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 Niashé Minai Delacrie HP: 9/9 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1 (d6) "The poets speak of sparks flying at first touch, but it's not often so literal." Niashé breathes deeply, without pain for the first time since yesterday. This day just keeps improving. "Yes, I feel quite a bit better. No such luck on the sword and mail, though." Niashé briefly runs through the remaining items on the rose, wishing to waste neither her companions' talents with needless secrecy nor any more time than she has to between these walls. Wol fucked around with this message at 07:34 on Jun 5, 2018 |
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Jun 5, 2018 05:58
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 Glenn DunbarrowHP: 7/7 AC: 15 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 The packet of tools lands at Glenn's feet with a soft, unceremonious thud. Glenn glances from the bobby pin in his hand to the collection of lockpicks on the ground, to the flower in Niashe's hand, then back to the picks. A veil of sheepish consternation clouds his expression. He shakes it quickly, pockets the pin, and snaps up the kit. Fishing for a pick of peculiar size, he returns to fiddling with the lock (at disadvantage). 14, 22 With a satisfying click, the manacles release their occupant. Glenn rubs his wrists in quiet gratitude. He takes a few steps, poised to listen for the sound of guards. Nothing. No one; not yet. Taking stock of his compatriots, he begins freeing them of their restraints. He starts with Hriss, the biggest and the strongest. Couldn't hurt to have him in my corner, he thinks. "Shouldn't be making a ruckus," he advises, the polish scrapped from his voice. He is himself now, without pretension; the real Glenn Dunbarrow, curt and coarse. "You hear something coming," he gestures with his fingers - index, middle - a person walking, "You act like you're still under lock and key, yeah?" He repeats the signal, then gets to work. 26 The manacles hang loose. Hriss is free. Glenn shifts to Niashe, a certain displeasure in his face. "Maybe next time just cough up the goods." Chick-chack, click-clack. Niashe (14), Excellence (19), Salvatrix (14), and Egina (20) are each freed in turn. He takes a moment to shoot Pharom a grim look of recognition before freeing him as well (13). Worm is next (21), and finally Gertrude, the old woman (18). "Yeah, yeah, Happy Mothers Day," he mutters to himself. He pockets the lockpick, and surveys the dirt for a good spot to draw.
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Jun 5, 2018 06:25
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 Gertrude PenderghastHP: 8/8 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 : "Yeah, yeah, Happy Mothers Day," he mutters to himself.When her hands come free, Gertrude gives her wrists a quick rub, but she's back on track soon enough. "Now now, don't be a sourpuss. Rude children don't get treats from Granny's kitchen." She reaches forward to pinch one of the halfling's cheeks with her gnarled hand, and in the other removes something from within her rags. A quick glance downward revealing a faint glint of light on metal, a kitchen knife being offered up handle first. Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Control Flames, Guidance, Light, Mold earth, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead Prepared Spells Bane, Bless, Command, Detect Magic, False Life, Healing Word, Inflict Wounds Feature: Mage Armor (Once per long rest) Circle of Mortality: Max HP gained when healing creatures at 0hp. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects:
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Jun 5, 2018 06:56
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 Worm of the SharpfangHP: 11/11 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 People came and went, a gnome, a woman with a taste for the flamboyant, and a very large lizardman. Quiet, the last one. Worm liked that. Either he was thoughtful, or he let others do the thinking for him. At first glance, most would have thought the latter. The goblin, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. Something about the way the lizardman watched them felt keenly familiar. Yes, it reminded Worm of himself, in a way. Or perhaps he was merely seeing things, hoping there was a connection to be made. Worm certainly didn’t want to irritate the towering, scaled and muscled man. That was how small goblins got their ribs broken. What Worm knew for sure, however, was that the old woman, the one that interested him earlier, could speak his tongue. Not just that, but quite fluently as well, considering the harsh nature of the language on one’s throat for someone her age. That meant she spoke it with at least some frequency that her body had adjusted. Curious. The goblin’s prior interest couldn’t even compare to now. And yet, there was a bit of caution, maybe even... fear there as well. The old woman was cleverer than she seemed. Much cleverer, perhaps. For now he would lend an ear to her over the others and see where it led. And speaking of the others… Worm groaned as the halfling failed to unlock his manacles, and then as the women played meaningless wordgames with one another. The former, at least, was made up for soon enough, even if the halfling left Worm second to last. That irked him, unexpectedly. It was one matter to be disregarded by the largefolk, as they were want to do. But to have to wait upon someone even smaller than he was? Well, the sight of the halfling coughing up the pin would be a fortnight’s worth of amusement at any rate. Worm eyed the one that freed him for a few moments, long enough for the old woman to share an exchange, a glint of something in the dark. The goblin hesitantly stepped forward as she stepped back, saying to Glenn, “Worm thanks the halfling. Its assistance will not go forgotten.” Of course, there was the one who delivered the rosed tools as well, but… the flamboyant woman irritated. Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Primal Savagery, Infestation Prepared Spells Entangle, Cure Wounds, Goodberry, Create or Destroy Water, Speak with Animals Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects:
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Jun 5, 2018 07:20
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 Hriss“The Unbroken” HPS: 17/17 AC: 18 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1 (d12) Rage 2/2 Rage Dmg: +2 Player's note This post includes a few different things in this single post for expediency's sake where they might have looked a bit cleaner as multiple smaller posts. This includes a few brief character interactions and Hriss' information pertaining to possible escape plans. The one named by the gnome as the child of Lord Delacrie was returned to the cell she made it clear that she had not returned empty handed. She had in her possesion a flower. She demonstrated that the flower was magical by producing tools from one of it's petals. She explained their purpose and handed them to one of the small soft skins, a halfling by Hriss' guess. It was the same one who had just before cough up a shard of metal. It was a most curious thing to see. Using the tools the halfling was able to unlock his manacles. The halfing then walked towards Hriss who watched him intently. With small deft hands he began to work on the manacles and leg irons that bound the lizardman. There was a soft click as each device was unlocked. Hriss freed himself from the chains and the muzzle. He gave the others in the cell another look. They had tools, they had help from a source outside the cell, perhaps they had a plan as well? It was time to find out. After listening for the signs of the guards returning he spoke to them. "I will not die in this place at the hands of drunken fools." He felt every eye in the chamber turn to him with new found questions and wonder. It was a reaction he was used to by now. "I am called Hriss the Unbroken. If you have a plan and the means to accomplish it I will help you." He raised a hand towards Glenn as he worked on the manacles of the others. "I thank you for freeing me, little halfling. Many of your kind would not have been so quick to do so." He then turned his attention to the elderly human. "One who calls herself Granny Penderghast. I am not this Eustace you named me as. I have found a great many soft skins on this island confuse me with something or someone else. It is as if they have never seen one of my kind before." When the time comes to plan Hriss informs them of marshes beyond the river. "The guards talk of a demon that has taken the lives of many of their comrades. I doubt that a demon would be content to hunt such poor quality prey such as these humans. It is likely a beast of the river or deeper places preys on them. What is important is that they fear that place. And what they fear can be used to our advantage." Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Hriss
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Jun 5, 2018 07:50
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 Pharom AshgroveHP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Well, isn't this just a day for surprises. First, the magical, smuggled equipment makes our escape seem all the more likely, now Glenn is here unlocking his manicales, and next the crone pulls a knife from her robe. Looks like she's just been playing dumb. I'll have to keep an eye on her. When Glenn unlocks my manicales, I see his look or unpleasant acknowledgement. I whisper to him, grinning, "What? Aren't you happy to see am old friend?" When Niashé mentions the alchemists supplies, I'm not surprised. After all, whoever is enabling this breakout did their homework, and they surely would know about my talents. After she's done listing them, I say, "I'll take those alchemy supplies. With them, I can make acids, explosives, even a fair bit of healing." I look over to the door holding the "Beast" and address the group, "So, should we see what the nature of this beast is before we make our break for it tonight? Save DC: 15 Cantrips: Mage Hand Effects:
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Jun 5, 2018 13:29
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Glenn Dunbarrow HP: 7/7 AC: 15 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Glenn recoils from the old woman in irritation, only to stop at the sight of the sharpened metal blade. He meets Gertrude's gaze as though seeing her for the first time. In some ways, he is. This woman. She offers him a warm smile, but her eyes betray a certain cold intensity. Glenn furrows his brow, not in anger, but understanding. She knows how to wear a second skin. Then this madness...hmph. I suppose I can let her keep her secret. For now. "Wonderful," he says as he takes the knife. His tone is just as dismissive as before, but he looks her in the eyes so she knows that he knows. “Worm thanks the halfling. Its assistance will not go forgotten.” Glenn turns to see the goblin at his side, and the lizardfolk approaching from behind, hand extended. "I thank you for freeing me, little halfling. Many of your kind would not have been so quick to do so." Glenn blinks. He hadn't expected this. Gratitude. It had simply seemed the logical thing, freeing everyone. Strength in numbers, all that jazz. He'd done it almost on automatic. Nevertheless, he quickly recovers. He bows to the goblin. "Glenn Dunbarrow," he introduces himself. He turns and takes the lizard's hand, his own disappearing inside it. "Acquisitions, extractions, deliveries, and," he smiles, "Convincing fakes. And think nothing of it. We're all equals here. We wouldn't be down here if we weren't dangerous people." His smile turns cruel. "Useful people." For a fleeting instant, he doesn't seem so small. "You both seem strong and sensible. I'm sure you'll repay my generosity soon enough. As for me, this is my hour." Having selected a satisfactory patch of earth, he sits down and begins sketching - using the bobby pin, of course. It's awhile before his musings even begin to resemble anything, but once they do it clicks into place.  A map without labels, the prison you find yourself in. "Here we are," he says, drawing an X through the present chamber. "And there's the rest."
