Tidus glances at how stiff her frame was, perhaps he was still expecting her to attack. At her response Falldirk's eye returns to a cool squint. "I see." He turns his back on the lot of you, tending to the iron pot full of stew. He speaks again after a long minute passed. "Ya hide your dicomfort well, I am using an old hunters trick. Instead of roaming through the wood lookin for the beast I will draw it here." He picks up a similar log and tosses it on the fire, increasing the potency of the smell as it burns. "It shant be long before it comes."
Wallace appears to be a pale as a corpse, his breathing appears to be ragged as well...
Falldirk The Outcast Grenalf Born 4000 AR in Mavradia from an Elven mother and an Ulfen Warrior from the Clan of Grenalf. The actual legendary explorer who survived Iobaria before it was ever known as Iobaria today. Barely survived his birth during that particular harsh winter that claimed the lives of many infants due to the brutal cold that seemed to creep into cribs...
Mother - Manadhel, Race - Elf, Clan - Clanless
Father - Unknown, Race - Believed to be Human, Clan - Grenalf
Siblings - None
Extended Family - Unknown
Early Adult life - Rebellious and brash Falldirk struck out on his own after nearly a century of being under his mothers skirts. A fact he hated, a burning need in his blood filled him with wanderlust and despite Mavradia's unique racial climate he wasn't interested in mingling with budding women forever. He struck out to become a warrior.
The whispers grow louder now, enticing you to stay, the feeling of being touched has becoming more grasping in feeling. You can feel as though invisible hands are grasping at your wrists, ankles, arms and even a pair are slowly encircling your throat. Causing you to swallow hard in response to the uncomfortably cold feeling these hands radiate.
Falldirk fell into a radical band of Mercs who sought to ring out every ounce of gold they could be killing whatever an whoever their employer asked them too. Being young and gullible he began to believe that everything none human deserved to die, despite being born elfin in nature he was nearly completely human looking in his body structure. Merely possessing the long life of elfin kind. For nearly a decade they spent their time hunting bands of centaurs, burning out non humans and eventually their mantra changed to no holds against anything they were paid to kill. Hundreds died at the hands of these mercs and Falldirk 'The Butcher of Whiterun' was no less responsible than any other. It was during a particularly vicious raid on a supposedly defenseless village where he encountered a warrior as fierce as he was but the age difference was immense. Falldirk was nearing 130 years old and the boy he fought was a mere eighteen...
Adulthood Their fight was long and proud, the boy was a man with the will to fight. They shattered weapon after weapon fighting brutally against each other and though Falldirk thought many a time that he had the advantage the boy proved him wrong. In the midst of their fight this warrior prodigy struck down countless numbers of his fellow mercs as well. Lobbing his broken weapons with unerring precision and leaving Falldirk almost dumbfounded by his ability alone.
From evening until the morning the next day they fought and even though his fellow mercs were in full retreat Falldirk pressed the attack. The boy was flagging finally and he was intent on killing him. And when he found his opening he was yet again denied his victory by the coming of several frostgiant raiders that had swept in from the wastes. With little recourse he and the young warrior turned their hatred against the newcomers and in short order killed them.
Standing on the dead and bearing their giant weapons they faced off once more, both of them intent on destroying the other. The boy laughed aloud before he spoke. Grendan Grenalf of Antoll was who they were, so that Falldirk could create a tomb when they were dead. He was a kinsmen and yet he was still smiling while facing what could be his death.[/b][/smaller]
He spoke his name and hailing from Mavradia, it was all he could manage as the youth smiled at him in a reckless way. The warrior laughed aloud and soon told him quite frankly that he was a fool to be used by cowards such as the Mercs. That he join him and travel Iobaria as Kinsmen. Much to his own surprise Falldirk, in a moment of deep insight, accepted.
Grenden died at the age of 63 with sword in hand and almost a dozen sons to carry on his name. Falldirk had cast off his former title and was now known as 'the Hero of Antoll' alongside his fallen kinsmen. Now nearly two centuries old he returned to Mavradia to face see his mother, who in his time away had risen to the height of Councilwoman of Mavradia. However, she did not recognize him and refused to see him, barring him from the city itself. He took it at first as being outcasted for his deeds but when he caught word of the dark goings on with Mavradia he came to question why he was forced out. He returned and mad his own entry into the city and discovered a foul taint within the city. He ran it to ground and found a foul cult of mind rappers had taken control of the council within the city. So the Hero of Antoll gathered those likeminded to himself and stormed the cultists temple with the intent of no mercy.
