Fang and Shackle (Inactive)

Game Master Kagehiro

As the aggression between Molthune and Nirmathas boils over, something far darker stirs in the depths of the Fangwood.

Current Map: Cathedral Dining Hall


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HP: 31/31
Stats:
AC 18 T 14 FF 14 / Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +1 / Percep. +7 / Init +5

Not sure whether I'm up again, but I think so....

Sampson is not deterred by his first blow having failed to harm the beast. He saw Vincent run up and fell one of the lesser fiends in his peripheral vision. If that stuck up dandy can do it, then I sure as the hells will too! He draws back with all his might, swinging Betrayal again, this time aiming for the creature's crotch, more out of habit than any thought for its anatomy. All the time off must have done hell on his reflexes. His blow is clumsy, despite its power. The smokey giant easily sidesteps the blow. Betrayal crashes down onto the cobbles, shattering a couple and putting a small nick in the blade. F*&%! That's going to be hell to sharpen out. Sampson would have normally taken the chip in stride, with no emotional reaction. But the heat of battle warms more than his muscles, it fuels his passions as well. "I'm going to cut you into little pieces," he promises the giant as he resumes his ready stance.
___________________________

Attack on GH4/5: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6 Damn you d20!


     Eldred and Nathmir

Leaving behind the gruesome scene of the mess hall, the two soldiers of vastly different bearing begin their approach to the western wing's barracks, arrived at by way of narrower hallways and a spiral staircase spilling out of a postern and into an interior courtyard that connects to the adjoining structure. While the accommodations in question are generally reserved for the lower echelons of Molthune's rank-and-file soldiery, the chambers immediately beneath the large, circular tower often find occasion to be used in order to honor those in possession of a more unique station. Such has been the case for Nathmir as a clergyman in service to The Imperial Army. The pair encounter no obstructions on their path to the cleric's chambers, though the continued absence of anyone in the entire fortress continues to gnaw at the mounting paranoia.

From there, the same spiral staircase of the main keep's postern that brought the pair to the western barracks ascends to the upper levels of The Bulwark, where it meets with an immense corridor that extends and climbs all the way up to Terandar's Court—a sort of receiving area and grand hall where Bailiff Terandar or his various magistrates and justiciars conduct official matters pertaining to the city's defense. More often than not, such matters are dominated by criminal hearings and sentencing, though matters as trivial as land disputes or as grand as war tribunals have graced the chambers. Just shy of Terandar's Court are two bed chambers afforded to those of typically more substantial rank among the present soldiery; the northern chambers accessed by one of two wooden doors along the northern wall and the southern chambers—Eldred's chambers—accessed by a single wooden door in the middle of the southern wall.

In the lead, it is Eldred first who notes briefly before turning to his chambers in order to collect his effects that the huge, ornately wrought brass doors leading into Terandar's Court have been barred from the outside. The double doors are held firm by two metal halberds of exquisite craftsmanship; the same two halberds that once crossed the plaque mounted above the doors in question.

Eldred:
You hear a brief scuffing coming from the opposite side of the northern doors (thankfully not your chambers), though it is extremely faint and stops almost as soon as it begins. You get the impression something mobile noticed your approach and held fast to avoid risking notice.

Even fainter still is nearly impossible to hear hiss of steel sliding out of a scabbard from beyond the huge brass doors at the western end of the hall.

Nathmir:
You hear a brief scuffing coming from the opposite side of the northern doors, though it is extremely faint and stops almost as soon as it begins. You get the impression something mobile noticed your approach and held fast to avoid risking notice.

Eldred has not yet acquired his belongings, but they are scant feet away behind the southern wooden doors.

Perception † Nathmir: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22


Male Aasimar Cleric of Nethys 3 l HP: 24/24 l AC: 20 (FF: 17, Touch: 13) l Fort: +6, Ref: +5, Will: +8 l Hero: 4 l Per: +13 | Init +3

Once more in his full gear he feels much better as he moves towards Eldred's chambers. His keen senses pick up something just as they arrive, he grabs Eldred's shoulder putting a finger to his lips and pointing at the northern doors. He then points to Eldred's door while raising a finger then makes a "come" motion while pointing to the northern door putting up two fingers. Raising his crossbow to let his intention come across clearly.

Translation: "Keep quiet, there is someone on the other side of the northern door. Get your stuff then we deal with it."


 
 

 
 

//Braganza, Molthune † The Vaultspires, Saints' Square//
     //Heavy Rain, Late Night, Windy; 46° F//
          //Lamashan 4, 4711 AR//
               //Saints' Square//
 
  
 
Undeterred and lessened none in fervor, the Braganza guardsman—now seen clearly and for the first time for all save Sampson—barks more orders to his steadfast subordinates as he circles around the southern side of the fountain, though he does so too quietly for his directions to be heard over the roar of the undiminished storm still raging overhead. His path nears a halt near the northern point of egress into the square proper, where he adopts a defensive stance in anticipation of the mixing pot of racial diversity charging his position. The creature that had stood on the man's right flank moves to close off access into the square as well, while the one tasked with protecting with the "Prince"—a burlap sack full of radishes—merely tenses in position where it stands.

Unfortunately for Vincent, however, the screeching death throes of his victim do not go unnoticed. The remaining amalgam of smoke and flame next to him lashes out quickly at the Field-Squire, deftly avoiding his proffered shield to impact with his stomach. Despite the terrible speed and ferocity with which the blow lands, it carries little force—it is the burst of fumes that poses the true danger. Such is Vincent's surprise at the first creature's assault that he nearly allows an opening for the second to find equal purchase. Having abandoned its previous post to the Braganza guardsman's left flank, another of the smoke-men barrels out of the square and into Vincent, who narrowly spins out of the way of an overhanded swipe. A pair of abyssal spawned horrors now threaten to overwhelm the Molthuni princeling, spite burning in their blazing eyes—but Vincent is not alone. The steps of his more heavily armored companion clop across the street next to him, eager to join in battle against these Outer Planes spawned terrors.

Attack † m11: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21 (hit)
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3
>Will Save (DC 11) † Vincent: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15 (pass)

Attack † n11: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 2 = 11 (miss)

His steps halting at the northern side of the rain churned waters of the fountain, the guardsman gestures towards the approaching form of Viktor with the head of his axe before bellowing out defiantly, "The zeal of Iomedae fuels my blows! Wither and perish before the Inheritor's fury!" Though the man's bearing does not seem particularly noteworthy, the conviction with which his words issue forth lends them enough force to give the Commissar pause. Presence of Iomedae's favor truthful or otherwise, madmen are unpredictable and wild, deserving of cautious approach.

Intimidate vs 14: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 (Success; Viktor is shaken for 2 rounds)

Brief Summary: Vincent takes 3 damage and Viktor is shaken for 2 rounds.

Adurus, Arzazel, Vincent, Viktor, and Zeltresh are all up!

Adurus:
Speaking is a free action assuming it's short enough, and while these are typically only something you can do on your character's turn, this particular case depended on my response to an action on your turn (the knowledge check) -- as such, blurting out what little you were able to ascertain is totally fine.


