And it begins! Please make your introductory post and we can take things off from there!
The crack of a whip and a chorus of hoarse curses wakes you up from your uncomfortable slumber. Sleeping on rotting hay was the less than ideal bed to have, but it was better than the mud that surrounded you. The sleeping den smell was so pungent it stung your nose, it smelled like piss and vinegar which was very unpleasant. The den was more like a cage, the only protection from the outside elements were dirty cloth draped over the thick bars and barbed wire that would prevent any of the thinner kin from squeezing through.
With the shuffling of the other broken slaves around you rose, a murmuring of grumbles and groans, it was going to be another long hard day in the tunnels, at least you won’t be out working the quarry in the rain. There was a slight drizzle, the clouds dark, gloomy and almost oppressive. There was a thick throng of guards outside, clad in imperialistic style garb. The garb was iconic to the zealots that you’ve grown accustomed to seeing.
The guards all wore blood red cloth with dark brown leather joints, fitted with a dark steel scales. There armor was light but efficient with a little bit of the imperial styling, such as the gold emblem sewn in on the chest piece and the crimson sash that was tied around the waist.
The shack began to slowly empty as everyone got in line to receive their respective chain gangs. It usually took a couple of minutes before the slave den was emptied. But at the moment it felt overly crowded as you're constantly being bumped into as everyone shuffled their way forward, slowly but surely.
Jietin awakes with a groan, holding a hand to his head. It wasn't the first time he's awoken from being knocked out, and it certainly won't be the last. He can't help but notice the guards dumped him in the mud despite there being plenty of hay around. He grumbles and the giant tiefling stands, wiping mud from his face.
He's a big ugly bastard of a tiefling, six and a half feet tall and built like a brick wall. He has charcoal grey, scaled skin. His chin has spiky hornes protruding down, and large curled horns on his head. His keen red eyes sit above a crooked nose that looks like it's been broken a dozen times. Scars and burn marks decorate his body.
Jietin blows out the smell from his nose, shaking his head to clear it. He ducks a little to keep his head from hitting the top of the cage, movements slow and precise. So I'm not being hauled off for dead than. Maybe my strength outweighs the problems I cause. As the shack begins emptying he shoves his way to the front, not being overly aggressive but growling at anybody that dares to bump into him. To the guards he acts like a tamed dog, taking what they dish out silently, pushing the rage in his chest down. As his metabolism kicks on his stomach starts grumbling. Bastards never give me enough to eat. You'd think since I doubled the average haul they'd feed me a little more. He risks a dirty look at the guards, but is surprised to notice the extra one. Not to mention they look a little on edge. Something's happening. He slowly glances around, trying not to draw attention to himself (hard to due considering his appearance and size) as he mentally prepares for whatever is to come.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
Zorgg arises from his sleep. Looks around then grabs a handful of his bedding to stuff into his mouth. What much delicious bed.
Zorgg stands just over 3 feet tall. He has no hair, large ears, and red eyes. He is often seen smiling. His
teeth are a mix of grey and yellow, and no uniform shape or direction. Zorgg is considered quit handsome among his home tribe, but
to other races he is extremely ugly, smells like garbage, and seems very odd.
Zorgg looks around at all the other workers. After seeing the guards and realizing why he is awake now, Zorgg gets sad. With that he decides to hide behind the "giant"(Jietin). The guards no see me in shadow of this giant.
stealth: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (12) + 14 = 26
As was his habit after 20 years in these mines Octavian awoke with the rising of the sun and sat up silently. A couple of the longer termed residences nodded to him in greeting to which he returned before closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
Today like all days he reached deep into the recesses of his mind and pushed his magic against seal of the manacles on his wrists. They didn't prevent him from touching his magic but it was like being a caged animal. All that power and no room to flex.
Today the stink of the cage was worse then normal and almost broke him from his meditation.
Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
A knot formed in his stomach and he was thankful they hadn't fed him yet. Maybe they would be lucky and allowed to work in the rain today and wash the stink off themselves. Maybe then he wouldn't be so close to evacuating his stomach.