With Mavradia freed from cult he reunited with his mother, he continued to travel around Mavradia and inspire people through his deeds. The Drakeplague claimed many lives, including his mother’s when the dragons entered the city in search of a cure. She passed in 4519 AR mere days before the Drakeplague was destroyed, a moment he witnessed and forever remembered as a moment of the most pure sacrifice. The silver dragon is etched upon his armor because of that day, always.
His life continues to spiral alongside the history of Iobaria itself. Arodens death leads to the fleeing Sarkorian refugees from the expanding worldwound. The birth of Mendev and the years of countless struggles against refugees and other non-Iobarian's attempting to claim pieces of land. Falldirk was involved in several of these conflicts throughout the years until Mavradia's fall from a plague that turned its inhabitants into mindless slimes. Thus the second fall of Iobaria was complete and thousands paid with their lives in the process.
Someone poisoned the wells within Mavradia itself, which lead to the containment reaching the population. Falldirk barely survived this aggressive plague and was helpless to stop the destruction of his home. Driven out by the the plagues he spent his time wandering, now in his middle age and having no children he sought to settle down somewhere in Iobaria. He shook his head at the foolish fighting between humans and centaurs while reflecting grimly on his own misdeeds to the equine race. However he no longer felt the need to harm them and avoided them if he could, handing out a beating only as necessary from time to time.
He returned to Antoll, his story now a lightly told folktale of which he didn't mind as it took on a life of its own since then. His time in Antoll was pleasant, he settled down with a young half-elven girl, and together they had five children. Things could not have turned out any better for the old warrior until the night his world shattered. For years, he ran his blacksmithing as his own business until the rise of Koffar Rjul. In his stubbornness he chose not to bow to the new Koffar, which resulted in the death of his young wife and his children...
He was overpowered by the Koffar's henchmen and forced to watch as his family is butchered. He is imprisoned shortly thereafter and was to be executed for his supposed crimes against the Koffar. However, he escaped his confines, butchered no less then seventy of the Koffar's best men and gave the young lordling a lasting reminder of whom he had wronged by taking off his left arm in a single blow, leaving the broken shards of his blade in the bastards skin. Falldirk would have killed him if the Koffar's dragon consort hadn't prevented him.
He fled Antoll and for several years wandered the wastes of Iobaria, fighting everything that challenged him, killing everything that slighted him before eventually heading to the Maw to die. When he defeated each creature there, he headed west towards Brevoy in the hops that someone stronger lay in that direction. However, finding someone to kill him was met with one failure after the next, his blood rage was too strong and each possible killer died at his hands. He fought his way across Brevoy, Galt, Taldor and the Stolen Lands before deciding to head home once more. He witnessed a great many things in his travels and never stayed in one place more than a night before moving on.
While on his way to Iobaria he came upon some survivors who had fled from another outbreak of disease in the western lands of Iobaria. They were being pursued by creatures from the Maw, which he slew without much trouble at all.
He became the Elder and together they eked out a scarce existence on the edges of Brevoyian and Ioberian lands. Several more years passed and life slowly but surely improved for them as they learned how to carve out a better existence in the rocky soil of their village. Falldirk was able to ward off the ravages of other creatures, forever seeking his death in one of their champions but never finding it. However now something fierce stalks them. A beast even Falldirk has lost a fight too, one he believes will take his life and in the twilight of his life he is relenting on the thought of dying so simply.
Now, strangers seeking out the bear face him, one of these strangers bears the likeness of a tribe he once knew. Fearsome and proud were the Dvezda and it was all he could think of now that he was faced by a Scion of that fallen tribe. . If she crossed the Maw... The return of war, the return of infighting in Iobaria was certain to occur. All hell would break loose. She'd be hunted in more ways than could be imagined and these young mercs had no idea the darkness they'd face in that blighted land...
He was tense because the druid built building would probably not withstand the bears assault and beneath your very feet were countless villagers and their children. Falldirk had hidden them away, lighting fires in the caves and burning Muskwood to enrage the bear so that he could kill it. After losing the hunters and the mystic he has no other choice then go it alone and the stones of the druids house would mask the villagers scent until his deed was done. Even if he died.
At the last words the encircling hands wring around your neck, knocking the lantern to the floor as the unseen hands pulled you back and slammed you into a bookshelf. Old tomes and scrolls fell from all sides, creating a blizzards of dust, pages and filling the air with the smell of rot...
Roll a Will save.
