"Blast," the tiefling offers with a hand to Aleksandyr. "Agreed," he says to Mellany. "I'm not too much good without my... er... things... Although these," Blast mutters as he scoops up the manacles, "have a nice heft to them, and I'm told I have remarkable aim." He grins at the others.
As Mellany begins to tend to the body, Blast nods with her assessment of Aleksandyr's carriage. He's about to move to help her when Akari skewers the unconscious guard. "Hvað í hylinn?" he cries out, then claps a hand over his mouth, realizing the noise he made. "Why would you--" Then he begins to understand as she shifts into apparently the same form as the guard. "I think I understand, and I'm working on a plan myself. Still..." Blast whispers wistfully, looking down at the guard's corpse.
"First thing, I say we rescue the children," Blast finally says. "Second, we find our things, and the lady's feline friend. After that, maybe we can break out of this áburðigat."
She skewers the guard? Senseless. If only he had had his walking stick he would have smacked her for such rash and ridiculous behaviour. "My name is Alian Zaigan and I agree. Those children did not deserve this. I'm not one for blades either but I trust Aleksandyr knows his way around one? Most of the Inheritor's faithful can I have noticed."
Once the door of their prison was opened Alian started looking over the hallway for anything resembling his quarterstaff, even a mop would do for now.
When the guard was killed the paladin stood in shock after witnessing such a sight. "You murdered a helpless man," the man spoke in a low, callous tone. "Was that really necessary? We don't have to lower ourselves to their level... He was fine, we would have left him here shackled and gagged but..." He spat on the floor, appalled. He yanked the sword from her hands and shook his head.
He tested the balance of the blade and then wiped the blood from it. "This will have to do," he said grudgingly. "However, I will use this armor if no one else makes use of it. I'm more comfortable in something heavier, however... Here’s hoping we find our confiscated effects." He took the time to don the studded leather, securing each strap and clasp with a stern attention to detail. When he had finished he stood up, unsheathed his sword and looked to his would-be companions. The tongue of hell sounded like nails on a chalkboard to him when Blast spoke.
”Let’s see to the children, we owe them that much,” the knight spoke, nodding. He looked to Alian and then quietly proceeded to where the children were taken.
After seeing the guard killed, Mellany avoids eye contact with the others. If he had attacked her, she would have killed him herself. But this was... Mellany takes a deep breath when she realizes she's wandered outside the cell to the door to the room where the priests have their altars.
"The guard said he could bring us to the priests one at a time, she says quietly. "Akari and Blast can both assume his form. I think your other faces are prettier, but his face will work better at getting us through this door. Let's put on a little play for the priests. The king is delivering a prisoner to the priests. Aleks is in costume to play a guard helping to make the delivery."
She looks at the others to see if they're following her idea before adding, "It's my idea so I'll play the prisoner. Hopefully we can distract the priests and guards enough that they won't notice when the rest of you sneak in behind us. So, what do you think?"
Quick edit to clarify Mel didn't walk into the priests' room before speachifying.
"Good to meet you, Alian," Blast mutters, noticing Aleksandyr wincing at the demonic tongue. The tiefling continues to stare at the corpse of the guard, listening to the human pick up the sword and strap on the armor. He nods as both Alian and Aleksandyr agree that the children are the first priority.
When he hears the others moving out into the hallway, Blast is about to follow. But first, he rolls the guard over and closes his eyes with a brush of his fingers, before replacing the corpse and joining the group.
"Sounds like a good enough plan," Blast replies to Mellany. "Although I cannot take forms-- I'm cursed with this;" Blast gestures at himself and his tail, which darts out for a moment, with a dry grin; "And I'm not much of a sneak. Since we have two playing the guards, why not have two prisoners? I'm certain these priests wouldn't mind killing someone like me."
Pyrrius shakes his head at the slaying. That was unnecessary. The alarm will sound the minute a guard walks by the nearly empty cell, regardless of whether or not that was alive or dead. Still... probably saved him from the gallows, with his "I'm the King" bit.
"I am Pyrrius," he says before looking at their new 'guards'. "I have no better plan. However, each of our two guards are missing key elements. One arms and armor, the other a uniform."
"If only I had my own robe instead of this ragtag garment I could even pass for a priest when pulling up my hood. Alas, it may not be. I guess I'll make a fine prisoner as well, if need be." He continues his search for anything he could use in the place of his quarterstaff.
