Nightflier's A Hope Reborn - Midnight Campaign Setting

Game Master nightflier

Using her quick grace to best effect to avoid being trampled by the larger prisoners around her, Rÿarkaelin gave the summoning Erunsil a long look, then a slight nod, slipping through the crowd toward the legate. It was harder than it seemed; with her slight size, she had to use the movement of the slaves around her to lever those chained to her along. Still, when balked, she demonstrated enough strength to refuse to be pulled back from her chosen path, wrapping the chain about her forearm and digging in her heels. She moved carefully through the crowd, trying not to draw the eye of the guards, or the legate himself. She ended up pulling the gnome who had been ahead of her along for the ride.

Stealth to avoid the legate/guards noticing her: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

Lantesh looks thoughtfully at the elf when he speaks. "The voice of one who knows command.

Looking while he slowly moves about, he scans the crowd for Anwyn. He takes his time in moving as he does not want attention at this time.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

For a moment, keeping his hands down between bodies, Alan inspects the chains and decides that it will have to suffice as a weapon. As he lifts his gaze, he catches the eyes of an Erunsil.

So, we are not alone, after all, in seriously thinking about escaping. We just need to find a right moment, maybe if a battle ensues. There might be dropped weapons.
Once again he looks down at chains around his writs and decides he could still wield a weapon two-handed if he manages to get one.

With a short glance, he tries to find his companions and other people in the crowd who might have more purpose then fear in their eyes...

perception: 1d20 ⇒ 19

...and after spotting Anwyn slowly makes his way towards her, stopping behind her right shoulder. As he arrives, he sees Lantesh almost mirroring his position on the other size, and with one glance exchanged between them he recognizes that the Lantesh is also aware of the Snow Elf and maybe a few others who are ready to fight for their freedom.

Using her quick grace to best effect to avoid being trampled by the larger prisoners around her, Rÿarkaelin gave the summoning Erunsil a long look, then a slight nod, slipping through the crowd toward the legate. It was harder than it seemed; with her slight size, she had to use the movement of the slaves around her to lever those chained to her along. Still, when balked, she demonstrated enough strength to refuse to be pulled back from her chosen path, wrapping the chain about her forearm and digging in her heels. She moved carefully through the crowd, trying not to draw the eye of the guards, or the legate himself. She ended up pulling the gnome who had been ahead of her along for the ride.

The gnome followed along, without much dragging required. After all, he hadn't had his feet or wrists chained like the others. In fact, there was very little holding him to the primary chain at all. If he'd had a few minutes to work it out, Ead was pretty sure he could wriggle out of the chains all together. Unfortunately, those few minutes didn't seem available just now. So he followed along, ducking and dodging as he needed, to avoid being trampled. Along the way, he kept his eyes open for solid sticks, rocks, loose chain links - anything he could throw at someone, should the need arise.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

Move to join the others, looking for improvised thrown weapons along the way (Throw Anything)

Yardiff Bey notes the tall elf's silent communication with himself and a few others. He catches the eyes of each of them as well, allowing only a single nod of recognition.

He then moves through the throng of "meat", in the general direction of the dark cleric. Seeing that the attention of the guards and soldiers it on the outside of the circle, Yardiff Bey moves up close to one of those soldiers.

Picking one that has a conveniently located dagger or knife, Yardiff times his move for one of the crowd surges to push against this side of the circle.

Slight of Hand, grab dagger/knife, DC 20
1d20+9

Sucessfully snatching the knife, Yardiff Bey lays it against his inner arm , hopefully concealing it from prying eyes.

And Yardiff Bey gets killed. For one thing, I've mentioned that the slavers watch the edges of the circle of slaves. Why would you suppose that the legate is shoulder to shoulder with the meat, or that the soldiers are close enough for you to reach them? Secondly, you have manacles on your arms. I've stated that your arms are still bound, and that would mean that you'd have a large penalty to the DC of what you were trying to do. Thirdly, I decide DC of something. You may attempt whatever you like, but do not assume that you action was concluded successfully until I determine the outcome, either by telling you to roll or telling you that it is impossible or whatever. Anyway, since this is just start of the game, we'll ignore this post.