"Exactly." Is all Falldirk says as he stirs the contents of the now boiling iron pot. "Not many know that name, Muskwood isn't as abundant nowadays. How do you know it eh?" With the pots contents boilingslowly now he pulls out several worn bowls and sets them on a log nearby. "Best eat up. Ya might not get another meal."
Muskwood effects currently are causing -2 will saves to all nonhumans.
Wallace ignores the whispers seeking his ears, the increasingly forceful presses to his flesh as he reads. Riveted. Of a legends rise and its fading. Like a blade of a hundred battles held over a mantle for generations, made only sharper by the legend it carried and the mortal fragility it now held that it could not even fathom in its prime.
Will!: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
The voices are shrieks in your ears as yo break free from the grasping hands. You nearly trip as the hands that were under your clothes rush to trip you up. The shattered lanterns light makes the shadows dance and cavort and you see your own shadow appears under attack in the same way as yourself. It is in this mad struggle to break free from the unseen that you spot something just arund the corner of the shelves at the end of the long aisle you stand in.
Its long gaunt fingers were pale as ice and its eyes were as black as a corpse as it stared at you. The whispers were maddening now, a cacophony of despair as it slowly, so agonizingly slow in its movements. Creeped around the corner of the shelves. It beckoned with one hand for you to come closer but somehow you resisted and scrambled away...
"CoMe CloSer. CloSer. CloSer. LeT uS LoVe YoU."
Wallace's pale skin regains its color and he gasps as he awakens from his dark dreams...
Wallace shudders as he stands up, drawing arms closer to his body as he does his best to banish the spectres of his dream. "that was painful. But refreshing." the human states good naturally as reaches a hand into one pocket to touch his hand to the still hidden gem stowed there.
His loathing is unchanging as ever. good to know I again walk the waking world.The human thinks as he glances over to Falldirk and gives the man a wide jack-o-lantern grin. Made more concerning by the blood still in his mouth and on his face.
" Tell me elder Falldirk, have you ever heard the legend of the Knight in rusted armor?" The human states his nonsequiter with a straight face and looking to a window.
" I mean its likely to pass the time while we wait here if you haven't."
When Mai doesn't answer Falldirk doesn't seem too concerned, continuing to work the flames and cook the stew with ease. "Many are the tales of the rusted knight." He sounded almost bored as he started dishing himself some stew, allowing the Muskwood to do its work and filling the room with its heavy scent, much to the discomfort of the nonhumans in the room. "Of which do you speak of Wallace?"
Mai's words bring about Falldirk's single eye as he looks at them over his bowl of stew. His eye doesn't linger, its a quick appraisal and its hard to tell what all he notices and what he doesn't. "Now that you are not so snowbound you remind me of a race I saw in earlier days. They were few in number and skittish. However their unique look led to their capture as they were gathered up by one of the three lords of Iobaria some time ago. Most likely they are slaves or pets to the various lordly sycophants." He spits into the fire in disgust before taking another bite of stew. "Is that where you got yours then?"
He looks to Wallace and was about to say something when a heavy WHUMP Made him look towards the doors instead. "Finally getting mad eh Bear."
Wallace looks to the door with everyone else before sighing "Tis a shame that Lyre isn't in this town. This building won't survive the bears fury long. Right Elder Falldirk?"
The human then adjusts some of his gear and keeps his morning star close.
"But to answer your veiled question the tale has nothing to do with your legends, Hero of Antoll. The rusted knight was a tale I heard as a child from a traveler of old in the crusader city of Kenabres. The story of one who lost their path after attaining all a traditional knight would aspire to. Suffice to say the stranger found little coin telling the tale in the crusader capital."
At Mai's words Falldirk stands. "A score or so seasons back now. They were curious creatures, though absolutely terrified of cag..." Wallaces words made the elder stop mid speech.
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
His words were firm and his gravelly voice deeper than before as he started to stand. "Legend? Feh. I'm an old sword and that was another lifetime ago Soothsayer. Regardless of how you know it, this building was built by a druid's magic, it would take much to destroy it." The bear didn't seem to be waiting for the dialogue and continued its assault on some distant tree. WHUMP SMASH CRACK! Falldirk's eye narrowed and then went wide as the thunderous crack echoed throughout the village. It was the creaking cracking sound that followed that made the old swordsman draw his large blade.