"Blast, when we get out of here, could you help me a bit on my Abyssal? For some reason I can't seem to get the hang of it." Most on his side of the fence would cringe at the idea of speaking such a tongue, but both his grasp of Infernal and Shadowtongue had proven useful in the past and adding Abyssal to that list would be a good next move.
Akari gets right up in Aleksandyr's face and says:
"save your condescension for someone who cares for your zealous sense of morality. The only thing on my mind is reducing current and future threat while escaping. I've grown up around these men, and they wont show grattitude for mercy. We can talk about your feelings later. As for a weapon, i'll do fine with this whip, though during combat, I can let someone else use it. Also, the shackles will help with the prisoner narrative."
The man scowled when Akari got up in his face. "Perhaps you deserved to be here," he said sharply and just ignored her. He turned on his heel and headed right down the hall with the longsword held tightly in his hand. His mind brewed with his own judgment but didn't want it to escalate out of proportion. There were children here who needed to be saved. His order were often a disliked lot as many did not hold their moral standards high which is why most of them died or ended up in prisons. He glanced to Mellany, Pyrrius, Alian and Blast. Fueled by a heated mood, he stormed ahead.
"Lets go," Aleksandyr said as he took a brisk pace. He led the chain gang down the hall to the room where Mellany was prepared to enter. He gave her a slow nod and gestured to the door as he fell quiet. Raising a hand, he counted down with his fingers.
Three. Two. One.
The knight burst into the door with his sword drawn.
"We'll just have to hope for the best, Pyrrius. I doubt the ruse would take us too far in any case." Blast shakes his head, then turns to Alian. "It's rough on the throat and tongue," the tiefling says. "I use it sparingly." Better not to tell them exactly why I know it... he thinks.
Blast glances over to Akari and Aleksandyr having their little argument. Infighting, just what we need. Fortunately, the fight breaks up quickly... Then Aleksandyr strides over to the door, looking intent on opening it. Blast hurries over to stand to one side of the doorway, peering out from a crouch, a set of manacles held in his hand, ready to be thrown.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Stealth: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
If you don't like my plan, we could lose our tempers and just bash the door in, Mellany thinks as Aleksandyr marches to the door. On the other hand, the young ones on the other side of the door don't sound like they have a lot of time for carefully laid schemes. Mellany catches Aleksandyr's signal and attempts to make herself as inconspicuous as possible in the shadows by the door.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Stealth: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
And, since we seem headed for combat, Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
When he gets his chance at the keys, Taurven gets up and stretches his cramped muscles. Much better.
He watches as Mellany tends to the guard's wound. She has a kind heart. I doubt she's here for just cause.
Then Akari strikes the guard through the heart. ...And that one is ruthless.
If there ever was a chance of lawful release it is well and truly gone now. We are all accessories to murder now.
Taurven doesn't share these thoughts, but he does introduce himself when the time comes.
Taurven Wess, wandering minstrel, at your service.
Taurven shrugs. Not the best met, but things can only get better when you start at the bottom.
Then he follows the others down the hall. Being unarmed, he stays to the rear, though he can throw a fair punch.
Perception:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Stealth:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Initiative:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
The door swings open with a lazy creak, revealing a large stone-walled room that serves as a guard post for the dungeon keepers. A single cell adjoins the room, in which sits an old, wrinkled man with a bedraggled beard which reaches down to his waist. The guards are in the process of chaining the children to a hook in the wall when one casually turns around, then drops the chain in surprise. "What the... who are you? Where is Jorge?" One of the more quick-witted guards recognizes the figure and darts over to the large door on the other side of the room, calling through it "WE HAVE PRISONERS LOOSE!"
Blast reacts as quickly as he can when he sees the plan falling apart. Slipping through the doorway past Aleksandyr, he whips the pair of manacles about and throws them at the head of the guard who's calling to the other room.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6; 1d4 ⇒ 3
After this, he falls back against a wall, glancing around desperately for another projectile.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Aleksandyr began to move towards the other side of the room when he felt something fly over his head. He ducked as a pair of manacles were thrown like a set of bolas. His eyes went wide and he nearly yelped, gripping his sword in two hands. While he detested needlessly spilling blood, he knew at this point it was a life or death siutation. He rushed the yelling man and brandished the sword above his head. He sank the steel into the guard with a vicious blow, cutting skin and bone.
Critical Confirmation 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
Damage 1d8 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 3 = 12
Extra Critical Damage 1d8 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 3 = 12
Damage: 12, 24 w/ Critical Hit
The guard dodges the manacle but it stops him from further calling out; he is just able to draw his sword before Aleksandyr's blade runs him through, a surprised look running across his face before he slumps to the ground.
