

Slowly, the goblin becomes able to discern patches of light--- from the warmth of tallow candles to the coolness of magefired lanterns. The distant stars sigh through seemingly leaden windows.

Hard wooden planking groans beneath his back as he shifts his position... or tries to. The coldness of the night jabs at him through the rips in his leathern armour, biting with the blunt heads of the floor's rusted nails.

Togg. Tog-tog. Bogg! Sounds of an irregular thumping and scraping reach his ears. The smells of blood and sweat and rot rankly his nostrils.

Ja'khaa's vision has yet to clear when his blood suddenly runs cold and his heart stops in his throat.

((DRAT! TO BE CONTINUED YET AGAIN! SORRY!))

[Kyeudo]

(While Ja'khaa finishes his character development, I may as well post what Morris sees.)

In the dim light coming from the room below, Morris can make out some of the features of the space. The attic area is a wide wooden platform laid over the rafters running along the center of the building. Towards the eaves, the platform disapears, leaving the plaster of the cieling below exposed. The place is dusty, as though it hasn't been used in years. Oddments of furniture and a few boxes are scattered around, as though brought up here and abandoned.

[nekosama]

Morris

Morris checks the ceiling to see if there is a way to get onto the room. If there is no door he well push on it to see how strong it seems.


[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[Kyeudo]

There is no roof access, and the cieling is fairly sturdy.

[Idiotbox90]

The changeling leans to the side of the bed and plants both feet on the ground. With a small groan, he stands. Walking to the room Morris entered, he calls, "So, anything up there?"

[Grimfist]

Yezt, having finally overcome his shell-shock, follows the sound of Morris' voice and enters the room where he is exploring the attic. Curious, the goblin silently teleports into the curious room and also takes a look around, quickly searching the dusty boxes and furniture for any potentially useful things.

Search- [roll0]

[Kyeudo]

The boxes mostly contain old clothes, bed sheets, and various nic-nac type objects. However, there is a bag of dusty old coins and a folded entertainer's outfit that looks suprizingly brand new.

[Grimfist]

Yezt furtively stuffs the entertainer's suit into his backpack before walking carefully back over to Morris.

"Hey dagger-man, Yezt has discovered a kingdom." The goblin exclaims, tossing the dusty pouch to the changeling.

"Have you any plan for what to do?"

[nekosama]

Morris

I had hoped there was a way to the roof or there was enough space for us to hide up until they zombies move on a bit. Then head out of town. The roof seems pretty strong so I am not sure we can punch a hole into it without giving away what we are doing. That was my plan. Do you got a better one?

[Miraqariftsky]

((This space reserved))



If we ever get out of here as you suggest, my changeling friend, 'tis the court martial's mockery and hangman's noose I'll get for such cowardice... Maybe, maybe not... but... Ja'khaa's black brow furrows deep as he takes another swig at his brandy flask.

A noose...? His eyes narrow at the strange idea that has suddenly occured to him but his tongue blurts it out ere it is fully fleshed out.

"Have we any rope?" He says aloud, asking both everybody all at once and nobody in particular, all the while staring at where the zombies' thrashing is harshest.

[nekosama]

Morris

Poking his head back into the hole he says, "I asked for rope too so nobody has it or did not hear both you are me."

[Idiotbox90]

The changeling makes himself visible to Morris, "How much room is up there? If we drag some food and drink up from the kitchen, maybe we can hole ourselves in until this all blows over. It's not much of a plan, but what else do we have?"

((OOC: Sorry for the lack of posting. I've just been waiting for something to react to.))

[Kyeudo]

Thanks for getting things moving again.

[nekosama]

Morris

"I think we should all be able to fit. If need be we could extend the platform up here a bit with bits of the furniture. I agree that unless there is only 1 or 2 zombies left we are not going to be able to survive a direct fight. Maybe once it is full light out we can get a better idea of just how widespread the attack is. If nobody has any rope we might be able to tie some sheets together to make something to help the less agile get up. However, I am not sure how we would get a wolf up here."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Bah, do we have a table? A table should be enough, methinks", Ja'khaa says, still looking out the window.

Turning back inside and glimpsing the holy symbol around the woman's neck, he withdraws his dagger from the floor, sheathes it, the takes the woman's hand and kisses it in token of gratitude.

[Kyeudo]

The woman smiles slightly, but doesn't speak.

You hear the sounds of glass breaking downstairs.

[nekosama]

Morris

"It appears we are running out of time. Push the bed or anything over and start climbing. Someone very sure of their climb and jumping skills should be last because we do not want to leave what we use right bellow the entrance to give away where we went."

[Kyeudo]

The big man helps the lady up into the attic, and helps whoever else needs a hand up. "I'll help hand the wolf up, if need be, but someone would need to be up top to pull her up. She won't bite, will she?"

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Climb check primary
[roll1] Climb check secondary
[roll2] Jump check primary
[roll3] Jump check secondary


Ja'khaa stretchs forth his stubby arms but fails to fid any purchase upon the upward climb to the trapdoor, the man's help otwithstanding. Takig a running leap, he manages to shoot himself into the attic, coughing at the dust as he rolls to a stop.

[Miraqariftsky]

(([roll0] Handle Animal))

Coming round back to the trapdoor, Ja'khaa advises the big man to step aside with a grunt, lest he be hit by a leaping lupus. "Take care, ol' chap. Though she knows ye from awhile back, she mightn't take kindly to the cramped quarters..."

"Grrraw-hraw-aw-a-awawwa-w-w...", barks the Deneith rider to his mount...

[Kyeudo]

Fang bounds up ontop of the bed, then easily makes the jump up into the attic.


Who's going to get up last? The big man is willing to be last up, but if someone else wants that dubious honor, he'll oblige.

[Miraqariftsky]

Idly flicking his dagger from finger to finger, Ja'khaa remarks aloud, "Well, fellows, do we just sit herre and wait for Dol Arrah or do we bust out and try to make headway, jumping across the roofs of this good town?"

[Kyeudo]

"I haven't a clue. Maybe the army will have this taken care of in a day or so."

[Miraqariftsky]

Burying his face in his hands, Ja'khaa groans dejectedly, "I am... or rather, by tomorrow, I'll probably've been booted out of the army for this gross failure. Some great Blackclaw Deneith, I am, cowering in an attic... bah..."

Blinking sadly as Fang licks some of the wolfrider's open wounds, he asks the dragonmarked man, "So sirrah, what brought ye, a dragonmark no less, to a dismal dive like this? Aye, and I don't believe we've been introduced. I am Ja'khaa... and ye are...?"

[Kyeudo]

"The name is Anton. Anton d'Cannith. I own a blacksmith's shop about a block away. This dive serves the best ale of any inn withing five blocks. I came for a drink and this mess started."

The lady, trying to be comforting, says "Please don't be hard on yourself. There are simply too many of those evil things out there for only a few warriors to stop."