Wallace smiles at the elder then looks to the wall
"Caliburn or an old farmers blade I doubt it matters in this case. Tell me though, is it just my imagination or are those felled trees getting closer. Second, are there any sizable trees in range to be say... Dropped onto the roof of this home like a great wooden mallet?" The human asks gesturing to the elder with one hand and smacking it to opposed palm to make his point.
"If so I believe we have cause for concern. Hopefully though it will come for us here. Let us move the stumps and tables out of the way so Rhavenna can get a clear line of the beast if it comes for us in here."
The Longhouse had few windows that would prove useful. It was merely a long and wide stone crafted longhouse meant to resist the brutal cold and minimize drafts. Falldirk eyes the main and only door leading into this longhouse with great intensity as Wallace speaks. He says little as the creaking of the tree outside changes tone and before Falldirk has much time to respond the cracking sound heightens in intensity and the sounds of snapping branches can be heard from outside the doors. "S~!+..." Is all he is able to mutter before the tree comes crashing down with a thunderous impact!
1d4 ⇒ 3
The tree glances off the side of the building, causing dust and bites of loose stone to rain down as the ceiling weathers the blow intact. The sound of grinding metal, snapping branches and groaning stones herald the wooden giants resting place. One of the small windows up above is smashed by the falling giants broken and twisted branches, scattering shards of glass across the stone floor and allowing the sound of several traps going off to be easily heard within which made Falldirk grimace. He agreed with Rhavenna statement as he headed towards the doors. "Smart. Too bloody smart."
He lifted the bar off with one arm, casting it aside as he growled in anger. "If we stay here it is liable to keep dropping trees on us. If the traps are sprung theres no point in drawing it in anymore. Better ta meet it in the field."
Tidus looks to his companions for a moment before moving up to the old warrior and readying himself for the fight ahead. Falldirk grins at the Gladiator as he remarks. "I remember seeing you fight a tiger once, am I correct Gladiator?"
Tidus's face grew dark as he replied coldly. "I barely survived that fight, they gave me a shattered sword to stab it with."
Falldirk chuckles as he pulls open the left hand door. "That is why I betted on you. Had they given you nothing I would have been more inclined on the tiger."
Tidus looked angry. "Your words inspire me Elder Grenalf."
Falldirk steps through the door and gives a hearty laugh. "I hope so, because we'll need that fighting spirit to best this beast Gladiator!"
With the door partially open the sight of the wall of snow swirling down was disheartening, line of sight was obscured by the blizzard that was now shrouding the village in its fury. Falldirk stood on the stpes just outside the doors and looked to all the world to be calm and unafraid despite the thick trunked tree that had now fallen across the once open path in front of the longhouse. Making a more squeezed path that forced anyone who didn't climb it to headout of the northeastern side of the village.
WHUMP! The sound of the bear making contact with another tree echoed all around as its mighty impact confirmed the bears savage strength once again.
"So rushed to kill us all bear?" Falldirk mumbled under his breath darkly as the sound came again.
Wallace frowns in thought as he considers the elders words. "For one so interested in just being tales in the past you bring up my allies history quite quickly." The human glances to Tadis and gives the man a grin.
"Not to worry, after what you did to that hobgoblin in the basement I believe I would still bet on you unarmed against a tiger. The gods still side with you if our encounter with the harpies is any indication."
" Still, how are we going to convince this creature that the source of its irritation is out here rather than still in the longhouse with the smoke coming out of it? Hrmm. Now that is a thought. Will the smoke draw the beast now that it is open? Perhaps we can draw it into the long house and use its sturdy construction to our advantage. Bar the door from the outside when it enters and pelt it with arrows from the windows." the human suggests as he sizes up the building.
"A rusted blade last days is not as interesting as one fighting for their freedom when the whole world delights in seein'im fail. Besides, what we face is a beast of fury, if we hesitate we'll die like the rest." Falldirk was smiling, broadly at the thick snow coming down and he hardly looked about as he stood on the steps of the Longhouse.
The lack of visibility and the coming dark didn't mix well even for those whose monstrous nature allowed them to see in the dark. The flakes were coming down so thickly that it was causing tricks to play on ones vision. Movement in one direction was as much a flurry of snow swirling past as was the next wind gusted snow movement on the right. It was both frustrating, unnerving and kept those proceeding along the broken trunk on edge.
Wallaces suggestion was quickly shutdown by Falldirk who grunted. "No." without further explanation. "I'll draw its ire, just get ready to kill it." He takes a pouch from his belt and pulls out a single vial. Dropping it and shattering it across the steps of the longhouse. Whatever was contained within the vile quickly seeps into the seams between the stone steps. With that he pulls off his belt and excess gear, until all he has is his armor and his greatblade.