One of the guards draws his sword and runs at Aleksandyr swiping at him recklessly. (He does 1-8th damage.) The second drops the chain holding the children and pushes them aside as he faces the door sword-first.
Mellany is about to follow Aleksandyr into the room when another guard pulls a sword and stands in the doorway. The golden haired woman stands tall and smiles at the guard, "You wouldn't really use that thing, would you, sweety? להיות עדיין!" As she utters the Celestial phrase, she thrusts her palm towards the guard. Her spell cast, Mellany tries to walk through the door and past the guard so others can follow her.
Attempting to Daze the guard. DC13 or he can't act for the next round.
Pyrrius moves to the guard at the door, claws growing from his fingers as he swipes at him, channeling his arcane power into the strike.
Grow claws as a Free Action; Arcane Strike as Swift action; Move action to get to the guard; Standard to attack.
Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Damage: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Edited to change target and the damage. Sorry, the +1 arcane strike was already included. I guess I'm still a little flustered from the site being erratic the last few days.
The fact that the guard had called for help is not lost on Taurven. We have to win this fight, now or there will be no others.
Reaching deep within himself, Taurven summons up all the force of his personality and begins to sing: In days of old, when ships were bold, as were the men who sailed them... The half-elf has a rich and textured baritone voice, and it somehow heartens his fellow escapees.
Bardic performance: Inspire Courage +1 (standard action).
After the knight drove the guard to the floor with a heavy, two-handed swing he looked to the next guard who engaged him. The guard caught him unaware and drew his blood, the leather providing little protection for the warrior more familiar with heavier armor. He grit his teeth and brought his sword to the side, swinging in a wide arc. The steel promised to bite into the flesh and rend the man as he sought to deliver another life threatening blow. "Be prepared to meet your maker," Aleksandyr growled.
Damage 1d8 + 4 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 3 + 1 = 14
The guard striking at Akesandyr turns his head around briefly as one of the prisoners starts to sing. "What in the nine hells..." mutters the guard before turning around to receive a blow from the leather-armoured prisoner that gouges deeply into his leg. "Arrgghhh...." he hisses through his teeth. "You sons of b+*#*es! You'll have every part of your bodies teleported into eleven different planes at once by the priests... they'll summon devils to torture your minds until you willingly jump off the highest city peak!" drips of spit flying from his mouth as he shrieks, the guard lunges at you again but his blade harmlessly passes you by and cleaves into the floor.
The dazed guard wavers on his feet, wobbling just enough to avoid the enemy's punch, his hand still pressed against the bleeding claw wound in his belly.
Mellany walks past the guard she dazed. Out of the corner of her eye she sees three of her friends are fighting him, so she turns her attention to Aleksandyr's opponent. After letting him finish his little speach, Mellany starts laughing. "Really, teleported into all the planes and tortured by devils? It's one or the other, hun. By the way, you must not have seen me. I'm obviously not a son. If I'm going to be a b+! is up to you. I've seen two men killed today. Drop your weapon if you don't want to be number three!"
Intimidate: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Blast watches in minor shock as the battle progresses. A spellcaster, someone with claws, a warrior, an acrobat... this is certainly a motley group.
Unsure of what else to do, and not trusting himself in hand-to-hand combat unarmed, Blast steps forward when he sees Mellany attempt to intimidate the guard.
Following her lead, he calls out, "I think it's best if you listen to her. She has more power than your priests-- just look at your friend over there, who didn't even try to keep his stomach intact. And," Blast gives it a shot, "look what she did to me!" With this, he brings his tail out in front of him from under his coat.
Intimidate (aid another): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
Bluff (not sure if this would help give a bonus to the Intimidate roll or not, but it seems right to do): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22
The guard hesitates and grows visibly disturbed- he starts shaking and his grip loosens on his sword.... but then he grits his teeth and holds his sword up again, and his grip is firm even though his hand shakes.
"Nothing you can do to me can match what the Empire does to cowards, you... abominations!"
The dazed guard's eerily skillful wobbling enables him to avoid the Aasimar's attempt at wrestling.
Guard gains the 'shaken' condition.
Mellany sees Blast's display and quickly covers her mouth to keep from giggling. She turns to the tiefling and mutters, "Primum dixit ego eius dorsi appendix crescere. Normaliter suus in ventral."
