"Thank you Jorgan." Rogzul says with a respectful nod after the dwarf has jammed a few potions down his throat.
Turning to the remaining creature, and wondering how they might find Nephandros, Rog strikes out with his spear, aiming for anything that might look like a week spot.
|
Jorgan continues to splash potions into the orc's face as he fights, which surprisingly makes the orc feel ten times better as his stomach ceases to churn.
The newfound vigor and energy allows Rogzul to fight with all of his spirit's as his spear cleaves clean through the remaining Gluttoner.
Just as the group begins to look out for Nephandros he appears behind Kraygan as his body materializes from within the wall. The deadly scythe writhing with dark energy slices into Kraygan's side.
+ Energy Drain
The dark energy turns Kraygan's face pale in color as it begins to sap at his strength.
Haste
Wren
Jorgan (124/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Torgan (99/108; sickened)(Malt 47/75; paralyzed 2 rnds)
Rogzul (68/97)
Kraygan (45/113; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92; sickened)
------------------------------
Nephandros (-75; +5 temp HP)
------------------------------
Finally with an opening, Jorgan moves over and stabs at the guardian.
|
Round 4, Init 25
Wren begins to fire fire arrows at the tomb giant, now that it is visible.
to hit; (PBS,haste)
magic fire damage.
to hit; (PBS,haste)
magic fire damage.
to hit; (PBS,haste)
magic fire damage.
to hit; (PBS,haste)
magic fire damage.
HP: 73/73
AC: 18 (+4 w/mage armor) +1 haste
[ dice]1d20+11+1[/dice] touch to hit;
[ dice]1d6+6[/dice] acid damage.
Effects: mage armor, overland flight
Right: bow
Left:
Iron Ring 1/1 used
Rod Lsr Extend 0/3 used
Rod Lsr Quicken 2/3 used
Firestorm 1/3 used
Staff of Ice: 0/10 used
Acid 2/10 used
Blip: 0 of 72 5' steps
12th Level: The bow counts as a +2 Adaptive Flaming Composite Longbow. Scorching Ray now only costs 1 charge and replaces the arcane bolt. The fireball spell is now under the effects of the quickened metamagic feat though only for the use of a full attack with the bow itself with the fireball itself counting as one of the attacks.
[ dice]1d20+13-2+1[/dice] to hit; (PBS,rapid)
[ dice]1d8+3+1d6[/dice] magic fire damage.
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The tomb giant heaves his scythe back behind him and narrowly deflects each of Wren's arrows as they ting off of the shrouded metal blade.
Jorgan's attack prove just as fruitless as the defensive Tomb Giant. Jorgan only manages to get a single lucky blow in with his spear as it drives into the giant's rib.
Nephandros finally gets a good look at Rogzul's armor and sneers in disgust.
Haste
Wren
Jorgan (124/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Torgan (99/108; sickened)(Malt 47/75; paralyzed 2 rnds)
Rogzul (68/97)
Kraygan (45/113; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92; sickened)
------------------------------
Nephandros (-96; -4 to att and saves 1 rnd)
------------------------------
Kraygan reels in his saddle at the attack by the tomb giant.
"Oye! Where'd he come from?!" he exclaims. Assuming a defensive posture, he points with his lance. "Everyone, git 'em!"
Torgan looks down at the paralyzed Malt and sympathizes with the frozen yak, but knows that he has to act. "Keep yer heads down!" Torgan yells as he flings Brinya's Love repeatedly, quickly drawing it with both hands only milliseconds after it flies near or into Nephandros.
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Kraygan and Torgan batter down on the Tomb Giant. Though he fends off most of the blows it isn't enough as the dwarves circle around and overwhelm him with blow after blow weakening his defenses.
- Mwk Breastplate (Large)
- Mwk Scythe (Large)
- This silvery gray cloak seems to absorb light rather than be illuminated by it.
DC 30 Spellcraft:This is a Cloak of Etherealness
Wren
Jorgan (124/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Torgan (99/108)(Malt 47/75)
Rogzul (68/97)
Kraygan (45/113; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92)
"Another door, right here." Rog says matter of factly, pointing toward it wondering how at least Wren has missed yet another one.
He looks toward Jorgan and nods in thanks again. "Those potions helped considerably dw- Jorgan, thank you." He stamps the butt of his spear into the ground in a sort of salute. He waits to see if the dwarves have any interest going through the new door after throwing some healing on himself and Kraygan.
Torgan looks over the cloak that Wren is showing off. "Looks fancy. Perhaps we can sell it and get better gear." he says as he sheathes his weapons, glad that he only has minimal wounds after this battle.
Once the group is ready, the dwarf will lead Malt to the next door and shout. "Now!" as the yak gives it a sharp kick.