Soon enough the guards came around and banged on the bars to rouse the rest of the slaves and usher them out into the chain gangs. The blue skinned Ilidari didn't groan as he pushed himself to his feet although his head swam and he almost lost his balance. Soon enough he was in his line and noticed the big brute baring his teeth at everyone who touched him, a familiar and now boring sight. Even Octavian wasn't as tall as this creature.
"Every morning it's the same." the wizard muttered. "Do something with that aggression or shove it. None of us care."
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
While he waited for the march to come he once again resumed pushing against the magical barrier in his mind. He just needed one spell to shatter these bonds.
Breewyn groans and sits up from the filthy pile of hay that she was given to sleep upon and...
Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
...immediately gags from the stench that wafts over her. She fights the urge to vomit, but her stomach feels extremely queasy as she slides her legs over the edge of the bed and stands up shakily. Her dirt matted and tangled brown hair spills around her shoulders. Not able to stand at her full height of three foot, six inches, she followed the slow shuffling gait of her fellow slaves. Grimacing through the nausea, she begins rubbing her dark-circled, brown eyes and glancing around at all the guards posted.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
She notices nothing out of the unusual as she moves along to be bound to her chain gang and then proceed with them onward. Looking all around her with her sad eyes for sympathy, she is only met with blank expressions as the guards paid her no mind.
As the slaves all rustled about in their cages, the guards kept a keen eye on their movements. A few of them with the approach of the giant tiefling gripped their weapons tighter, one of them leveled a spear in hesitation. There were approximately twelve guards that were tasked with the chaining of the slaves for the new day of mining. Four were currently in charge of the chaining the slaves. They however did not catch sight of the goblin hiding behind the rather large, tame, tiefling.
Guard Perception Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 201d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 141d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 71d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Yeah the guards never had a chance to see Zorgg, ha
As the slaves were coming out, they were being chained up in rows of ten, the sounds of chains rattling and clanking against the ground become more rhythmic as the slaves were being marched off.
”Keep your traps shut freaks!” yelled a guard, his rough voice betrayed his hatred for everything that moved that wasn’t human. ”Filthy curs…” he spat at the slaves, his sword already in hand.
After the first chain gang was complete, two of the guards would depart from the cages, one leading and one following, making sure no one stepped out of line. The first chain gang consisted of a few broken souls and Jietin, Octavian and Breewyn.
”Come-on, move it!” Yelled the trailing guard as they jabbed Breewyn in the back, making her hurry her pace, despite her not trailing at all. This first group was led down a dug out ramp, trailing down towards an entrance. It looks like Octavian wasn't going to get to work in the rain as he hoped.
The mine was far from being save at all, its construction was haphazard and clearly unsafe, it was clear it was not a permanent site.
Jietin ignores the silent threats, but takes mental notes of who reacted when he came near. Those are the ones that will run first. He keeps himself from smiling at the thought of these fresh bloods seeing him lose control. They've been guarding for a few years. He's been a slave for seventy.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Jietin lets his gaze fall on the vocal guard for a few moments. So on edge today. Best to keep quiet today. The brute puts his head down and shuffles forward, playing the part of the whipped dog.
As a little gnome is jabbed - Breen? - Jietin feels the old rage start to kindle in his chest. He looks back for a brief moment, then drops his head back down and keeps shuffling forward. Not worth it. Pick your battles big man.
He steps into the mine, listening to the pernicious sounds of the stonework. I wonder who will die today. The tall blue one? That broken little human? Me? A guard? Maybe if we're lucky. He does allow the smallest grin to slip past at the thought of that. A sort of divine interfering justice that would be.
Fort: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Xaeken comes to and sighs, rising to his feat steadily...and finds himself listing, his head swimming from nausea. The smell was too much. Bodies were rotting, even if not dead. Despite his stony nature Xaeken's stomach lurched.
Finally standing tall Xaeken take in his surroundings.