He strides off into the snow storm, not looking back to see if any of you follow.
The tree is a little over a hundred feet in length, just enough to be outside the village. Feel free to cast spells or prepare as you see fit. :)
"Well our path is chosen. prepare yourselves, if Falldirk is laid low that bear will be coming for us next." With that the human adjust his goggles and retrieves the gnarled staff of living vines from his pack. "This is death ground."
Wallace has the staff of healing readied, Nothing useful to cast. He's going to take Tim his Yak. I didn't prepare since the last down day and forgot to change them So Wallace has nothing in his spell prep that can be cast to help at this point."
No other actions then? If I don't see anything in 12 hours I will progress forward. At least post a marching order for yourselves. Falldirk is of course in the lead and ahead of you. Tadis has been sticking to the rear and covering tracks when not being used to scout. Feel free to put him in the Lead (Scout) or Rearguard positions. You can easily stand at least three abreast it doesn't need to be single file.
"Livian if you can do anything about this snow now would be the time,otherwise hang back and shoot if you can see through this. Mai, Tadis, if the old man is going toe to toe with that thing he's probably going to need help, see if you can flank the @#$%^er. I'll start off shooting along with Liv but if needed I'll charge in." Rhavenna yells over the howling winds.
Or is this one of those creepy silent snow storms?
So what I'm imagining then is Wallace takes the center of the pack, With Rhavenna either along side or somewhere. I'd agree with Tadis being rear guard if only for the fact that a horse in this terrain is going to be miserable. With A yak and Rhavenna clearing the way it should be safe for the horse to follow.
Livain is apparently going to try and suck some of the snow out of the sky to turn into stuff with snow shape? Now I'm imagining a trail of unhappy or deformed snowmen as the snow keeps disagreeing with Livains desired shapes.
Thankfully Rhavenna and Maiathreen both have endure elements so we don't need to worry over them freezing to death. Just Wallace and his measly human constitution with cold weather gear.
"I'll attempt to stay out of combat reach as the thing will likely just rip me in half. Unfortunately I have little in the way of helpful magics today, though I do still have some of my alchemical tools left over. I'll try throwing some of those." the human replies as he eyes the snow warily, waiting for the ambush that he knew was coming.
Nothing else? Moving on.
You press through the ssnow and the growing intensity of the blizzard Falldirk's stride never slows and eventually he is lost from sight.
You can see clearly through the snow and Falldirk was swiftly coming upon a clearing marked by busted stumps and fallen trees, infact only by moving along the giant tree that had been felled was the only way to enter the broken circle of trees. It appeared to be a roughly circular area, the trees looked as though they were purposefully dropped in a fashion where they remaining leaning against other trees. forcing anyone coming for the bear to fit into a smaller area with few entrances or exits...
At the center of this rough are you can see a massive beast leaning its weight against the last standing tree, a monster twice as tick as the one fallen before but the bear's brutal strikes had stopped and it appeared to be looking directly back at your group. Steam rising from its nose as it looks at you all over a muzzle covered in scars. Its hide, from what you can see, is riddled with arrows and the shafts of broken weapons. An open wound in its side leaks blood steadily and even though its so badly injured it doesn't looked to be slowed.
Falldirk stops as he enters the area of broken stumps, just as he does the bear steps away from the tree in an almost human like manner. Upright and revealing the axe still embedded in its side as it remains standing upright. Standing nearly eighteen feet tall, it towered over Falldirk. Even Rhavenna's height wasn't enough to match this beast...
Falldirk draws his blade, though he doesn't appear to be looking in the exact direction of the bear, more off to the left as he prepares himself for combat.
Perception and Initative rolls please, just you if you beat the ear you can act first.
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Wallace, his banner placed into a holster on Tim, waits carefully for the battle to erupt.
" I'm going to have to talk to hawk about our cut of the loot we sold in the fight. Fighting in the northlands means this sort of combat will happen again. I want to be more prepared next time."
is this staff big enough that I could clamp my banner onto it? seems kind of silly for walace to be carrying two big lengths of wood if one can fill the purpose of both.
Wallace is interrupted by the shifting of something ahead. Falldirks voice rises above the swirling wind. "THE BEAST COMES!" He is barely able ot shout this warning before the powerful rageful roar of the bear fills the dancing snow and howling of the wind.