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Though Wren can't tell with the naked eye be can sense a magical aura about the chest.
The spell goes off twice and finally springs the locking mechanism on the sealed chest as an alarm begins to sound for a moment quickly followed by a dark pulse of energy that dissipates.
Inside the chest are quite a few items. Nephandros has been allowed to retain some of the Skirkaling clan treasure here.
- +3 mithral chainmail
- +3 longsword (Large)
- A Red and orange silk robe.
DC 23 Spellcraft:This is a Blazing Robe
- a scroll tube containing a scroll of cone of cold and a scroll of fire shield, a wand of chill metal (12 charges)
- diamonds worth 220 gp each (2)
- 600 gp (120 gp ea).
- A single chainmail link.
"Still a couple chambers back there to double-check," Jorgan notes, pointing back down the hall. "And I thought you knew the trick to get rid of that fella...."
Jorgan shrugs his shoulders and then says, "Anyways, I think we've cleaned the camp up otherwise, right? So let's head back to the dragon and hope it doesn't burn our faces off." Jorgan hops back up on Spirit after helping stow away the loot and check the last couple rooms and then starts heading toward the exit to find the dragon.
"We can leave the lord to kill anyone foolish enough to return to these halls." Rogzul shrugs. "We've killed him twice, he is no threat to us, give him the camp, we have what we came for."
Rogzul flies slowly behind Jorgan, following the dwarf back outside.
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As the tomb giant rattled his last breath Kraygan grabbed his drinking horn and proceeded directly to celebrating. Going through the treasure he tosses most into a "melting pile", but keeps ahold of the chainmail link out of curiosity. He was just about to ask why a single link deserved a special spot among real valuable treasure when others started taking about the ghostly haunts that still troubled the location. Letting out a thunderous belch, he offers his opinion.
"I duuno 'bout th' rest o' ye, but I think we should make sure these dead basserds stay dead. Otherwise yer great-granchilren'll have t' march up here fer th' next giant tyr'nt tha gets th' dumbarse idea t' raise n' army." He twists around to his right for his giant bag of holding, scratches his beard when he can't find it, then discovers it on his left, and proceeds to dig through it. "We got scrolls n' stuff 'ere. Dinnae someone say we 'as one tha could be used t' talk t' th' dead? Cast the mumbo jumbo, ask th' name, des'crate th' place, and..." His hand makes a mocking gesture in imitation of spellcasting that ends with a fist pump accompanied by a honking fart. "...light a tindertwig, we're done!"
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Kraygan grabs ahold of the larger chainmail link. Though it doesn't seem special outside of the odd dark sheen it gives off as he turns it in the torchlight he does seem to recall a day or so ago as he gathered Skirkatla's armor into his bag his finger snagged on her chainmail as it seemed to be missing a single link.
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The group gathers themselves and heads back towards the black door of death. On the way Jorgan checks out a side room that was missed before.
Two sleeping pallets, two footlockers, and a small rack for weapons and armor are the only furnishings in this sparse room. Two torch sconces are mounted to the wall. The only exit is a single door to the north.
These are the quarters for the guards stationed at the entrance of the Tomb. Skirkatla is very particular about the living creatures she admits into the tomb, so when those giants go off duty for sleep or meals here, Hersir Gregganor sends two giants from the village to temporarily relieve them at the entrance. The footlockers contain only mundane, giant-sized personal possessions.
"We can fix the chainmail from Skirtkatla later, once we reach the forge." Torgan advises as he looks at the crude map of the place that he has been tracking. "I don't think there is anything left to explore in the building..." he says before he remembers the door to the south in this very room. "Oh, nevermind. There's that one." he says with a point of his stubby finger.
Torgan has Malt move up to the wall near the door and looks for a safe place to investigate, hoping the giants were not smart enough to enchant the wall. He knocks on the wall near the door and tries to see if he can ascertain the depth of the wall here. "Perhaps we can go around the evil door..."
"Or maybe a cloak that turns you ethereal so you can walk through walls?" Rog says, referencing the cloak they picked up earlier in the day.
"Mine is nicer, or I'd volunteer."
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Torgan and Malt wander over to the only unexplored door in the entire complex. He knocks on the wall of ice and stone and finds the door to be unenchanted and unlocked as well and opens the door.
A series of low pedestals line the walls of this room. Perched atop each is a humanoid skull. A small plaque has been chiseled in stone beneath each skull, like a memorial. Antiquated, sometimes broken, weapons lean against several of the pedestals. None of the skulls or weapons are giant-sized. A single stone door to the west provides the only exit.
Skirkatla and her warriors display the remains of their worthiest adversaries, along with weapons broken in the course of their defeat, in this chamber. This display is not to honor these enemies, but to ensure the giants immortalize their scorn for these foes’ eventual defeat.
