<<>>
Sasbrek grabs his wand with two hands and keeps it close to his chest “Powerful magic! And it is mine!” he adds, not that anyone was threatening to steal the wand. “It… it makes stuff appears! Not real stuff, but out of magic! And the fools believe it is real, yes! Very useful! It was tribute from Kilimerey, to my magical prowess!” he tries to explain, revealing his abysmal lack of formal magical education.
“So… why are people giving you their hoard?” he asks Nexander after Aluriel and Gi’chak place down their platinum.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
<<>>
Sasbrek is surprised at Gi’chak’s attack, but quickly regains his balance. “Hah! Black-eyed monkey-tailed pest! Only able to snatch defenseless eggs from the nest! If we were in the jungle you will starve!” he laughs at Gi’chak clumsy attempt to grab him, purposefully ignoring the fact that the goblin got the drop on him pretty seamlessly. “I will not take back any of my words! A dragon speaks once, and he speaks true! We are not like slimy snakenecks!” he shows his teeth.
__________________
<<>>
Sasbrek grabs his wand with two hands and keeps it close to his chest “Powerful magic! And it is mine!” he adds, not that anyone was threatening to steal the wand. “It… it makes stuff appears! Not real stuff, but out of magic! And the fools believe it is real, yes! Very useful! It was tribute from Kilimerey, to my magical prowess!” he tries to explain, revealing his abysmal lack of formal magical education.
“So… why are people giving you their hoard?” he asks Nexander after Aluriel and Gi’chak place down their platinum.
"As I mentioned, I'd like to buy two wands of healing to use on everyone in the expedition should we need them. If you want to get healed by the group wands you need to contribute 19 platinum coins or 186 gold ones. I can make change for the platinum before we leave." Nexander smiles reassuringly, "It's not that much money to ensure you stay alive long enough to increase your hoard further."
Gi'chak's brow furrows briefly at Sasbrek's reference to snakenecks, but... it only made sense that the kobold had run into them if he hailed from the Mwangi, the aggression of the serpentfolk seemed unparalleled. "No, serpentmen are much more frightening!" he taunts back, before leaping at Sasbrek.
He is startled as the kobold disappears from sight, but the momentum of his leap carries him forward. He collides with Sasbrek again, but this time clings blindly to the kobold, and--as he realizes the nature of the kobold's deception--clambers around him like a tree trunk to grip him from behind. To an onlooker he would appear to be clinging tenaciously to nothing, floating half a foot above the ground.
"Cease insults! I no want to hurt you, but not let you insult me or kin! We brave warriors, struggle all of lives to find place for us. Fight monkeymen, fight snakemen, fight any who try to hurt Gi'chak's tribe! Now fight lizardman too if he not show us respect!" he yells at the invisible Sasbrek, his arms closing in around his throat.
_________________________
Thorgrim's eyes begin to glaze over and lose focus as those arrayed around him turn to discussion of money and wands. He retrieves his copy of the contract once more to read over the terms again. After so long, could his travels finally bear fruit? His drive had waned none in the years behind him, but the profound lack of clue or testament to his charge was infuriating. Could Pinkerton truly be the answer to his worries? He would carry out any dungeon or vault piece by piece if necessary to see Dómrbrandr restored. The placeholder strapped to his back was not fit to insult the image of the former; not fit to challenge the corrupted husk of a creature that once called itself Thorgrim's father.
Thoughts turn to transportation and other nuisances. Getting his yak and wagon to Eto had itself been an unbelievable challenge. His wagon had been affixed with sleds to enable it to travel the dunes more readily, but it had cost him nearly everything to afford the trip and a caravan master willing to see the trip through. It simply would not serve their current purpose deeper in the gods-damned deserts. Grimmr had managed the more traveled corridors of Osirion well enough, but the beast would not survive a trek deep into the heart of the dunes. He would make need to make arrangements; prepare for the journey ahead.
Having ignored the conversation thus far, Thorgrim finally pipes up with an annoyingly off-topic proclamation. ""
Aluriel walks up to the Ulfen giant, openly looking him up and down. Sticking out one hand, her face lights up in a smile. "I'll go with you, they always want to talk to me with guards nearby and you'll help even the odds."