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Jun 5, 2018 16:08
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Gertrude Penderghast HP: 8/8 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Gertrude's smile doesn't falter as Glenn takes the blade off her, but she gives a slight incline of the head "Do be kind to one another and I'm sure we can find other trinkets for you to play with." Gertrude waits for quite some time, observing as the Delacrie girl parcels out bits and pieces of the gift their mysterious benefactor had delivered. When it seems none present are intent on taking it, she expresses an interest in Asmodeus' unholy symbol "I haven't seen one of those since I was a little girl. They used to still be found from time to time while I was growing up, but Mitra put a stop to that." She offers a hand forward expectantly "Not who I would normally turn to for succor, but I can put that symbol to some use. I can offer up a blessing or two at least for all this good company." Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Control Flames, Guidance, Light, Mold earth, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead Prepared Spells Bane, Bless, Command, Detect Magic, False Life, Healing Word, Inflict Wounds Feature: Mage Armor (Once per long rest) Circle of Mortality: Max HP gained when healing creatures at 0hp. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 16:53 on Jun 5, 2018 |
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Jun 5, 2018 16:46
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You may take in the following information as you formulate a plan, as between your Passive abilities, your shared intelligence, and a little common sense, this will save a bit of time of answering specific questions as they come up, though this is purposefully very surface level and there may be surprises yet. Your Jailers
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Jun 5, 2018 20:12
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 HP: 10/10 AC: 11 Villain Points: 5/5 HD 1 (d8) There was talk. There was sharing of information. There was a plan forming of luring in guards to kill them, then use their tokens to go upstairs and make it out. Until Egina suddenly noticed it. "Hey, I think the armory is just above our cell, isn't it?" The plan suddenly shifted to a much more... straightforward and bloody one. One that was going to draw a lot of attention in the end. At a bit after 10 PM, giving the guards some time to get drunk playing cards, they'd go up to the armory. Glenn would head towards the barracks through one door to start cutting the throats of any guard sleeping there. with at least someone else stealthy to back him up in case of someone waking up at the wrong moment. After that, some disguises could be used to take out some outside patrols. Possible supplies could be found to 'crash' the cardgame that the sergeant and his men would be having in the gatehouse. "Escaping this place would be one thing, but I cannot help but think the terror on their faces if they'd come back to find this place a massacre." Egina said with a grin. Shogeton fucked around with this message at 16:10 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 5, 2018 22:52
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Hriss“The Unbroken” HPS: 17/17 AC: 18 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1 (d12) Rage 2/2 Rage Dmg: +2 I'm making this out of character post to help put Hriss' unique perspective on the table for the benefit of the other players. As guided by the manuals and other material Hriss is ultimately about his continued survival. While his intelligence, wisdom, and life experiences outside of the lizardfolk norm are applying different shades to this it is still how he will see things. He is not risk adverse. He sees the value in ambushes, stealth, and planning. But he is not going to see the value of emotionally driven actions. For example killing the guards outside the cell would make perfect sense to him since they are immediate threats. On the other hand searching the entire prison for the one guard who kicked you all in the ribs would need to be sold to him. He wants to escape the prison. He won't see any additional value in going murderhobo and plundering the entire place. The gist of the plan we are all formulating is seems to be shaping up as more or less sound. I'll try to tick off some stuff to give you an idea on where Hriss may stand on each part. Eliminate closest guards and the lantern archon: Hriss will readily agree to this. They are the immediate threats and most likely to derail the plan before it can get going. Raid the armory: Using the portable hole to access the armory will make a great deal of sense to Hriss. He'll be happy to see you soft skins putting on armor to protect yourselves and weapons to fight with. He'll also be happy to get his hand on a proper weapon of his own. Any supplies we gain in the armory mean an increased chance of survival for our side as well as depriving the guards of an advantage. Stealth strike on the barracks: No real issues here. Hriss will see the risk versus reward of killing sleeping enemies over fighting a roused garrison. Lizardfolk don't do chivalry or honorable combat. Shaking hands before a fight is for silly soft skins. The 'Beast': We don't really have enough information yet. Though releasing a giant rampaging distraction seems like something Captain Ortiz would have liked. And Captain Ortiz was pretty good at winning. Attacking the card game: This is where things might need a bit of selling. If it is an instance where the card game is in between the group and our escape than Hriss is going to agree to the attack. However if it is a choice between a quieter escape and hitting the game then he needs to be convinced of the value. I believe the card game is in the gate house so if we're taking the direct route out of the prison than he'd be in for the attack. However if we find an option to circumvent the gatehouse route it becomes an issue of showing the value in the added risk. Plundering the mage's tower: You'll have to put on a good pitch for this. Hriss has a healthy respect and fear of magic. He will always see casters as a primary threat that needs to be dealt with if forced and more likely avoided as allowed. The tower will most likely not be a direct route for an escape. Even if it is a winnable fight he'll see it as an unneeded risk in his mind. Operation Total Murderhobo: Talk of killing every living soul in the prison and making it a spectacle is going to be the hardest thing to swallow for our big scaly boy. Hriss wants his freedom. He's not driven by the need to appease dark gods or drench himself in the blood of his enemies. He hasn't got a horse in the political scheming race. Bathing the prison in blood will look like another wasteful soft skin endeavor. If you all have anything I need to elaborate hit me up in discord. But given I'm playing something that has some unique motivations I thought I would lay this out for expedience sake.
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Jun 6, 2018 01:14
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Pharom Ashgrove HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Now that the crone has revealed a bit more about the "angel" it's obvious what it is. I announce, to no one in particular, "Sounds like we have a celestial guest. Specificly, a lantern archon. It's essentially a gofer for angels, which means that it's always going to so the Good thing. So, hostages and other moral dilemmas will make it hesitate. It can fire rays of celestial light and it burns with a divine malice towards evil. When you get a clear shot at it, use fire or acid. Thunder and loud noises in general are a particular bane, but I don't need to explain why that is off the table. Mundane attacks will work, but as it's mostly light, they won't do very much. Also, don't bet on tricking it. It may be simple for an angel, but it can read intentions exceptionally well. All of that said, it's most likely to either flee to spread the word about us or attempt to summon a higher order of angel. Either of those options would be... unfortunate, so if we engage with it, the archon should become our top priority." Finishing my lecture, I add, "Also, since we are no longer going through the cell door, I want to emphasize that I wish to at least examine the beast before we leave. He is sure to be a fascinating specimen." Knowledge Religion: 1d20+7 23 Save DC: 15 Cantrips: Mage Hand Effects:
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Jun 6, 2018 01:40
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Gertrude Penderghast HP: 8/8 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Gertrude snorts a laugh when Egina suggests slaughtering the lot "I'm not opposed to doing some house cleaning in the spring, everyone wears out their welcome eventually." She gives a nod as well in turn to Pharom "Not wise to leave something so interesting behind. We should at least look at this caged critter before we leave" Her approval given, Gertrude begins to flick her fingers this way and that, the dirt in the floor forming sigils where she points. It takes her a decent length of time to find a good rhythm, but soon enough she's deep in a prayer, familiar to those who know the Mitran canticles but the wording seems slightly off, her tone ever so slightly harsher than it should be for the holy work spewing from her lips. Soon enough there's a flare of power in her eyes, and the weave of magic is laid bare. Gertrude taked little time in turning her attentions first to the prisoner's immediate surroundings and then to the halls outside. Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Control Flames, Guidance, Light, Mold earth, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead Prepared Spells Bane, Bless, Command, Detect Magic, False Life, Healing Word, Inflict Wounds Feature: Mage Armor (Once per long rest) Circle of Mortality: Max HP gained when healing creatures at 0hp. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: [/quote] quote:Ritually casting detect magic at some quiet point to see what the situation is re: wards om our cells/the halls.
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Jun 6, 2018 01:55
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This conversation follows Egina's proposal to slaughter the guard. "Let's do it. They are asleep, drunk, and we will have their weapons. Let's do more than escape. Let us take this place filled with sheep, and turn them into mutton! Let's kill every last one of them within these walls!" Glenn listens but remains quiet. He plays at fiddling with his map, trying to make it perfect. He wants to hear how someone else reacts to this plan first.  Hriss turned his attention to the half-orc. "You speak foolishly, half-orc. We have been given a means to escape this place. If we linger to kill every soft skin we leave ourselves exposed. We will kill whom we have to. Anything else is indulging in your kind's bloodlust." "I'd have to agree," Glenn pipes up. "Niashe's little trinkets aside, we're already operating at a loss. The risks are pretty substantial already, so why make things harder for ourselves than we have to? Never pay more for an acquisition than you have to." Her eyes flashed at the lizardmen, then lowered. He was larger, more powerfully built. And while her eagerness to embrace orc culture meant she embraced a more... bloody attittude, it also meant she tended to show a healthy respect to those stronger. "So it is. I'm not going to pretend that I won't get satisfaction from it. But that time will gain us things. It's not enough to get out of here, we'll need to get away from here too." "If we kill everyone, we'll have time to take what valuables there are. Bribes to pay people to forget about our presence, food that allows us to avoid towns with watchful eyes and wagging tongues, magic to strenghten the mages that are with us, the gnome's wand could be handy. And most importantly, it will buy us time. If we leave people alive, they will soon raise the alarm. By morning, they'll already send dogs on our trail. Even if these folks avoid the swamp, others will not. There's not many folks that come here. The warden will be here in three days, no? If they start to search in three days, we can be far away already." Hriss listened to what the half-orc had to say. Her initial lust for blood now seemed tempered a bit by the practical. The focus on the gains of each risk aiding their survival was a good sign this one wasn't another ignorant bloodthirsty example of her kind. Pharom says, "While there is some justification for what you're saying, and I personally am very interested in the contents of the tower, I think committing to slaughtering everyone here is premature. We should see how well we fare with the obstacles we must overcome before we decide to lay waste to the prison." "There's something to killing who we have to," Glenn nods, "And who we come across, but I hope you have a better plan than scouring the entire prison checking every nook and cranny for any wayward guards. That, in and of itself, is an undertaking, and leaves us as open to ambushes as it does them." "Leaving no survivors is profitable," he adds, "But we should ensure it is also practical. The sort of people who try to do a thing 'At any cost,' are the type who always overpay." "Every battle has it's risks, half-orc. And no battle goes the way one plans it. You must be willing to retreat if you wish to survive." "Which is to say, great customers, not so great business partners." Hriss gestured to Worm and then Gertrude. "These elders have surely retreated when the odds turned. They still live because of it." Not expecting the lizardman to bring him into the conversation, the goblin pauses for a moment before nodding. "Worm agrees with the halfling and Hriss. There is gain had from ending these captors to the last. But not enough, in Worm's eye." Pharom sniffs, "I'm probably older than both of them combined." "A safe exit is best here." "And I will. If things end up going against us, and we can escape, then we run. And I don't intend to spend hours making sure I get every last one. But if a few minutes, perhaps an hour can buy us the difference between getting out of here with nothing but what we looted from the armoury, hungry and injured, into a swamp with a dangerous monster and the survivors already running