Half-orc Brute | HP 31/31 | 2+1 Hero Points
Stats:
AC 18/14/14 | Fort +6 Ref +7 Will +4 | Init. +3 | Perception +8, 60-ft. Darkvision | CM +8/21 (+3 vs dirty trick)

Arzazel has never seen anything like this before, nothing spawned by the outer planes. Not that he would know what the outer planes are, let alone the inner planes, or a plane for that matter. Now, he does not know what to do.

"What are they? What do we do?" Arzazel stammers out upon seeing the scene.

free action to talk


Male Gnome Sorcerer 3

'Fire beasts? Now what?'

Zeltresh begins to feel just as ineffective as his huge companion. Fire has always been his weapon of choice, and knowing that fire will not harm these creatures, might even help them, gives him pause. It takes a moment for him to realize that while he is best at manipulating fire energies many of the spells he knows had to be altered use flame. Using them in their original format was not in his comfort zone but we'll within his abilities.

sorry, on phone till later tonight so difficult to post. If he can get within 30ft he'd use rat of frost on one. If not, hit Arzazel with Mage armor


Male Chelish Human Arcane Duelist Bard 1
Stats:
HP 9/9; AC 15, Flat Footed 13, Touch 12; CMD 14; Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3; Perception +5; Initiative +2

Hmm.. I see that my +2 vs Fear worked with increasing the DC to intimidate me, but I'm curious on something: How would Rallying Cry work to help remove the Shaken Condition from me? Normally it gives me a second chance to save against it.. but because there is no save.. does that mean it wont' work?


Male Human Gunslinger 3 | HP 31/31 | AC:17, T:13, F:14 | CMD:16, CMB:+3 | Save (F+6, R+6, W+5) | Init:+4 | Hero: 1/2 | Grit 1/1 | Perc: +7 | (+2 Curse/Fear/Emotion w/gun in hand)

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21 For the first time in the evening, Eldred draws ole Lia. His hand slips into his coat in a blur of practiced motion. Hard sandalwood and oak fill his hand and his pistol is out in a blink.

The gunslinger touches his forehead once I understand he says with the gesture. Then he points to the brass doors to the west, then to his own ear, then he makes a drawing motion as though pulling a bladed weapon. He considers for a momemt, looking at the northern doors where they've been barred to keep something in...then to the western, brass doors. An ambush?

Eldred points to his mark of rank on his shoulder then towards the western doors. "Our guys?"

Eldred continues down the hall towards his chambers, motioning for Nathmir to back his way with him towards the southern doorway to his chambers. His hope to keep them from bring surrounded. Plus his boar spear would be handy if a foe charged. He keeps the pistol up and at the ready.

Then, his free hands along the western corridor wall, he drummed out the matching tune of the Braganzan Regulars. If those hiding in the western room they should know the response.


Male Human Oracle 1 | 19/19 hp | AC 20 (ff 18, t 12) | F +1, R +3, W +4 | 2 Hero Pts | Per +1 | Init +2

Adurus dispels his hesitation as Vincent takes a swipe to the stomach. Seeing his ally come under attack, Adurus steps up to assist him, swinging his mace in an overhead chop toward one of the outsiders. He shuts his eyes towards the crux of the swing, gritting his teeth and expecting a heavy impact. However, he catches nothing but air.

5-foot step, attacking creature in M11:

Mace attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Yikes, not a good way to start things off.


Sir Viktor Holt wrote:
Hmm.. I see that my +2 vs Fear worked with increasing the DC to intimidate me, but I'm curious on something: How would Rallying Cry work to help remove the Shaken Condition from me? Normally it gives me a second chance to save against it.. but because there is no save.. does that mean it wont' work?

Looks like it requires there to be a saving throw in order for Rallying Cry to apply:

Quote:
...can attempt a new save each round using the bard's Intimidate check. Rallying cry does not work on effects that don't allow saves. This is a mind-affecting ability...

They really should have incorporated some sort of save based resolution for Intimidate checks. I'll go ahead and try a house rule to override it for now: use Rallying Cry against the same DC as the original Intimidator's check (no, not Dale Earnhardt) and shave off a round of being shaken for every degree of success. In your case, you would be rolling your own Intimidate against a 14 to remove one round of being shaken, while 19-23 would remove 2 rounds, 24-29 3 rounds, etc. That sound good to everyone?

Eldred: It is actually the western brass doors that have been barred with the halberds.


Male Chelish Human Arcane Duelist Bard 1
Stats:
HP 9/9; AC 15, Flat Footed 13, Touch 12; CMD 14; Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3; Perception +5; Initiative +2

Works for me. I was thinking along the same lines of how it would work, in fact. I'll get my post up shortly, then!


Male Chelish Human Arcane Duelist Bard 1
Stats:
HP 9/9; AC 15, Flat Footed 13, Touch 12; CMD 14; Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3; Perception +5; Initiative +2

Momentarily losing his nerve at the guard's force of personality, Viktor instead attempts to bolster himself and the others with a rallying cry. Holding his temporarily-owned cold iron blade up high, Viktor yells with as firm a voice he can muster, "Stand firm, soldiers of Molthune! Heed not this mad-man's words! His mind is not his own! Slay these fiends that follow him and subdue him! We will not lose another man this day!" Without a thought, he moves quickly, taking a small detour around the insane guard and approaches him from the opposite side of where the smoke-thing stands.

____________________________

Standard Action: Rallying Cry
Intimidate Check: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (2) + 13 = 15 Damnit Viktor, you can do better than that!
Move Action: Move to O5
Path: N0 -> O1 -> O3 -> P4 -> O5
Ending Location: O5

Everyone within 30 ft of me may use that Intimidate Check against any Fear effect, though if you're not a Molthuni national, it takes a -2, for a 13.


Male Human Gunslinger 3 | HP 31/31 | AC:17, T:13, F:14 | CMD:16, CMB:+3 | Save (F+6, R+6, W+5) | Init:+4 | Hero: 1/2 | Grit 1/1 | Perc: +7 | (+2 Curse/Fear/Emotion w/gun in hand)

Confounded reading comprehension! Ok, keep my post as is for now, but with the idea that my focus is that the barred wester doors might have allies and that the "mobile" sounds we heard to the north are enemies. Still tapping the sound of the Braganzan Regulars along the western wall.

[ooc]Corrected post here:
Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21 For the first time in the evening, Eldred draws ole Lia. His hand slips into his coat in a blur of practiced motion. Hard sandalwood and oak fill his hand and his pistol is out in a blink.

The gunslinger touches his forehead once "I understand" he says with the gesture. Then he points to the brass, barred doors to the west, then to his own ear, then he makes a drawing motion as though pulling a bladed weapon.

He considers for a momemt, looking at the western doors where they've been barred to keep something in...then to the northern doors. An ambush? They attempt to unbar the doors and whomever is north comes out?

Eldred points to his mark of rank on his shoulder then towards the western doors. "Our guys?"