Save vs fear dc 18
Rhavenna: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Will Wallace: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
If you have somethig that negates Fear then please make correction for those that fail you are shaken for 2d6 ⇒ (3, 3) = 6 Rounds.
Rhavenna please roll Initiative!
Tidus: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Falldirk: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Bear: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Banner grants a +1 vs fear and charms. Still not enough though. and it isn't worth a hero point to avoid it.
Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Wallace does his best to hide his own shaking between swearing and trying to hold onto the reigns of Tim.
" Damn that thing is huge! Livain are you sure there is noting you can do about this snow? I'd feel much better if we could see this thing before charging head long into its jaws."
Wallace will begin to inspire courage. +1 hit/Dam/fear saves for those who can hear him. Wallaces class ability drops the DC to do so by Class level + Cha mod. so currently a -7. Ought to over come the sound of the storm at least.
The bear looms in the swirling snow and blowing winds, a towering shadow and even with your eyes it was barely an outline in the harsh weather. However the chill that runs across you as its head rises, seemingly looking in your direction before growling angrily at Falldirk's whose armored form was much more distinguishable. Though the bear easily towered over the armored human Elder.
Yes you are able to see its form but it is unclear how close it is, however it is a huge target.
Calling upon the gifts of nature, Rhavenna focuses on the air around her, a perfect wind tunnel forming between herself and the monstrous creature, the perfect path for the arrow she sends streaking in it's direction.
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26 No range increment
1d8 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Livain's eyes seem to glow with an inner light as the falling snow begins to shift away leaving a tunnel of empty air straight towards the bear. "Wallace have you ever tried to catch a bucketful of water with nothing but a cup without getting wet? That's what this is like I have to catch each individual falling piece of snow. So would you kindly shut up and let me concentrate." She snaps he strain of moving so much snow causing her white dragon blood to push forward.
1d100 ⇒ 75
Rhavenna's arrow launched into the swirling snow and the towering shadow gave an angry growl as the snow of arrow puncturing into hide reached the Centaurs ears. This was just before Livain's ability caused a hole, or rather an open sphere to form in the midst of the swirling snow. What greeted there eyes was a beast beyond imagining. Its downy white fur was marred by the scars of combat and punctured by more arrows than just Rhavenna's. It appeared to be looking directly at the Centaurus. Steam rising from its nose as it looks as it snarls at her in rage with a muzzle covered in scars. Its hide, from what you can see, is riddled with arrows and the shafts of broken weapons. An open wound in its side leaks blood steadily and even though its so badly injured it doesn't looked to be slowed.
It lumbers forward in the void of swirling snow and appears unconcerned with Faldirk's interference. Falldirk moved to intercept it as it lumbered forward and in one swift and brutal motion it clawed out at the Elder...
1d20 + 21 ⇒ (9) + 21 = 30
1d20 + 15 ⇒ (7) + 15 = 22
Falldirks blade was thrown from his hands as he was battered aside by the lumbering dire bear. Which now towered over Wallace, staring intently at Rhavenna who was just beyond its reach. It hunches over suddenly as it roars at her in rage.
The snow isn't acting like it should, everything feels wrong. It feels forced even, as you reach out and push the snow back you feel an oily feeling seeping across your scales. The snow feels like it is pressing down on you harder, so hard it feels like it is trying to crush beneath it causing you to shake from the strain of maintaining it...
Move action t maintain snow sphere. 2 nonleathal damage for every round it is maintained.
You can see Livain begin to shake the moment she presses the snow back. Without a doubt she is struggling to maintain it...
Mai is up!
Round , Init , Altitude ' AC 27, HP 25/25 Arcane Pool: 6/6 Spells: dragon claw, dragon claw, burning hands,
shield, read magic, detect magic, arcane mark Buffs: Shield, arcane pool, inspiration
charge ac 25
1d20 + 11 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 11 + 2 + 1 = 24
1d8 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8
Maiathreen quickly intones a spell and a shimmer appears for a moment over his body he then rushes towards the bear using his wings to propel his body.
Rhavenna's arrow flew true and struck the monstrous bear in the torso, which only seemed to enrage it! It stormed forward, deflecting Faldirk and his great blades attack as easily as swatting a fly. Casting the Elder aside it continued to stagger until it came head to head with Wallace. Leaving Rhavenna just beyond its reach!
It roared in challenge and grunted in a gutturally angry way as Mai's blade slashed its hide.
Standing in the open it continued to face those that now harried it...
Staring malevolently at Rhavenna in particular...
Wallace and Rhavenna are up!