Using her quick grace to best effect to avoid being trampled by the larger prisoners around her, Rÿarkaelin gave the summoning Erunsil a long look, then a slight nod, slipping through the crowd toward the legate. It was harder than it seemed; with her slight size, she had to use the movement of the slaves around her to lever those chained to her along. Still, when balked, she demonstrated enough strength to refuse to be pulled back from her chosen path, wrapping the chain about her forearm and digging in her heels. She moved carefully through the crowd, trying not to draw the eye of the guards, or the legate himself. She ended up pulling the gnome who had been ahead of her along for the ride.

[dice=Stealth to avoid the legate/guards noticing her]1d20+9

** spoiler omitted **

Lantesh looks thoughtfully at the elf when he speaks. "The voice of one who knows command.

Looking while he slowly moves about, he scans the crowd for Anwyn. He takes his time in moving as he does not want attention at this time.

[dice=Perception]1d20+6

Lantesh easily finds the black-skinned half-Elorg and uses his mass and muscles to push through the throng to get to her.

Rÿarkaelin Nelnaereth wrote:

Using her quick grace to best effect to avoid being trampled by the larger prisoners around her, Rÿarkaelin gave the summoning Erunsil a long look, then a slight nod, slipping through the crowd toward the legate. It was harder than it seemed; with her slight size, she had to use the movement of the slaves around her to lever those chained to her along. Still, when balked, she demonstrated enough strength to refuse to be pulled back from her chosen path, wrapping the chain about her forearm and digging in her heels. She moved carefully through the crowd, trying not to draw the eye of the guards, or the legate himself. She ended up pulling the gnome who had been ahead of her along for the ride.

The gnome followed along, without much dragging required. After all, he hadn't had his feet or wrists chained like the others. In fact, there was very little holding him to the primary chain at all. If he'd had a few minutes to work it out, Ead was pretty sure he could wriggle out of the chains all together. Unfortunately, those few minutes didn't seem available just now. So he followed along, ducking and dodging as he needed, to avoid being trampled. Along the way, he kept his eyes open for solid sticks, rocks, loose chain links - anything he could throw at someone, should the need arise.

[dice=Perception]1d20+1

Move to join the others, looking for improvised thrown weapons along the way (Throw Anything)

The ground around you is pretty rocky and some stones have sharp edges. On closer inspection, it is obvious to you that the stone has been worked and that it was - some time long ago - a part of a larger building.

Yardiff Bey wrote:

Yardiff Bey notes the tall elf's silent communication with himself and a few others. He catches the eyes of each of them as well, allowing only a single nod of recognition.

He then moves through the throng of "meat", in the general direction of the dark cleric. Seeing that the attention of the guards and soldiers it on the outside of the circle, Yardiff Bey moves up close to one of those soldiers.

Picking one that has a conveniently located dagger or knife, Yardiff times his move for one of the crowd surges to push against this side of the circle.

Slight of Hand, grab dagger/knife, DC 20
1d20+9

Sucessfully snatching the knife, Yardiff Bey lays it against his inner arm , hopefully concealing it from prying eyes.

And Yardiff Bey gets killed. For one thing, I've mentioned that the slavers watch the edges of the circle of slaves. Why would you suppose that the legate is shoulder to shoulder with the meat, or that the soldiers are close enough for you to reach them? Secondly, you have manacles on your arms. I've stated that your arms are still bound, and that would mean that you'd have a large penalty to the DC of what you were trying to do. Thirdly, I decide DC of something. You may attempt whatever you like, but do not assume that you action was concluded successfully until I determine the outcome, either by telling you to roll or telling you that it is impossible or whatever. Anyway, since this is just start of the game, we'll ignore this post.

Righto, misread a bit of your earlier post and got excited ;)

Yardiff Bey acknowledges the elf's communication and makes his way through the crowd in the general direction of the black priest, as he does so he cranes his neck trying to see what was bearing down upon the slavers.

Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Taemon'dow feels the eyes of the prisoners follow him as he makes his way forward. The weight of their eyes draws down on him, feeling almost oppressive. He notices as well how their breath clouds the chill air.

I forget myself. Calling attention to myself like this... might have been dangerous. If they realize what has become of me before I can explain myself... this mob could tear me apart for more easily than they could overwhelm the guards. I am not a monster! I refuse to be. Death may have scorned me, but I will not let the shadow triumph over me, and I'll be damned before I allow myself to aid them by hindering any who would oppose them.

Reaching into the part of himself that was Elven, that was in tune with the magic of the land, Taemondow brings up a touch of the natural magic. With it, he summons a breath of his own; a slight misting of the air every few seconds... just enough to give himself the appearance of breathing, when in fact no warmth exists within his body to give the air substance. He focuses on his body, on his muscles, and uses them to draw in breath for the first time in days. The fact that he needs now to concentrate to do something that his body would once do on its own feels strange.

Odd that something so simple now feels so foreign.

The ground around you is pretty rocky and some stones have sharp edges. On closer inspection, it is obvious to you that the stone has been worked and that it was - some time long ago - a part of a larger building.

Eadfaas frowned. He couldn't see beyond the crowds, and he hadn't heard the conversations between the Legate or any of the guards, so he didn't know what was coming, but he had a strange thought that standing in the middle of the remains of an ancient stone building might not be the best tactical move. Then again, perhaps what was coming was a horde of Fell, and this place was once a cathedral, the ground consecrated against evil, and it would protect them. Stranger things had happened, and given Ead's luck, it could go either way.

That thought in his head, Ead was naturally led to another thought. If this was once a building, perhaps there is a hidden cellar, or storage area.

Kneeling, Ead picked up a couple of the sharpened stone remnants, and slipped them into his coat pockets for easy use later. Then, he began to inspect the stone, attempting to determine the layout of the now-long-fallen walls, and where one might find a secret hidey-hole. It was a long shot, he knew, but Ead's entire life was a long shot, sustained by a series of even longer shots.

OOC:Sleight of Hand to pocket a couple of rocks unseen by guards (note that he's nowhere near the edge of the circle, if he can help it). SoH: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12 Well, he'll pocket them anyway, and hope no one's paying attention.

Perception check(?) To see if he can figure out the layout of the walls from the ruins he can see, and then I dunno what skill check it would be to try to extrapolate a hidden cellar entrance. Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21

Well, lookie there! Nat-20! Hopefully that tells him enough about whether further checks are even worth the effort...

** spoiler omitted **

I'm gonna wait a bit for someone else to post. I'll move the game in an hour or two.

Anwyn sighs inaudibly in relief as her bodyguard approaches and moves next to her. She places a hand on his arm but does not say anything out loud. For Lantesh there is no need for words. He can smell her relief as easily as he can smell the sweat and grime on her dirty stained dress.

When Alan approaches her, he sees her gaze at him with a look of intensity he has seen from her on occasion. Like with Lantesh words are not necessary between them. She then follows the gaze of Alan and sees the pale skinned Erunsil elf and feels her gaze drawn to him involuntarily. Her grip tightens on Lantesh's arm as she stares at him unblinkingly.

What is that elf's tale...and why does looking at him trouble me so?

Looking at Anwyn he smells that she is fine. Noticing Alan he gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. Following Anwyn's gaze when her hand tightens, he again focuses on the elf.

Studying him for a moment he breathes deep as he does so. Although with all the other people around it was making it hard to get anything.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

As the slaves try to get closer to those who they knew from a previous life, or perhaps to the faces known from their travel from the south, something is happening outside the circle of large carts. You can not see much, since the carts have huge cargo, topped by tied canvas, but the horsemen are on the top of it and they are shooting arrows as fast as they can. Loud moaning and shuffling sounds can be heard in the distance and whatever's happening, it got both soldiers and slavers spooked.