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Nothing seemed unusual to the oread as he got in line. As his head played at feeling normal the most the stony faced man could do was shuffle in the queue...
Octavian felt the little creature stumble into the back of his lags when the guard jabbed her and for a second fought down the desire to wrap his chains around the guards throat and hold tight until his face turned black.
Perception 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
As they march around the camp and towards the entrance to the mine he lets loose a little sigh and squints his eyes to prevent the momentary blindness as they abruptly went from light to shadow. He ducks his head under the lintel of the first mine brace and has no problems seeing the distinct lack of anything like mine tracks. So we have to carry anything out. Wonderful. Maybe we'll get lucky and find some sharp boulders with veins of adamantium in them. he thinks to himself while eyeing the manacles around his wrists. His fists clench up for a moment as his slave bred self control slips for a moment and the muscles in his shoulders and arms clench up.
Not like this. Patience. When the time comes, not before. he admonishes himself before going through a mental ritual that relaxes his tenseness.
And deeper they were marched into the mine.
Marra awakes silently, straightening herself into a seated position on the bed of rotten hay.
Fort Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
Her nose is met with the rank scent of unwashed bodies and fluids, though with effort she manages to stomach the foul stench. Other days, she wasn't as lucky.
Taking a calming breath and clasping her shackled hands together, she mutters a quick prayer to Sarenrae, the Dawnflower. Wearily, alongside her fellow slaves, Marra begins to shuffle outside the den.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
Looking outside at the gloom brings a frown to Marra's face as she makes her way to receive her chain gang. Strangely enough, she notices another guard - one more than the norm - and their peculiar stances, though she dare not question it as she slowly makes her way up. She is a gaunt lass, and she idly picks at the dirt within her hair as she waits in line.
|Iraldia the Huntress|
Ira shifted uncomfortably in the ill-fitted armor. The helmet kept falling forward and the bindings pinched here and there. She hoped that if she was able to start things off, she'd be able to fight. She watched as the other guards pulled her 'kin' from the cages and bound them. Ira had to take a deep breath to suppress a moment of rage. If she was going to pull this off, she would need to be thinking clearly.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
"Filthy curs..." she heard the guard say. She recognized the barely contained violence behind it and moved to intervene.
"Sir! Let me handle these monsters. I'll drag them into the pits and make sure they don't come up for air." Ira attempted to channel her own hatred of humans into her voice to make her proposal sound convincing.
bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Admittedly, she was surprised to see a human amongst the chain gang. The woman must have been an ally to the kin. Hopefully, Ira would get a chance later to ask.
The second chain gang was formed, this time consisting of Marra, Xaeken and some stragglers. They received a bit more of a lashing then the first, particularly targeted at the only human slave interned at the camp.
”Traitor!” jibbed another guard, the female voice harsh as she whipped her pike around, slapping the ankle of the chained Marra. ”Your worse then them! Worse than the dirt you stand on!” The guard gave a glance at Iraldia, ”Aren’t I right fresh meat?” she gave her a cruel, unsettling smirk.
”Guard Perception”: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 111d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
A chuckle was heard from one of the guards currently chaining the second group. ”New meat wanting to get some hits on the filth? Yeah, you can take this one…” he said with the final clasp of the shackle, cementing the second chain gang. ”Take em to the tunnels like the rest,” he continued, with a jab of a thumb towards the mines.
"Hold it!" The female guard called, her hand coming to rest on the shoulder of Iraldia, "What regiment are you from, you look familiar..." There was suspicion in her voice.
The first group of slaves would be set down in the mines, oddly they weren’t given pickaxes this day, nor any lights to mine with. ”Sit yer asses down!” shouted one of the guards as he made some quick jabs with the butt of his spear.
sorry I'm late
fort save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Chuthan is a 3'6" creature that looks to be something between a mushroom and a halfling. He had a green hair that looked like grass, and smelled like it. He had violet eyes, which was an irregularity against his earth toned skin. He stayed quiet. Outsiders were always different, and no one knew exactly who he was. He looked at his surroundings and felt somewhat lost.