those more powerful than themselves on one hand, and walking there, having eaten, nursed our wounds, thanked the gods that deliverd this, with our mages having new tools, and the ones to discover this not to arrive till tomorrow afternoon, I feel it's worth to take the risk of battle." "And yet so less mature," Glenn mutters to himself, side-eyeing Pharom. Hriss actually sniffs Pharom. "Than you should also know what it means to survive, elf. Though I smell the arcane on you. Perhaps you dabble in that which endangers your life regardless." "They are badly trained, many of them sleep and can be killed without a fight. Their advantage mainly is in their superior weaponry. An advantage we will take from them, and make our own. Many of us can see far better in the dark than them, further improving our odds. They are demoralized, they don't respect their leader. Many of them will be drunk." She puts a hand on her heart. "I have a child. I do not intend to die here. I believe, in all honesty, that taking this prison is better for our survival than running." "In case you didn't notice, I was agreeing with you." "And what skills do you bring to the table? Doubtless you deserve to be here, as we all do, but on what grounds? What role will you play in our escape? The deaths of our enemies?" Glenn swings a lockpick to himself. "I've already demonstrated my value, and Hriss....well, I think he speaks for himself. What role is yours? What role is any of yours?" "Forgive me, elf. I sometimes have trouble with how you soft skins use your words. You are not often clear to me." "I... um. Very well. No harm done." "Hm... how about we see where the siutation is? If we feel, after getting outside, emptying the barracks that there is still too much resistance to make it worth it, we'll run. And I will not hold it against you. But if it turns out our enemies are weak and frightened, and you feel the chances are good enough to gamble with the short term for better odds on the long term, will you consider?" "I do not even know how to address many of you. I know of Granny Penderghast and the Daughter of Lord Delacrie." "Me, I am a bard, I have magics at my disposal. Mostly to sway minds and make myself look like someone else right now. That's what seemed wise this morning. But I can handle a blade. And it's been said I can be... inspiring. A sturdy heart wileds a blade with strength. Our foes lack this. We will not, with me beside you." "I am Egina Aduz, that is how my mother called me. I reject the name my father gave me when he took me from her." Glenn nods in approval, his brow unknitting a bit. A bard, he thinks, Well, that's certainly something. He tosses the lockpick one last time to himself, and catches it, stowing it. "Well, welcome aboard then. And yes, if the potential gain can be understood to outweigh the underlying costs, then yes: let's slaughter the lot." "But," again, he side-glances Pharom, "Let's be smart about it, yeah?" "Egina Aduz, I am Hriss. I am Unbroken. I will not die in this place. Your plan is not without merit. But I will survive this place. The Daughter of Lord Delacrie brought us a benefactor. Remember that this benefactor wants us alive. Dying here pursuing blood is a waste. For now I will follow." "But so is drying because we fled unprepared into the dangerous swamps. I am worried that by avoiding fights we are at an advantage, we might end up a fight where we are at a disadvantage." Hriss looks as puzzled as he can given he is a mask of scales. "To not take advantage is foolish. It remains to be seen if we have the advantage." "But yes, let us kill those we NEED to kill, open up the exit, and then revisit whether we run out immediately... or finish up those who remain if they are weak enough that it does not carry too much risk. Does that sound good to you, Hriss?" Glenn does his best to hide his irritation at being talked over. He glances around the room, as if surveying for something. Hriss plays the situation out in his head for a moment. Risk, reward, survival. "Very well, Egina Aduz. A plan is forming. We here in this cell have a chance to escape. But know this. If you allow your bloodlust or your soft skin need for revenge to endanger my own escape I will kill you where you stand and leave the body uneaten as a sign of disrespect." Egina nodded. "Very well. I'll take your words to heart, Hriss the Unbroken." She notices Glenn. "Are you looking for something Glenn? Is it alright if we go with first names? I know we just met, but considering the circumstances, maintaining the usual etiquette seems... odd." At Hriss' threat, Worm makes no attempt to hide his chuckling, the first sign of amusement the goblin has shown since his arrival at the prison. "Glenn," he hesitates a moment, "Glenn is fine. If Egina is fine. I probably shouldn't be bandying about my family name anyway. It's a little high profile for the times." She also looks at Worm. "And you, Worm." She says, careful to not put any contempt that might otherwise slide in the name. "If the guards seem few, weak and demoralized enough that a total victory seems likely, without any losses on our side, if given some time, do you object to killing everyone?" The goblin stops his laughter, looking up, looking over the half-orc woman as he's addressed. He thinks. He shrugs. "No." Oh, Glenn thinks, his name is Worm. I suppose that would explain it. Hriss commits the new names to his mind. Worm, Glenn, Egina Aduz. He would wait for the others to speak their names. "I promise you, that I will not provoke or try to manipulate things into a fight or otherwise impede an escape just to have us go with my plan. That would be foolish. Besides, all of us here, at the same time, it might be fate. I don't think I'd risk making you my enemies for the sake of a few dead guards, even if I believe it would improve oour chances." "Fate is the realm of the shamans. But if this is fate as you say we all have a part to play. I have been told a crew survives where one man drowns." Glenn nods. "A functioning economy requires the cooperation of its disparate parts. We can do this."  Excellence looks at each member of their impromptu band in turn, saying, "If we take what we've learned and apply it properly, I see no reason why we'd have much to fear. These guards are... inadequately trained. If we strike hard, strike fast, and strike true... they may well open up the main gates for us in a rush to escape our collective wrath." "Hm... wait... now that we are talking. Glenn... I heard that name... the owner of Appleshire? Who suddenly turned out to be the landlord of everyone in the entire village?" She looked at him. Glenn shots her a look of unexpected recognition before slipping into a soft, tired smile - tired like the dark circles under his eyes. It's a little harrowing in the dim light, yet seems to sting of something nostalgic. "Ex-landlord," he says, "But yes, that's me."  "Murderers, heretics, monsters, and slumlords." Sal, who has been all too quiet as the others plot seems all too amused by the notion at hand, "Well, I think we know who the real monster is here." She stretches, now free from her chains, and lets out a soft yawn that seems nearly uncharacteristic for the snarky brat before them. "Come now, our plan's to cut a bloody swath through the halls and run away?" Sal's arms fall to her sides in an instant and her shoulders slump forward, "I'm not saying it's a bad plan..." The witch holds up her hands defensively, as if it preemptively ward away their ire, "Just a little boring, is all. The Mitrans are more creative with their executions." "However we choose to proceed, we should keep an eye out for the alarm wards those nigh-incompetent apprentices are mantaining." Pharom does spare a chuckle for Salvatrix's jest at Glenn's expense. "Impressive work that was." She said to Glenn, then looked at Salvatrix. "I appreciate a good show much as anyone else, perhaps more. But there's something to be said for going for the classics. Do you have any suggestions for creative solutions that would lead us out of here? A bard is always on the lookout for inspiration. Don't think I caught your name." Glenn's expression sharpens as he shifts his attention to the dark-haired girl, displeased at her intrusion. "Please. It was a perfectly lovely little town, the picture of pastoral beauty." His tone relaxes, his face regaining its youthfulness. "I wouldn't finagle my way into owning just any ol' village, not that I had much hand in cultivating its rustic aesthetic. I just collected rent...and a few back-taxes." A small smile, then back to business. Excellence crosses her arms as she fixes Salvatrix with such a look. She says, "Alright, impress me. What's your idea for adding a hint of... creativity to matters?" Sal can't help but let a wry little smile worm it's way to the surface as Glenn takes a more serious approach to her. "I'm just saying we give them something to remember us by. Make a real statement. When Dear Mother didn't want to be bothered, she hung the unused flesh of her victims from the trees around our little home." Sal's reminiscence was perhaps unsettlingly casual, "Displays like that drive fear into the hearts of men and beast alike. There won't be a soul in the kingdom eager to sniff us out if they know what fate awaits them." "We make an example out of one of them." Sal leans in with a growing grin, "And I think we all know exactly who that will be." Excellence grins too, all teeth and hellfire, saying, "I like the way you think. You don't suppose they left that brand just... lying around, do you?" "Do they have a brand for incompetence?" Glenn chuckles. Hriss listens to some of the others talk of hanging flesh and their glee in excess bloodshed. He can't help but emit a low crocodilian growl from deep in his chest out of annoyance. Soft skins... Pharom's mouth slowly stretches into a grin, as he says, "Well, I won't say the idea doesn't hold a certain charm..." He brushes it away, saying, "By the look of him, he's sure to cause quite the racket." Pharom pauses, then adds as he realizes the obvious answer, "Unless we had that wand of his." Pharom sinks into a contemplative mood as he thinks about this option. The witch is all too pleased by Excellence's enthusiasm. "Straight for the brand, eh?" Sal tilts her head at the thought, "I like it." Glenn's follow up gets a snort followed by a petty little laugh, not quite ladylike at all. Then again, if Salvatrix is being forthright about her Dear Mother, she didn't exactly have the best role model when it came to being a proper lady. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who would like to get her hands on that wand of his." Sal glances at Niashé, though ever since the noble had suggested just what Sal could do with her clever little tongue she seemed to have gained a bit of respect from the witch. At the very least, she wasn't snarking at her anymore. The additional innuendo seems entirely unintentional, "It could only help us in our escape." "First of all, I ask that all of you strike my name from your lips while we're in here. Rêve is the name I was captured under, and it'll do for now. I'll think of something better when we're out." Niashé is stone-faced in this moment, not a hint of her earlier flirtatiousness or flamboyance. "Second. The gnome knows my name. He must die. So must anyone he might have gossiped to. The card players, at very least. Right now, I have no interest in torment or theatrics. The only two things that matter to me are removing my name from this place and escaping." Hriss gave the one now wanting to be called Rêve a curious look. One could describe it like a bird cocking it's head to one side as it eyed something interesting. "He fears your name. It gives you power over him. Why would you not want this?" "He is nothing to me. Less than nothing once we've escaped." Niashé sizes the lizardman up, trying to get a sense of him. From the conversation so far, he seems to take a factual view of things. Any subtleties would have to be explained clearly, not couched in innuendo as with her usual style. He definitely didn't seem to be used to the intricacies of city culture, either. Niashé weighs the options of what to say. Speak plainly, and the more devious of the group would know what she cares about. They could use it against her. Play her cards close to her chest, and she risks Hriss - otherwise an indispensable asset in her mind - blowing her cover. She decides to risk the former. "If he lives, however, he could tell others that I, 'the daughter of Lord Delacrie', was here. Not only would I lose the ability to travel openly in my usual circles, my family would become associated with my crime. They would suffer greatly for it. And that is something I will not allow." "Protecting your kin is a worthy purpose." Hriss let that statement hang in the air for a long moment. "Very well, one who would be called Rêve. If killing this gnome and his men does not threaten our escape I will help you. But consider that your father wants you alive or he would not have taken such risks." "I...thank you." Niashé regards Hriss with a twinkle in her eye. She hadn't been sure what to expect of the lizardman. When the group was first chained to the wall, she made a quick appraisal of who might be easier or harder to work with, who she might be able to count on as an ally and who seemed like they might be more of a pain. Hriss, clearly a proud, musclebound warrior, had been one she assumed would be annoying to work with. That she so quickly found common ground with him pleases her. She likes to be surprised, at least when the surprise is good. Salvatrix's brow furrows at all this talk of familial sentimentality. Her arms cross her chest as she slumps backwards into the cold stone, "If you don't think they'll throw you to the wolves long before they suffer for your sake, you're wrong." There's no cheer in her voice any longer, she doesn't mock or jest, and instead what remains is a detached statement of fact. The witch had spoken fewer words with more conviction, and among them, none that her cell mates had ever heard. "I've no problem killing the guards and silencing your gnomish threat. But, if you really think they'll let you return with that brand on your arm and mingle like you used to..." There's a solid beat of silence as Sal swallows hard. Her eyes shift to some unknowable, and at least to the human witch perceivable, spot on the ceiling. "You've lost your mind."