But there is an opportunity to see beyond the circle, at least for those who are tall or nimble enough. There are small empty spaces where the carts touch one another. Through there, one can glimpse the outside world.

Perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

I'm confused. Do we need to be making new Perception checks against these DCs, and you'll give us the results of our pervious checks later? Or did this interrupt our previous stated actions, and so those checks reveal this information instead? Or are we just creating a recurring theme in which Eadfaas doesn't ever get a result for his perception checks? :-)

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

Grr.

I'm confused. Do we need to be making new Perception checks against these DCs, and you'll give us the results of our pervious checks later? Or did this interrupt our previous stated actions, and so those checks reveal this information instead? Or are we just creating a recurring theme in which Eadfaas doesn't ever get a result for his perception checks? :-)

You need to make these checks in order to gain the info presented in hide tabs. Once you make those checks, I'll now how much to reveal regarding your previous checks. Yes, this can be confusing, but such is the nature of pbp and people posting from different time zones.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Eadfaas was far too focused on the stones at his feet to be distracted by what was going on outside the circle of wagons.

Jostled by the crowded slaves , Yardiff Bey tried to peer between wagons to catch a glimpse of what the slavers were fighting.

Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Anwyn strains to see past the circle of wagons but the mass of bodies surrounding her prevents her from getting a clear view of what lays beyond. She pulls herself closer to Lantesh and whispers softly, "Alan, I am....frightened. Can you see what is going on?" She start to run one hand through her hair trying to get the tangles out of it as best she can. Her two friends know this is a sign of her nervousness as she finds the actions comforting to her.

[dice=Perception]d20+6[/dice

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 20
Peering over the heads of others, Alan manages to see the undead horde advancing on the caravan. He tries to keep his voice from quivering at the sight as he explains.
"The caravan is about to be attacked by a large number of Fell. And there are driven by strange Fell creatures, almost Giants, carrying odd bronze armors and shields and large swords. They have no skin, it looks like it is long rotten, but something in them reminds me of Elves. Did any of you ever hear of such creatures? They look like a thing from far past to me. I think we need to act quickly, unless this legate is very powerful, I don't think they can win. We need to get away before it is too late"

Knowledge(Shadow): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Alan starts searching at anything around him in the ancient ruins and the cart enclosure that might give him an idea.
Search: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Anwyn's face grows paler, which for a dark skinned elf is rather frightening to look at. "First, Alan, we need to free ourselves of these bonds. Once we are free, then we need to find a place to fide from the Fell as they will not stop until they have devoured us!" Her voice growing more hysterical. Taking a calming breath to calm herself down, she glances behind her. "I did see a couple of other slaves who seem capable in fighting. We should join together with them and any others who can survive this else our fate will be that of our captors!"

Oops. Previous entry didn't prove much.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Curious. What are those larger creatures? I wonder how those Fell will regard me. In all my years of fighting them and the shadow, I've never seen a Fell attack another. Only warm meat interests them. But I wonder if there is any way to save some of these others though. Everyone of them is a potential soldier against the Shadow, whether one who fights directly, or a farmer who feeds the ones who do.

Finding his vision of the happenings outside the caravan circle completely obscured, Yardiff Bey turns his attention back to those trapped with him.

Most faces still reflected the fear and hopelessness he saw before. The others he previously noticed however seems to have remained alert for escape.

Two he'd noticed earlier had been joined by a very fierce individual and were conversing urgently.

Making his way through the crowd, Yardiff Bey approaches the trio.

Raising his manacled hands at the leonine guardian's fierce turn in his direction he says in heavily accented Colonial, sprinkled here and there with obsolete or archaic words. "My Pardon, but my fate does not include the life of a slave or falling prey to a horde of whatever assails our captors. I believe that you share my feelings in this. Perhaps we may pool our resources for each others mutual gain and survival."

As he speaks he fully appreciates the elf-womans' beauty and presense, thinking to himself This is one that some men would be willing to die for...careful Yardiff Bey that you do not become one, your mission is too important."