Eldred continues down the hall towards his chambers, motioning for Nathmir to back his way with him towards the southern doorway to his chambers. His hope to keep them from bring surrounded. Plus, once he retrieved it, his boar spear would be handy if a foe charged.

He keeps the pistol up and at the ready.Then, his free hands along the western corridor wall, he drums out the marching tune of the Braganzan Regulars. If those in the western room were solddiers, they should know the response.


Half-orc Brute | HP 31/31 | 2+1 Hero Points
Stats:
AC 18/14/14 | Fort +6 Ref +7 Will +4 | Init. +3 | Perception +8, 60-ft. Darkvision | CM +8/21 (+3 vs dirty trick)

Arzazel already has +3 armor, so Zeltresh saves his mage armor. If he can't post again, assume he attempts a ray of frost.

Arzazel is still unclear about what to do. He certainly is not a soldier of Molthune to charge head first. And that bossy commissar clearly avoided charging those smoke things or even getting up close and personal. Therefore, he decides to keep his options open by drawing his sling. Arzazel steps in front of and to protect Zeltresh and readies to kick any bad guy who wants to dance with him.
_________________________________
move action to draw sling
free action to 5 foot step to L1
ready power kick: 1d20 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (8) + 4 - 1 = 11
if hit, damage: 1d6 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 2 = 12


Arcane Duelist 3| HP: 23/24 | AC: 18 (FF: 13, Touch: 13) | Fort: +2, Ref: +7, Will: +3 | Hero: 3 | Per: +5

Vincent winces as the creatures "fist" slips past his defenses and slams into his gut, nearly taking his breath away. He winces with an audible grunt from the impact. "I've had worse, but can't take too many more hits like that..."

As he recovers, Vincent glares at the elemental that just struck him, and wills a bit of his magic into his blade, causing it to glow with a faint white light. As he prepares to cut it down, he notes another of the fire creatures charging his position and decides to let Adurus handle the one one his side as he spins to avoid the newcomer's attack. He alters his own swing towards the new foe in front of him.
__________
Swift Action: Arcane Strike
Attack N11: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Damage: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11


Going to have updates for both scenes coming tonight after work. Zeltresh going to be able to make an updated post or just go with what's written?


Male Gnome Sorcerer 3

I made a post late last night, looks like it got et. ugh. decent rolls too.........

Happy for the protection, and the indication that his energies could be preserved for elsewhere, Zeltresh focuses his full attention on the battle at hand. For a moment he feels just as frustrated as his large friend: fire is his primary weapon, and when facing a fiery enemy that weapon becomes ineffective at best, helpful to the enemy at worst.

Then he thinks back to all he has learned and realizes that many of his spells have to be altered to use fire. Does not mean hehas to alter them.

He considers the soldier Viktor has labeled mad, but he is not sure if it is right to harm the man when he is so clearly not in his rght mind. Forsaking the halforc's protection to get a clear line of sight on the enemies, the gnome quickly casts a spell and points a finger at the creature at the soldier's side. His expression looks almost uncomfortable as a blueish beam of icy air arcs out at the creature.

Free Action 5' step to M0 (sorry, big guy, I appreciate the cover but I cant shoot thru you!)
Standard Action: Cast Ray of Frost without using bloodline arcana to alter energy type
Ranged Touch Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 on enemy M5

Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 2

yup, those were the rolls!


Viktor, there are walls obstructing the NW, NE, SE, and SW corners of the fountain square (regretting using the smaller walls now that I look at it; use the shadows cast for indicators in the mean time). Barring a double move, reaching o5 without passing through a threatened square would be impossible (without Acrobatics).

Concealment (low misses): 1d100 ⇒ 26

Zeltresh's frozen cantrip streaks across the gap between the gnome and his chosen target, impacting the strange entity directly in the chest. It emits a cry of pain similar to a tea kettle for a brief moment before turning its wicked glare to the diminutive sorcerer that conjured the icy blast. Its vile intent now firmly visible on the thing's face, the gnome finds himself very thankful for the towering half-orc presence nearby.

Meanwhile, on the edge of Gilded Street leading west from Saints' Square, the struggle between the juggernaut engulfed in a raging inferno of smoke and embers rages on. Sampson has, as of yet, been unable to score a substantial strike against the creature's bizarre anatomy. Wheeling around to avoid the Hermean's attempt at what he hopes is the smoke-monster's groin, it raises aloft two thick arms and brings them down fast in a double axe handle. Though still less devastating than his opponent's bearing would suggest, the blow comes down hard on Sampson's shoulders, nearly driving the duelist into the ground with the attack's impact. Seeing the effectiveness of its assault, it lumbers forward on its left leg, winding up what is no doubt aiming to be a finishing blow with the length of its right arm.

__________________________________________________

Attack vs. Sampson: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23 (hit; it would seem the dice roller does not favor Mister Sampson)
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Will Save † Sampson: 1d20 ⇒ 14 (pass)

Going to get clarification from Viktor regarding movement, then I'll do a Round Recap and move us into Round 3. Sampson can go ahead and post his action if he'd like, however, given that it will have no bearing on his scrap.


Much to Eldred's surprise, it is not an answer or an attempt at silence that follows from his patriotic tapping. Instead, he hears what sounds like sobbing coming from the opposite side of the door. Whoever is crying, they are trying to fight back the outburst but failing miserably to do so. The sound seems close, and mostly muted due to the thickness of the brass doors; the culprit is likely leaning against the door from inside Terandar's Court.


HP: 31/31
Stats:
AC 18 T 14 FF 14 / Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +1 / Percep. +7 / Init +5

This isn't working, Sampson thinks as he drops Betrayal onto the pavement. He steps inside the giant's reach whipping out his smaller falcata into a blurring attack. Despite his best efforts it whiffs harmlessly through the air.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 Are you f&+!ing kidding me? I guess I should just commit seppuku now.


Wow, haha.


Male Human Oracle 1 | 19/19 hp | AC 20 (ff 18, t 12) | F +1, R +3, W +4 | 2 Hero Pts | Per +1 | Init +2

Sorry Sampson, I'd try to help you over there but at the moment I can't even see you and the big brute. Hopefully I roll better so I can get past the little ones.


Male Human Gunslinger 3 | HP 31/31 | AC:17, T:13, F:14 | CMD:16, CMB:+3 | Save (F+6, R+6, W+5) | Init:+4 | Hero: 1/2 | Grit 1/1 | Perc: +7 | (+2 Curse/Fear/Emotion w/gun in hand)

Eldred grinds his teeth, gun still aimed at the northern doors. Court official, I wager...maybe that guardsman assigned to the room...he always looked a foot shy of a spine... Well, he better suck it up.

Gesturing to Nathmir, he points to his room, putting up a hand like a wall and mouthed "Fall back position". Then he slips along the western wall to the brass doors, and gives them a good thumping to ring the whimperer's bell.

"Corporal Eldred Pentwert, 2nd Regiment Fusiliers. Identify yourself or I'll put some lead in that blubbering skull case." His voice is directed to the double, brass doors, the pinned halberds beneath his left hand. His eyes and gun are still pointed in the direction of the northern doors.


