Attacking #4
hit, hit, drop
attacking #5
hit, hit drop
Cut scene:
Healbot is Channeling up a storm, then one of the enemies kicks out the plug in the wall and he falls off his mount plummeting to the ground to smash into shards.
A large disembodied hand plops a new figure into the saddle, replacing healbot. You somehow feel as though you've known this person for some time.
Actually it's only DC 14, but either way.
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You can drop my icon on the map now so I can see where I'm at. I'd like to get into a flanking position with Marckus under #10. I'm not sure what my mount's movement speed is, but I will attempt to move into position without provoking if possible (double move if needed). I'm not attacking with my little dagger, just threatening possibly 7, 10, and 6 with flanking on 7 and 10.
Edit: I copied myself on the map, let me know if that positioning is not possible this round. I'm not doing anything else this round.
I have placed you where you start. No way you can get into flank without provoking.
2 AOOs
miss
miss
#10 is blind, so he's probably not resisting.
Rags hits #7 with an Evil Eye hex (-4 saves, 8 rounds, DC19 Will)
as it was a miss, it doesn't matter much
Marckus does his best impression of a bull rider.
Waiting on Ulthar.
Ulthar targets #10 next, surrounded and blind as he is. He would feel bad about that if it was anyone else. But it's a drow, so shit-stomping it is!
dead, blind drow.
6,7 attack Marckus
pass, pass
hit
miss
PCs are up.
Will save from #7?
fail
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I will continue to threaten 6 and 7 while wondering why Kronug is way over there and not charging the obvious target with the flank. I hear the murder words but they don't seem to do anything.
I subtly demonstrate to Marckus and Kronug with some mocking pantomiming how to hold the reins and sit in the saddle and wield a weapon.
#6 dies.
Sileth breaks out into uncontrollable laughter as the new non-bot heal-bot/wannabe bard begins singing this is how we do it
There is an abominable screeching coming from somewhere, you realize it is the cleric.
Untrained "this is how we do it"
Yes...definitely
Sileth resists the temptation to end the sonic assault emanating from the cleric and instead shoots foes surrounding the cleric
+15 SEEKING (+6 BAB +6 DEX, +1 Weapon Focus, +1 weapon attunement, +1PBS, +2GMW, -2spell combat)
apply cover penalty if necessary
Sileth kills the last one (except the blind runner who is getting away, but very slowly as his lizard ambles home).
Sileth can kill him without effort at this point if he decides to do so. He's a sitting duck (riding).
Marckus congratulates himself on another leisurely victory.
"Hey guys, Jean looks different. Does anybody see it?"
Anybody down there notice bodies dropping from the sky?
Rags mounts back up on his lizard.
You don't notice anything amiss for a bad MMO. The bodies all went tumbling down to the cave floor when killed, so no looting for you.
Sileth finishes off the fleeing drow...
And then flips a gold piece to the wannabe bard... thanks for the song mr. troubadour sileth then continues humming the poorly performed yet catchy tune
With all the attackers dispatched, you are able to continue escorting the lady home, and the thanks you enthusiastically but politely.
Then you head back to the manor and your chambers there.
A few days after Event 4, the PCs are summoned to the interrogation chamber by Undamesta.
She seems a bit riled about something.
"I can't imagine why, but you have all been summoned to see First Daughter Alicavniss. She is a mighty wizard and I can't very well imagine what she'd want to do with the likes of lowly servants such as yourselves. This is just unprecedented and it messes up my schedules. I am not happy about this at all, and you can very well understand I shan't be taking out on her. Guess who I will end up taking it out on? Nevermind. You need to head on up and see her snap snap! Go Now! Off to the tower with you. "
You head for the indicated location. This is a tower you've never been in before. Apparently it's where the arcane folk of the clan reside.
Flickering spell-light and glass globes crackling with imprisoned lightning pattern the dark stone walls of this grand, tear-shaped entry chamber. At the room’s center, a pool of bubbling water and arcane flame sends bursts of deadly beauty leaping high into the air. Curling around the fountain’s dazzling display rises a flight of railingless steps, while two pairs of intimidating, iron double doors bar the way to the east.
