|Amergin the Wise|
1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (15) + 4 - 2 = 171d6 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (18) + 4 - 2 = 201d4 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 1 = 5
1d20 + 8 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 8 - 1 = 161d6 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 + 2 = 8
1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (17) + 3 - 1 = 191d6 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 2 = 7
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 101d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Standing by Aoife, Ruadhan continues his assault with renewed fury. He swings his sword high, just barely missing Sitric's head, and then bashes his shield into the old man's chest.
Sitric takes 5 hp damage
But Sitric will not be deterred. He barely acknowledges Daire's accusation and, seeing his opponent bloodied and bleeding, he goes for the kill. "I will live another day but you will die by my blade!" he screams, bringing down his axe. Aoife avoids the first cut but gets caught by Sitric's backswing.
Aoife takes 7 hp damage
Incredibly, she remains standing. Surprised, Sitric's guard hesitates – but only for a moment. He swings his sword and again, against all odds, Aoife avoids the killing blow!
Fortuitously, Thorun enters the hall, carrying the body of Conchobar's assassin...
In the meantime, in the monastery, Sister Cobhlaith's prayers are answered. The dark curse on Conchobar is lifted, and he calms. "What happened?" he mumbles, weakened by the black magic and by the poison that still flows in his veins.
"He is alive!" Brother Duffy exclaims.
You may all act!
Daire calls to Thorun.
"Show the hall the body of Sitric's hired killer!"
Diplomacy to sway the hall: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (16) + 14 = 30
Maintain inspire courage
I'm still up?! You know what I'm totally okay with this.
Attack 1: 1d20 + 6 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 6 - 2 + 1 = 15
Damage 1: 1d4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 2 + 1 = 4
Attack 2: 1d20 + 6 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 6 - 2 + 1 = 12
Damage 2: 1d4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 2 + 1 = 4
Aoife's body began to go numb, she kept swinging because that was all she could do. There was no way for her to escape this even if she withdrew, there where just too many people. Stay on your feet... just a little longer... just a little longer! She kept telling herself even though she could feel strength going.
Thorun throws the body down, but Daire's words wash over him. He sees Aoife in a struggle and roars, immediately crashing towards her.
"Aoife, step back, I have this fool and his loyal lackey and he thinks he will live another day." Finishing with a short bark of a laugh, Ruadhán presses the attack sending a weak strike forward with his blade, to be easily parried, but m allowing him to slam his shield forward.
Short Sword: 1d20 + 4 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 4 - 2 + 1 = 8
Dmg S sword: 1d6 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 1 = 7
Shield: 1d20 + 4 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 4 - 2 + 1 = 19
Dmg Shield: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
"Lie still Conchobar, you have suffered greatly from the attacks against you"
She whispers softly"Sancti Benedicti decimi auxilium resistere ei venenum est"
Heal(Treat Poison): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19
not sure what benefits are still in effect. Bell?
|Amergin the Wise|
1d20 + 8 - 1 ⇒ (1) + 8 - 1 = 81d6 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 2 = 7
1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (7) + 3 - 1 = 91d6 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 2 = 7
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 191d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Thorun enters the hall and throws the assassin's body down before rushing into the fray to save his friends. Most wisely step out of his way. One misguided fool decides to try to stop the bull of a man and finds himself square on his ass!
Thorun can move and attack (or charge) next round.
While the brawl continues around them, Aoife and Ruadhan continue to fight Sitric and his guard. Ruadhan again hits hard with his shield, but Aoife can barely stand, let alone fight. She prays as Sitric raises his axe high...
He misses. And she avoids his second attack as well! "Die already!" Sitric screams furiously.
For a moment, Aoife thanks God and, seeing Thorun charge in, figures that she may yet survive this battle. Then she feels a blade in her gut. Looking up, she stares straight into the eyes of the guard who, oddly, seems surprised... The Wolf of Largay falls.
Aoife takes 5 hp damage. She is now at -4 and must succeed a DC 10 Constitution check at -4 to stabilize.
News that the assassin has been caught spreads quickly, and many stop fighting...