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Jun 6, 2018 15:23
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HP: 10/10 AC: 11 Villain Points: 5/5 HD 1 (d8) Agina rested for a while, clearing her mind. She needed to refocus her energies. She'd been getting in a more trickster set of mind, letting ribald and irreverent songs of thieves and seducers fill her mind, rather than the harsher battle songs of the orcs, and her spells reflected it. But her next escape was not to be anything like that. No, it would be far more violence than trickery. Her thoughts also returned to Niashé and Salvatrix. Both of their words hitting a place in her heart. Love for one's family, and the bitterness of a betrayal. But this was not the time to go into it. When the evening approached, hunger started to bite at her stomach. She welcomed it. It sharpened her. She looked at her allies, pondering them. They seemed confident. But they could always be more. She stood, during a moment of quiet and with some measure of drama, extended her arm, showcasing the brand they had put there. "We have been brought here for various crimes, but all because of one reason. Not simply to be killed. There were many ways for us to be killed, many of them safer, kinder, cheaper. Why do they do this? Why do they spend all the effort, engage in cruelties they otherwise pretend to scorn, put this brand on someone who is soon to die? Because it is not good enough to kill us. Because they know their precious little kingdoms are oh so fragile. Because they are terrified of what we represent. It is not enough for them to die. We need to die alone, we need to die weak, we need to die pathetic, we need to die beasts or villains and if at all possible, with tears of regret and repentance. We've all seen the deaths they have prepared for us. When I spoke words of defiance, they quickly had the noose my break my neck when I didn't follow the script. They do not do this for the sake of our souls. They do it to sleep at night. Not to reduce the guilt, no. To reduce the fear." "They are fools." "Letting themselved be ruled by their fear, they have only strengthened us. First when they gave us all this time to find their weakness, and then, when we started to prod at them, they compounded their folly by bringing us together. Us nine, who share this mark, who are now outside their laws. We found their weakness, and it's right outside the door." "We are strong, and they are weak." She looked at Hriss. "We are smart, they are stupid and ignorant, we are clever and sharp, they are dull fools." She looked at Phoram, Salvatrix Glenn and Worm. "We are filled with conviction and confidence, and we have seen how these guards meekly bow their head when their convictions are breached." She looked at Gertrude, Exellence and Niashé. "I don't know where the future will lead us. Perhaps our paths will come apart once we break out of these walls and we will never see eachother again. But I tell you this, tonight, we in this cell are the true Power in this place. Let this brand be the symbol of our gathering ,and if only for tonight, let us be comrades and friends. Let our skills together overcome them. We will not fall to our lessers. We will, all nine of us, escape this place! I know this!" Using Inspiring before poo poo happens. Not really leaving anyone out, but I'm gonna give the 5 Bonus Hit Points to Phoram, Glenn, Worm, Salvatrix, Excellence and Niashé. Shogeton fucked around with this message at 16:11 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 6, 2018 22:29
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"The Band Escapes from Branderscar Prison" — The Dungeon All Members Present While starts her work, the secretive hag begins her ritual, running through little conspiratorial whispers of prayer as she begins to call to herself dweomered sight, the irises aglow as she holds before her that Asmodean symbol, which twirls in the air like a hypnotist's medallion. Once her sight has been opened, a piercing and haunting green, there is a ghostly sort of wind that blows through the cells of the dungeon, and as it sweeps through, she sees the hint of auras resting. There is certainly the feeling of strong abjuration magic upon the Beast's cell, whilst you also sense a similarly strong abjuration magic at the core of the nearby portal doorway, but there appears to be no other wards hidden beneath the surface. However, there seems to be a diffuse aura around them that is hard to explain, of mild illusion and potent necromancy, which remains unexplained for some time, dwelling upon the hidden cleric of Vecna's thoughts even as Egina attempts to invoke something from her heart. As the speech goes on, the husky voice of the halfbreed goes from conspiratorial whisper to almost a rolling thunder, filling their cell with her presence. For those beings who can feel such a thing, it brings a warmth to the cockles, and a stirring of a certain bloodlust. It is like the stories of the old bloody-handed heroes of the Dark Ages, who fought not for honor but for their gods or people with all ferocity and fierceness. With her wordsmithy, she makes the massacre of poorly paid Myrcian farm boys seem filled with divine purpose. There is a sniffling sound from the crowd of villains, and a flaring of flame as someone evacuates their nasal passages into a tissue, floating near Glenn's head. Therein is a floating magical skull wreathed in flame, as if it was there the whole time as it looks over to the halfling, shaking its head with a choked up voice.  "I always crack up at these parts. Seeing a family come together at last. It's the best part."There's a bit of a moment there. Likely, no one is really sure what to make of what they are seeing. Before there is much time to react at all, however, there is a loud sound of the heavy dungeon door creaking open, and then being shut with a clatter. The handkerchief is the first thing to disappear in a little spark of flame, as the flameskull looks almost worried for a moment, if a skull can be said to have expressions. "Forgot you've got Blinky still around here. Uh... IGNORE ME!"With that, the skull burns away, leaving only a few motes of soot and ash where it was just a few moments ago. The source of the aura that Gertrude had sensed before seems obvious, and it quickly leaves them with a flash of potent conjuration magic, leaving a faint impression behind not unlike the soot and ash. There isn't much time to process this information or even share it, however, as the sound of plodding approaching footsteps means that everyone has to make sure they take position and ensure that they are not completely out of place. Everyone should make a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) or Charisma (Deception) check. Halstan, the callow young lad some of you have seen before muddling around with the enchantments in this place, arrives with a lantern in hand, and a dowsing rod in the other, leather skull cap on his head. His sloped posture makes him look shorter than he is, but he's certainly not much older than sixteen. He has a few spell component pouches here and there, and a empty look in his eyes of glazed over boredom, as he seems to be using the dowsing rod for some purpose, perhaps the detection of magic or new enchantments that were not there before. "Whoa!" He seems more than a little surprised when he turns and finds the cell with all of our villains gathered together, his eyes widening and giving a bit of a start. He quickly coughs and averts his eyes, knowing better to question, or get too close... He does know better, right?
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Jun 7, 2018 01:46
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Hriss“The Unbroken” HPS: 17/17 AC: 18 Villain Points: 4 of 5 Remaining HD: 1 (d12) Rage 2/2 Rage Dmg: +2 Tricky Dick Nixon posted:"The Band Escapes from Branderscar Prison" — The Dungeon Hriss saw the skull wreathed in flame. He smelled the skull wreathed in flame. He was sure everyone else saw it. He was entirely unsure what to do about it. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Everyone should make a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) or Charisma (Deception) check. Sleight of Hand Check: 1d20+3 8 Spending One Villain Die to add a d4 Villain Die 1 of 5: 1d4 3 Four of Five Villain Die remaining. Hriss hears the footsteps and has enough awareness to loosely replace his muzzle and shackles to create the appearance he is still bound. Trast fucked around with this message at 02:41 on Jun 7, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 02:06
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 HP: 7/7 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d6 Salvatrix's wrists are tucked between her thighs, chains loosely hanging over her legs and disappearing into the darkness below. Her shoulders are hunched over, her face obscured by loose hair, with a slight shiver and sniffle for added effect. She's every part the injured bird, scared and alone among monsters and criminals. It might be off putting to the others, in the moment, as the woman they had previously shared a cell with shifted into an entirely different persona. Sal's spooked by the young man's declaration of surprise. Her whole body tightens up. The witch lifts her head to get a better look at him, hair falling aside to reveal one sad eye and a tear streaked cheek. "Y-y-you haven't come to hurt us again, have you?" She might be using the plural form, but Sal very clearly means me. (19 on Charisma (Deception) to keep her freedom hidden.) Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Firebolt, Friends, Prestidigitation Known Spells Charm Person, Find Familiar, Mage Armor, Shield, Sleep, Tasha's Hideous Laughter Feature: Arcane Recovery: Once per day, recover spell slots after a short rest. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 14:55 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 02:09
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Niashé Minai Delacrie HP: 9/9 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1 (d6) Deception: 16 Niashé acts natural - which is to say she stands with an arm behind her where her manacle hangs, hips cocked and chest thrust forward, looking disinterestedly at the boy, counting on his timidity to keep any investigative prowess he might possess away from her curvaceous form.