She then turns back to the guard with a big smile on her face. "Oh, look at you shaking. Just put that nasty old sword away before you hurt yourself. תאמין לי, אני חבר."
Charm the guard. DC13
Blast bites his lip for a moment. "Non numquam dicere," he whispers back with a wink, crouching down to pick up the dead guard's sword.
"Potest te uti hoc?" he mutters. "Ego potest probabiliter proice..."
Can you use this thing? I can probably throw it...
"Detestor arma," Mellany replies. "At quid ego hie conetur mi turpis, ut tradat."
She then looks back at the guard. "I'm sorry, we've been really rude. My fellow abomination was just wondering if your blood would be salty or sour. Let's not give him a chance to find out."
His head begins to reel again, feeling like he's falling from a cliff, the sense of momentum tugging at his body. Then at the moment of impact, he's thrust again into consciousness. He hear a cacophony of tongues none of them made sense to him, like the babbling of a brook. His eyes open to a dark blur, then begins to clear, it seems to take ages. Then the sounds of voices, and men screaming. Aromar shakes his head into cognition. The cell is half empty, a few others lay sleeping or unconscious or worse. One man appears to be bleeding heavily from his chest … no breathing, a pool of dark blood on the floor around him, likely dead. The cell door is open, keys beside him. Sounds, clearer now coming from beyond the hall in the next room. Aromar strains to grab the keys and is reminded of the dull throbbing pain at the back of his head. He unlocks his shackles. The sounds are of combat, perhaps his fellow captives are making their attempt at escape. Now is the time. His wrists now free, though badly bruised from the restraints he pushes himself to a partial stand, his back arched to accommodate the slope of the cell at the corner he is in. He surveys the ground … nothing, nothing of use, no weapons nothing to defend himself with. Knuckle busting has never been his forte, but it will have to suffice. He staggers his first few steps, finds his footing and a clearer head and now briskly lunges towards the door to see a Tiefling and an Aasimar taunting what appears to be a sleepy looking guard in the doorway. ’One can’t choose one’s bedfellows at a time like this I suppose.’
Aromar lunges at the guard with a broad swing aimed squarely at the guard’s jaw.
Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Damage: 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
His wits clearly not with him yet, punch finds a wide pocket of air to the ledt of the guard and he almost loses his balance with the force of the waylaid shot.
Assuming here that the dazed guard does not get an AAO
That luck can't last. Taurven tells himself. Sustaining his song the bard steps into the room.
...And if they showed us disrespect, we tied them up and flailed them... Hah! Taurven takes a swing at the dazed, and so far, lucky guard.
Unarmed Strike:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 141d3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 Non-lethal.
Forgot to add the +1 for Inspire courage
The steel struck the floor and produced a ring as the room became a frenzy of sword and spell. Aleksandyr harried the guard as the other prisoners behind him pummeled the other. He shifted place, stepping to put the man between himself and the door. He tightened his grip and and hefted the longsword above his head with ease. His ability with the sword was impressive, his strike true as he dropped it down into the man's shoulder as he grit his teeth. "We've danced together long enough," he grunted.
Power Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Critical Confirmation 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Damage 1d8 + 4 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 3 + 1 = 11
Critical Damage 1d8 + 4 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 3 + 1 = 11
As Aleksandyr's blow strikes at the guard's neck, his strong armor robs it of some of its force. Despite this, the blade cleaves deeply into the guard's throat and neck, coughed-up blood spraying across his killer's face. The guard slowly slumps to the floor, his hands vainly trying to push his leaking blood back into his body before falling still.
Upon seeing the other guard drop Alian once more tries to subdue the dazed guards. They'd need someone alive to tell them were their things were and it always good to avoid bloodshed when possible.
Grapple again 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
And fail again, the diceroller must have a crush on this guard
"Stubborn fool," Mellany says as she walks up to the guard. "If you won't give me that thing, I'll have to take it." Inwardly, the witch is amazed she's able to keep from trembling as she walks forward. Trying to wrench a sword out of someone's hand is a risky maneuver, but she's got to try.
Disarm attempt: 1d20 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (6) + 1 - 4 = 3 (Technically the guard has an Attack of Opportunity before Mellany's attempt.) Edit: Forgot to add the +1 for Taurven's Inspire Courage, but it wouldn't have done any good with that roll. ;P
Snapping back to clarity, the guard growls as he slashes his sword across the blonde woman's shoulder, cutting it deeply. "Back, you witch whore!" he shouts at her with a look of fury, shrugging off her feeble attempts at removing his sword. "I'll be damned if I let you ensnare my mind again with your wiles!"