 

 
 

//Braganza, Molthune † The Vaultspires, Terandar's Bulwark//
     //Heavy Rain, Late Night, Well-Lit; 59° F//
          //Lamashan 4, 4711 AR//
               //Terandar's Court//
 
  
 

Sobbing continues unabated from the opposite side of the brass doors, actually increasing in volume and intensity as Eldred calls out to whoever lies on the other side of the obstruction. The brass doors to the west begin to rock outwards and inwards mere fractions of inches—likely the result of the sniveling fool inside the chamber rocking back and forward with arms curled about their knees. The other doors, however, are an entirely different matter, and Eldred finds himself glad that his attention never truly abandons northern wall.

Bursting open shortly following Eldred's vocal threat, the doors swing wide and hard before impacting with a raucous clatter against the stone walls that contain them. Lumbering out of either door is a Molthuni heavy infantrymen, each clad from head to toe in a full suit of plate armor. Their helmets seem to be parodies of one another; the first bearing the semblance of a grinning imp, while the second is that of a similar imp affixed with a permanent scowl. Their metal boots scuff noisily across the stone tiles of the floor as they approach—an approach that seems to not include any sort of weaponry, strangely. Fortunately, due to diligence and the hard-to-mask approach the massive suits of armor offer, their attempt at ambush is decidedly transparent.

__________________________________________________

We're not going to bother with a Surprise Round, as this was very obviously coming.

Initiatives:

Eldred: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Nathmir: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Heavy Infantry: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
[dice="Weepy"/??]1d20+2[/dice]

Order:

  • Eldred
  • Nathmir
  • Heavy Infantry
  • ??

    Eldred and Nathmir are up! Saints' Square combat will get an early morning update—hopefully Viktor can clarify his move before then, otherwise I'll do a little shake of gentle DMPCing.


  • Male Human Gunslinger 3 | HP 31/31 | AC:17, T:13, F:14 | CMD:16, CMB:+3 | Save (F+6, R+6, W+5) | Init:+4 | Hero: 1/2 | Grit 1/1 | Perc: +7 | (+2 Curse/Fear/Emotion w/gun in hand)

    "Hey, boys, stand down..." the gunslinger warns.

    ...if it looks like they don't intend to stop... "Guess you chuckleheads ain't much for talking, eh?" Eldred sets his stance, waiting until they are within 20 ft before pulling the trigger.

    Pistol Shot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13 ...if it matters with this roll, 20 ft range resolves as a touch attack.
    Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 4

    Ole Lia thunders to life in his hand, the familiar kick of the recoil as old a friend as Frig. Eldred's left hand already moves to the next load. He moves back, getting some distance between the macabre suits of armor and himself. If he can make it to his room, his boar spear leans inside the doorway. The bracing weapon could potentially keep them at bay.

    As he goes, his hands work the ritual of the gun, reloading in a blur and bringing the weapon to his hip to avoid it getting knocked away should the enemy close. Eldred hopes the Aasimar sticks to the plan.

    Hey, Dread. Think we should have asked for name and rank first?

    Shut it, Frig. You see these guys?

    Actions
    Standard: Pistol Shot
    Move: Backing towards southern doors
    Free: Reload Gun (Rapid Reload)


    Male Aasimar Cleric of Nethys 3 l HP: 24/24 l AC: 20 (FF: 17, Touch: 13) l Fort: +6, Ref: +5, Will: +8 l Hero: 4 l Per: +13 | Init +3

    He did not like fighting close quarters but did not have a choice. He cast a spell sending a prayer to Nethys and tapping an object on his person which faintly glowed for a moment.

    "If they close in we should flank them, if things start going bad. Get at least thirty five paces away from me. That is unless you want to be turned into a dried up husk."

    He whispers to Eldred once his spell is completed.
    ________________________________________________________________________

    Standard: Cast True Strike on Nathmir


     
     
     

                    //†ROUND 2 RECAP†//

    Adurus thinks back to his long lessons inside the Golden Glory; images from tomes he studied resurface, and passages detailing the anatomy of certain being from outer planes come to mind. His thoughts race to place a name to the creatures in front of him. Failing to find a name in the space of a few seconds, Adurus fills in a few blanks with guesses and loudly declares to Vincent, "They're some kind of corrupted fire elementals!" Realizing his fiery powers will likely do him no good in this encounter, Adurus tightens his clutch on his mace and prepares to advance to melee. He gulps nervously as he watches his supernatural opponents.

    Sampson is not deterred by his first blow having failed to harm the beast. He saw Vincent run up and fell one of the lesser fiends in his peripheral vision. If that stuck up dandy can do it, then I sure as the hells will too! He draws back with all his might, swinging Betrayal again, this time aiming for the creature's crotch, more out of habit than any thought for its anatomy. All the time off must have done hell on his reflexes. His blow is clumsy, despite its power. The smokey giant easily sidesteps the blow. Betrayal crashes down onto the cobbles, shattering a couple and putting a small nick in the blade. F@@#! That's going to be hell to sharpen out. Sampson would have normally taken the chip in stride, with no emotional reaction. But the heat of battle warms more than his muscles, it fuels his passions as well. "I'm going to cut you into little pieces," he promises the giant as he resumes his ready stance.

    Undeterred and lessened none in fervor, the Braganza guardsman—now seen clearly and for the first time for all save Sampson—barks more orders to his steadfast subordinates as he circles around the southern side of the fountain, though he does so too quietly for his directions to be heard over the roar of the undiminished storm still raging overhead. His path nears a halt near the northern point of egress into the square proper, where he adopts a defensive stance in anticipation of the mixing pot of racial diversity charging his position. The creature that had stood on the man's right flank moves to close off access into the square as well, while the one tasked with protecting with the "Prince"—a burlap sack full of radishes—merely tenses in position where it stands.

    Unfortunately for Vincent, however, the screeching death throes of his victim do not go unnoticed. The remaining amalgam of smoke and flame next to him lashes out quickly at the Field-Squire, deftly avoiding his proffered shield to impact with his stomach. Despite the terrible speed and ferocity with which the blow lands, it carries little force—it is the burst of fumes that poses the true danger. Such is Vincent's surprise at the first creature's assault that he nearly allows an opening for the second to find equal purchase. Having abandoned its previous post to the Braganza guardsman's left flank, another of the smoke-men barrels out of the square and into Vincent, who narrowly spins out of the way of an overhanded swipe. A pair of abyssal spawned horrors now threaten to overwhelm the Molthuni princeling, spite burning in their blazing eyes—but Vincent is not alone. The steps of his more heavily armored companion clop across the street next to him, eager to join in battle against these Outer Planes spawned terrors.

    His steps halting at the northern side of the rain churned waters of the fountain, the guardsman gestures towards the approaching form of Viktor with the head of his axe before bellowing out defiantly, "The zeal of Iomedae fuels my blows! Wither and perish before the Inheritor's fury!" Though the man's bearing does not seem particularly noteworthy, the conviction with which his words issue forth lends them enough force to give the Commissar pause. Presence of Iomedae's favor truthful or otherwise, madmen are unpredictable and wild, deserving of cautious approach.

