"Beware, Vermin behind as well!" Realizing a scorpion has joined in the attack from the rear, Wulfgar dismounts drawing his sword and steps toward the red and green scorpion. Raising the greatsword as he begins to rage, his appearance changes, the halo shines dull in the desert sun while his cast shadow dancing in the hot sand has wings like a seraphim. "Aaauuurrrrghhhh." Roaring, he slashes at the poisonous giant vermin.
[dice=attack]1d20 + 8 [dice=damage]2d6 + 12
Wulfgar narrowly misses the giant scorpion!
Struggling to free herself she growls and tries to wiggle free.
Struggling to free herself she growls and tries to wiggle free.[dice=Escape Artist]1d20+1
The spiderwebs hold Mwikali tight...
ARACHNIDS ATTACK! ROUND 2! FIGHT!! OOH OOH AH!!
MWIKALI!
LORD P!
VOLREG!
GIANT BLACK WIDOW!
GIANT SPIDER!
GIANT SCORPION!
VANNA!
ALTIN!
WULFGAR!
EEEEEKK!!!
Volreg once again shoots another blast at Meikali.
"I'll help you once once I'm done Mwikali!"
Vanna curses as her mount falls underneath her. She hops off and tries to skewer the scorpion and readies for its next attack.
Volreg once again shoots another blast at Meikali.
"I'll help you once once I'm done Mwikali!"
[dice=Electric Blast+Point Blank Shot:Touch]d20+4+1
[dice=Damage+Point Blank Shot]2d6+2+1
The black widow shrieks in agony! SKREEEEEE!!!
Vanna curses as her mount falls underneath her. She hops off and tries to skewer the scorpion and readies for its next attack.
[dice=attack]1d20+8; 1d6+3+3
[dice=p/r]1d20+8; 1d20+8; 1d6+3+3
[dice=crit]1d20+8; 1d6+3
Vanna punctures the giant scorpion with her blade!
Altin targets the black widow, aiming for its eyes.
Altin targets the black widow, aiming for its eyes.
[dice=Shortbow PBS]1d20+8
[dice=Dmg]1d6+4
[dice=Shortbow PBS]1d20+8
[dice=Dmg]1d6+4
Altin’s first shot ricochets off the black widow’s exoskeleton! The second pops one of its eight ruby red eyes, lodging in its primitive brain and knocking it senseless! It rolls belly up with its eight giant spindly legs curling inward...
Lord Perpireen, who was riding atop its abdominal section, must roll a Reflex saving throw, DC 15, or be pinned under the giant carcass!
*SPLAT!!*
The man-sized spider shoots another web at Wulfgar’s mule , this one envelopes the poor beast, which brays in protest!
The giant scorpion claws at Vanna missing...again missing, and Vanna ripostes, dealing 10 piercing to the scorpion! It tries to sting her but she dodges!
The zebracorn turns its horn toward the giant scorpion and makes a powerful charge that pierces deep dealing damage!
SKREEEEEEEEEEK!!!
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He walks around the best as it crumples
He walks around the best as it crumples
The man-sized spider shoots another web at Wulfgar’s mule 1d20+5, this one envelopes the poor beast, which brays in protest!
Wulfgar glares at the spider for a moment, "Hey! Leave the Mule alone." As he turns his attention back to the scorpion. He jerks his greatsword's tip out of the sand, Raising it high overhead he slashes at the giant yellow Arachnida.
[dice=attack]1d20 + 8 [dice=damage]2d6 + 12
Wulfgar’s mighty stroke splits the beast’s head open! It drops heavily onto the desert!
*THUD!!*
Seeing that its hunting partners have been slain, the man-sized spider realizes that a mistake has been made, and scurries away to find easier prey!
"Well that was fun, shame about the mule"
The adventurers cut Mwikali and Wulfgar’s mule free from the spiderwebs and trudge on the rest of the way to Marrakech with only four mules, redistributing the load of their provisions accordingly...
As the sun sinks toward the Atlantic Ocean, the adventurers begin to really anticipate the comforts of civilization after three days in the desert...
As night spreads over the land, a waxing half moon sheds its light on the dusty path to Marrakech... At around nine o’clock on the night of January 15th, the glittering lights of Marrakech come into view on the dark eastern horizon...
Vanna takes a scarf and wraps it around her face, shemagh style.
Stay vigilant...trust no one here...
The zebracorn stops when the lights of Marrakech come into view.
Here, I fear we must part, My Lady Mwikali. The Emir’s men would hunt me like a common beast for his table... May the spirits of the Land guide you to success on your noble quest!
"I'm a fey, we never trust anyone."
He says in a think Irish accent.
Then moves about shifting this and that, helping other look less like themselves. Then he makes himself look like an African ideal, coloring his clothing black. He then goes to Mwikali and hides in her baggage.
Mwikali uses prestidigitation to clean herself off from the travel. She then puts her scarf about her face and flips up the hood on her cloak.
"Agreed"
Looking about, Volreg sighs while shaking his head. "I don't have much to disguise myself, so I'll go as myself. I am a humble farmer looking for tips after all!"