Lantesh notices as the man approaches them. He studies the man with an intensity that usually makes others avert their eyes and avoid him.

He remains silent and waits for Anwyn or Alan to speak while he evaluates Yardiff.

Perception for Scent: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

Anwyn listens to the speech spoken by the fire-haired man, only barely understanding his words. His accent was strange plus the tongue he spoke was like none she had heard before. Only the few sprinkles of words he spoke she pieced together allowed her to get the gist of his meaning.

She paused to allow Lantesh to 'evaluate' the newcomer and then, satisfied with the fact this man was no immediate threat to her (for now anyway), replies to him in the Trader's Tongue. "Yes, we work together as a team . We are being attacked by group of Fell. Resistance is useless; we must flee once we are free of our bonds." As she speaks to him, staring at him intently he cannot help but notice her eyes which are a blood red color, a kind never seen on any elvish race. Perhaps a sign she is also demon touched?

[dice=Linguistics]1d20+8

Anwyn listens to the speech spoken by the fire-haired man, only barely understanding his words. His accent was strange plus the tongue he spoke was like none she had heard before. Only the few sprinkles of words he spoke she pieced together allowed her to get the gist of his meaning.

She paused to allow Lantesh to 'evaluate' the newcomer and then, satisfied with the fact this man was no immediate threat to her (for now anyway), replies to him in the Trader's Tongue. "Yes, we work together as a team . We are being attacked by group of Fell. Resistance is useless; we must flee once we are free of our bonds." As she speaks to him, staring at him intently he cannot help but notice her eyes which are a blood red color, a kind never seen on any elvish race. Perhaps a sign she is also demon touched?

I do believe that Yardiff is male, not female. You are alternating between genders in your post.

Anwyn Elghreah Larerthane wrote:

[dice=Linguistics]1d20+8

Anwyn listens to the speech spoken by the fire-haired man, only barely understanding his words. His accent was strange plus the tongue he spoke was like none she had heard before. Only the few sprinkles of words he spoke she pieced together allowed her to get the gist of his meaning.

She paused to allow Lantesh to 'evaluate' the newcomer and then, satisfied with the fact this man was no immediate threat to her (for now anyway), replies to him in the Trader's Tongue. "Yes, we work together as a team . We are being attacked by group of Fell. Resistance is useless; we must flee once we are free of our bonds." As she speaks to him, staring at him intently he cannot help but notice her eyes which are a blood red color, a kind never seen on any elvish race. Perhaps a sign she is also demon touched?

I do believe that Yardiff is male, not female. You are alternating between genders in your post.

Resident Grammar-Nazi chipping in here. The post is correct. As written, each use of "She/her" refers to Anwyn, and "He/Him" refers to Yardiff Bey. Some comma usage might have helped, and there's some slippage of past/present tense, but the pronoun usage is correct as written. :-)

Resident Grammar-Nazi chipping in here. The post is correct. As written, each use of "She/her" refers to Anwyn, and "He/Him" refers to Yardiff Bey. Some comma usage might have helped, and there's some slippage of past/present tense, but the pronoun usage is correct as written. :-)

Thanks for checking the grammar of my post, i.jason. While writing it out and saying it in my mind, it did make sense to me. Looking at it in retrospect though it could have been written more clearly. Last time I get a post up just before going to bed, he he.

Taemon'dow slows his movement through the crowd after seeing the a group of warrior-types appearing to congregate. Not knowing how much they have seen for themselves, he starts out with a summary.

Approaching Anwyn, Lantesh, Alan, and Yardiff.