    Momentarily losing his nerve at the guard's force of personality, Viktor instead attempts to bolster himself and the others with a rallying cry. Holding his temporarily-owned cold iron blade up high, Viktor yells with as firm a voice he can muster, "Stand firm, soldiers of Molthune! Heed not this mad-man's words! His mind is not his own! Slay these fiends that follow him and subdue him! We will not lose another man this day!" Without a thought, he moves quickly towards the square, stopping just short of where the smoke-thing and Braganzan guardsman stand.

    Arzazel has never seen anything like this before, nothing spawned by the outer planes. Not that he would know what the outer planes are, let alone the inner planes, or a plane for that matter. Now, he does not know what to do.

    "What are they? What do we do?" Arzazel stammers out upon seeing the scene.

    'Fire beasts? Now what?'

    Zeltresh begins to feel just as ineffective as his huge companion. Fire has always been his weapon of choice, and knowing that fire will not harm these creatures, might even help them, gives him pause. It takes a moment for him to realize that while he is best at manipulating fire energies many of the spells he knows had to be altered use flame. Using them in their original format was not in his comfort zone but we'll within his abilities.

    Adurus dispels his hesitation as Vincent takes a swipe to the stomach. Seeing his ally come under attack, Adurus steps up to assist him, swinging his mace in an overhead chop toward one of the outsiders. He shuts his eyes towards the crux of the swing, gritting his teeth and expecting a heavy impact. However, he catches nothing but air.

    Arzazel is still unclear about what to do. He certainly is not a soldier of Molthune to charge head first. And that bossy commissar clearly avoided charging those smoke things or even getting up close and personal. Therefore, he decides to keep his options open by drawing his sling. Arzazel steps in front of and to protect Zeltresh and readies to kick any bad guy who wants to dance with him.

    Happy for the protection, and the indication that his energies could be preserved for elsewhere, Zeltresh focuses his full attention on the battle at hand. For a moment he feels just as frustrated as his large friend: fire is his primary weapon, and when facing a fiery enemy that weapon becomes ineffective at best, helpful to the enemy at worst.

    Then he thinks back to all he has learned and realizes that many of his spells have to be altered to use fire. Does not mean hehas to alter them.

    He considers the soldier Viktor has labeled mad, but he is not sure if it is right to harm the man when he is so clearly not in his rght mind. Forsaking the halforc's protection to get a clear line of sight on the enemies, the gnome quickly casts a spell and points a finger at the creature at the soldier's side. His expression looks almost uncomfortable as a blueish beam of icy air arcs out at the creature.

    Zeltresh's frozen cantrip streaks across the gap between the gnome and his chosen target, impacting the strange entity directly in the chest. It emits a cry of pain similar to a tea kettle for a brief moment before turning its wicked glare to the diminutive sorcerer that conjured the icy blast. Its vile intent now firmly visible on the thing's face, the gnome finds himself very thankful for the towering half-orc presence nearby.

    Meanwhile, on the edge of Gilded Street leading west from Saints' Square, the struggle between the juggernaut engulfed in a raging inferno of smoke and embers rages on. Sampson has, as of yet, been unable to score a substantial strike against the creature's bizarre anatomy. Wheeling around to avoid the Hermean's attempt at what he hopes is the smoke-monster's groin, it raises aloft two thick arms and brings them down fast in a double axe handle. Though still less devastating than his opponent's bearing would suggest, the blow comes down hard on Sampson's shoulders, nearly driving the duelist into the ground with the attack's impact. Seeing the effectiveness of its assault, it lumbers forward on its left leg, winding up what is no doubt aiming to be a finishing blow with the length of its right arm.

    __________________________________________________  
     

     
     

    //Braganza, Molthune † The Vaultspires, Saints' Square//
         //Heavy Rain, Late Night, Windy; 46° F//
              //Lamashan 4, 4711 AR//
                   //Saints' Square//
     
      
     
                    //†ROUND 3†//

    This isn't working, Sampson thinks as he drops Betrayal onto the pavement. He steps inside the giant's reach whipping out his smaller falcata into a blurring attack. Despite his best efforts it whiffs harmlessly through the air.

    Lurching above the impressively built Hermean, the massive entity of ember riddled smoke seems poised to deliver a final blow to his shorter opponent.

    A hiss of steam still exudes from the monstrosity's chest as it begins barreling down the street towards the diminutive sorcerer that caused it such injury. Such is the speed with which it propels itself forward that Viktor's parting slice at the creature swings high, missing it altogether. This slight overextending on the Commisar Field-Squire's part provides an opening for the crazed guardsman to unleash his own assault, a maddened cry of glee the only precursor to his lunge before he brings the haft of his axe down heavily on Viktor's extended hand. He yanks the axe back just as quickly, catching the cross guard of his opponent's newly-acquired sword in the motion and tearing it free of Viktor's grasp to clatter harmlessly across the cobblestone street.

    Behind the guardsman and Viktor, the smoke-monster continues its rapid approach towards the gnome, narrowly sailing over an impressive leg sweep from the towering frame of Arzazel before it collides with Zeltresh. A miasma of strange energies permeate the cloud of smoke that envelops the sorcerer following the impact of the blow, addling the gnome's senses and forcing his more base insticts to take over; Zeltresh finds his hands reaching for the nearest weapon to retaliate, the magical reservoirs at his disposal all but a distant memory.

    Now weaponless, Viktor finds himself hard pressed to defend against the tandem of guardsman and smoke-monster, the latter surging forward to swing its arm in a smoggy lash that connects with the Commissar's left temple. His long years of service and training in one of the most oppressive war academies in the entirety of Avistan prove more than a match for the magical energies that attempt to wrest control of the man's mental faculties. He maintains his footing, but is vexed to find that he is now alone against two foes; the rest of the creatures seem to be doing a commendable job of boxing out what aid his current allies might afford the Field-Squire Holt.

    Things fare little better on the southern street of Saints' Square. Adurus' armor does an admirable job of keeping his foe's wild strikes at bay, but Vincent's lighter armor does little to staunch the smoke wreathed assault of his own opponent. Though its attacks exact little in the way of punishment, the same momentary malaise threatens his focus briefly, dispelled by a sharp and quick shake of his head. Vincent is vaguely aware of the dire straits both Sampson and Viktor find themselves in, but the small barricade posed by the presence of the two "elementals" before him yet obstructs any aid he and Adurus might lend their pressed allies.
    __________________________________________________

    Attack vs. Zeltresh † m1: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 3 + 2 = 19 (charging; hit)
    >Damage vs. Zeltresh: 1d3 ⇒ 1
    >Will Save (DC 11) † Zeltresh: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 (fail)
    >>Confused: 1d100 ⇒ 95 (Attack nearest creature on your next action; which just so happens to be the smoke-monster)
    >>>Viktor AoO: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 (miss)
    >>>Arzazel's AoO triggers. (miss)

    Attack vs. Viktor † m4: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17 (hit)
    >Damage vs. Viktor: 1d3 ⇒ 2
    >Will Save (DC 11) † Viktor: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21 (pass)

    Attack vs. Adurus † m11: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13 (miss)

    Attack vs. Vincent † n11: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21 (hit)
    >Damage vs. Vincent: 1d3 ⇒ 1
    >Will Save (DC 11) † Vincent: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18 (pass)

    Disarm vs. Vincent: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

    Recap:

  • Zeltresh takes 1 damage and is confused; he must physically attack the creature on his next action.
  • Viktor is disarmed and takes 2 damage.
  • Vincent takes 1 damage.