Strange. Large grouping of Prisoners. And a weird guard who is awfully hateful. Today must be my lucky day he thought.
At this point Jietin is getting worried. No tools and no lights (not a problem for him, but a bad sign nonetheless). Still, he takes the order and sits down, although ready to stand back up again. He silently glowers around the room, looking for anything to give a hint for what is happening.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
|Iraldia the Huntress|
Trying not to sweat under the pressure, she snapped up in the salute she had seen the other soldiers offer.
"Ma'am, Esra Vanderhold from the 23rd out of Southwood. I was transferred to this duty last week," Ira tried to use information about the area she was from to make it believable. She was rolling dice and she might find herself at the end of a chain soon. A whistle was about on her lips to summon a distraction if needed.
Bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
|Iraldia the Huntress|
Breewyn flinches at the yelling of the guard, her stomach still churning and making her clench her jaw shut. She hoped against hope that she would not get sick on one of the guards. They didn't need a reason to be even angrier at her.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
She kept her head down, using her small, dainty hand to brush a dirty lock of hair to behind her slightly pointed ear. She continued to shuffle behind the enormous Tiefling, and the strange large blue man in front of her. Tilting her head curiously, she poked at the strange blue man a couple times, as if just noticing him for the first time. Her curious inspection was going to have to wait a few moments, as the guards hooked up their chains, and one especially cruel guard jabbed her in the back. This caused a hiss, as she gasped in pain. She tried to quicken her pace, only to bump into the back of the blue man more and then look up at him apologetically with big eyes. As they began to step into the darkness of the tunnel, she couldn't see any light thanks to the lack of torches. I never did like this mine. She swallowed nervously as she was tugged deeper.
Octavian glances over his shoulder as all the shouting begins and his line is forced into a sitting position not far from the entrance. He leans his head forward a little bit to watch the situation further up, his logical mind analyzing and preparing dozens of possible plans.
Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Finding nothing but the idiot humans arguing over something as simple as a guard transfer he leans his head back again the wall and returns to waiting.
Breewyn falls unceremoniously onto her bottom, wincing. She listens hard, hearing some kind of commotion outside.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
She can distinctly hear the shouting between the guards, and continues to listen.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Sadly, she is unable to make any sense of what they are yelling about, just that they are yelling to each other. This causes the smallest flits of panic to take hold in her chest. She groans, clutching her chest and breathing hard. Keep it together Bree, don't panic, there is no need to panic.
No problem Chuthan, you are part of the second chain gang.
Guard Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11
”Hmph, no need to be so formal around here, we should chat a bit after our business with the slaves are done.” The female guard shook her head slightly with a slight chuckle. ”Let her take the lead, it might be her only chance Wakeem.” She gave a smirk to Iraldia, patting her on the shoulder before moving off to make sure the pens were cleared.
As the second group of slaves you are led towards the mine you see a couple of guards moving something around the entrance.
Breewyn mulls over the words in her head. Away from this place. The stink of these things. Realization hits Bree like a landslide, and she begins to fret more, squeaking some as she fights to maintain what little composure she has. She looks around, but it's far to dark for to do much but let her eyes dart around blindly. She felt like a mouse in a trap, and it was only a matter of time.
Octavian can see clearly in the darkness of the mine and sees the gnome next to him begin to shake and squeak.
Perception 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
He reaches over and places a hand on one of hers, the difference in size almost comical. In gnomish he quietly asks "What's wrong?"
She reacts to the voice beside her. "Something terrible is going on, they are leaving soon. Leaving us soon." She manages to say to him, hoping to keep the guards from hearing. She begins to rock some, trying to calm down.
|Iraldia the Huntress|
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
"Yes, ma'am. I'm looking forward to it." She nods and takes position at the head of the second gang, "Move on!"
Ira spots the barrels and something in her gut drops. Glancing back she takes stock of who's in the line and which one would be best to free first...and how. Lets see...the elemental, the human, and the...mushroom man. A great start. Well they'll at least wait until us guards are out to enact their plan. Iraldia skims over the nearby guards to see if any of them have keys on them.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
-Posted with Wayfinder
For all who are getting their first posts in, you are a part of the second chain gang.