On the way out, she leans over and whispers conspiratorially, "Don't worry about killing over food and a camel. All men are sinners and will have done something deserving final judgement. You can usually see it in their eyes. We just have to take a good look before delivering the final blow."
"Thorgrim, Ulfen of Ullerskad, vikingr." Unafe says slowly, recalling how he introduced himself outside the Mangy Gnoll.
"Before you go to buy your equipment, did you hear Nexander? You seemed far away. We want to buy wands enough to heal all here on this dangerous journey...but won't be able to afford it without all contributing. Will you pay your share before leaving, so that we can procure the wands today?"
Looking the massive, pale northerner up and down, "You remind me in a way of the mightiest warriors of the Goapeke, my own tribe -- and if you're as bold as they are you will require healing, I think, before too long."
<<>>
Mmmm… Sasbrek thinks Nexander’s offer “The mages of Nex had a similar pact, but I didn’t have to pay because I am a Trueblood. You… mmm…” he ponders if the man is trying to con him “You bigfeet are not conspiring to steal a piece of my hoard? Are you acting with that monkey-tailed pest?” I guess not. Bigfeet don’t trust monkey-tails, no more than they trust us.
“Fine. You can have a piece of my hoard if you want to be the healing person. We had one of them in our Nexian group ” of course they all died… “A priest of the Mask-Faced God. He was brown-skinned, like you. I hope you will be better than him...”
__________________
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
<<>>
“Argh! Don’t you dare! I am no lizardman, I am a Dragon… let… me… let me go! Raaargh!” Sasbrek almost goes crazy when Gi’chak gets the upper hand, feeling powerless.
__________________
When the campaign begins in earnest (not during the prelude/recruitment period) you will be expected to post at least once every 48 hours. If you are going on a vacation, very busy, or otherwise unable to post just let me know and I will consider you on "standby" for the amount of time specified and you will be DMPC'd for that time.
If anyone disappears for 7 straight days without posting or leaving notice you will be killed off without hope of resurrection. This is extremely generous in terms of time span, so please don't let it get to that level of uninvolvement.
<< | | | >>
After a week of preparations, the air is buzzing with excitement from the expedition due to the arrival of the departure date. With everyone packed and the beasts of burden loaded the night before, Pinkerton had everyone turn in early for the night on Sunday to ensure well-rested minds and bodies for the day in question.
That day is today.
With everyone gathering in the very same room that they signed the contracts, Pinkerton had delayed introducting the rest of the expedition for too long; Though those joining the expedition had been seen packing supplies and loading camels, they had been thus far too busy to converse with the new expeditionaries. Now was the best time to get that out of the way.
"Good morning everyone! I hope you slept well and are as ready as I am to get this show on the road! Before we do so, however, I have one last bit of information to give everyone, not to mention introduce everyone who has not had the opportunity to do so already." Dressed in his travel outfit, consisting of a suit of well-made cured leather armor designed to be as comfortable as it is protective, Pinkerton looks surprisingly well rested, despite having gone to bed later than everyone and having gotten up earlier as well. "You all," he motions to Thorgrim, Unafe, and the rest of the group, "Obviously already know each other, having been hired together. Now, however, I would like you to meet the rest of our expedition." He motions first to the ghoran, who is dressed in light silks, barely concealing her green, stem-like 'skin'. The woman is small and petite with an elf-like body, though looks surprisingly durable thanks to her plant-like nature; Her facial features, that of a flower, perfectly resembles a Sun Orchid, surprising those few in the room who have seen one with their own eyes.
At his gesture, she bows deeply to the group before speaking in Taldane laced with an Elven accent. "I am Rhasadal, long-time friend and associate of Henric and an Oasis Druid from Thuvia. My companion, who is outside in the garden watering himself, is known in the common tongue as 'Leafroot'." She keeps her introduction short, as she looks at each of the companions in turn. Her gaze stops and lingers on Jack. Pinkerton, realizing she is finished talking and now simply staring at the elf longer than might be considered polite, moves onto the next person.
"This," he claps his hand on the mustached, armored Kelish man with a dour look on his face who is wielding a masterfully crafted glaive-guisarme, "Is Ibir, my personal bodyguard." The man gives the barest hint of a nod and grunts. Certainly, he isn't the friendliest of sorts, and looks at the group with distrust.