    Adurus, Arzazel, Viktor, Vincent, and Zeltresh are up!


  • Half-orc Brute | HP 31/31 | 2+1 Hero Points
    Stats:
    AC 18/14/14 | Fort +6 Ref +7 Will +4 | Init. +3 | Perception +8, 60-ft. Darkvision | CM +8/21 (+3 vs dirty trick)

    Did Arzazel's readied attack against the elemental miss? Should he also get an AOO? He would now follow the elemental in initiative, right?
    _________________________________
    AOO power kick: 1d20 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (19) + 4 - 1 = 22
    if hit, damage: 1d6 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 4 + 2 = 7


    Yeah, major mental hiccup there on my part. Decided your readied action and AoO were one and the same, apparently. Whoops! Yeah, your readied action missed. We'll use your rolls for the AoO (which potentially hits).

    Concealment (low misses): 1d100 ⇒ 16 (miss)

    On the bright side, that means there doesn't need to be any retcons in the recap above. On the downside, that misses. Arzazel will have noted, however, that his kick connected, but it simply passed through the creature trailing wisps of smoke instead of having any noteworthy effect. You will actually be going before the elemental now, rather than after (effectively, you will act when Sampson does from hereon out.)


    Arcane Duelist 3| HP: 23/24 | AC: 18 (FF: 13, Touch: 13) | Fort: +2, Ref: +7, Will: +3 | Hero: 3 | Per: +5

    As you said I'm aware of everyone's situation, I'm assuming I have line of sight.

    "This isn't looking good, we've got to thin these ranks so I can go help Samp..."

    The elemental creatures swing jolts Vincent's focus back to the battle at hand, and he gives it a spiteful glare.

    He then raises his blade before his face in a salute to his enemy, and his eyes begin to glow white. As the magical energies within him rise up, the weapons of his allies as well as his own take on a similar glow. "The sons of Braganza will not fall before the likes of you devils! Fight on, brothers! Send these creatures back to whatever realm spawned them!"

    __________
    Move Action: Didn't see anything saying starting a bard song would draw an AoO, but if it does, I would use my move action to step back 1 square first. If not, I will hold my ground.
    Standard Action: Inspire Courage +1, Round 1


    Male Human Oracle 1 | 19/19 hp | AC 20 (ff 18, t 12) | F +1, R +3, W +4 | 2 Hero Pts | Per +1 | Init +2

    Is there no additional penalty for the natural 1 on attack?

    Pressing on at the insistence of Vincent, Adurus waits a moment for the creature to drop guard before launching another swinging mace attack. He keeps his eyes open this time as he launches the mace toward his enemy's midsection.

    Mace Attack @ m11: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
    Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
    If you're okay with me rolling concealment: Low Misses: 1d100 ⇒ 62

    Current effects: Inspire Courage


    Not on an attack, no. Given the existence of Critical Multipliers on weapons, there's not an immediately attractive way for me to add something to fumbles without it becoming just more punishing than RAW (and adding more to critical hits becomes unbalanced on the flip side of the coin).


    HP: 31/31
    Stats:
    AC 18 T 14 FF 14 / Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +1 / Percep. +7 / Init +5

    Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 That's three threes in a mother loving row. Clearly I'm not meant to do anything, EVER. I'm too incredulous to even write any descriptive text right now.


    I will gently remind that Hero Points can allow a reroll, haha.


    1 person marked this as a favorite.
    Male Gnome Sorcerer 3

    Zeltresh feels the burning touch of flame, and while something tells him it should be reassuring all he feels is pain. Since when did flame hurt him?

    He blinks his eyes, turning his head from side to side to look at his surroundings. Why is he out here instead of at the house anyway? His mother will get angry if he doesn't finish watering the laundry.....no, that wasn't right, he had to clean the plants.

    But how can he focus on that now, when the other kids are after him again? That flame must be his fault. He didn't have time to deal with it now, dinner wouldn't wait. Reaching for the soup ladle he takes a swing at the fire to try and put it out before stepping out of the way.

    sorry, just feeling a little silly this morning.
    Free Action: 5' step to.......he has to physically attack, but can he make a tactical move to N1 for a flank? if not, he'll make the attack then move to M -1 in an attempt to back away from the thing
    Move Action: Draw dagger
    Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 2 + 1 = 16
    Concealment (low misses): 1d100 ⇒ 100
    Damage: 1d3 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 1 = 5

    Current effects: Inspired, but confused


     
     

     
     

    //Braganza, Molthune † The Vaultspires, Terandar's Bulwark//
         //Heavy Rain, Late Night, Well-Lit; 59° F//
              //Lamashan 4, 4711 AR//
                   //Terandar's Court//
     
      
     

    Eldred is nearly to the entryway into his own chambers when the new arrivals spring into action. Ole Lia belches thunder and fire, spitting a hot lump of lead into the closest of the two heavy infantrymen as they begin lumbering wordlessly towards Eldred and Nathmir. The projectile tears through the thick plates of metal wrapping the man's left breast, but elicits no response or cry of pain from his target. Eldred steps to the side just in time to avoid what would have been a direct blow to his face, only being clipped across the shoulder by a gauntlet covered fist that continues its trajectory into the thick, oaken door behind the gunslinger.

    Further down the hallway, the second heavy infantryman barrels down the corridor into Nathmir, lowering a burnished steel pauldron that impacts the Nethite (correct me if that's wrong) in his right arm just moments after he concludes the casting of his spell. Armor clangs loudly as steel plates slide across one another, Nathmir's foe swiveling around after the charge to ready a powerful blow against the aasimar's midsection.

    From behind the brass doors, the sobbing gives way to sputtering stammers, the voice clearly belonging to that of a young man. "W-w-w...what is? Y-you're not... please, let me out!"
    __________________________________________________

    [dice="Heavy Infantry" vs. Eldred]1d20+4+2[/dice] (charging; +2 atk, -2 AC)
    >Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

    [dice="Heavy Infantry" vs. Nathmir]1d20+4+2[/dice] (charging; +2 atk, -2 AC)
    >Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

    Perception DC 15:
    Something seems off about the movements of the pair of infantrymen. Their joints seem stiff, even for someone wearing plate mail, and actions excessively deliberate.

    Perception DC 20:
    The spark of Eldred's bullet as it tears through his opponent's armor illuminates the area behind the chestplate for the briefest of moments, revealing it to be hollow. There are no bodies inside these suits of armor. Their breathless advance lends further evidence to this thought.

    Eldred, Nathmir are up!