"There is a hoard of Fell approaching. They are being driven by some sort of skinless giants, most likely also Fell. Our captors appear to be preparing to stand and fight; I do not like their chances. If they fall, we will likely not fair better. We need a plan. We can try to strike out at a point in the caravan, to carve out a breech through which we can run, but I fear that plan will loose us most of the infirm here with us now." He points around to the weak, exhausted slaves milling about the group. "I am tempted to try and reason with the legate. Given that continuing to hold us will lead to the destruction of us all, I might be able to convince him to let us fight along side them, freeing us from our bonds, and perhaps even gaining some of us weapons. He is only mortal, and must fear death as much as any man; likely more, as no man chooses to serve Izrador out of love for the god - they serve him out of their love for themselves. Keeping us prisoner only to die with us is a far grimmer fate than losing one caravan of slaves."

Lantesh wrote:

Anwyn Elghreah Larerthane wrote:

[dice=Linguistics]1d20+8

Anwyn listens to the speech spoken by the fire-haired man, only barely understanding his words. His accent was strange plus the tongue he spoke was like none she had heard before. Only the few sprinkles of words he spoke she pieced together allowed her to get the gist of his meaning.

She paused to allow Lantesh to 'evaluate' the newcomer and then, satisfied with the fact this man was no immediate threat to her (for now anyway), replies to him in the Trader's Tongue. "Yes, we work together as a team . We are being attacked by group of Fell. Resistance is useless; we must flee once we are free of our bonds." As she speaks to him, staring at him intently he cannot help but notice her eyes which are a blood red color, a kind never seen on any elvish race. Perhaps a sign she is also demon touched?

I do believe that Yardiff is male, not female. You are alternating between genders in your post.

Resident Grammar-Nazi chipping in here. The post is correct. As written, each use of "She/her" refers to Anwyn, and "He/Him" refers to Yardiff Bey. Some comma usage might have helped, and there's some slippage of past/present tense, but the pronoun usage is correct as written. :-)

Well then! That's what I get for trying to read the post when I am very tired.

Lantesh turns his intense gaze to Taemon'dow when he approaches and listens to him as he speaks. He carefully watches for any indication of duplicity. Not sensing any, he continues to listen.

For reference, when Lantesh is looking intensely at anyone, at first glance it seems his gaze is borderline hateful.

[dice=Perception]1d20

Peering over the heads of others, Alan manages to see the undead horde advancing on the caravan. He tries to keep his voice from quivering at the sight as he explains.
"The caravan is about to be attacked by a large number of Fell. And there are driven by strange Fell creatures, almost Giants, carrying odd bronze armors and shields and large swords. They have no skin, it looks like it is long rotten, but something in them reminds me of Elves. Did any of you ever hear of such creatures? They look like a thing from far past to me. I think we need to act quickly, unless this legate is very powerful, I don't think they can win. We need to get away before it is too late"

[dice=Knowledge(Shadow)]1d20+4

Alan starts searching at anything around him in the ancient ruins and the cart enclosure that might give him an idea.
[dice=Search]1d20

Oops. Previous entry didn't prove much.

[dice=Perception]d20+6

Curious. What are those larger creatures? I wonder how those Fell will regard me. In all my years of fighting them and the shadow, I've never seen a Fell attack another. Only warm meat interests them. But I wonder if there is any way to save some of these others though. Everyone of them is a potential soldier against the Shadow, whether one who fights directly, or a farmer who feeds the ones who do.

Please roll Will save...

Lantesh notices as the man approaches them. He studies the man with an intensity that usually makes others avert their eyes and avoid him.

He remains silent and waits for Anwyn or Alan to speak while he evaluates Yardiff.

[dice=Perception for Scent]1d20+6

Will Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

Hopefully not some sort of control/dominate undead ability. This would be a short campaign for me if I went nuts and started attacking people here...

As the pale Elf approaches the small group, Alan appears not to notice him, intently looking all around. For a second his gaze remains fixed at a place just outside the perimeter. His eyes widen and he shifts them, acknowledging the tall Elf. In the next moment, his stance shifts and he appears very confident, like a man who is certain that others will follow where he leads. Under the grime and dust of the road, they see that his gaze and handsome face emanate determination.