AC 24 T 11 FF 21
Saves F+14 R+13 W+7
Her bow dropped, Rhavenna sets her warlance before her, exploding forward into a charge, the weapon's point plunging perfectly into the monstrous bear's ribcage as she lets out a wild battlecry.
Charge: 1d20 + 12 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 12 + 2 + 2 = 36 Charge/Banner/Inspire
2d8 + 16 + 2 ⇒ (5, 7) + 16 + 2 = 30 DOUBLE DAMAGE ON A CHARGE
Charge: Confirm: 1d20 + 12 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 12 + 2 + 2 = 24 Charge/Banner/Inspire
3d8 + 24 + 3 ⇒ (8, 3, 6) + 24 + 3 = 44 X3 on a crit
Total damage if crit confirms 74
Swift action Creeping Vines.DC 14 Reflex (only fails on a 1 in this case)save or entangled for 1 round.
This better work cause I'm pretty sure this thing will kill me with a single full attack
The human grins at Livains retort laughing, obviously forcing the sound."Then you need to remember that the snow came from the same source. It froze in the skies and rains down on us as a singular whole. The paths that guide it lead from one road. Seek not to stop the flood but close the gate from which the path leads!"
Wallace responds, doing his best to ramble semi-coherent rather than shake as the bear approached him.
"It's close enough to swallow me whole. I can almost hear the ending lives." The humans hands tightening on the reigns his expression mostly hidden by his goggles and cold weather gear. Flashes of what had happened to the warriors and their memories pouring into the mans mind.
"Fear will only lead to a more immediate death. I will at the very least prove my life a worthy one to watch!
" Tadis! Now is the time, move behind it and do what you can to distract and harry the creature!" with that the human then glances to the snowdrift that had engulfed Elder Faldirk
" Elder, if any of those tales are true now would be the time for you to quit napping. I'd hate to tell the song of how you died in a snowdrift, frozen piss in your armor, while we all killed this beast!"
Ride check: fight with combat trained mount DC10: 1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (13) + 3 - 1 = 15
Ride check: guide with knees DC5: 1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 3 - 1 = 7
Knees to both hold banner and channel the Learning touch. fight to let Tim the Combat Yak Saunter forward and provide a target for the bear.
"For those who's blood has paved our path. By the blood we now spill to do the same."
The human intones as his hand takes a familiar glow while his mobile rug factory lowered its head and let out a dull groan of exhaling breath.
"Guardian! Your rage will not end us!"
The human shouts as his mount rockets forward to the bear, horns presented in a deadly salute to take the creature in the chest.
Touch!: 1d20 + 3 - 2 ⇒ (19) + 3 - 2 = 20 -2 shaken Think a 20 touch still lands though. Hopefully I learn something useful.
TTTIIIMMMM! THE BATTLE YAK!: 1d20 + 12 - 1 ⇒ (18) + 12 - 1 = 292d6 + 12 + 3 ⇒ (6, 2) + 12 + 3 = 23
Not to worry Rhavenna. If we are going down its together.
Massive Damage Save Fort: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (3) + 14 = 17
Reflex Save: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31
Attack Tim with Claws: 1d20 + 16 - 3 ⇒ (17) + 16 - 3 = 30
Damage: 4d6 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (5, 3, 1, 2) + 8 + 6 = 25
Attack Rhavenna with Second Claw: 1d20 + 16 - 3 ⇒ (4) + 16 - 3 = 17
Damage: 4d6 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (5, 4, 5, 3) + 8 + 6 = 31
Grab Ability: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (20) + 20 = 40
Bite Rhavenna: 1d20 + 16 - 3 ⇒ (14) + 16 - 3 = 27
Damage: 3d6 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (5, 6, 5) + 8 + 6 = 30
Damage to Rhavenna = 61 hp Her current Hp is -1
Damage to Tim the Battle Yak = 30
Rhavenna's lance pierces the huge bear's hide, driving deep before breaking through the skin of its backside from the sheer might of the charge. Blood flows freely, wetting her flanks and chest as the huge beast eyes go wide with the sudden onset of pain. However this moment of pain only increase the beasts rage as Tim slms into it a moment later. The battle Yaks attack jolt Wallace's entire frame and yet the beast still stood.
Tim was given a savage backhanded blow from the bear, swatting the annoying Yak away before it swiped out with its other paw and caught Rhavenna around her equine Torso. Lifting her bodily off the ground before It bit into her human portion with its massive maw. Rhavenna's human torso jerks upright as the bear looked like it was going to tear her upper body from her lower half...