"Go! Tell them that Conchobar lives!" Brother Duffy orders, now confident that the boy is fine for the time being. One of the younger monks rushes out.
To the nun and the monk, Conchobar offers a feeble smile in the guise of thanks.
I will rule that the bell aids heal checks, which means that your successful roll allows for a +4 bonus to Conchobar's Fortitude save. That being said, there is no rush: he is stable and your gut tells you that your companions need you!
|Amergin the Wise|
Thorun roars and hacks at the person who just downed Aoife!
Charge Attack: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18
Damage: 1d12 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21
Con check DC 10: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (3) + 2 - 4 = 1
Aoife's eyes slowly closed as she felt more of her life slipping away, with no way to stop it.
She is now at -5
Just some of her thoughts as her mind is shutting down ya know.
Sister Cobhlaith makes the Sign of the Cross
"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen"
"I should check the hall. As I was leaving, I saw some need for my skills there, as well."
She follows the young monk back to the hall, noting the dead horse as she goes.
As she enters the hall, her stomach heaves. Clutching her prayer beads, she surveys the scene, reciting her paternoster to help calm herself.
Can I get a quick summary of what I can see, and what I would know by walking a few feet into the hall?
Assuming I can see Aoife, I will rush over to her and stablize her
"The wages of sin are death! And you, Sitric's guard, have sinned grievously!"
Daire points out the man who just cut down Aoife.
Continue inspire courage, demoralise guard
Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
|Amergin the Wise|
My apologies, I thought I had posted this round.
"You picked the wrong person Sitric," Ruadhán's voice oozes malice "If you didn't do it, you should have backed off, denied it, even defended yourself, but you didn't and now you pay."
Again Ruadhán flashes the sword forward, distracting Sitric and allowing him to land another punch with his shield
Attack Short Sword: 1d20 + 4 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 4 - 2 + 1 = 11
Dmg S sword: 1d6 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 1 = 6
Attack Shield: 1d20 + 4 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 4 - 2 + 1 = 20
Dmg Shield: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
|Amergin the Wise|
Sitric, who moments ago was ready to claim victory and blame the warriors of Largay for Conchobar's death, sees the tide turning quickly when Thorun charges in and delivers a blow that would have killed most men on the spot.
"Conchobar is alive!" a young monk shouts as soon as he enters the hall, followed by Sister Cobhlaith who immediately notices Aoife on the ground, in a pool of her own blood.
Sitric is battered and bleeding but still standing. Ruadhan continues his assault, again swinging high with his short sword and then bashing his opponent with his shield. Sitric staggers...
...And, fearing for his life, makes a run for it! If not an admonition of guilt, it is certainly a sign of uncharacteristic cowardice. Courage is a rare quality in the face of certain death!
Thorun and Ruadhan can make an AoO as, being at exactly 0 hp, Sitric cannot properly withdraw.
Seeing his lord attempt to flee and hearing Daire's threat of judgement, the guard also attempts to escape, making a run for the kitchen.
The guard is withdrawing as a full round action.
You may all act after the AoO have been resolved.
|Amergin the Wise|
Gonna see if Aoife can stabilize on her own.
Con check DC 10: 1d20 + 2 - 5 ⇒ (19) + 2 - 5 = 16
The pool of Aoife's blood doesn't seem to get any bigger but Aoife still doesn't stir.
She is now stable!
Ruadhán begins to lower his weapons and let Sitric leave when Thorun's axe comes cleaving past. The immediate threat gone, Ruadhán turns to Aoife, scanning her wounds and whether she still lives. Unable to make sense of the damage through the blood he scoops her up. "COBHLAITH, AOIFE IS IN TROUBLE." Spotting the young nun by the door, he begins to push towards her, bellowing at anyone in his way. "OUT OF MY WAY, MOVE.
Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10
Cobhlaith eyes both Ruadhan and Aoife as he charges toward her.
Channel Energy: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 5) = 8
Each of you gets those hit points as does any one else within a 30 ft radius of Cobhlaith, friend or foe.
"Place her here on this pile of furs. Daire, Thorun, make sure no one comes near us."