Moving on, he brings the group's attention to the expedition's youngest member: an Osirion boy who looks to be a mere eight years old. The bald boy, dressed in travelling clothes reinforced with cured leather, waves at the group knowing that he is being introduced next. "This is Osari, my adopted son, apprentice, and assistant. He is learning the ways of the Order, and will be joining us." The child, his face beaming, excitedly examines the group. He seems most fascinated by Gi'Chak and Sasbrek, however, likely due to the fact that they are roughly his size.
Pinkerton continues introducing the rest of the expedition, the remaining men decidedly less interesting than the first three, considering that they're merely drivers for the camels more than anything else. All five of the men bow when introduced, and part way through the introductions, Halib joins the group. He groggily greets everyone, obviously not wanting to get out of bed at this time of the morning, though determined to be the good host and see his guests off.
With introductions out of the way, Pinkerton moves on to the next issue at hand. "Before we left, I wanted to give everyone a more detailed route of where we will be going." Conjuring a map of Osirion, much as he did previously, Pinkerton uses his cane to point out the group's journey. "We will be leaving Eto and heading Southwest first, skirting the edge of the Pillars of the Sun; There are adequate cave networks running through the mountain-edge that, should we be beset by a sandstorm, we will have enough places to wait it out. The hills also provide us with cover against the storms that will frequent the area. We will continue south along the edge of the mountains until we reach where they can no longer protect us; From there, we will strike out into the Parched Dunes, heading as straight a course possible to our destination, which is roughly south-west of the edge of the mountains. I wish to spend as little time as possible in the open desert, due in part to a combination of sandstorms, elementals, and us being quite visible without any sort of cover. The elementals are particularly dangerous this time of year, as the warring tribes of Sand and Air elementals often kick up the massive sandstorms we see so often. Both types of elementals are not particularly friendly.. so avoiding them would be preferable." He looks at the group, making sure everyone is listening and paying attention; Rhasadal is the only one not doing so, as she continues to be focused on Jack, causing Pinkerton to shake his head with a smile on his face. "Furthermore -"
Pinkerton is interrupted by one of Halib's servants, the very same one who greeted the group a week prior, as he comes barging into the room, panicked. "Mister Halib!! There are men at the gates - inside the gates, they seek your audience immediately. They're armed.. Eto's guards, it looks like and they don't look friendly." He seems out of breath, despite the short distance involved, likely due to his panic.
Halib, frowning, begins cursing in Osiriani as he waddles to the front door. Ibir gives Pinkerton a worried look, as if something is wrong. Pinkerton, meanwhile, strokes his mustache, a worried look on his face as well. He takes a glance towards the group, "Accompany him, would you? Something is amiss.. Osari! Go grab our things. I don't like the sound of this."
As the group follows Halib, the glacial speed of his waddling allowing them plenty of time to prepare themselves, they find a group of nine men outside; The gates are wide open, and the guards are nowhere to be seen. One man, a native dressed in steel lamellar, his face covered in the traditional makeup of the Osirani Guard, stands next to the fountain. In one of his hands rests a scroll, while the other rests on his magnificently jeweled, gold-hilted cold-iron scimitar that is still sheathed on his belt. Behind him stand eight others, all dressed in leather lamellar. Four of them, standing in front, wield short spears and small wooden shields; The other four carry composite shortbows and guard the entrance to the gate.
Angrily motioning for the group to stay near the front door, Halib waddles up to the man with the scimitar. "ما هو معنى هذا؟ كيف تحصل هنا؟ أين هي حراسي؟" He speaks in Osiriani with an obviously angry and confused tone. The guard, meanwhile holds up his scroll for Halib to take.
"حليب آل Shaknath، أنت متهم مع بإيواء المجرمين المعروفين المطلوب بتهمة قتل العديد من الأجانب الكبيرة المذكورة من الآن فصاعدا على التمرير." Halib, hearing this, makes an obscene sound in disbelief, before opening the scroll and reading it. From their viewpoint, the rest of the group can see it is some sort of wanted poster.