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Jun 7, 2018 02:18
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Worm of the Sharpfang HP: 11/11 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Worm resisted the urge to roll his eye as he listened to Egina, and… succeeded to his surprise. The words themselves meant little to him, nothing more than empty platitudes to his ears. But the tone with which they were spoken? The goblin had to admit, the half-orc woman earned her self proclaimed title of bard. Convincing attitude, if nothing else. He prepared himself to comment as much, when someone began to enter. Totally in Chains (Sleight of Hand): 1d20+4 18 Shutting his mouth, Worm quickly returned his manacles to their rightful place, leaving them secure enough to convince from a distance, but free enough to move if he needed. Looking up after restraining himself, the goblin snorted (which sounded more like a whistle with his absentee nose) as he realized just who their visitor was. Speaking as if to no one in particular, though he clearly intended for Halstan to hear it, Worm said, “Worm thinks the boy must be more dangerous than he looks. Else the boy's leaders send him as food.” Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Primal Savagery, Infestation Prepared Spells Entangle, Cure Wounds, Goodberry, Create or Destroy Water, Speak with Animals Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: Relationships Hriss: Respectfully Wary | Glenn: Indifferent | Gertude: Curiously Cautious Niashe: Irritatingly Useful | Salvatrix: Distrusts | Excellence: Distrusts Egina: Undecided | Pharom: Is an Elf (Irritatingly Knowledgeable)[/b] TheFireMagi fucked around with this message at 02:22 on Jun 7, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 02:18
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 HP: 13/13 (5 THP) AC: 11 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1 (d10) Excellence looks at the twig-like wizard boy like one might a light snack. She smolders in his general direction, her eyes like burning embers if he dares lay eyes on her. Almost unconsciously, she rests her leg up on the stone bench, the movement causing her sackcloth garments to ride up just to the point where any further would prove quite the moral hazard for Halstan. Certainly much more interesting in any case than the situation with her hands, which loosely rest in unlocked manacles. The cool wire of the garrote rests behind her back, just itching for the poor bastard to get too close. That appearance of complete disinterest fades, just a hint, as depths of emotional turmoil and hidden weakness briefly seem to take their place. She says, "Boy. Bring me some food. I'm sure I can give you an... appropriate reward." Admittedly her idea of an appropriate reward was a quick death, but it was what it was. Deception 23 in the roll20, also grabbing the garrote from the rose. Tricky fucked around with this message at 02:22 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 02:42
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HP: 10/10 AC: 11 Villain Points: 4/5 HD 1 (d8) "Wait... what..." Egina, high on her own emotions, blinked as the skull suddenly started talking. Was she going mad? Was this a dream? She peered around at the others, as if to verify they saw this too. Then everyone suddenly starts to run around, and the half-orcs spends precious seconds looking around in confusion before she hears the steps. When the lantern shines on the cell, she is standing with her wrists very much visibly unbound. Deceive (VP reroll): 1d20+6 8 Well, Orokos hates me. Villain point added d4: 1d4 2 Correction since Villain points at a d4 instead of a reroll. Orokos really hates me. Looking at him, her mind races to try an explanation. Killing him might be possible, but it would move the plan to daylight, and endanger everything. Stay calm, don't panic. Look confident. "Oh, bother. That's annoying." Don't make it look like a big deal. "Yeah, I'm not currently chained up. Whoo..." She made a sarcastic raising of hands. "Don't think too much of it, boy." She gave a sad smile. "What can I say, there's a lot of lonely guards here, and I figured I might as well trade in my pride for a little freedom and food. Don't need pride where I'm going. I suppose you could tell the sergeant, and he'd find out who it is, and he'd get punished." She shrugged. "Honestly, for me, it matters perhaps the least. I'm hanging soon anyway. Perhaps the sergeant will reward you for snitching on his guard, or perhaps not. But the guards will know you're a snitch. Take my advice, boy. Don't try to change the world. You won't end well. " As much confidence as she put in her speech, so dejected and resigned dd she sound now. (For some mysterious reason, I switch to roll 20 instead of orokos. Rolled a 19, for a 25 on Deception. Try to convince him that this is nothing too shocking. Probably some favor trading. She's still behind bars, right? Do you wanna be the snitch as a 16 year old nerd among a bunch of burly guards? Nah, ya don't. Shogeton fucked around with this message at 16:37 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 02:45
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Gertrude Penderghast HP: 8/8 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 The flameskull was an interesting discovery, but Gertrude gave it little mind other than a quick predatory grin. It seemed someone out there shared her predilection for using the undead for tasks here and there. If the forces of the heavens were going to send lantern archons to spy, it was only fair that their darker benefactors sent in their own agents. The beast's cage was likely also alarmed, an interesting fact but one to discuss once the distraction they were about to experience had passed. When the trundling noise of the apprentice comes echoing down the hall, any eye looking toward Gertrude finds her perfectly back in position, her new amulet concealed away in her rags. Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Control Flames, Guidance, Light, Mold earth, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead Prepared Spells Bane, Bless, Command, Detect Magic, False Life, Healing Word, Inflict Wounds Feature: Mage Armor (Once per long rest) Circle of Mortality: Max HP gained when healing creatures at 0hp. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: quote:17 on deception to remain sneakylike chained up.
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Jun 7, 2018 02:50
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Pharom Ashgrove HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 I have to admit, thst half-orc can give a speech. I'm enthralled to the point that I don't notice the flaming skull until it actually says something. All of us gawk at it before it realizes we're looking at it and sinks out of existence. We barely have time to process that before one of the apprentices is coming, and I struggle to wrap the chain around my hand in such a way as to make it look like it is still firmly attsched to my wrist. Slight of hand: 1d20+2 11 Unfortunatly, I notice not everyone is quite ready yet. But, I have an idea. And, anyway, I've been looking forward to this simpleton's rounds... Dunking on scrub wizard wirh arcana: 2d20+3 32 Actually a 20, but I rolled two dice wrong. Save DC: 15 Cantrips: Mage Hand Effects:
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Jun 7, 2018 03:55
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Pharom sees the others scrambling and decides to do what he does best. Belittle others for their ignorance. Sneering, Pharom starts haranguing the poor apprentice, "If that stupefied look on your face is any indication of your faculties, it's amazing that you managed to make it through any level of the academy, even one as... lacking as Arzardys. I mean, just look at your form. You're holding that wand as if its a snake, afraid of the meager power within a wand of Detect Magic. I have literally made mistakes with more kick than that twig. If I had the distinct misfortune to have you in one of my classes, I would go and find the arcanist who let you in out of pity and hang them from their thumbs for wasting my time like that." There was much for the young man to gape at, but Pharom's invective makes itself the final discordant note in the vile little symphony directed his way. Already his sallow skin was a bit blushing, but now its red as his knuckles turn white. "I worked hard for this! I'm not some... some... Elf that was just born into it!" There's a meager bit of pride that Pharom has found, enough to have his attention. Enough to make the child do something stupid to prove himself, especially in front of these very attractive villainesses. He doesn't even seem to notice Egina's situation very much, though with what she said, about a lack of pride, causes him to gulp, the bad feeling sticking in his throat as he fidgets with his rod. "Is food all you want? I can bring it down, just be quiet. If they catch me, Lord Richter might have me expelled!" Excellence smiles at that. Perfect. She says, "It would be... most welcome. Thank you." "What I really want is not to die, boy. But food would be welcome. You're far kinder than the sergeant. You won't get in trouble for coming in here twice, will you? I figure I should stop adding misery done to my tally at this point." She said with a wry grin. "I mean... No, probably not, I don't think." He doesn't seem sure. "I'll go now. Vicenza," a name that carries some exhaustion in his tone to do, "will complain, but that's not much different." He glances around, stuffing the wand unceremoniously in the front of his robe, before he makes to go do good on his offer. Egina remained silent, feeling the sting of embarrassment at almost getting the lot of them made. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Was the boy actually going to get food, was he going to get attention of more guards? She went to belatedly take position near her chains, just in case someone else came down, offering a quick prayer to One Eye below that she hadn't just doomed them all. "Yes, go get some food. Even you couldn't screw that up. Indeed, it might be your true calling." Halstan paused at that, his body shaking for a few moments, but ultimately, Pharom has him cowed. If the dressing down had been any less expert at hitting exactly where it hurt, it might have provoked him unnecessarily, but instead dejected, he disappeared. As for Egina's prayer, the dead god, as usual, did not answer her, giving only a grim silence. And indeed it was a prolonged one, but eventually one heard the slamming of the dungeon door again, and a slight pitter patter at his return. The apprentice looked a bit ridiculous, the front bit of his robe swollen up like the throat of a toad, as he had collected breads and muffins (sweet muffins!) in the front of his robe. "I think Tisidora was cross with me, but this is all I could get." It was frankly quite more than might have been expected, enough if distributed to feed all of them at least one (if not entirely healthy) meal. It was to Egina that he found himself motioning to, since she was apparently freed and all. "Are you... Are you sure this is ok? I mean, normally you'd be fed..." "We would? I can't say I'm a regular customer here. I'm sorry, but 'gallows' humor is what's on my mind. We all deal with things differenty. The elf deals with it by being an immense prick." She took the food, and went to 'give some to the granny, before sharing it with the others. Her voice was quiet "It doesn't matter. We won't have time to starve. And I always wanted to lose a few pounds pounds anyway." She looked at him ;"Say, do you know anything about the Beast of Freness behind the silver chained doors there? I heard some guards talk about it, and Mr. Highly educated elven wizard here has used a very long sentence to say he doesn't know anything." Excellence bites a sweet muffin in half, barely bothering to chew, her eyes boring a hole in the apprentice all the while. "It's awful what they have done to take advantage of you, even if you are forsaken..." He clutches at his arm a bit, glancing a way. He seems genuinely a bit incensed. "A real Mitran shows mercy, even to those who have done nothing to deserve it." The smoldering eyes of the tiefling in particular, with her horns and everything else is not doing much to keep him from being a bit demure. He seems, honestly, rather surprised at the question. "The Beast? You mean the quaggoth? At least, I think that's what Master Irdanvaeros... Er, Lord Richter, calls it..." The University at Arzardys started among human wizards that peculiar tradition of using Draconic as its lingua franca, to distinguish themselves from the elves, and also, according to rumor, because of the hand of a bronze dragon in its founding. Many of its wizards take on Draconic names on their graduation to show they are now full wizards. "It's a foul thing... He is actually away to hopefully secure its passage back to the University where it can be more properly studied, but he has to convince the King's inquisitor first, who believes it should be burned. They mistakenly believe it has fiendish heritage."