With one hand on Aoife's most grievous wound, Sister Cobhlaith breathes a prayer and beseeches God's favor on Aoife.
Heal (Aoife): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26
Turning to Ruadhan, she says, "Here, let me take a look at you as well."
As she places her hands on Ruadhan's shoulder, she prays once more for her healing skills to be augmented by God's grace.
Heal(Ruadhan): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30
Aoife, groaning in pain, slowly opened her eyes as Ruadhán set her down upon the furs. "Ruadhán?...W-what...." She whispered in a broken voice. "It... hurts... all over..." She tried to say as she twisted to get up only to give a cry of pain.
Aoife reached out and grabbed Cobhlaith's arm, her hand shaking from the loss of blood as she pulled the young cleric close. She whispered something into her ear.
With that Aoife let go of Cobhlaith's arm and settled back upon the furs groaning in pain. "... Thank you... for saving Conchobar..."
"Now you must rest," she says more loudly.
Sister Cobhlaith looks around then softly speaks to Thorun, Daire, and Ruadhan.
"Where is our host? And what enemies remain standing?
"I need to get Aoife to a safe place to sleep tonight, and I need to check again on Cochobar."
|Amergin the Wise|
The nearby warriors stop fighting, taken aback by the bloody violence of Thorun's blow. With the news that Conchobar lives and the dramatic death of Sitric, the chaos in the hall gradually calms. The veil of fury is lifted and the assembly realizes their collective madness. Many leave the hall, their blood feuds having been fed – likely, Sitric's men are among them as surely they will not wish to remain to suffer the judgement of the bards.
Most just stand there, waiting for someone to decide what comes next.
Seeing Sitric fall, Ruadhan rushes to Aoife's side but there is too much blood and there is nothing that he can do. Seeing Sister Cobhlaith enter the hall, Ruadhan hopes... Heedless of his own wounds, he lifts Aoife and rushes to Sister Cobhlaith's side, praying that her able hands will do what he could not.
Then, the light of God shines upon them all. "A miracle!" some announce. "She saved Conchobar!" the monk claims. The remaining warriors wonder and cheer. Many simply fall to their knees, awed, their faith renewed by this proof of His power. Not waiting to hear the praise of the pious, Sister Cobhlaith is quick to tend to Aoife's and Ruadhan's wounds with great care and skill...
Ruadhan will be fine – she is certain of it. But, sadly, Sister Cobhlaith cannot be sure, for Aoife. Her breathing remains raspy and laborious. Aoife should have died today.
"Let us through!" Muircheartach O'Dwyorma commands, leading them all into Conchobar's own quarters adjacent to the hall and offering whatever he can to assist them. "I don't know what just happened, but God is with you. Thank you for saving young Conchobar," he speaks with sincere reverence and gratitude.
Worried by Aoife's breathing, Sister Cobhlaith settles her on the bed.
"Thorun, please keep everyone out of the room.
"I need to examine the wounds more closely, and her armor is hindering my task.
"Would one of you help me make her more comfortable and get these protective hides off her body. I need someone to hold her carefully while I undo the fastenings and straps."
Coblaith is going to use spontaneous casting to cast all her remaining spells for the day as healing spells on Aoife.
"Thorun, please keep everyone out of the room."
Thorun nods with a look of concern, standing outside the door and glancing in occasionally.
"I-I... I can..." Aoife began as she tried to roll onto her side and gives a cry of pain. The wound in her gut sending pain all through her body. She looked at the blood on her hands and body, eye settling upon her stomach wound. "Oh... s$$@..." Aoife muttered as laid herself back upon the bed. She'd never laid in something so comfortable before... the fight began to replay itself in her head and she gave a weak sigh. "Did we get Sitric? Tell me some one got Sitric?" She begged. "He tried to have Conchobar killed..." Aoife began rambling, likely from the blood she had lost up to this point.
"Wait Thorun... Thorun came back right?" She asked, noticing she hadn't seen the barbarian since just before she passed out. "He's alright?" She added. "You said Conchobar was okay too didn't you? Whose hands is he in? His life could still be in danger..." Aoife stated with her system still in shock.