Getting more and more flustered in anger the further he reads, Halib shakes his head in disbelief at the guard. "أي نوع من هذا الهراء؟ منظمة الصحة العالمية في اسم Abadar هي-" Before he can finish his sentence, and before anyone else can react, the guard, in one, lightning-fast, fluid motion, quickly draws his scimitar and slashes upwards at Halib, his blade cleanly slicing through the massive layer of fat, slicing from Halib's waist upwards to his opposite shoulder. With a gurgle and a loud thud, the priest falls over onto the paved walkway, the now-bloodied scroll falling from his limp digits.
His face contorted with a wicked grin, the guard shouts, "قتلهم جميعا! يدع شيئا الهروب! لا تترك شهود!"
"What is the meaning of this? How did you get in here? Where are my guards?"
---
"Halib al-Shaknath, you are charged with harboring known criminals wanted for the murder of numerous important foreigners listed henceforth on the scroll."
---
"What kind of nonsense is this? Who in Abadar's name are-"
---
"Kill them all! Let none escape! Leave no witnesses!"
________________________________________________________
<< | | | >>
A voice can be heard in the guardhouse shouting something, but with the door shut, what is being said cannot be distinguished from the battlecries of the guards. Not yelling anyting in particular, three of the guards bumrush the the group, two of them barreling past the fountain aiming at Thorgrim, while the third aims at Unafe. Caught unawares from the aggressive assault, Thorgrim is struck by both of the spears, one getting a direct hit in Thorgrim's gut; Despite this, the end doesn't pierce deeply, and Thorgrim avoids serious injury.
The fourth spear-armed guard, meanwhile, doubles back around his captain, taking a more cautious approach when moving forward. His pathetic shield raised, he cautiously moves towards Aluriel, planning on gutting the woman, should the angry, grinning warrior not gut him first.
Behind the warriors, the four bow-armed archers attempt to pierce their targets from afar, though two absolutely failing to hit anyone in their attempts. Arrows fly past Thorgrim and Nexander, striking the villa behind them. Jack and Ardeshir, however, are less lucky, as an arrow strikes each of them. Jack is nicked in the ear by the arrow, while Ardeshir's attempt at blocking the arrow instead sees the tip piercing his shield and into his arm.
Meanwhile.. Halib lays on the ground, his life hanging by a mere thread as his life-blood drains from him, staining his beautiful paved courtyard.
__________________________________
-------
Nexander was eager to get under way. He had his new horse and gear ready well before the appointed time. He listens to Pinkerton's briefing with interest until the panicked servant enters.
Standing to follow the others, he draws one of the wands off his bandoleer and casts and says the command word to activate it on the bandoleer containing his bullets. He places the wand back, and draws Betsy, popping the chamber open, ready to load and fire the weapon. He walks out behind Halib and the others.
Nexander's eyes go wide in shock as the "guard" chops Halib open unprovoked. "Oh hells no," he says grabbing a small round band containing six bullets off the bandoleer and slamming them into the chamber in one rapid, well practiced motion. He snaps the chamber shut with a flick of his wrist just as the bullets he took from the bandoleer magically reappear from where he took them. Raising the pistol, he aims at the guard who stabbed Unafe and fires. The thunder crack of small arms fire fills the courtyard as the bullet tears through the man at point blank range. The guard jerks, and a small, rapidly growing bloom of blood appears where he was hit. "How you like that b#*!$?" Nexander says angrily. "Hang in there 'Nafe, I got your back."
__________________________________________
Thorgrim allows the villa to vanish behind the pair as they continue their discussion on into Eto. He did not look forward to relinquishing Grimmr. The beast had served him well for many years. Allowing it to perish in the desert would be a far worse arrangement, however. If nothing else, the additional intimidation of the scarred warrior beside him might deter the same vipers he worried would continue attempting to swindle him as they had often done before. Her demeanor and temperament earn much respect from the vikingr. He cannot help but to think that she might have made a truly legendary shield-maiden were she born to the Linnorm Kingdoms.