"Ghastly place, eh?" Jorgan notes as he examines the room. "And I'm tired of freezing my arse off in this ice. If Wren is done zapping the door to keep that undead whateveritis from coming back, I think it's about time we returned to the dragon, right? We've taken out the giants and their leader and that was what we came for if I'm remembering right. Let's go see if the dragon keeps its word..."
"Hmm.. we should bury these remains. Or give 'em a funeral pyre."
Kraygan moves to collect the skulls and weapons.
Frowning as his cloak suggestion is ignored, Rogzul follows as the dwarves wander the complex. When they see the pedestals he sees something in the eye of Akargrim, and inspects the skull to see what's inside.
"It's amazing any of you can function on your own, blind as you are."
"Hey! I ain't that drunk!"
Kraygan refills his magic horn and takes a drink.
"...least, not yet."
"Hey! I ain't that drunk!"
Kraygan refills his magic horn and takes a drink.
"...least, not yet."
"Have I ever taught you about relative scales, cousin?" Jorgan asks.
He then turns to Rog. "So what is it you've found then? Anything good?"
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Noticing the glint Rogzul moves in to investigate it further. The skull atop the pedestal abruptly bursts into a corona of blue fire and animates and speaks.
“Akargrim was my name in life,” moans the skull in a sepulchral voice. “I and those with me fought the savage giant Hhurrun Springbane, who challenged me to single combat. We had nearly defeated the giants, but many of my companions were injured, and so I agreed to face Springbane alone. I had all but slain the brute when Springbane called to his giants, who leapt to his aid and cut me down before my clan could rally to my rescue. With my murder, the tide of battle turned, and Springbane returned to his people to lie about his courage and strength at arms. I charge you, go north from this monument to ignominy, then turn east. Do not veer west. My killer has been made perversely immortal for his so-called courage. Take my axe and bring me Hhurrun Springbane’s head, so that I, and these others with me, might remember justice, and find our way peacefully to judgment. If you return, I shall grant you a boon. I can do no more.”
One final plea is heard throughout the chamber. "FREE ME........." Your head's tingle as you all feel a sudden urge to help the disembodied voice.
A broken masterwork greataxe leans against the base of the pedestal holding Akargrim’s skull.
Torgan nods to the greataxe and the giant yak moves over to it, threaded its sharpened horn through the leather strap attached to the shaft. "We shall deliver you this head." he says, feeling compelled to help the disembodied skull.
"Killing giants is a pasttime of ours." he says with a grin. "Let us away!" he adds as he and Malt begin to trot out. After a second, the yak stops before completely exiting the room. "Did you want me to cart you on the howdah so you can see his death?"
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Wren nods agreeably with Torgan about the need to do that, but gets very angry when the dwarf reaches for the axe first.
"I'm pretty sure I should be handling the axe. After all, he asked *ME* to get his head," Wren growls omninously. "Now, don't you think you should hand it over before there are any issues?"
Wren waits for the axe to be placed in his hand so he can go get the head.
"Don't make me angry. You all would probably burn a lot if I was angry."
Torgan grabs the axe off the horn of the yak and leans it against his shoulder. "Hmm... you really want it?" he says, pondering this.
"Nah. I think I'll be the one to cut off the head." he says, staring directly into Wren's eyes. "Remember what happened the last time, elf."
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"Heh. Idjits." Kraygan chuckles as Torgan and Wren bicker over the axe. Slapping Haggis on the rump he gallops out of the room.
"While ye two ladies argue 'bout who gives better head, I'll be gettin it!"
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With a strange sense of purpose you all move past the black door of death without even a second thought only to feel a pull towards the Vault of Ignobility.
Five thrones line the walls of this icy chamber, nestled between support columns in each of the four corners. Runes are inscribed upon the headboard of each throne.
Some of the Skirkaling tribe’s most renowned (or infamous) warriors are interred in this chamber, a place of honor and respect. A shriveled giant corpse in armor slouches in each throne. The writing inscribed above their heads is in Giant and names the individuals seated in each throne. The corpse seated in the center throne to the east is identified as “Hhurrun Springbane.”
The last time in this room you found a Manual of War underneath one of the thrones but yet none of the corpses even twitched. Now is a slightly different story as you all pile deep into the room as an otherworldy presence pulls you along.
Three of the corpses stand as Hhurrun Springbanecreakes a finger that has not moved in centuries at the axe Torgan is carrying. The zombie lords hiss in unison in shock and fear of the blade.
“To arms!” He rasps in Giant, “I know that axe! Doom is upon us!”
Distracted Torgan feels a different weight in his hand. Looking down the broken blade seems to have magically repaired as a gleam shines off of the sharper than usual edge of the blade. The sheen light continues to run its length as it never ends.