Once Thorun hears Aoife's voice he comes just inside the door. He gives a sigh of relief. "Rest easy Aoife. You fought hard and the day was won. Get some rest."
Aoife tried to offer her friend a chuckle only for it to be a cry of pain and a cough that was followed by blood from her lips. "You," Aoife let out a gasp to try and catch her breath. "would have been proud Thorun..." She told him as she finally began to settle down. "Let my rage get the best of me... paid for it though... not as good at it as you." Aoife said as she slowly began to close her eyes.
Her chest rose and fell with her ragged breath, but the moment she tried to falling into a deeper sleep and breath with her stomach her eyes snapped open. She let out a long groan as her body tried to calm the pain itself.
With Sitric's beheading, Daire goes quiet and slips through the crowd to rejoin the others.
Now, he stand with Thorun, blade still out.
More sombrely than usual, he says quietly:
"That was too close. Far too close. But we won, right?"
With Ruadan's help, Cobhlaith begins carefully removing the hide armor that encases Aoife's body.
Her face grows serious, and then impassive as she looks more closely at the wounds to the girl's body.
I mustn't frighten Aoife with my knowledge of how deadly these wounds might be. She needs all the positive thoughts she can muster to make it through this
Cure Light: 1d8 ⇒ 7
Cure Light: 1d8 ⇒ 1
Cure Light: 1d8 ⇒ 6
Cure Moderate: 2d8 ⇒ (1, 4) = 5
Cure Moderate: 2d8 ⇒ (7, 5) = 12
Cobhlaith uses all her remaining open spell slots to spontaneously cast healing domain spells. She still has one Domain slot she can cast, plus 5 more Channel Energy uses today
As Cobhalaith chants and sings the words to the prayers, the room is filled with God's grace and light.
At the end of the ritual, she again puts a hand on Aoife's forehead to check for temperature and sweating.
Daire does cast an eye in the direction of Cobhlaith and her workings.
Could it be...?
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
|Amergin the Wise|
Aoife is now at 39/48 so she's good! She can make up the rest with a few days of rest.
As Cobhlaith and Ruadhán went about removing her armor, Aoife gathered enough strength to wrap her blood stained hands around something quickly. However, whatever it is was upon a piece a scrap hide that had been turned into a necklace.
She kept her fingers tight around the item upon the item around her neck even as she is laid back down to be healed by Sister Coblaith. Her fingers loosened a bit but she didn't let go completely. Her breathing returned to normal and some of her color returned.
"Thank you..." She muttered to Coblaith while offering a small smile.
As Aoife doesn't have slight of hand trained she must take 10+dex
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Sister Cobhlaith notices that Aoife is clutching a pendant on a necklace.
She carefully tucks Aoife's shift closer to her neck and pulls a pelt over her.
Whatever this is, it seems precious to her.
"Aoife has lost a lot of blood, and needs to be undisturbed for as long as we can manage.
"I'm pretty exhausted myself, but I need at least to give thanks to God for his blessings today. And I should take one last look in on Conchobar."
Sister Cobhlaith stands, ready to walk back to the monastery infirmary, and spend a few minutes in the sanctuary.
"I'll be back shortly. I intend to sleep here next to Aoife tonight, in case her pain becomes unbearable. I'll bring a sleeping draught back for her.
"Perhaps tomorrow we can move her into the infirmary so I can tend to both of them together."
Perc: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27
Thorun stands slack-jawed at the wounds close. This...this is an actual miracle.
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Daire says quietly, so that the group - and only the group - can hear:
"Glory be to God, and those whom He works through."
There is genuine respect in his voice and not a little awe.
A little louder, he says:
"Someone should sleep - or not sleep - near both of the rooms. Say in shifts? Let's face it, one assassin has already tried for Conchobar's life and that was in full view of a crowded hall."
Despite his wounds Ruadhán manages to be gentle as he helps remove Aoife's hide armour. Spotting her grabbing at the obviously precious ring, Ruadhán notes it for another time.