Though Thorgrim cares little for the overly rotund mass of flesh that calls itself Halib, his pulse quickens to see the disrespect for common laws of hospitality brushed aside so readily by the brigands arrayed around the entryway into the Abadaran's estate. The knock of rushing blood makes Thorgrim's veins seem as if attempting to depart from his person altogether. His immense frame heaves with breathing deep enough to starve the square of its very air. Such is his rage that the pair of spearheads finding purchase in the vikingr's elicit no noticeable reaction from the brute; no cry of pain; no indication of injury. His pupils lose focus and vanish into the milky confines of their orbs as the terrible berserkr of Jörmungandr seizes the very core of Thorgrim's being. Dómrbrandr—now seeming almost comically undersized in the trembling hands that grip it—is freed from a fur wrapped sheath that goes sailing across the courtyard before the blade arcs brutally towards the guard fool enough to land a noteworthy thrust against the Ulfen's abdomen.
An earthquake of an enraged bellow rumbles off of the courtyard and estate walls; a terrible, guttural wailing that could never be attributed to coming from a human being. It is a clarion announcement of the vengeful blow that soon follows, the arc of Thorgrim's swing spraying crimson through the air and onto the sand kissed tiles before biting deep into the ground and kicking up more debris off of the barbarian's right flank. Such obstacles do little to halt his intent, however, as Dómrbrandr is brought high again to rain another devastating blow against the Ulfen's foes.
Swallowed in the depths of rage, Thorgrim begins growling out a grim song over the din of battle:
Food for blade
Is food for crows
Join now the spear-din...
__________________________________________________
<< >>
Unafe can’t tell what the men are yelling, but there are many of them and they’re armed and seem ill intentioned. Reflexively, her heart races and she feels her jaw growing, filling with large sharp teeth, and her fingers growing into claws. She does her best to downplay the change for the moment, though her skin is also taking on more of an olive, scaly appearance.
<< >>
Suddenly everything bursts into motion. In disbelief she sees Halib cut down. Then the “guards” start a full on assault with one barely missing her. Before she can blink she hears a jarring explosion to her left and glances over to see Nexander shooting the guard who had just attacked her.
Unafe calls out, She throws herself onto her assailant, teeth and claws flashing.
Inside the stable, Yakini bites through the token rope that Unafe had used to reassure the stablehands and then barrels out of the stable door, ready to charge into the fray.
Sasbrek's senses light up like those of a cornered animal: an assembly of bigfeet, all armed and led by someone shouting in a foreign language I knew I should have learned the local tongue! he lectures himself for a moment. When the shouting starts, the kobold is among the firsts to understand this will not end well. He had to survive both the jungle and several foreign societies: he can sense when bigfeet are going to attack.
A quick magical word and an eagle's screech pierces the sky. Everyone's attention goes up for a fraction of a second, enough for Sasbrek to disappear into the last shadows fo the night.
He stays in the back of the group, trying as hard as he can not to be noticed.
This is the kobold way he thinks patient and prudent. Time will come for the Dragon’s way.
* * * * * * * *
When the guard hacks at Halib, the foreign shouting no longer matters. Sasbrek now knows what is going on, and it is a fight for his life.
Trying his best to stay in the shadow, he sees his new allies exchange blows with the guards. They seem to fight individually not at all like the coordinated strike of his hatchmates Fight smart. You can quench a dragon’s breath, you can take away his might. But you can’t take away his cunning.
And any smart dragon knows, it is better not to be seen.
Calling on his magical powers, Sasbrek vanishes from the shadows he was hiding in, and starts moving towards the archers.
____________________________
Heaven bless them but don't I love a villain that gets right to business. The merchant's down, have to get him up shortly.
Aluriel grins a truly wicked smile before chanting briefly in celestial. Suddenly growing to double size, she looms over the small guard before her. Laughing, she raises her massive polearm, ready to begin the afternoon's entertainment.
If you have line of effect to a target but not line of sight, he is considered to have total concealment from you. You can't attack an opponent that has total concealment, though you can attack into a square that you think he occupies. A successful attack into a square occupied by an enemy with total concealment has a 50% miss chance (instead of the normal 20% miss chance for an opponent with concealment).
You can't execute an attack of opportunity against an opponent with total concealment, even if you know what square or squares the opponent occupies.
Gi'chak gathers with the others, pleased that they are finally ready to move on. The time to organize was largely unnecessary, besides procuring his food, and a beast to carry it--which he was glad he would not have to manage himself, filthy animal--he'd had no intention to spend any of his money. He had other, much more important things to spend his coin on. If he had not in fact, had so much time then he truly would have held onto it, but the bandolier had been so tempting...