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Jun 7, 2018 04:00
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HP: 7/7 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d6 Sal rolls her eyes with such exaggeration that it would be hard to hide from any more observant jailer, but with the boy's attention was on the women throwing themselves at him she seemed more than confident in a little outlet of self expression. Yet with the same ease the witch returns to her role, hesitantly slumping forward onto her knees to grasp at a runaway sweet roll headed her direction. As the conversation takes a turn for the Beast of Freness, and thus the teen wizard's mutual inters of monster girls and monsters intersect even further, Salvatrix inches forward. She reaches out still on her knees, staying below and off to the side, and a fair hand darts among the boy's robes for an instance before finding purchase and recoiling back to grasp the sweet roll. She's back against the wall before anyone, well at least anyone that mattered, is the wiser. Nibbling gratefully at the provided roll, she gives the boy a smile and manages a bit of a blush should their eyes. Another moment and she returns to downcast eyes and a quiet meal with her new treasure tucked away beneath the hem of her roughspun garment. (Salvatrix rolls a 22 to sleight of hand those precious keys off of his person, presumably including the key to the Warden's Tower) Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Firebolt, Friends, Prestidigitation Known Spells Charm Person, Find Familiar, Mage Armor, Shield, Sleep, Tasha's Hideous Laughter Feature: Arcane Recovery: Once per day, recover spell slots after a short rest. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 14:55 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 13:42
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Glenn Dunbarrow HP: 7/7 (5 THP) AC: 15 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Muttering to himself about the changing of the guard, it took Glenn a good extra second to realize everyone was looking at him - or rather, above him. "I always crack up at these parts. Seeing a family come together at last. It's the best part." "Hmm? What'sitnyyAAAH- Glenn toppled over on his back, arms out, hands straight - a pose he'd seen once in a traveling circus, employed by a master of the martial arts (of which he was not). The matter of the skull was quickly eclipsed, however, by the sound of the door. "Forgot you've got Blinky still around here. Uh... IGNORE ME!" The skull vanished. Glenn blinked, then made for his corner of the cell. He'd fallen on the map, hiding its traces. Reaching his section of the wall, his wrists once again found themselves embraced by cold iron, only now on his terms. Playing captive would be easy. 14 The visitor turns out to be one of the tower mages. A bumbling lad, eager to please and slow on the uptake. Glenn gives him a quick glance over for anything interesting. 12 (passive 19) Bad Seafood fucked around with this message at 02:43 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 14:42
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"The Band Escapes from Branderscar Prison" — The Dungeon All Members Present There's a bit of an awkward moment where Halstan lingers. He fidgets a bit awkwardly towards the end of it, as the monsters, both those who wear it on their sleeves and those who are only such in their hearts, feast upon his charity. He seems to have questions, but thinks better of it, his brow stitching itself into knots as he shooks Pharom defeated glances. Any further questions he might have would just make him look more stupid, he realizes. "I've got to get back to my duties, I'm already too behind. You lot seem alright. I know it may seem like this is the end, but... There's always a light." He tries to brighten his expression at that, to reconcile that these folks don't seem so bad and the fact they are soon going to die. Maybe these are the ones that will be able to meet Mitra's light with dignity, and be welcomed into his love? Haha, yeah right. What a maroon. He makes to leave finally, not even going to pay at his missing key-chain for some time. Salvatrix hides it and eventually reveals at the slamming of the door what she has acquired. It is the keys that Glenn had spotted earlier, three pairs: One silver, one brass, and one iron. They have a few things to process, and hours to do it in. Perhaps they might be able to put their heads together, and with a good fifteen hours ahead of them, it might do well to pass the time, unless they can figure something else out. If you want to discuss theories about the skull or anything else just learned, I recommend doing a side-scene for it on Discord. Meanwhile, a few hours later... The sharp-tongued Vicenza strikes poor Halstan on the back of her head with her palm. "You imbecile! Cretin! I can't believe they let common filth like you into the University!" She is seething at him. "This is the first time the Master has allowed us to take his duties, and on the second day you lose your keys? Where on earth would you have lost them!" Halstan withers a bit. What could he say? That he was unloading a shipment of sweets to the circle of terrible criminals in the dungeons, and dropped it, or worse, had it filched from him?  "I've gone back and forth my route. They are not anywhere." "Are you going to blame this on an imp like last time?" Vicenza mocked. That got Halstan to steel himself a bit. "I'm telling you! I detected conjuration magics down there. Something strange is going on, why else would the Heavens send an archon!?" "What is the living light fixture going to do, exactly, if something does happen?" Vicenza offers, crossing her arms, though she rubs at her chin a bit. "I don't like this. One of us should try and contact the Master." Halstan jumped at that. "N-no! Look, just give me a day and your pair. I can re-make the keys, I've been practicing my transmutation." Her voice turns a bit sickly sweet at that. "Beg for it."Halstan's face scrunched up. He knew it was coming, and he had gone through this routine again. She was older than him. She was a noble. And maybe they were the same year at University (it was weird someone so much older than him was, but he didn't ever dare bring that up around her), but she always seemed able to best him. So what choice did he have? Expulsion or... This. Halstan got down on his knees, there in the dirt of the garden, clasping his hands together as if to beg for his life. "Please Vicenza. I will do anything." That seemed to please the cruel half-elf, who patted him on the head. "You mean everything. I'm taking tomorrow off then. You'll stay here and do all my tasks before Master Irdanvaeros returns." Halstan makes to respond, knowing that he hasn't ability or time, but simply lets his shoulders sink. "Yes..." "Yes? Just yes? Remember who you are talking to." "Yes, mistress." That caused him to shudder as she passed by.Halstan picked himself up from the mud, his robes now dirtied down there, and with Tisidora's halfling staff so cross with him for going and taking all their baked goods, he was going to be on his own for cleaning it. It was going to be a long night. He made his dejected way down the cobblestone to the Warden's Tower, only to reflexively reach for the keys and groan when he remembered why he was in this mess already. "This is literally the worst day of my life."But it wasn't over yet. "The Band Escapes from Branderscar Prison" — Breaking Out from the Cell All Members Present The shift change from Vespers to Nocturns is marked at 10 p.m. by the chiming of a church bell from one of the watchtowers, which resounds through the whole prison. It wakes the prisoners from whatever distractions they had previously, as it will have been more than twelve hours of waiting later, without incident or interruption. The chiming of the bell, the shuffling of feet and the slamming of the door, all indicate to you that the time for the plan to be set into motion is upon you.  The first step of course is a little more waiting. During the initial part of the shift change, guards are alert and moving about, but waiting a good while after the bell chime, there's a second ringing, that's supposed to indicate that the shift change is over. That second chiming is when the crew moves into action. The lizardman is convinced with his height advantage to give the halfling a leg up, while "Rêve" plucks a black rose petal and hands it to the halfling as he's being lifted up to the ceiling. By pressing the petal against the ceiling, it begins to shimmer and expand into a black, perfectly round hole, and with slightly alarming spatial warping before your eyes that seem to stretch into dark infinities, it eventually reveals at the end a little pinhole of light, that expands as if racing towards your sight. The floor is a good three feet deep, making it a bit of a climb, but despite his stature the nimble Dunbarrow is able to scramble up into the armory. It is lit as the other corridors and room with fixtures of magical continual light, which burn with a cool blue fluorescence, giving a slightly off-putting quality to the interiors of the prison. Their design seems new and out of place with both the military affectations of the prison and the older forerunner fortifications it was built upon, likely an addition by the new warden from Arzardys, who has apparently been working to prove that a prison can be run nearly entirely through arcane workings rather than relying on a human element. Unfortunately his work is unfinished and the human element that remains is hardly adequate, and it will likely remain so, after you put a kibosh in the whole project. There are stands for which suits of cheap armor are to be set upon, and racks for the polearms and crossbows that the guards are equipped with. There may be a more unique piece of kit hidden here or there within the panoply, but ultimately it is an armoury for commoners, lacking much in the way of properly crafted armor or steel swords, which are the providence of the nobility. On one hand, it means you are unlikely to face any knights on your way out, yet on the other, you will have to suffice with lesser equipment, unless you are fortunate to find something out of place. Loot: Armoury posted:You can find the following equipment in the Armoury. Please specify if you are taken any of this with you. The armoury has four doors leading out, one for each direction. South leads outside, and there are two arrow-slit like windows facing outwards towards the warden's tower which is immediately behind the grand hall, and the door opens to a cobblestone path leading to it, as well as both around to the gardens and the gibbet. To the east opens into the main corridor of the grand hall, while the west opens up into the barracks. The north door appears to have a lock on it, but apparently it has not been locked (why would they need to lock it? everyone is trustworthy here!), leading into the store room. Within are some simple supplies, as well as a strongbox and some other provisions. Loot: Store Room posted:You can find the following equipment in the Store Room. Please specify if you are taken any of this with you. The armoury appears to have been somewhat reinforced as well, to become an emergency strong room as needed to rally, with each of the doors being able to be barred from the inside and thus made into barricades, and metal shutters over the slit windows. With the provisions in the store room, it can even be used in a siege context. However, its placement between the barracks, store room, and the rest of the grand hall means that it is not the best idea to tarry too long here, as if a guard needs to get something from their things, or a servant needs something that isn't in the larder in the kitchen, they are likely to need to come through here. Thus it may be necessary to cover the hole, which as you quickly find out isn't the portable kind of portable hole, and is now a permanent fixture of a perfectly circular hole in the ground dropping into the cell below. Glenn flattens himself against the western wall, and cracks the door to peer through. Inside he sees a barracks that is large enough to accommodate perhaps a hundred men, though many of the bunks have no sheets or even cots, showing that Branderscar is at best at half-strength. There are over a dozen resting guards, in various stages of actual sleep. Two in fact are across from each other kneeling at a bottom bunk, a dwarven woman and older human, praying to Mitra together with hands clasped together and heads bowed, mouthing the words silently so as to not disturb their comrades. It's a disgusting sight of solidarity. The shadow sorceress checks the eastern door, cracking it open and glancing outside to see a slight flash of light. Appearing from a distance little more than a globe of light, she is the first to spot the archon, as it seems to slowly move in an almost mechanical, measured motion back and forth. Though it has no visible eyes, there is a soft sound that emanates from it, like the continual hum of a glass armonica, and its "gaze" seems to come when that sound intensifies more and more, such that Lady Delacrie hears a swelling of the sound and a brightening of its light as it seems to turn and "face" her, giving a slight start. Whether either might draw any attention is hard to say. It won't be immediate, but the plan has been hatched. There's no turning back now. Glenn and Niashé, both of you need to make Stealth checks for scouting a bit ahead and scoping the area. I may call for further Stealth checks from others depending on their actions, but it won't necessarily be required for just suiting up and climbing into the armory. A failure also won't necessarily mean high alert. Other people thus shouldn't feel the need to wait for those results to take some equipment from the armoury, you have the time to do so, it just means there might be a little suspicion and eventually someone may investigate. Time to execute your plan, villains.