His faith renewed by the miracles of Brother O'Maille, Ruadhán prays at Alice's side. This miracle of sister Cobhlaith only drives him further into the belief that this is the side of the angels. Standing after, his eyes showing awe, Ruadhán moves to the door. "Sleep well little one, I will watch Conchobar, no-one gets in tonight except our group."
As he leaves, he grabs Daire. "I could use a little help though"
"Aye. You want to watch first or I? I'm a bit fresher after all."
"Ruadhán..." Aoife called, waiting for him to turn back around to look at her before she continued. "Thank you my friend... I would have been in a worse case than this if it wasn't for you." She acknowledged.
"A sleeping draught?" Aoife asked Cobhlaith. "For me?"
"Only if you wake during the night and wish to drink it. Sometimes pain makes it difficult to sleep. And, at this point, sleep is what you need most."
She turns to Ruadhan.
"I can watch during the early hours if someone wakes me. But right now my priorities are giving thanks to God, and checking on Conchobar."
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19
Whoops, Lets try that again!
"Ok, how about this. Thorun watches Aoife for now, and Sister, you help him later when your prayers are done and you are recovered. Daire and I will watch Conchobar. I will also see if Muircheartach can have a trusted man standing by at each location to act as a runner should we need each other's assistance."
"That is a sound plan. You're not just a pretty face, Ruadh!", chuckles Daire.
"That works just fine. And in the morning we can bring them to the same place while we work out our options."
Sister Cobhlaith, with one final touch to Aoife's forehead, moves quickly out of the room and to the monastery.
She stops for a while at the sanctuary, where she spends time in prayer and reciting psalms of thanksgiving.
Then she knocks quietly at the door to the infirmary, and asks to see Conchobar.
|Amergin the Wise|
With the help of Muirchertach's trusted and loyal warriors, Daire, Thorun and Ruadhan keep watch through the night, which proves uneventful.
Sister Cobhlaith, having worked a veritable miracle in the halls of Culdaff, is allowed to come and go as she pleases. Both of her patients rest and live through the night but, come morning, she finds Conchobar still fighting the poison that courses through his veins, and Aoife still breathing laboriously despite her best efforts.
Their fate is in the hands of God.
And then, they are warned of another impending trial: "They're marching from Derry! The King's forces are coming!"
Ruadhan looks around and the warriors in the hall. After last night's treason and ensuing chaos, Conchobar's forces have lost any semblance of unity. Many – who either were loyal to Sitric or simply decided that Conchobar's cause is hopeless – disappeared in the night. Those who remain are tired and unsure.
His old friend Muirchertach and his warriors remain steadfast and true, but it may not be enough...
"Calm down and tell us what you saw," Muirchertach commands the boy bearing bad news.
"They're marching from Lough Fad," the boy explains, catching his breath.
"They'll be here by midday and we've nowhere to run to," Muirchertach sighs. He turns to two of his best: "Take some fast horses and be careful. We need to have a better idea of what we're dealing with."
"Send the women and children up the coast and make ready for battle!" a wisened warrior commands to the few who still stand at his side. His men rush out. Then, he turns to the King of An Breadhach: "Let us make plans."
Muirchertach nods and smiles. "I am – as always – honoured to have you at my side, King Ferguson."
Muirchertach turns to Ruadhan and his companions: "We could use your help."
"And help you shall have." Aoife said as she leaned against the door frame of the room she had been placed in. The young female warrior looked like she had already been through a massive battle. Her armor off gave all a more proper look of her stature and figure, but few would take in the sight as with her clothes and hair was covered in her own blood. The hole in her shirt showed the wound that should have been fatal. It would scar, that wasn't in doubt.
She was still pale, and she could hardly keep her breath as she spoke, and there where small bags under her eyes. "Any of you make a comment I'll kick you ass." She said as she bold pushed herself off of the door frame and made her way to the group. It took her a moment because of her injuries but she did it none the less and did her best to stand tall. Tough young wolf all things considered.
"How many men are left?" Aoife asked. "I know little of warfare, I won't lie... but it is likely we're going to be out numbered. Most of these men grew up around here right?" She asked. "They know the land?"