The second group of slaves were brought into the tunnels as well. Iraldia would march them past the first group and set against the same wall, in the dark damp tunnels. There was no source of light in the tunnels except the ambient light bleeding in from the already dark and dreary day.
The guard who kept watch over the first group smirked at the slaves, "I cannot wait till your kind is purged from our lands, it will be a glorious day when I don't have to smell your stench." His words were punctuated by a spit in their general direction. "Hey new meat," he called, casting a glance to Iraldia, "Yer lucky you don't have to be here for long. Are you ready for the Second March?" It was clear the guard had no fear of the slaves before him as he took his eyes off of them for that moment as he spoke to the awkward guard some of you noticed earlier.
"Were almost done 'ere! Get 'em settled and make yer way outta there!" called one of the guards from the entrance as he set another barrel against the wall. At this time, there were three guards in the tunnels with the slaves and the two at the entrance who seem to be moving barrels against either wall of the mines.
Those who are sickened, make a fort saving throw for a DR 10
Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Breewyn finally felt better, but she was still having an anxiety attack. She looked up at the guard talking to the other one, spear still leveled at them. She then turned her attention to the other guard, squinting in the darkness.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
She tilts her head curiously as she watched the awkward guard. There was something definitely different about her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She went back to rocking back and forth, her chains making a soft jingle as they scraped against themselves.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Jietin starts standing up, an idea forming in his mind. These bastards. If they think we're going out like this... He reaches his full height and glares around. He takes a moment to clear his throat and quietly asks. "What's the work today?"
sensemotive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
Zorgg is sneaky. Zorgg can not be seen behind giant(Jietin).Hmm, hungry. What is there to eat here? Whats in those barrels? Food maybe.If Zorgg hides he won't have to do work. Maybe look for food instead.
Fort!: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Xaeken comes to a rest against the mine wall and exhales heavily, his stomach seeming to ease for a moment and his head gaining focus for a moment. Looking around the oread starts to notice the situation, hear the words and see a very awkward guard. The tiefling stands and asks about the work.
Xaeken stands taller and crosses his arms though he does not speak yet await an answer to the question...
The guard seemed to bristle when the tiefling stood up. He moved to point the spear at the large beast, "Sit yer ass back down is what you sup'ose to be doin! Yer work will start soon enough!" His voice was abrasive and coarse as he yelled at the tiefling. "Now sit like the mutt ya' are!" The second guard took up the stance of watching over the other slaves, glancing regularly over to tiefling who stood. When the earthy being(Xaeken) began to stand, the second guard tensed, "Hey! Sit your ass down maggot!" Tensions were beginning to rise as the second guard began to move towards Xaeken threateningly.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming Zorg is going to inspect the barrels?
Zorgg wouldn't be too happy with what he found in the barrels, a grainy black powdery substance that left a chalky residue on his fingers and even a worst bitter taste if he tried to actually eat it.
Make a stealth check to stay hidden.
Zorgg, make a stealth check to stay hidden
Jietin remains standing, folding his arms. He stares down the guard that barked at him. "You can beat or kill me, but I'll make damned sure you spend the rest of the week in the infirmiry if you try. Then you can tell all the pretty girls back home that your face is messed up because a maggot beat you to a bloody pulp. Or you can tell me what's in that barrel and I'll sit down like a good slave."
Holding an action, if they try to stab me I'll try to grab the spear away from them.
fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
This taste funny. Not like pepper. It looks like pepper. I wish I had pepper and blueberry and fish, and grass. hmmm
stealth: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (3) + 14 = 17
As Zorgg looks into the barrel one of the guards notices him. The guard rush him.
Zorgg sees the spears and quickly runs toward the back of the group.
No stab! No stab!