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Jun 7, 2018 18:46
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HP: 13/13 (5 THP) AC: 19 Villain Points: 4/5 HD: 1 (d10) After eating her fill of sweet muffins and breads, Excellence spends the majority of the time prior to their agreed-upon escape plan quietly contemplating her dark lord's mysterious ways. The skull was a clear sign of his affections, that much was obvious, and the rose was as well. She'd never admit it to the group, much less herself, but there had been a moment where it seemed her crusade would falter before it even began. To see everything falling into place... who wouldn't believe that a higher power was taking interest in their merry band of villains? By the time the hour of their liberation is at hand, her spirit is settled and razor-focused on what needs to be done. Excellence takes to the armory and storage room like a one-lady plague of locusts. The ring mail, cheap and worn, barely draws her eye. The spears of the guard are much more palatable, though she dearly wishes for a solid length of steel to fill her hand. The equipment for the travels ahead is an easy enough addition to her growing collection, as is the portable ram. She grins, imagining the shock when the lizardman and her explode through a securely locked door to the horror of the unprepared guards on the other side. The collection is hefty, yes, but nothing she is not used to as a professional soldier. Unlike her yapping dogs that claimed to be soldiers, she'd never balked from the prospect of a long march in full gear. Most exciting of all, though, she shifts a display rack that was tantalizingly ajar fully out of the way and finds a chest — surely a remnant of the prison's more martial origins — that contains a set of ancient, but still quite functional, splint. The associated tabard and shield are marked with the lion rampant against a striped field of argent and azure. She has no idea who's gear she's looting, but that matters little. It belongs to her now. Simply a pity for whichever noble family finds their ancestor's reputation in tatters after their daring escape. Once she is fully equipped, she quietly says, "Alright, then. I'd not imagine we'll get a second chance at this. Strike hard, strike quickly, and may Asmodeus guide your hands this eve." Spending a VP to find some ancient knight's Splint and associated heraldry tucked away in the back of the armory. Also grabbing a shield (flavorwise with the armor), six spears, one of the explorer's kits for sharing purposes later, and the portable ram. Tricky fucked around with this message at 02:22 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 19:44
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Pharom Ashgrove HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 I have a decent enough idea what the quoggoth is, but I am not going to waste my time explaining it to that simpleton. Once he leaves, though, I start to explain it to my less well educated comrades, but surprisingly, Worm knows plenty about it. In fact, he even drops a few tidbits that I was unaware of. It just goes to show that my instincts were correct. He might actually be the first colleague worthy of the title. The only real mystery left is the flaming skull, which... well, what is there to say about it? It was an invisible flaming skull that was watching our struggles as if it were mere theatre. Unusual doesn't begin to describe it. ___ Once the time comes, I climbs up the hole with the others and looks around the room. There's very little that catches my eye, but I do see a chain shirt that will suffice as armor. I also grab a shortbow and quiver, mostly out of nostalgia. My mixes are sure to be more potent. Speaking of, I rummage through the pack of supplies and grimace. It's very utilitarian, but beggars, choosers, etc. I toss a few herbs in a vial and give it a stiff shake. When it turns green and fizzy, I grin. Then, I whisper to the others, "I've got this batch of stimulants crafted and ready to go. I can make more if we need it, but they're only good on one of you a day. It's a very bad idea to use more than one in a 13 hour period, so... just don't. I'm keeping this batch on me, and I'll feed it to you if any of you get taken down. I expect you to extend the same courtesy to me." Pharom already has his alchemists supplies, so he's mostly set. He grabs a shortbow, quiver, and the chain shirt. He puts the talbard over it, on the off chance he can bluff his way out if found. He also grabs the oil flasks and stuffs them into his pack. Can't have too much oil. Also, he has a potion readymade and is keeping it for himself to play medic later Save DC: 15 Cantrips: Mage Hand Effects: Capfalcon fucked around with this message at 00:30 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 20:15
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Hriss“The Unbroken” HPS: 17/17 AC: 18 Villain Points: 4 of 5 Remaining HD: 1 (d12) Rage 2/2 Rage Dmg: +2 Somehow through the sudden appearance of a flaming skull and a young soft skin in a robe the prisoners plans of escape had yet to be detected. While the others had seemed to have fooled the soft skin with guile and displays of innocence the skull was still unexplained. It troubled Hriss enough to speak of it when it was safe to. "A flaming skull is not something I expected to see in this place. And I have experienced many strange things in my life. Was this another act of our benefactor? Or have one of your gods reached out to you? And if so is it still with us?" Hriss scans the room with his usual intensity. We can role play out a conversation about the skull in discord or in posts as needed. I feel like it would be just unheard of for something like that to happen without anything being said. Once the hour arrived the group went into action. Hriss was comforted by the feel of a proper weapon in his hand. He trusted his claws and teeth but the reach of a spear granted a fighter an advantage. And as luck would have it he would find a superior halberd waiting in the armory along with several other suitable weapons. While some in the party bickered about quality Hriss said nothing. The items may not be of a good make but they were serve their purpose in aiding his escape. Hriss made a point to advise the others of the advantages of sabotaging what they could not use. If guards were to somehow fall back to the armory they would present a threat from two sides. Better to cut the bow strings and fasteners on the armor. There was little they could do to break the spears or clubs without making a great deal of noise. But depriving the guards of usable armor and ranged weapons could turn into an advantage. He also suggested setting the hunting trap in a place likely to cause injury to a guard. "Waste nothing, leave no advantages for our enemy. We will escape. We will survive." Out of character stuff: From the armory and storeroom Hriss will take the following: 1 Halberd 6 Spears (for stabbing and throwing) 1 Shield 1 Heavy Crossbow with 1 case of 10 bolts 1 Explorers Backpack worth of supplies 1 Skin of Oil Rope Ladder I believe Hriss is best suited to be with Excellence in the heavy hitters group dealing with the archon and the guard groups. While he is good at stealth he is going to be limited in skullduggery by his need for light. The group going to slit throats in the barracks is going to want to use any lack of light to their advantage. We have a plan that is now in motion. We're arming ourselves. We are going to deal with the immediate threats in the cell block area; the archon and the guards on station. We have a group that is going to address the beast locked down here with us. We have a team for the sneak attack on the barracks. And our magic users lead by Granny Goodness are looking for the tokens to allow us safe passage through the trapped doors. What we need to put some discussion to is back up plans. One key point is going to be the archon. If we have to break out thunder wave to kill it that is going to bring the entire garrison down on our heads. We need to work out what we're going to do if that poo poo hits the fan. If things go badly I feel Hriss is going to want to go for a direct exit. He won't be willing to do side trips to the wizard tower or foraging for more supplies. The gate house is what we've all been discussing as the exit to use (barring conversation I missed in discord.) The gnome and the biggest concentration of ready guards will be there. Niashe is also after that gnome's head. There might be some alternatives available to us for escape through people's individual knowledge or the access to the ropes and supplies we have now. If you all have anything to add towards back up plans let's get them out on the table. Trast fucked around with this message at 21:10 on Jun 7, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 20:23
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HP: 10/10 AC: 11 Villain Points: 4/5 HD 1 (d8) Egina joins up, looking a bit dissappointed at the gathered weapons. No swords. She took a set of five spears, putting on a padded armor that would cover her brand for now. As she looked around, she noticed the shield that Excellence found. "May I see?" She said, going over it, lips moving as she mentally went over the lists memory shortcuts for all kinds of heraldry. Her eyes grow wide. "Oh my, fate continues to grin at us. This shield belonged to Darius. Now called Darius II, but at the time he was a warlord, known for his staunch defense of the people in the chaos after the fall of the dominion. The old fortress of Anakoton that had fallen in disrepair after the Dominion's fall was repaired under his command. Back then the orcs were in great enough number, and had some remnants of their old weapons to be a threat, despite the curse. When the raids came, the people fled behind the walls, with well supplied stocks. They were not needed. The orcs just assaulted the keep in frenzied waves, and were driven back with harsh losses, and soon fell to infighting. Some of his peers scoffed at him, calling him the Mason-King, but his lands thrived and grew stronger, where others paid a far harder price battling back the orcs." "Of course, he's a less famous part of his family. His grandfather Darius gave not only the name to his grandson, but also to what was to become a dynasty. He is of course famous as being a pit fighter leading the slave uprising of Phaistos, where a contingent of Dominion Knights were lured into the swamps, and decimated. Not only would their lack cost the Dominion dearly in later battles, but it inspired many slave rebelions, and even the failed ones weakened the Dominion's power. And of course, few do not know his descendant, who, in humility, changed his lion's coat from gold to silver, so as not to outshine his God. I speak of course of king Markadian, fifth of his name." The story was told in a respectful way, and one might even forget that the one who spoke the tales was branded a traitor to the realm, until that wicked grin returned "And now, it falls in your hands, servant of Asmodeus. As he turned the defenses of the Dominion against their old warriors, may you turn his defenses against those of his descendants." Gonna turn this into a use of Bardic Inspiration, so Excellence gets to add 1d6 to one of her ability checks, attack rolls or saves after roll but before outcome. Also take padded armor, 5 spears, the strongbox with money, an explorer's pack, the bag with symbols of Mytra because she wonders if those might be the tokens, a tabard. As for plan, I say we have our two Shogeton fucked around with this message at 16:37 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 7, 2018 23:59
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Worm of the Sharpfang HP: 11/11 AC: 14 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Worm shuffled back into his corner as the others talked to Halstan. If their escape attempt wasn’t discovered, then the goblin cared little for chatting with the boy. Gaining information through the twisting of words was not a skill of his, as it seemed to be for many in this cell. Most of the conversation with the boy passed through the goblin’s ears, but one word did catch his attention: Quaggoth. He didn’t recognize the name at first, but as Halstan described the Beast, Worm realized what it was. One of the elders had encountered such a creature, a terror to the Sharpfang tribe, though long before Worm himself was born. Once Halstan had left, the goblin turned to the others, saying, “Worm knows of this Quaggoth. Furred creature, like mighty bear, strong and full of vigor. Walks on two like you or Worm. But, not beast, exactly. It is born of man and of… fairy?” Worm stops, thinking, “No, of… fey. The dark dwellers. Not stupid, these Quaggoth. Can speak. But not much.” Like the goblin himself in that way, he mused. Digging deep, he thought back to the story the elder told of the beast. Of how they dealt with it. “Strong and large like bear, but quick too, the Quaggoth. As spawn of fey, can step between this land and theirs. Hard to track. Hard to kill. Makes it dangerous beast. But good ally. Or distraction. Crude iron, cold iron, uncrafted, can hurt spawn of fey, just as it hurts that which spawned it. Good to know, if Quaggoth turns against us.” One of the raids during the elder’s time happened to bring back such untempered iron, if Worm recalled correctly. It was a desperate goblin that stabbed the beast, and while the poor runt was eaten for its trouble, the wound was deep enough that the quaggoth retreated. His knowledge shared, Worm quieted down again as their escape attempt continued… --- Taking a look about the armory and storage room, Worm pondered over what he might be able to use. Not much. He was not keen on handling weapons outside simple ones, and armor ill suited him. Utilities then. Ones that might be useful now, or later. The oil could be useful but- Pharomhad taken most of it. Clicking his tongue in mild annoyance, the goblin asked, "Worm has use for the oil, if the elf would spare it." Taking a truncheon, an explorer’s pack, two sets of manacles, a rake, and a flask of oil if Pharom will share. Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Primal Savagery, Infestation Prepared Spells Entangle, Cure Wounds, Goodberry, Create or Destroy Water, Speak with Animals Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: Relationships Hriss: Respectfully Wary | Glenn: Indifferent | Gertude: Curiously Cautious Niashe: Irritatingly Useful | Salvatrix: Distrusts | Excellence: Distrusts Egina: Undecided | Pharom: Is an Elf (Irritatingly Knowledgeable) TheFireMagi fucked around with this message at 13:40 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 01:24