Torgan has a sense of insight as he realizes somehow that he is carrying a deadly weapon. A +1 Vorpal Greataxe!
+4 in Mountains
Torgan (99/108)(Malt 47/75)
Jorgan (124/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Wren
Kraygan (63/113; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92)
Rogzul (87/97)
----------------------------------------
Zombie Lords
----------------------------------------
"TALLY HO!" yells Torgan as he brandishes the legendary greataxe, swinging it wildly at the yellowish giant undead thing that rests in front of him. "Give me your heads!"
As Malt steps forward to gore the undead lord, Torgan takes three rapid swipes with the menacing axe.
---
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Round 1, Init 21
Wren draws his rod of quicken and casts another Haste, then follows that up with a Glitterdust (DC 21 will).
HP: 73/73
AC: 18 (+4 w/mage armor) +1 haste
[ dice]1d20+11+1[/dice] touch to hit;
[ dice]1d6+6[/dice] acid damage.
Effects: mage armor, overland flight
Right: bow
Left:
Iron Ring 1/1 used
Rod Lsr Extend 0/3 used
Rod Lsr Quicken 2/3 used
Firestorm 1/3 used
Staff of Ice: 0/10 used
Acid 2/10 used
Blip: 0 of 72 5' steps
12th Level: The bow counts as a +2 Adaptive Flaming Composite Longbow. Scorching Ray now only costs 1 charge and replaces the arcane bolt. The fireball spell is now under the effects of the quickened metamagic feat though only for the use of a full attack with the bow itself with the fireball itself counting as one of the attacks.
[ dice]1d20+13-2+1[/dice] to hit; (PBS,rapid)
[ dice]1d8+3+1d6[/dice] magic fire damage.
Feeling his reflexes speed up Kraygan turns them against the nearest undead giant before it can react. Dropping his axe, he whips out his dwarven war axe, activates his magic bane baldric, and unleashes drunken rage.
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Torgan is drawn straight towards Hhurrun Springbane himself. The fearful giant zombie lord raises his own axe in fear of the Giantslayer's blade but isn't quick enough as Torgan cleaves into the giant's midsection twice.
Wren covers Hhurrun Springbane and another Zombie Lord in more glitter.
Hhurrun Springbane has his eyes closed tightly as the glitter bomb explodes, though the eastern giant is nowhere near as fortunate.
Kraygan charges in on the blinded giant and begins to hack and chop into it's shoulder as ice and rimed dead flesh flop off onto the ground.
Torgan (99/108)(Malt 47/75)
Jorgan (124/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Wren
Kraygan (63/113; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92)
Rogzul (87/97)
----------------------------------------
Zombie Lords (Yellow -49)(Green- 119; Blinded DC 21)
----------------------------------------
Channeling, once again, his ancestors hatred into his spear, Rogzul begins casting another spell to enlarge himself, this was unfortunately not quickened, and much more costly on time, but he knows his current frame doesnt have the reach to keep him safe.
He keeps an eye on Kraygan, unsure how much more the dwarf can take in his current state.
"Fantastic! Just a few more giants to kill... er, rekill... before we leave this place!" Jorgan stabs at the nearest .
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Jorgan and Spirit bear down on the remaining undead Lord, he continues to stab into the giant with Heartspit. Every single blow lands with dull crunches of old and brittle bones snapping, though the undead seems to be resistant to a bit of the damage.
Rogzul continues to push his ancestor's spirits to their limits as he channels them to enlarge him once again.
The undead launch their own attacks with mighty greataxes in hand.
All three of the dwarves take devastating blows from the undead as they split their attacks. Their entire bodies creak as their frozen skin splits open from centuries of unuse as the axes cleave through the dwarves armor.
Torgan (69/108)(Malt 47/75)
Jorgan (99/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Wren
Kraygan (33/139; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92)
Rogzul (87/97)
----------------------------------------
Zombie Lords (Yellow -49)(Green- 119; Blinded DC 21)(Red -91)
----------------------------------------
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What looked to be a deadly strike against Kraygan turns out that it was merely a glancing blow as the undead soon finds out as the grit and glitter slide loose from it's sockets.
Torgan (69/108)(Malt 47/75)
Jorgan (99/124)(Spirit 120/120)
Wren
Kraygan (62/139; Energy Drain 1)(Haggis 92/92)
Rogzul (87/97)
----------------------------------------
Zombie Lords (Yellow -49)(Green- 119)(Red -91)
----------------------------------------
"Har!" Kraygan laughs when the giant blindly misses.
"Ow!" He flinches when the giant doesn't...
+1 if these count as Giants
+1 if these count as Giants
+1 if these count as Giants
+1 if these count as Giants
+1 if these count as Giants