Breewyn starts to look around nervously. She hears Jietin speak, almost growling. She hears the guards start getting antagonistic towards him as well as another who seemed to have stood. She hears the panicked speech of another over to one side that seemed to have drawn the attention of the guards. What's going on? What's happening? She timidly tries to hide near or behind one of the larger males as tensions grow between the slaves and the guards.
Fort Save 1d20 ⇒ 4
Snorting through his nose to try and rid himself of the foul stench of his own body the wizard looks over at the big tiefling. It had taken him a few weeks after the creature had first arrived to figure out from both his appearance and the odd word he would speak in a strange language just what he was but since then, had plenty of time to learn that otherworldly language.
Sense Motive 1d20 ⇒ 3
In abyssal he says "Numb-nutts in the front has the keys. Right next to his sword."
|Iraldia the Huntress|
Sadly, Ira didn't understand the Devil speak. Instead, she was watching the chaos and tension starting to build as the two big guys stood in defiance and the goblin was spotted by the barrels. It was now or nothing. She stepped up behind the one closest to the entrance and drew her sword. Throwing a glance to the big horned kin Jietin, she shouted "Catch!"
Bull Rush: 1d20 ⇒ 5
Of course, she was of average strength and this guy looked a bit thicker than a brick wall. She simply succeeds in putting a boot print in the back of his armor. Ira raises her weapon and prepared to defend herself.
”Why you…” the guard confronting the tiefling was just utterly filled with rage as the spear shook slightly from his anger, ”It doesn’t matter if yer ass knows what they are!” He took a step closer to the tiefling, his arms cocking back to make a thrust towards the tieflings stomach. but was interrupted with a hard kick to the back from Iraldia, lurching him forward wildly, spear first. ”What the hell maggot?
Make your CMB to try and take the spear from him, remember you are Entangled due to the chains
Guard 1 Attacking Jietin: 1d20 ⇒ 12
The gnome was lost in the confusion as the two bigger slaves were making quite the scene, along with the goblin as he was running from the other two guards from the entrance. Hopefully the commotion won’t draw the ire from the rest of the camp…
The second guard who was approaching Xaeken becomes visibly shaken from the imposing size of the earthen slave. His hands begin to shake, the spear only exaggerating it as the tip shook violently in front of him. Taking a step back, unsure of himself before diving in for a strike.
Guard 2 is Shaken
Guard 2 Attacking Xaeken: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (16) - 2 = 14
And it's a hit, doing... 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7 damage!
Guard 3 & 4 in the minimap
The entrance guards begin to chase the goblin down, one(Guard 3) stopping pursuit as he saw the slaves to begin to stand up to the guards, backpedaling towards the black powder barrels. One was still in pursuit, attempting to enter the chaos that was now enveloping the tunnels.
That black stuff in the barrels must be what those guards eat. Strange people they are. It taste not good. Well I will show them. Maybe I just burn up their food.
A great ball of fire appears in Zorgg's hands.
He casts produce flame.
On the next available chance he will throw a ball of flame at one of the barrels near the entrance next to the guard.
attack barrel with ranged touch attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
|Iraldia the Huntress|
Breewyn huddles between the giant stone man and the wall, trying to make herself smaller. She covers her mouth to try and muffle any sounds she makes, afraid she might get crushed under them.
Seeing his chance Octavian steps forward and grabs for the keys on the belt of the distracted guard.
CMB 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
+2 is from flanking
Approved by DM
He steps away quickly and unlocks the manacles and chains around his wrists and ankles. Instantly he was revitalized as magic coursed through his body and caused the tattoos on his skin to begin glowing.
Pointing a finger at the chains binding the big tiefling he begins to incant a spell that will shatter them.
Casting Break Fort Save DC 16
I seem to have missed a bit.
Chuthan moves around avoiding contact with everyone. No one seems to have noticed him. He watches the interacting carefully, and tries to hide from the guards behind the tiefling.
stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21
When he gets a chance, he will attempt to move out from behind the tiefling and trip a guard using his shackles.
Trip attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
And Chuthan found his life's calling
Nature shall have its revenge! he calls out.
|Iraldia the Huntress|