You wait around for something to happen. Eventually after about ten minutes a drow man shows up in robes. He looks upon you all disdainfully.
"You must be the new servants my sister wishes to see. Follow along. " and he leads you up the stairs.
As you gaze upon the decorations he notices and snaps “The great works of this lordly place are not for worms such as you to see.”
Marckus decides that the drow all come from unhappy homes. He shrugs.
Mustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturget okillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresist urgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustr esisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokill mustresisturgetokillmustresisturgetokill Ulthar thinks happy thoughts quietly.
Rags restrains Trash Panda from hiking his leg and peeing on any of the furniture.
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I'm curious to see if Kronug is able to maintain decorum.
I'll assume nobody does anything stupid (I know it's a stretch)
The Drow leads you through and up the tower to a room.
Racks, shelves, cabinets, scroll cases, and diverse other iron stands, each morbidly sculpted into sepulchral shapes, fill this tear-shaped hall. Upon each rest countless tomes, skulls, scrolls, chests, jars, and other less identifiable curios, though, around
many, the air seems to shimmer with barely restrained power. Standing upon a short dais at one end of the hall yawns an archway in the shape of a howling
mouth. With the arch roils a sinister crimson mist.
He leads you through the arch.
A pleasant perfume wafts through the cool air of this wholly unnatural cavern. Gone is the dark, worked stone and strange crystal of Tower Solacas, replaced by sleek seemingly organic walls—as though the chamber were inside a gigantic, glistening black beetle. Nearby stands a fanged portal, sanguine smoke billowing within. Alcoves divide the chamber, one filled with comfortable pillows and a low table set with familiar looking fruits and water; another dominated by a huge, ornate bed flanked by scandalously sculpted statues; and the largest filled with the sinister tools and devices of an arcane laboratory. At the rear of the hall’s heart stands a massive, ornate desk constructed of bone fused with crystal and littered with tomes and curios of obvious antiquity and dark power. Behind the desk presides an imposing throne of black metal and stuffed silks, sculpted to look like several contorted drow slaves.
Across the perfumed chamber from the PCs stands a dark elven woman like no other—a nightmare in a dream. Her cheeks high and imperious, her eyes blank and soulless, she strikes the very vision of dark elven beauty, familiar, yet alien and cold. Without a word she examines the PCs, looking them over as she takes a seat in the throne-like chair behind her desk. With a graceful wave of her steel hand she bids the characters be seated across from her. Spread out on a low table before the chairs she indicates is a light repast of obviously surface world fruits and cheeses.
She looks up and sees that you have arrived. Looking at the one who escorted you she speaks "Erdrinneir, thank you. You can leave us alone now." and then she waits for him to leave.
Sense motive if you like.
no doubt
"Is that a strawberry? I just love strawberries..."
Marckus, being the only one who can read people worth a damn, realizes this is likely a hint that the wizard knows you are from the surface.
The rest of you just salivate after seeing food you are fond of.
Marckus plays dumb and wishes that rogues had that thieves' cant class feature from 5e.
Like a thunderhead roiling across an empty summer sky, her expression darkens.
“You are not what you say you are,” she accuses. “You reek of sunlight, rain, and the lies of things that dare to call themselves elves. You mock your betters with your parodies of our ways and high art. Your mere presence is a slight to all my people have suffered. Worse, you have chosen to inflict your taint upon the most noble and revered family Vonnarc. You are invaders, intruders, parasites, spies, and worse, and all Zirnakaynin would echo with my praises were I to roll your heads upon her most hollowed stones.”
“For now, whether you are disguised or not doesn’t really matter to me. You have your uses to me, drow or not. I shall keep my suspicions to myself, but if you aren’t really drow, you know better than me how dangerous your situation is. I can help you achieve your goals here if you help me—in fact, I suspect our goals might be the same.” Slowly, her sly smile returns. “So my little drow, what tiresome paths bring you to my simple home, and how might the kind people of Zirnakaynin welcome you?”
Trash Panda stands up on Rags shoulder and puts one little finger up to his raccoon lips, hoping to influence the drow lady to keep our secret.