A company of horsemen clad in studded leather armor, armed with scimitars, shortbows, and lances are doing a very poor job of hiding behind boulders and brush near the outer gates of Marrakech...
There are altogether two dozen men and two dozen combat trained light horses arrayed behind the scanty cover provided by several large boulders and desert scrub brush, over an area some 400 feet long covering the western approach to Marrakech...
At this hour (around 9:00 PM), there are no other travelers on the road into Marrakech. Only the adventurers approach the twinkling lights of the desert city...
Altin pulls his mule to a halt, then rides out a few steps in front of the rest of the company. Addressing the men attempting to conceal themselves around the western approach, he raises a hand in greeting. "Hail, men of Marrakech! I am Altin Karela, envoy of Lord Perpireen McGibel, member of the fey aristocracy in the Court of the King Under the Hill, come to create good relations with other noble folk from many lands. We seek shelter in your fair city, for a night at least. With whom shall I treat? Who here speaks for Marrakech?"
As the five (Lord Perpireen has the advantage of being overlooked in spite of his potential) non-Arab adventurers matching the description Captain Barak and First Mate Toruko gave the guards of Marrakech just this afternoon approach the city gates, the horsemen ride their steeds out from their dubious hiding spots and encircle the party! There are twenty-four turban-and-studded-leather-clad riders, on twenty-four fast Arabian warhorses! They completely surround the adventurers...
In Arabic, the captain of the horsemen says: We’ve been expecting Your Fey Highness’ entourage! Welcome to Marrakech!
There is unfriendly laughter from the mounted guards...
In Arabic: We hope you encountered no difficulties during your travels? The Emir of Marrakech is planning to entertain you with the Arena of Death, the Blood Pit of Marrakech! It is a popular spectator event which happens nightly under the Kasbah! Do you like sport? We hope so! He heheheh!
Please, as a courtesy to our city’s security measures, may we carry your weapons and armor into the city for you?
Then he vanishes and takes flight
zips back to the others, Whispers
"This is a trap, We have been set up by Captain Barak and First Mate Toruko, You can fight or you tell them I am already in the city and your here to meet me, Ill meet you in there."
Then he vanishes and takes flight
zips back to the others, Whispers
"This is a trap, We have been set up by Captain Barak and First Mate Toruko, You can fight or you tell them I am already in the city and your here to meet me, Ill meet you in there."
Well, this doesn't look good. I don't understand them, but their actions and laughter don't seem appealing. I could be wrong though. Raising his hands, Volreg makes no moves towards the men, but speaks, "I am helping the Little Lord, but am a simple farmer that was looking for a simple job."
[Dice=Sense Motive]d20
Well, this doesn't look good. I don't understand them, but their actions and laughter don't seem appealing. I could be wrong though. Raising his hands, Volreg makes no moves towards the men, but speaks, "I am helping the Little Lord, but am a simple farmer that was looking for a simple job."
Yes! Yes! Of course! Just come with us, and we will show you to your quarters...
The captain of the horsemen grins in a way that reminds Volreg of a hostile ape bearing its teeth...
Altin doesn't resist the guards as they disarm him. He doesn't draw any attention to the knife in his boot, hoping they don't notice it.
He lets the men take his weapons and his chain shirt from under his tunic.
"Altin, what do they want from us. I don't like the way they are looking at us."
Altin doesn't resist the guards as they disarm him. He doesn't draw any attention to the knife in his boot, hoping they don't notice it.
He lets the men take his weapons and his chain shirt from under his tunic.
"Altin, what do they want from us. I don't like the way they are looking at us."
As the men help Volreg doff his chain shirt, they notice his lightning bruises, and nod to each other...
In Arabic: So this is the lightning warlock we’ve been told of... The one who can make thunderbolts to hurl at his enemies... Be careful, men... If he seems likely to start calling the winds and lightning against us, strike him down at once!
The adventurers are led through the Bab Ksiba gate into the Kasbah of Marrakech, a bustling, lively district of commerce and trade, and through inner walls to the Royal Palace.
Boombada the Behir dominates the incense-fragrant auditorium of the Royal Palace, a massive, azure-blue, part reptilian, part centipede beast that sprawls lazily on the flagstone floor!
The emir is flanked by a pair of dervishes armed with scimitars, and has a very self satisfied expression on his tan face... He grins like a fox at the henhouse...
In Arabic, he addresses you: Welcome to Marrakech, Crusader spies! How are you liking our country so far? Hahahaha... Yes... We know why you are here... We have the benefit of ancient divination magic, and djinn minions who alert us to such charades well in advance, my pale and arrogant friends! Hahahaha!! Ah, the looks on your faces is as priceless as the Tear of Poseidon, shed when Atlantis was sunk beneath the waves!
As he says this, he flaunts a large, flawless aquamarine gemstone of the finest cut and clearest water, inset in his white turban...
In deep, gravelly Arabic: Wait until you see the looks on their faces when they have their first match in the BLOODPIIIIT!! GRA GRA GRA GRA GRA GRA!!!