Now he found himself being introduced to walking talking food, a surly individual who had seemingly the same task as themselves, and a boy... It seemed it would be a long trip...
As Halib's servant arrived Gi'chak simply followed the others, only one hand betraying him as it strayed to check his weapon, already loaded ready for the journey that morning. He frowns, somewhat surprised to see the men seemingly as the servant had said, of Eto's guards, but as the fat merchant went down that clearly seemed not to be the case, the goblin withdrawing his weapon from his robes.
Gi'chak reacts slowly, pausing to watch the darkening of the fat man's robes as he falls to the ground. It is only moments later however, when he leaps--literally-into action, clambering up onto the fountain to stand on the upper bowl to look down on the seeming leader.
"Stupid humans! It is dumb to attack us! You are Gi'chak's!" he declares, looking probably quite humorous as he is slowly splashed by the spray of the fountain. The way he holds his pistol is anything but however, as he quickly brings it to bear upon the supposed captain of the guard.
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_____________________________________
Start Location: N12
Full Round Action: Cast Enlarge Person
End Location: N11 to O12
Will take AOO if anyone moves in her threatened squares.
Ardeshir, reacting quickly at Halib's demise, moves infront of Aluriel, providing the polearm-wielding warrior a shield at which to strike over. With the guard approaching, Ardeshir takes his scimitar and with a wide arc, slashes at the man, his defensive stance proving ineffective. His scimitar leaves a bloody gash along the man's chest, who stumbles back with pain.
Jack, meanwhile, his crossbow out, steps into the fountain, his boots getting soaked in the surprisingly cool waters, and uses the fountain's second, smaller bowl as cover against the archers; With his crossbow, he aims at the man who hacked at Halib, firing a bolt at the man's neck. However, his aim is off, possibly due to the splashing of the fountain's water, and his bolt fails to penetrate the man's steel lamellar armor.
______________
A voice can be heard in the guardhouse shouting something, but with the door shut, what is being said cannot be distinguished from the battlecries of the guards. Not yelling anyting in particular, three of the guards bumrush the the group, two of them barreling past the fountain aiming at Thorgrim, while the third aims at Unafe. Caught unawares from the aggressive assault, Thorgrim is struck by both of the spears, one getting a direct hit in Thorgrim's gut; Despite this, the end doesn't pierce deeply, and Thorgrim avoids serious injury.
The fourth spear-armed guard, meanwhile, doubles back around his captain, taking a more cautious approach when moving forward. His pathetic shield raised, he cautiously moves towards Aluriel, planning on gutting the woman, should the angry, grinning warrior not gut him first.
Behind the warriors, the four bow-armed archers attempt to pierce their targets from afar, though two absolutely failing to hit anyone in their attempts. Arrows fly past Thorgrim and Nexander, striking the villa behind them. Jack and Ardeshir, however, are less lucky, as an arrow strikes each of them. Jack is nicked in the ear by the arrow, while Ardeshir's attempt at blocking the arrow instead sees the tip piercing his shield and into his arm.
----
Though Thorgrim cares little for the overly rotund mass of flesh that calls itself Halib, his pulse quickens to see the disrespect for common laws of hospitality brushed aside so readily by the brigands arrayed around the entryway into the Abadaran's estate. The knock of rushing blood makes Thorgrim's veins seem as if attempting to depart from his person altogether. His immense frame heaves with breathing deep enough to starve the square of its very air. Such is his rage that the pair of spearheads finding purchase in the vikingr's elicit no noticeable reaction from the brute; no cry of pain; no indication of injury. His pupils lose focus and vanish into the milky confines of their orbs as the terrible berserkr of Jörmungandr seizes the very core of Thorgrim's being. Dómrbrandr—now seeming almost comically undersized in the trembling hands that grip it—is freed from a fur wrapped sheath that goes sailing across the courtyard before the blade arcs brutally towards the guard fool enough to land a noteworthy thrust against the Ulfen's abdomen.