    Male Aasimar Cleric of Nethys 3 l HP: 24/24 l AC: 20 (FF: 17, Touch: 13) l Fort: +6, Ref: +5, Will: +8 l Hero: 4 l Per: +13 | Init +3

    Nathmir takes the damage without complaint, he had suffered worse. He takes a step back brings up his crossbow while calling upon Nethys to strike down his foe. Black energy empowers his weapon meshing with the enchantment he had spun moments ago. He fires at his attacker, both enchantments work to devastating effect on the enemy. Having caught a glance of the first shot and the enemies reactions he knew they were not mortal men but animated suits of armor it seemed. Some spell or magical force was at work.

    "Don't worry they are not alive or even bodies. They are animated suits of armor. Crush them without reserve."

    Not that it would have effected his own actions, still Eldred was a different sort.

    ________________________________________________________________________
    True Strike Destructive Smite Light Crossbow: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (5) + 22 = 271d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
    Perception vs DC 15/20: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23


    Male Human Gunslinger 3 | HP 31/31 | AC:17, T:13, F:14 | CMD:16, CMB:+3 | Save (F+6, R+6, W+5) | Init:+4 | Hero: 1/2 | Grit 1/1 | Perc: +7 | (+2 Curse/Fear/Emotion w/gun in hand)

    The spark of Eldred's bullet as it tears through his opponent's armor illuminates the area behind the chestplate for the briefest of moments, revealing it to be hollow. There are no bodies inside these suits of armor. Their breathless advance lends further evidence to this thought.

    Hey, Dread, these guys are as hollow as that Field-Marshall who got his head pin-cushioned by pixies! Frig laughs in the back of Eldred’s mind.

    Nathmir wrote:
    "Don't worry they are not alive or even bodies. They are animated suits of armor. Crush them without reserve."

    ”Thanks!” Eldred shouts back. Ain’t wastin’ another shot on these clowns…

    The gunslinger attempts to get through the door to his quarters, striking out with this boot so he can crash into his room and hopefully grab his boarspear along the way. If it succeeds… Eldred continues his backing into his quarters, dropping ole Lia to the side and bracing his spear for the armored-hulk’s charge.

    Perception Check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24(spotting the impact of his bullet)

    Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13(If necessary…) grab his boar spear as he gets into his room...

    Ready Action Charge: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18bracing weapon in case the baddie charges...
    Damage: 2d8 ⇒ (1, 5) = 6if it works - double damage on a charge vs. braced weapon

    -----

    Action List
    Move Action: Get into Room / Grab Spear by the door
    Free Action: Drop weapon
    Standard/Ready Action: Bracing spear

    Please adjust as necessary. Not sure if I got the lineup / rules correctly lay out. I’m sure the armored hullk has an AOO in there somewhere. :)
    Edited: Thanks for the Rules Update Audurus.


    Not quite liking the fact that he's facing off against unfavorable odds alone in the front line, Viktor steps back to aid the others fighting the beast behind him. Swinging his sword around, he attempts to give Arzazel an openning - however, due in part to his attempt at fighting defensively, he fails horribly at doing so, granting Arzazel absolutely no advantage. At least he doesn't leave himself open, though.

    __________________________

    Viktor:
    Starting Location: N34
    Free Action: Stop maintaining Bardic Performance (Technically stopped last round immediately after starting it, so it lasts for this round and the next round as a result due to my Lingering Performance Feat)
    >Rallying Cry Check: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (3) + 13 = 16
    Free Action: 5-foot to N2
    Standard Action: Aid Another while fighting defensively (Give Arzazel +2 Attack vs the thing in M1)(-4 to attack from Fighting Defensively, -2 from Shaken - unless I've removed that from this round's bardic performance?)
    >Aid Another: 1d20 + 3 - 4 - 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 - 4 - 2 = -1 (........)
    >>AC increased to 17
    Ending Location: N2

    [ooc]Bardic Performance: 7/8 Rounds Remaining


    Male Gnome Sorcerer 3

    going to spoiler the two possible actions, sorry to go out of turn but didn't want to hold things up while I travel....

    Still Confused?:
    Not quite understanding what is happening around him, Zeltresh looks down and suddenly remembers the dagger in his hand. Despite the waves of heat assaulting him from the creature he throws the puny weapon and continues to back away.
    Attack, PBS: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 3 + 1 = 17 throwing a dagger
    Damage: 1d3 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 + 1 = 3
    Concealment, low misses: 1d100 ⇒ 97
    additional +1/+1 if Inspire Courage is still active
    Move Action: Draw another dagger
    Free Action: 5' step back to L -1

    Not Confused:
    With a shake of his head Zeltresh's mind finally refocuses, seeing the creature only a few feet in from of him. 'When did he.....how did....? Later.' Taking another step away the gnome begins casting again, again not altering the magics so that another blast of frigid air lashes out at the creature.

    Free Action: 5' step to L -1
    Standard Action: Cast Ray of Frost without using bloodline arcana to alter energy type
    Ranged Touch Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13 additional +1 to hit if Inspire Courage is still active
    Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 2


    Male Chelish Human Arcane Duelist Bard 1
    Stats:
    HP 9/9; AC 15, Flat Footed 13, Touch 12; CMD 14; Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3; Perception +5; Initiative +2

    Oops, just realized (a good three days after posting it), that I posted with my DM profile instead of Viktor. >.>


     

                    //†ROUND 3 RECAP†// 

    This isn't working, Sampson thinks as he drops Betrayal onto the pavement. He steps inside the giant's reach whipping out his smaller falcata into a blurring attack. Despite his best efforts it whiffs harmlessly through the air.

    Lurching above the impressively built Hermean, the massive entity of ember riddled smoke seems poised to deliver a final blow to his shorter opponent.

    A hiss of steam still exudes from the monstrosity's chest as it begins barreling down the street towards the diminutive sorcerer that caused it such injury. Such is the speed with which it propels itself forward that Viktor's parting slice at the creature swings high, missing it altogether. This slight overextending on the Commisar Field-Squire's part provides an opening for the crazed guardsman to unleash his own assault, a maddened cry of glee the only precursor to his lunge before he brings the haft of his axe down heavily on Viktor's extended hand. He yanks the axe back just as quickly, catching the cross guard of his opponent's newly-acquired sword in the motion and tearing it free of Viktor's grasp to clatter harmlessly across the cobblestone street.

    Behind the guardsman and Viktor, the smoke-monster continues its rapid approach towards the gnome, narrowly sailing over an impressive leg sweep from the towering frame of Arzazel before it collides with Zeltresh. A miasma of strange energies permeate the cloud of smoke that envelops the sorcerer following the impact of the blow, addling the gnome's senses and forcing his more base insticts to take over; Zeltresh finds his hands reaching for the nearest weapon to retaliate, the magical reservoirs at his disposal all but a distant memory.