The bear let go suddenly, roaring in pain as it dropped the centaur and turned to face what had harmed it. Standing tall behind it was the one eyed Elder Faldirk whose closed helm masked his face as he weilded his greatblade with the prowess of veteran fighter. A spray of arterial fluid filled the air as Faldirk delivered a precise but brutal strike along its backside staining the snow with its blood as he growled. "I tire of ya low blows beast..."
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18
1d20 + 25 ⇒ (13) + 25 = 38
8d6 + 16 ⇒ (3, 2, 2, 4, 5, 1, 2, 6) + 16 = 41
Tidus moves in, placing himself between the bear and the fallen form of Rhavenna with his fists up. The glint of metal lining his knuckles as he stood at the ready.
After the Elder's blow the bear looks badly injured, swaying on its feet as it turns to regard the many enemies it faced now. Forgetting about the fallen Centaur as it growled at each of you, bloody foam form at the edges of its mouth...
Mai and Livain your up!
AC 24 T 11 FF 21
Saves F+14 R+13 W+7
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
Ugh =, thats what I get for preping the post with one set of rolls and then unleashing it when the rolls change. My bad for not checking after it posted but post preview showed all of them were a hit with 25-30 each... Friggen annoying.
The bears swings go wide, Rhavenna dodges the worst of it but the bear still leans down and bites into her upper torso savagely before Falldirk appears and diverts its attention. It staggers, badly injured and looking unstable on its hindquarters but no less powerful...
Will dc 25: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13
You are stunned for 1d2 ⇒ 1 round.
This was the first time you regretted your decision. Greatly Regretted. The moment you came into contact with the bears fur you were assailed by images of the most intense gore, violence and rage that it was impossible to discern anything useful from it. This creature was so completely and utterly filled with such a violent malevolence that you knew instinctively that once it finished with you it would trudge on to the next viable target for its rage.
You knew that it would continue to do so until it was put down and it wouldn't stop until it was dead. Whether naturally or from wounds didn't matter as this creature was devoid of any other emotion save for HUNT & KILL! Like it was branded on its mind if not its very soul!
Hunters, Harpies, Villagers, Farmers, Livestock, Wyrmlings, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, Halfings, Goblins, Hobgoblins, MEN, UNDEAD, BEASTMEN, WOLVES! None are beneath it to hunt and KILL!
Faldirk and now your group our the only flash of memory among the sentient creatures, in the long line it has hunted up until now, that has stood against it with such ferocity that it hasn't scattered you in the first seconds of contact. Despite your staunch defiance it is utterly consumed by the need to kill you all, starting with the Centaur and working its way to the hairy beast riding creature that touched it.
Hrmm... probably shouldn't have touched that. I'm out for the round, best of luck killing the beast. Also would I be taking damage from my ballistic path? Had Wallace fall off the saddle rather then shatter his leg/pelvis/ribcage when a metric tonne of Yak lands on top of him and rolls from the velocity. It isn't a military saddle but let me know if you'd prefer that outcome. Assuming he survives, a zap with the Staff of healing ought to put him back to normal.
Wallace's ceases his litany, eyes bulge and pupils contract to pinpoints as he grits his teeth. The human dropping the Blades banner into the snow and hanging slack in his saddle to bring both hands to his head as if to keep it from splitting in two.
Then the beast swats him and his mount into the snow, Tim the Yak groaning in confusion and pain. Wallace gives no response as he flies through the air, losing his balance on the impromptu flight and tumbling out of his saddle. The human ragdolls to a stop, face first. Tim impacts a snowdrift behind him with a earth shaking Thump and another pained groan.
Unfortunately this also means the Bonus train stops. No more +2 for attack/damage. Fortunately the banner didn't get destroyed or taken by an enemy, just dropped. That would mean a handy dandy -1 hit/dam for all of you.
Round 2, Init ?, Altitude ' AC 27, HP 44/44 Arcane Pool: 6/6 Spells: dragon claw, dragon claw, burning hands,
shield, read magic, detect magic, arcane mark Buffs: Shield, arcane pool,
Full Action Spellcombat Dragons claw (fire shocking grasp)
1d20 + 11 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 11 + 2 = 26
1d8 + 6 + 3d6 ⇒ (8) + 6 + (6, 6, 2) = 28
Casting another spell Maiathreen quickly slashes with Soul Taker as flames rush up the edge of the blade. Snow hisses and melts around the flames as he slashes and burns the bear's scarred hide.