An earthquake of an enraged bellow rumbles off of the courtyard and estate walls; a terrible, guttural wailing that could never be attributed to coming from a human being. It is a clarion announcement of the vengeful blow that soon follows, the arc of Thorgrim's swing spraying crimson through the air as it slices cleanly through its target and onto the sand kissed tiles before biting deep into the ground and kicking up more debris off of the barbarian's right flank. Such obstacles do little to halt his intent, however, as Dómrbrandr is brought high again to rain another devastating blow against the Ulfen's foes.
Swallowed in the depths of rage, Thorgrim begins growling out a grim song over the din of battle:
---
Suddenly everything bursts into motion. In disbelief she sees Halib cut down. Then the “guards” start a full on assault with one barely missing her. Before she can blink she hears a jarring explosion to her left and glances over to see Nexander shooting the guard who had just attacked her.
Unafe calls out, ”Yakini, njoo!” She throws herself onto her assailant, teeth and claws flashing. With fang and claw, she slices and bites into the man, uttlerly surprised at having a woman bite and claw into him. In combination with Nexander's bullet, the man falls over, unable to keep conscious any longer. Using her momentum to move her closer to one of Thorgrim's assailants, she slashes one last time at the man, slicing a deep gash in his arm with her elongated claws.
Inside the stable, Yakini perks up at the sound of his master's call, bites through the token rope that Unafe had used to reassure the stablehands and then starts to bash against the stable doors. The horses, camels, and other creatures inside the stables look wildly at the angry dinosaur, and huddle, terrified, in their respective stalls. The stablehand, meanwhile, does much the same.
---
Ardeshir, reacting quickly at Halib's demise, moves infront of Aluriel, providing the polearm-wielding warrior a shield at which to strike over. With the guard approaching, Ardeshir takes his scimitar and with a wide arc, slashes at the man, his defensive stance proving ineffective. His scimitar leaves a bloody gash along the man's chest, who stumbles back with pain.
---
Jack, meanwhile, his crossbow out, steps into the fountain, his boots getting soaked in the surprisingly cool waters, and uses the fountain's second, smaller bowl as cover against the archers; With his crossbow, he aims at the man who hacked at Halib, firing a bolt at the man's neck. However, his aim is off, possibly due to the splashing of the fountain's water, and his bolt fails to penetrate the man's steel lamellar armor.
---
When the guard hacks at Halib, the foreign shouting no longer matters. Sasbrek now knows what is going on, and it is a fight for his life.
Trying his best to stay in the shadow, he sees his new allies exchange blows with the guards. They seem to fight individually not at all like the coordinated strike of his hatchmates Fight smart. You can quench a dragon’s breath, you can take away his might. But you can’t take away his cunning.
And any smart dragon knows, it is better not to be seen.
Calling on his magical powers, Sasbrek vanishes from the shadows he was hiding in, and starts moving towards the archers, completely unnoticed by all.
---
Nexander's eyes go wide in shock as the "guard" chops Halib open unprovoked. "Oh hells no," he says grabbing a small round band containing six bullets off the bandoleer and slamming them into the chamber in one rapid, well practiced motion. He snaps the chamber shut with a flick of his wrist just as the bullets he took from the bandoleer magically reappear from where he took them. Raising the pistol, he aims at the guard who stabbed Unafe and fires. The thunder crack of small arms fire fills the courtyard as the bullet tears through the man at point blank range. The guard jerks, and a small, rapidly growing bloom of blood appears where he was hit. "How you like that b*&@$?" Nexander says angrily. "Hang in there 'Nafe, I got your back."
---
Meanwhile, the man who seems to be the captain of these guards, steps around Halib's body and move towards Ardeshir, now in his way; Taking his magnificent scimitar and grasping it firmly in both hands, he raises it above his head and brings it down upon Ardeshir using as much power as he can muster; The blade is quickly stained with Ardeshir's blood as it leaves a horrendous gash across his chest; Ardeshir, however, proves to be a tougher sort than Halib, and still stands, though his blood now joins Halib's on the pavement.
---
Gi'chak reacts slowly, pausing to watch the darkening of the fat man's robes as he falls to the ground. It is only moments later however, when he leaps--literally-into action, clambering up onto the fountain to stand on the upper bowl to look down on the seeming leader.