Mellany, take 1/6th damage.
As the guard falls to Aleksandyr's blade, one of the maimed children with a long scar struck across his face looks up at him with an expression of hope. Suddenly, he darts over to the door the guard had yelled through and slams it shut. He quickly barks orders to two other urchins and they stagger to their feet and help him lift a large wooden board and slot it in place onto the door, barricading it shut. It closes just in time as the sound of tens of running footsteps come to a stop at the other side of the door and start to pound on the heavy oak.
Since this is such unorthodox combat, I'm gonna try something really dumb.
Blast steps back as Mellany tries to take the guard's sword, sidestepping around him to strike from the back. He winces as the weapon slashes across, cutting into Mellany's shoulder. Deciding he doesn't want that to happen again, and taking advantage of the guard's distractedness, Blast launches himself onto the guard's shoulders.
Grapple attempt: 1d20 ⇒ 7
After this fails, Blast luckily catches himself on his feet. He sees the urchins slam shut the door and nods to them, smiling. That's the way to do it, he thinks, remembering his own youth.
Taking a cue from the Tiefling's attempt, Aromar throws himself at the guard, arms stretched wide as if in the middle of a swan dive and attempts to wrap his arms around the man.
Grapple: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
"Ha! Witch, yes. Whore, when I had to," Mellany is almost growling at the guard. "But even half-starved and freezing, I wouldn't have bedded you for all the gold in Cheliax."
Despite her outward show of defiance, Mellany is starting to worry. She knows she was lucky the guard's first attack didn't do more serious damage. "Si vestri 'iens experior ferro misit, consectetur tempus."
Then she sees Blast and another prisoner try to tackle the guard. Blast's move was almost as desperately wild as her attempt at disarming, but the stranger looks like he knows what he's doing.
"By the way," she smiles at the guard. "I'm a witch whore with friends."
Edit: Got ninja'd because it took me longer to write that than I anticipated. Made a quick edit to respond to Blast and Aromar's attacks.
"Теперь не говорите с женщиной в этом роде. Там будет много адские шлюхи, чтобы пообедать на душе довольно скоро." Alian grinned as the ranger finally did manage to take hold of the guard. "О, как я бы хотел, чтобы вымыть мылом рот." He just hoped the guard at the very least recognised the Infernal language.
"Now don't talk to a lady like that. There will plenty of infernal whores to dine on your soul soon enough."
"Oh how I wish I had soap to wash your mouth."
Blast grins as Aromar succeeds where the tiefling failed. He is surprised by some of Mellany's comments, but doesn't let it show. Instead, he turns to Alian. "Ах, да, я уверен, что он получит свою долю террора. Из моего собственного опыта с обитателями внешней плоскости, мы, вероятно, гораздо приятнее..." Blast grins evilly at the guard. "So what do you say? Want to surrender now, or should I have my friend here break your limbs one at a time?"
Intimidate: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Curse you, dice!
"I think what my friend tried to say is that your options are limited. Either you surrender and talk now, or we break you. We'll even rough you up at the end so your "friends" won't think you spilt the beans. Сделка?" His voice was calm but Alian hoped the bit of Infernal at the end would be familiar to him and unnerve him just a bit.
Diplomacy 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Why is it that dicerollers everywhere always give either a low or something really high, but never anything in between?
"Hihi, trying to get answers from a fanatic is like trying to catch a greased pig... easier to do when you stake them down first."
"אני הולך לנסות משהו. ואל תדאג, לא לפגוע בו."
Akari will snatch the dagger from the guards side. She places it lightly on the guards shoulder, in the soft spot just below his collar bone.
"Here we go, let me show you what I meant. Now, if you don't tell us where our things are, and how to get out of here, you'll wish you had died like your friend who's face down in our cell in a pool of his own blood."
Bluff: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22 + modifiers for having him pinned and a dagger to his chest.
Akari will get up nice and close, and begin to speak softly, with her chest at an unusually low angle.
"You can come up with your own story about how this happened, but if you tell us now, at least you'll have a chance to figure that out when the time comes."
Aaromar is somewhat disconcerted with the foreign tongues the others are using but he maintains his grip on the man nonetheless. 'Its the best chance I have of escape, just follow their lead' He thingks to himself.
When the woman comes up and attempts to coerce the guard he squeezes tightly to reinforce the message but doesn't say anything.
STR: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
His grip his holding him but the position he has on him offers little leverage and appears to have no effect.