Summon - Dolphosaur's page

**THUD!**

The barbarian falls forward like a stricken oak.

Thud will save v daze (rage): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

The barbarian seems too caught up in Lydia's riddle to notice any additional confusion.

"Wait, what? No, it's...*gasp* FOMALHAUT!"

"Wait, no, I didn't mean he's the answer...."

"'Fomalhaut'!? 'The answer'!?[i] What's a 'Fomalhaut'!?" The Kellid yells, his face twisting from surprise, to confusion, to fury.

"[i]THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!!" he roars not hearing woman's emphasis and instead hearing a pause separating the words "I didn't mean-' from "he's the answer".

"Here's a joke for you..."

"...Um...how do you win a battle of wits with an unarmed adversary?"

The big man seems puzzled by Lydia's remark. "Is the answer: man? So like in the morning he's short, or something, and...."

Then Lydia's weapon traces another line across the man's well sculpted chest.

reflex: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

A moment later, like a bar of damp soap the huge sword slips up out of his hands and embeds itself in the earth inches from Tawner's head.

Reacting quickly he pulls a very heavy flail from his belt and twirls it about like nunchaku. It makes a funny noise as moves through the air. He sends it crashing through the head of the phantom shadow creature that moved to bar its path.

heavy flail v Fomalhaut (rage, power attack): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 damage: 1d10 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

"has to crawl around until noon, or something...."

Thud reflex save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19
Bleu reflex save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

The man behind the big barbarian falls in a heap.

Okay then let's say he says something semi-sarcastic and attacks.

Apparently, the huge man does not like half-hearted sarcasm. The barbarian's blade flashes again, and Tawner drops to the ground senseless and bleeding.

Thud greatsword v Tawner (power attack, rage, shaken): 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 5 - 2 = 23 damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (2, 5) + 9 = 16
THREAT!
confirm?: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (2) + 5 - 2 = 5 damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (4, 2) + 9 = 15 Well, that's lucky.

"WHERE ARE YOUR JESTS NOW LITTLE DEAD MAN!! NOW YOU MAKE ME LAUGH!! HAHAHA!!" He yells at Tawner's prone form.

Thud acrobatics (ACP, shaken): 1d20 - 3 - 2 ⇒ (12) - 3 - 2 = 7

He attempts to move forward, but slips a bit and instead stands his ground. The big man seems more confident now though. He flexes a bit to show off his sword and muscles.

Them men look astonished to hear the words of the Black Maiden and the wraith-like Fomalhaut.

The huge man looks down at Tawner and the thin line of red running along his chest, swings his sword at the cleric and cleaves a nearby boulder in twain....

Thud greatsword v Tawner (power attack, shaken): 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (4) + 5 - 2 = 7 damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (1, 4) + 9 = 14

"Give us your gold and we will allow you to hear the lamentations of your women before you die to let you know that they are in good hands! HA!"

"HAAAAA!!" The big Kellid swings his blade again.

great sword v Atticus (power attack, hex, rage): 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (8) + 6 - 2 = 12 damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (4, 6) + 7 = 17 Miss! Thanks Blane!

Atticus sees his life flash before his eyes at seven times human speed on flat of the barbarian's blade.

Thud takes one tree-trunk-sized step toward Blane.

"WAAAAA!!" The big Kellid swings his blade again.

great sword v Atticus (power attack, hex, rage): 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 6 - 2 = 21 damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (5, 1) + 7 = 13 hit

The big wolf yelps, staggers, wavers but does not fall. Standing atop a pile of bodies, the huge barbarian roars a challenge to the remaining fighters.

"RRRAAA!!" The big Kellid swings his blade noticeably altering the air pressure in its wake.

great sword v Zaratina (power attack, hex, rage): 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 6 - 2 = 18 damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (2, 6) + 7 = 15 hit

Zarartina falls before it. The giant steps over her prone form.

"They're not a 'Guild' outlander. They're a 'Technic League'. They pay anyone for a find. So why not pay us?"

"So, you're part of the Technic Guild, ay? Funny, none of you look nor sounds Kellid." He hollers back.

Laying flat agianst the hillside the men are hard to get a bead on (read: cover) and what follows is a standoff broken moments later by the big Kellid.

"Tell you what, if you imagine us to be dishonerable men send the person you like least among your party down with the treasure. That way if we kill them at least you are not out much."

“Hold,” demands a large Kellid man hefting a massive blade. “You’re are not from here, and those things that you are undoubtedly taking are not yours. Give us the silverdisks, all the gold you have, and anything else you found there. Then you may live. I will give you until the count of three to come down.”

He nods grimly and with that the three dash for cover along the slope. They are coming for you.