"Stupid humans! It is dumb to attack us! You are Gi'chak's!" he declares, looking probably quite humorous as he is slowly splashed by the spray of the fountain. The way he holds his pistol is anything but however, as he quickly brings it to bear upon the supposed captain of the guard.
His bullet, striking true, hits the guard in the side of his gut, causing him to wince, but he still stands defiant.
---
Heaven bless them but don't I love a villain that gets right to business. The merchant's down, have to get him up shortly.
Aluriel grins a truly wicked smile before beginning to chant in celestial. She speaks words of power, focusing her magic inwards into a spell of enlargement; Soon, she will be a behemoth on the battlefield, her massive polearm ready to begin the morning's entertainment in earnst.
---
Meanwhile.. Halib lays on the ground, his life hanging by a mere thread as his life-blood drains from him, staining his beautiful paved courtyard.
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<< | | | >>
Opening the door and stepping out of the guardhouse with an all-too sinister look on his face, one of Halib's guards looks around at the ensuing chaos. Wearing a suit of bulky chainmail while carrying a dagger, the muscular Kelish man spots Gi'chak on the fountain and, grinning, speaks words of power while simultaneously weaving symbols with his open hand.
Gi'chak, unprepared for the assault on his mind, finds himself dazed as he stands in plain view ontop of the fountain. With the monkey-goblin's butt being washed by the fountain's spray, he is completely unprepared for the following barrage.
The four bow-armed guards, spotting a juicy target of opportunity with the goblin being in plain sight, not to mention dazed, all target him in unison. However, Gi'chak is able to dodge three of the arrows, his clumsy, dazed movements looking more like a drunken brawler; One arrow still finds it's mark however, and strikes him in the shoulder.
The two remaining spear-armed guards, meanwhile, each attack their own targets; The one in front of the now-heavily-injured Ardeshir drops his defensive stance and attacks, hoping to finish the job his captain started. His jab, however, fails to connect with any flesh, instead being misdirected by Ardeshir's successful shield block. Thorgrim's attacker attempts to skewer the now-raging barbarian, but instead manages to lodge his spear-head in Thorgrim's armor instead of pentrating to the beefy flesh beneath it. Eyes wide in fear, he can only wait to see his fate after his failed skewer attempt.
On the floor, the two felled-guards each lose a little more of their own life-force, much like Halib; Their blood joins the growing puddles on the pavement, each leaving their own mark on Halib's home.
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(Success)
(Success)
“NOW YOU BURN! FACE THE BURNING WRATH OF THE DRAGONSENT!” thinks Sasbrek when he sees the captain and one of his men fall into position like chess pieces. He raises his hands in a cone around his mouth, ready to exhale fire on them NO! Be patient. Be the smartest of your brood. Fight like a kobold, for your dragon powers are still hatching. Sasbrek’s train of thought is reestablished. The Dragon’s way is pushed back.
That foolish pest is going to get himself killed if I don’t help him. thinks looking at the wounded Gi’chak. His invisible hand fiddles at his belt, closing on the cherry wand. He points it at the opening where the arrows are coming from.
“You face a power you do not know” his usually shrill voice becomes a low, menacing growl as it comes out of nowhere “You attack us… you play with force that should not be disturbed. The Dragonsent is not pleased.” fog starts rising from the ground, obscuring the archers men them fear the dragon… while they should be worried about the kobold…
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(Success!)
(Failure)
(Failure)
(Success!)
(Success!)
(Why do I even need to roll this? He's standing still, with a +40 to his check because he's Invisible! XD)
A creature can generally notice the presence of an active invisible creature within 30 feet with a DC 20 Perception check. The observer gains a hunch that “something's there” but can't see it or target it accurately with an attack.
(Success)
Not pausing the carried momentum of his sword's motion, Thorgrim brings a massive foot forward and wheels his blade around in both hands to deliver a downward thrust between the remaining guard's collarbone. The opening afforded him by Unafe's waylay is obvious even in his enraged state, and the pale giant obliges such a gift with all the respect it is due: a well placed stroke to skewer his enemy and grant a swift death. Thorgrim continues his own song to accompany the reaping melody of pierced innards and crunching bones as Dómrbrandr slides through leather plates, flesh, and bone alike...
"..."
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