    Now weaponless, Viktor finds himself hard pressed to defend against the tandem of guardsman and smoke-monster, the latter surging forward to swing its arm in a smoggy lash that connects with the Commissar's left temple. His long years of service and training in one of the most oppressive war academies in the entirety of Avistan prove more than a match for the magical energies that attempt to wrest control of the man's mental faculties. He maintains his footing, but is vexed to find that he is now alone against two foes; the rest of the creatures seem to be doing a commendable job of boxing out what aid his current allies might afford the Field-Squire Holt.

    Things fare little better on the southern street of Saints' Square. Adurus' armor does an admirable job of keeping his foe's wild strikes at bay, but Vincent's lighter armor does little to staunch the smoke wreathed assault of his own opponent. Though its attacks exact little in the way of punishment, the same momentary malaise threatens his focus briefly, dispelled by a sharp and quick shake of his head. Vincent is vaguely aware of the dire straits both Sampson and Viktor find themselves in, but the small barricade posed by the presence of the two "elementals" before him yet obstructs any aid he and Adurus might lend their pressed allies.

    "This isn't looking good, we've got to thin these ranks so I can go help Samp..."

    The elemental creatures swing jolts Vincent's focus back to the battle at hand, and he gives it a spiteful glare.

    He then raises his blade before his face in a salute to his enemy, and his eyes begin to glow white. As the magical energies within him rise up, the weapons of his allies as well as his own take on a similar glow. "The sons of Braganza will not fall before the likes of you devils! Fight on, brothers! Send these creatures back to whatever realm spawned them!"

    Pressing on at the insistence of Vincent, Adurus waits a moment for the creature to drop guard before launching another swinging mace attack. He keeps his eyes open this time as he launches the mace toward his enemy's midsection. The blow connects solidly, cracking and smashing its way through something that feels not so terribly different than stone. Utterly defeated, the strange entity withers and evaporates into rapidly dwindling motes of smoke and embers that vanish altogether in mere seconds.

    Zeltresh feels the burning touch of flame, and while something tells him it should be reassuring all he feels is pain. Since when did flame hurt him?

    He blinks his eyes, turning his head from side to side to look at his surroundings. Why is he out here instead of at the house anyway? His mother will get angry if he doesn't finish watering the laundry.....no, that wasn't right, he had to clean the plants.

    But how can he focus on that now, when the other kids are after him again? That flame must be his fault. He didn't have time to deal with it now, dinner wouldn't wait. Reaching for the soup ladle he takes a swing at the fire to try and put it out before stepping out of the way, crashing hard across the fire and diminishing it substantially, though it threatens ever to spread further despite his heroic efforts.

    Arzazel watches in amazement as the small gnome beside him grasps for a tiny blade and swings wildly and ineffectively—or so it would seem, until a glint of something flies away from the creature, eliciting yet another screech like a tea kettle from the smoke-beast. Its movements seem erratic suddenly, reeling and without sure footing as it prepares to clumsily lash out at Zeltresh yet again.

    Not quite liking the fact that he's facing off against unfavorable odds alone in the front line, Viktor steps back to aid the others fighting the beast behind him. Swinging his sword around, he attempts to give Arzazel an opening - however, due in part to his attempt at fighting defensively, he fails horribly at doing so, granting Arzazel absolutely no advantage. At least he doesn't leave himself open, though.

    Thinking to finish off its foe with little effort, the towering mass looming over Sampson offers a wide backhand that misses the man entirely, colliding with and knocking loose several bricks yet attached to the nearby wall that the creature erupted from. Roaring like an open furnace once more, it squares off with the Hermean with renewed ire—there is yet fight left in its quarry, it seems.

    __________________________________________________

    Attack vs. Sampson: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 (miss)

     
     

     

    //Braganza, Molthune † The Vaultspires, Saints' Square//
         //Heavy Rain, Late Night, Windy; 46° F//
              //Lamashan 4, 4711 AR//
                   //Saints' Square//
     
      
                    //†ROUND 4†// 

    Its embers dimming feebly and smoke undulating in a strange pattern, the small smoke-shrouded entity surrounded by Arzazel, Viktor, and Zeltresh seems as if wavering, likely on the brink of destruction. Diminished numbers does little to affect the zeal of the maddened guardsman or his surviving minions, however, their intent to pursue Viktor clear in their aggressive postures. Similarly, the opponents still locked in battle with Sampson and Vincent show no signs of retreating or relenting.

    A flash of lightning tears ominously across the sky, soon accompanied by a rumble of thunder—a fitting chorus for the warpath that consumes the city of Braganza this night.

    __________________________________________________

    Between both of the arcane duelists here, ya'll have plenty of bard lovin' going on. Also, please note that Arz, Vik, and Zelt all have flanking currently. Adurus vanquished his own opponent with a well placed strike, but Vincent's own foe still stands between the pair and lending assistance to the rest of their companions.

    Arzazel and Sampson are up!


    Half-orc Brute | HP 31/31 | 2+1 Hero Points
    Stats:
    AC 18/14/14 | Fort +6 Ref +7 Will +4 | Init. +3 | Perception +8, 60-ft. Darkvision | CM +8/21 (+3 vs dirty trick)

    Round 4

    Arzazel struggles to believe he faces an animated flame in combat. However, Zeltresh with his tiny dagger which hurt it gives him confidence. Then, there is the bossy commissar who appears more of a talker than a fighter. At least he's providing some distraction to the flame.

    These thoughts blaze quickly through his mind as his focus becomes singular: life and death of the pit. The flame looks ready to extinguish, so Arzazel sacrifices power for accuracy to secure one good hit.
    ___________________________________
    unarmed attack: 1d20 + 4 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 4 + 1 + 2 = 14
    if hit, damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7


    HP: 31/31
    Stats:
    AC 18 T 14 FF 14 / Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +1 / Percep. +7 / Init +5

    Round 4

    Sampson tries again to strike the creature, bolstered by his allies' words and its missing him. However, he still fumbles, and still misses. He strongly considers turning the blade on himself. Clearly the gods want him to suffer.
    ___________________________________

    Attack (IC): 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 5 + 1 = 10

    (X________________________________________________________X)****


    Male Human Oracle 1 | 19/19 hp | AC 20 (ff 18, t 12) | F +1, R +3, W +4 | 2 Hero Pts | Per +1 | Init +2

    I'll repeat the Dm's earlier suggestion of spending hero points to reroll.


    Clearly Sampson has not recovered at all from his war injuries. In fact, the arrow that almost ended him is still protruding from his sternum.


    HP: 31/31
    Stats:
    AC 18 T 14 FF 14 / Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +1 / Percep. +7 / Init +5

    I'm saving my hero point to try to avoid death. At this point I'm going to need it.


    Male Chelish Human Arcane Duelist Bard 1
    Stats:
    HP 9/9; AC 15, Flat Footed 13, Touch 12; CMD 14; Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3; Perception +5; Initiative +2

    Looks like I need to start inspiring courage - never know when that +1 to attack might help Sampson!


    Vin ent is already inspiring, don't believe they stack.


    Male Chelish Human Arcane Duelist Bard 1
    Stats:
    HP 9/9; AC 15, Flat Footed 13, Touch 12; CMD 14; Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3; Perception +5; Initiative +2

    ...I knew that. Must've missed it. >.>

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