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Glenn Dunbarrow HP: 7/7 (5 THP) AC: 15 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Glenn gets busy sneakin' about, as one does. 16 The armory is well-stocked for his purposes. Inspecting the weapons, he nabs a short bow and a quiver of arrows. Ten, eleven...bit short. He grabs a handful of arrows from another quiver and stuffs them into his own, rounding out the number. He also assembles an explorer's pack. Rope, rations; things they'll need for the days ahead. Hriss speaks. "Waste nothing, leave no advantages for our enemy. We will escape. We will survive." Glenn nods. Smarter than he looks, he thinks. Could get used to a minion like that. "Once you're stocked up," he whispers aloud, "Break anything you don't need." He takes an arrow and mimes snapping it over his knee. Amidst the preparations, Egina's lifting of the strongbox almost goes unnoticed. Almost. Side-eyeing her, Glenn's silent frustration at being beaten to the punch instead blossoms into an idea. Several ideas. "Not bad, not bad" he says to her, "But don't forget money's more than money. You feel like spilling that box on the ground somewhere, I guarantee some schmuck is gonna take his sweet time accounting for it. Course you'd need to unlock it first." He produces a lockpick from his sleeve with a little flourish, hidden from Egina's view (9) - nearly dropping it, shitshitshit - and discretely unlocks the strongbox in the middle of his speech (14). The top clicks open right as he finishes. H-heh...e-easy. He turns away, a mixed expression of panic and relief hidden in his eyes. Entering the storeroom, he scoops up three flasks of oil, a hunter's trap, and a single hooded lantern. At the far end, where the storeroom empties out into the grand hall, he sets the trap for any wayward guards. He makes a meager attempt to camoflage it (9), only to be sabotaged a bit by his nerves. Still, the trap is set. It's something. Easy Glenn. Easy. It's gonna be a long night. He rubs his sleeve, Gertrude's knife tucked neatly away. That's right, he thinks, I'm... He was no stranger to murder. Typically on his orders, not by his hand. He'd killed before, in self-defense. He was a small fry, loathe as he was to admit it. He needed to be prepared. But tonight...tonight he was going in cold-blooded. He'd be slitting throats, setting fires. He'd be doing this. Him, himself. He takes a deep breath. "You've done this before, dammit," he whispers to himself. You've got blood on your hands already. It wasn't your knife, but it's your fault. Tonight you own up to it. Tonight...it's your blood, your hands. He clenches his fist and eyes the tabards. He rejoins the group. "Fair few tabards over yonder. Doubt we'd pass for guards, but it might give someone a moment's hesitation. Speaking of which, I'll be needing some company in the barracks. Someone discrete and powerful." He glances in Hriss' direction. Bad Seafood fucked around with this message at 02:42 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 01:41
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HP: 10/10 AC: 11 Villain Points: 4/5 HD 1 (d8) "Oh, that's a good plan. I was hoping to keep most of it in case we need some bribes. Perhaps you could unlock... it?" She said, then looked pretty drat impressed when the box, which she KNEW had been unlocked She grinned and looked down. "With a quick and steady hand like that, those folks next door are going to talk to their god up close without knowing what'd happen." The nervousness in his gait, and the way he was... soft, unscarred made her realize that despite being here, the halfling might not be... as ready to kill as many others. As the others were gathering teir own things, she crouched and lowered her voice so that it would only be for the two of them to hear. "You know, I was raised from my 7 years by some very kind folks. Not too god-bothering, but generally decent. When I started to learn to become a bard, I had mostly been thinking about learning about history, finding my place in it. One of my fathers had been a soldier, and he always spoke of killing as a dreadful thing, necessary, but sad. And I believed him, and I think he believed it too, or he believed that is what I needed to hear. Anyway, in my studies I found my place and it involved smuggling weapons to orcs. I had some power. I was smarter, richer, better connected and in many ways more powerful than many of the men and women who worked for me. But there was a hardness, a strength in their eyes, that I didn't have." "Until, one day when we were near an orc tribe, some bandits thought to stop us. We fought them off, and one of them was just laying there, his leg cut open, pleading for his life. We couldn't leave him alive, someone might find him, and he'd sell us out. And I was about to talk to orcs for the first time, so I told one of the guards to give me the blade and that I'd do it. And I acted like this was normal, but I was sweating. What if I vomited, what would it be like, could I really do such a thing, would it change me forever? And then I stood there. And I was hesitating a bit, before someone started to remind me that we had to get out of there fast, and I just stabbed down, and he died." "At the time, I was surprised how little I felt right away. Yeah, a person changed into a corpse, but I'd seen corpses before. I'd wielded weapons before. No, it wasn't until camp that evening that I found that I was looking my hirelings in the eye in a way I hadn't quite done before. There's many ways a person can have power over them. To know that you can use money to ruin their lives. To know you can seduce them. To know you can command them. To know that you can apparently steal whatever they have on them and they won't notice, though I'm thinking that's a power you have that I'll never have." She grinned, then looked serious. "And to know that, if it came down to it, you might kill them. Maybe not right now, maybe not at this time, but you really know, in your heart, how thin the line is between a person and a corpse, and that you have the power, and the willingness to push someone across that line. And I could be wrong, I read people wrong sometimes, but you might not have that power yet. So I think this is a good thing that you do it. For us, because you're quick, and your hand is sure, and there's noone in this group I'd rather have do this. But also for you, because you'll come out of that room more than you were when you came in." She grinned and stood. "Anyway, hope I didn't bore you with my history. You know how we bards are, always telling stories." Using a my second Bardic Inspiration to give Glenn the one time +1d6, two of them left Shogeton fucked around with this message at 16:37 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 02:25
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Hriss“The Unbroken” HPS: 17/17 AC: 18 Villain Points: 4 of 5 Remaining HD: 1 (d12) Rage 2/2 Rage Dmg: +2 Bad Seafood posted:
"You wish my help in the barracks? Striking when the enemy least expects it is a wise plan." Hriss also lays out his concerns about having back up plan in case too many guards survive the attack and they have to retreat. Glenn agrees with the lizardman. Hriss collects the garrote from Excellence's possession so that his attacks can be made quietly. The halfing and lizardman, the strangest of allies at the moment, set off to do their work. This kind of attack was in the lizardman's element. Attacking unsuspecting enemies when they least expected it. Surprise was in their favor. The guards were ill trained and poorly disciplined. They would not fail in their part of the plan. Both of them moved like ghosts through the armory. It reminded Hriss of past time with his tribe in the deep swamp.The tribe would defend their homes with a singular resolve. The human and the dwarf suspected nothing. They were deep in their prayers to a god they would soon be meeting. The two villains struck with knife and garrote. It had truly begun. quote:Details of Team Stealth plan of attack: Dice Rolls for scene posted:In roll20: Trast fucked around with this message at 03:39 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 03:33
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Glenn Dunbarrow HP: 7/7 (5 THP) AC: 15 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Effects: 1d6 Bardic Inspiration for the next 10 minutes (Orokos borked; using Roll20) Glenn considers Egina's words, a wellspring of confidence energizing his weary expression. He nods in her direction - for the first time, politely - and joins with Hriss. "Listen. Two of 'em, saying their prayers. You take the big one." He lets slip the kitchen knife from his sleeve, catching it by the handle. "I'll take the little one." He holds the knife to his temple in a mock salute. "The rest are asleep. Shouldn't take more than a few seconds each. I'll...I'll take care of that bit. You watch for any unexpected guests. When it's time to get gone," he taps the lantern at his side, "Light this and position it above the door jam. Precariously, if you could. I'll spread a little oil around for anyone who feels like running in for reinforcements. Should light the place up something fierce." Gather the pillows, he thinks to himself. He's seen it done before. Velvet had taught him. Velvet, of all people. You placed the pillow over their mouths to prevent them from crying out. Then you sat on the pillow. Then you cut down, or across, or whichever way seemed best. Simple enough. He could definitely do it. Thirteen times. A worried smile spreads across his face. Once I'm done it's just a quick check for anything interesting. Then we're out. Peering into the barracks, Glenn steels himself for what comes next. He shuts his eyes, lets out a low breath, and enters, poised to strike with the old woman's knife. Dice Rolls posted:Glenn backstabs the dwarven woman (with advantage).
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Jun 8, 2018 04:19
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Gertrude Penderghast HP: 8/8 AC: 19 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Gertrude isn't terribly interested in the contents of the armory, the vast majority of the gear present not suited to her tastes, but she plucks up a few things here and there. Dropping back down into the cell, she returns to the corner she's been sitting in and appears to drop into heavy prayer. Dropping back into the cell, Gertrude goes about putting on her new article of clothing, giving a healty dose of though to the odd skull that had been spying on them. It was an interesting thing, but given the appearance of the archon and Asmodeus', or at least his servants, interest in freeing them it wasn't an unthinkable thing to have appeared. She gives a little mental shrug and commits to the idea of widening her senses to detect the little onlooker from time to time, but it isn't a pressing matter. As equipped as she's going to get,Gertrude spends a few minutes in silent prayer to her Lord and then begins a more vocal prayer to their new benefactor in Asmodeus. After she's paid her respects she reaches forward into the open air and makes a smooth plucking motion, turning her palm to face upwards. Resting in her hand is an ethereal copy of a tarnished war medal which she whispers to "Eustace attend. We've work to do." As soon as she's done speaking, a thin green mist begins to flow from the medal, her husband's soul eventually taking form and looming protectively over her. Eustace's face is a study in contrasts, at moments he seems so content to be standing guard over his loving wife, but very seldomly the ghost glances down and truly sees Gertrude for what she'd become and a wave of boiling hatred would edge into his eyes at having been denied his eternal rest by the hated crone. You don't get to the point of life that Gertrude has with unruly servants under your command however, within moments of any potential outburst the necromantic energies sustaining Eustace's form would snap into place and siphon off the excess power he would try to gather in an attempt to be free, in turn fueling the unholy strength keeping Gertrude's form going and resetting his upset mind to the moment he'd been summoned. Gertrude gives her husband's ghost a loving caress on the cheek, and moments later the man dissolves, the only hint of his presence a faint sheer outline around Gertrude's body which let off a tendril of green mist occasionally. When she stands there's no longer any shaking in her legs, and the kind facade she'd worn throughout the day has mostly dropped and left only a hard icy glare that she turns on the room. The cell door was still in need of bypassing, but the new hole in the roof did make it possible for the group to loop around to the entrance of their cells to take care of the guards. Either way, they'd have to make their way to the mysterious Quaggoth and see if they could put the thing to work as a distraction or perhaps as a more stalwart ally in their escape. Save DC: 14 Cantrips: Control Flames, Guidance, Light, Mold earth, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead Prepared Spells Bane, Bless, Command, Detect Magic, False Life, Healing Word, Inflict Wounds Feature: Circle of Mortality: Max HP gained when healing creatures at 0hp. Lvl. 1 [2/2] Effects: Mage Armor: AC is 13+dex quote:Gertrude will put on one of the spare tabards for even a little extra "Was that just another guard???" at a distance.
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Jun 8, 2018 06:20
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Pharom Ashgrove HP: 9/9 AC: 12 Villain Points: 5/5 HD: 1/1 d8 Once the others start gearing up, Pharom says, "No sense leaving our mysterious friend's gifts on the the vine, as it were. If no one has any objections, I'll take the knife, the potion, and the poison." He also hands a pair of oil flasks to Worm when asked. He says, "I had though to use them to douse the card players and then light them aflame with a touch of fire. What did you have in mind?" While whispering with Worm, Pharom idly organizes his alchemy supplies in his pouch while waiting for the others to get in position to ambush the Archon Grabbing the knife, potion, and poison. I'm thinking my alchemists identify ability would let me know what the poison, right? Save DC: 15 Cantrips: Mage Hand Effects: Capfalcon fucked around with this message at 16:27 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 14:23
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HP: 13/13 (5 THP) AC: 19 Villain Points: 4/5 HD: 1 (d10) Excellence lines up by Pharom, eager to charge into the fray and strike down even a lesser servant of the accursed celestials. She says, "I look forward to seeing your wizardry in action. May it strike down our foes as effectively as your words did that boy." Also go for Team Ambush Archon. Tricky fucked around with this message at 02:21 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 16:50
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