"Yes, they are Fell in a way, and it appears that they might be of a different kind, they might be an evil older than the Sundering. And, yes, we must act, but not to rash. I might have spotted something. The ground that we stand upon used to be an building of some sort. Just outside the circle of carts there is spot where a slab of worked stone appears to be have a crack where dirt is falling into. I know that it appears slim, but there just might be a chance that there is at least some sort of void beneath it, a relict of the edifice.
If we wait for the Fell to attack the guards and distract them, we may reach it unopposed. If that is the case, we might need more strong people to help us with it, but first, someone with sight keener than mine should take a look at it and see if I'm not mistaken"

Alan gives the other pointers where to look to confirm what he sees.

"Do you think that fissure will house all of these?" the pale elf gestures around to the 95 some slaves not privy to the conversation, "Clearly, I would prefer that some live rather than all die, but unless that fissure opens up into a passage, it will preserve only a few while the others are fed upon by the dead. That is not something I would like to have lived through listening to. We should check the fissure, by all means, but we may need another option if it has no other way out."

[dice=Perception]1d20+12

** spoiler omitted **

[dice=Will Save]d20+4

Hopefully not some sort of control/dominate undead ability. This would be a short campaign for me if I went nuts and started attacking people here...

DC was 15 :)

With chances of escaping the ring of circled wagons narrowing to zero, the Caransil woman looked around for other options. Spotting the handsome, if unnerving, Erunsil speaking with others who appeared less broken by their captivity than the crowd around her, she changed directions to approach them.

"The Fell surround us on all sides," she observed without preamble in elvish-accented Erenlander, her voice both musical and clipped. She did not appear as shaken by this news as it warranted. "We cannot escape the circle, even if we were not chained. We should seek to shed the chains before considering any other action, for we can neither fight nor hide effectively while wearing them." As if to emphasize her point, the shifting crowd jerked her sideways; she moved with the abrupt motion as though she had been planning it all along. Jerking back at the chains, she continued as though nothing had happened.

"It is unlikely that most of us will survive, if any, but I do not aim to be taken without trying to avoid that fate." Her words were strangely calm, as though they weren't about to be eaten alive by the walking dead. "I do not know how difficult it might be to hide from the Fell, but with so many, hiding under the corpses of others does not appear to be feasible. Do you know of alternatives, or are we to die fighting? If so, I believe we should target the flayed giants among the Fell."

Anwyn lays a hand on Alan's arm and gives a comforting squeeze. "We cannot save aught but ourselves, Alan. The other slaves are too weak to help us here, and it is a better fate for them to die here than live in tortured agony for the rest of their brief lives." While her tone is reasoned, there is an undercurrent of coldness showing to the others the fate of the other slaves was of little concern to her.

She turns to look at the newcomer Elf female and responds softly to her words, "I fail to see how we can fight the Fell without any weapons of our own. Plus the idea of scrounging the battlefield for spare weapons does not sound...wise." She indicates the handsome Snow Elf, "Now as to what our good man here says is most likely the case. It would be small enough for a few slaves, no more. We must hurry to free ourselves of these manacles while the guards are fighting." She glances around her for any other slaves moving to join the small group around her, then turns her gaze to where Alan pointed out the location of the fissure.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Unless otherwise stated, I'm going to assume that those speaking are doing do in Erenlander

Yardiff Bey listens to the red-eyed woman change dialects, concentrating on her words, hearing one or two here and there that sound familiar. The tone however is unmistakable: cooperation. With a smile, Yadiff Bey nods.
his agreement.

As others join the conversation, he listens and observes, trying to glean meaning from their unfamiliar language.

Linguistics 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

The scholars were arrogant fools, assuming that the Empire's language would maintain ascendancy here in the Colony."

Excuse if I missed something and a bit out of order, trying to take in all the posts since my last post. I be going with first perception checks to see if she notices the happenings within the slave group.

Without understanding anything, she looks about trying to see what is happening beyond the perimeter of the now forced circle formation with the guards, wagons and slavers being on the perimeter.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16 to see beyond the perimeter and what is happening within the slave group, and of course continues to see for a rock to break the chains with.