Zirnakaynin: Blood and Darkness: The Exotic Specimens (Inactive)

Game Master Dragoncat

A campaign set in the drow city of Zirnakaynin, following a band of gladiators as they fight their way to gold, glory and the promise of freedom.

Performance Combat Rules
Maps!

CROWD ATTITUDES!
Drakhn: Indifferent
Jazrok: Helpful
Serisa: Helpful
Spikey: Friendly
Torsten: Friendly

Current Date: Starday, 7th of Sarenith, 4705 AR


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Male Kobold Draconic Bloodrager (Rageshaper) 1

Squinting against the awful light, Drahkn shrugs off his armor. I don’t suppose they’re expecting me to drop my teeth and claws and tail as well he thinks, sensibly managing to avoid a chuckle.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok takes off his armor and hands it over and slips his drumstick into the tensioning straps on his drum and casually continues on, although he doesn't object if the attendants take the stick from him.

kn.Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

He gives a stiff bow to the high priestess. "Mistress Volatexia, indeed we are. Did you observe our skirmish? I trust that House Volatexia is pleased with House Rasivrein's generous gift."


F Oread Warpriest (Sacred Fist) of Gorum | HP 10/10 | AC 16 | Perception +8 | Init +3 | Problem Slave, Cestus | Portrait
Vitals:
CN Oread HP: 10/10, AC: 16 T: 15 FF: 15 Perception +8 (Darkvision) Initiative: +3 Fort +3 Ref +1 Will +7 CMB: +4, CMD: 19, Speed: 20
Skills:
Know(Religion) +4, Perform(Act) +5, Profession(Gladiator) +8

I take it that we've never been through these gates before? Only other ones that lead to where the gladiators are housed.

Serisa looks around taking it all in, the sight of so much wealth is new to her and she's only heard of the sun before, but never seen it depicted.

When the guards come over, she'll smile and turn around, "No weapons. No armor. No clothes."

The picture I linked to shows that she has crystalline outcroppings in all of the locations necessary to make her rated G so that she doesn't need clothing.

When the drow high muckity muck starts to speak, she will give the proper bow appropriate to the woman's station, Just keep them happy so they don't punish you by risking your life more.


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

Spikey walks toward the temple in his typical surly fashion at first but when they enter the brilliantly illuminated hallway his manner changes entirely. He stretches his vines out in all directions, soaking up as much of the glorious, bright light as he can, the energy flowing right into the sap of his veins. He lingers for a moment, eyes closed, in the overwhelming light. Then he shuffles forward resentfully into the temple. There, he warily lowers his weapons to the ground in addition to his armor and shield. "Stupid drow don't know what matters... Think all this finery means they aren't a bunch of greedy pigs..."

K local: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

He doesn't know the significance of the ceremony around him but doesn't care much either. Even so, he doesn't care for more abuse than necessary and stands surly and quiet.


Serisa: You’ve been through these gates before—they lead to the gladiatorial living quarters, the armoury, the guard barracks, and the chapel of Nurgal. Your group hasn’t yet been down the tunnel to the chapel of Nurgal.

Jazrok wrote:
"Mistress Volatexia, indeed we are. Did you observe our skirmish? I trust that House Volatexia is pleased with House Rasivrein's generous gift."

"I did. And we are."

Once the party has disarmed, the high priestess beckons them forward. ”Come. Stand before me.”

Once the party walks up to the steps before her, she spreads her arms wide and turns her gaze skyward. ”Holy Nurgal, behold the warriors standing before you, newly christened in the blood of the battlefield. As they steel themselves for the battles ahead, we ask that you grant them your blessing, so that they may follow the path you have set before them. May these gladiators, their blades sharpened and their bodies honed, find their true purpose amid the dust and carnage that is your holiest of practices.”

The carved sun illuminating the room begins to shine with a blinding and searing light, forcing the guards and slaves in the room to shield their eyes and the acolytes to kowtow before Nurgal’s statue in supplication. The high priestess’ eyes stare at the blazing light source with a manic grin on her face, never flinching from the brilliance. The roiling warmth of the light enters the party’s bodies, and they can feel whatever lingering fatigue and pain being burned away.

The party is fully healed and any fatigue they have is ended.

The shining light eventually recedes to a far more tolerable level, and the priestess closes her eyes. Several tears are streaming from the corners of her eyes. ”The Shining Scourge has given you his blessing, gladiators. Return to your living quarters. Choose a living space for yourselves. For now, the day is yours.”

”But do not think to rest upon your laurels. Tomorrow, there are more battles to be fought.” She turns away from the party.

Anyone have any plans?


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

Despite himself, Spikey feels the brilliant light surging through his chloroplasts and shudders in thrill and disgust. After the priestess releases them, he heads back to the barracks looking for some food. Once he's found it, he brings it back to a small, dark closet. Here, he feeds the young bat Sable, his only friend.


Spikey

The gladiatorial living quarters are easy enough to find--you remember them well enough.

The living quarters are a combination of mess hall, kitchen, living space and bathhouse, all carved from the same cold, unfeeling granite that makes up the rest of the House's tunnels. Twelve stone tables with benches are arranged in two columns, with a scant few gladiators you don't recognize eating at them. A dark stone structure stands to the north of the dining tables, with a window providing a view of the kitchen facilities beyond.

To the east stand a pair of double doors, painted gold and engraved with an image of the blazing sun. There's an inscription in Undercommon above the doors.

Undercommon:
"Bathing Area: Frigidarium, Tepidarium and Caldarium"

The actual living spaces for gladiators is to the west of the dining area. Rows of stone living cells are to the north and south of the large cage against the western wall--the cage you remember as the one where all the trainees were kept like animals. It's completely empty now--and much like the other cells, it appears to have been freshly cleaned.

You find the small closet after taking a bowl of... some sort of stew from the kitchen window. The tiny bundle of wing and fur called Sable lets out a little squeak as you reach him. He starts lapping up the stew you give him, his petite nose twitching.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok heads to the baths to wash off the dirt, grime, and blood and relax.


Jazrok

You reach the baths without incident.

There are three types of baths on offer--the Frigidarium (normally used for invigoration before a fight), the Tepidarium (for general cleanliness and relaxation) and the Caldarium (for more therapeutic purposes).

The Tepidarium is a large rectangular chamber with a wide oval-shaped pool in the centre. Several bathing supplies are on the wall nearest to the door. There doesn't seem to be anyone else in here at the moment.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

Torsten likewise stomped his way over. Heading straight for the tepidarium, he shed his clothes and plopped into it. Using his telekinesis, he floated over whatever supplies he needed. The Deurgar didn’t pay any of his fellow gladiators any mind, being completely unashamed in his manner and uncaring of mind.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok sets to washing the arena off himself in the tepidarium. He nods at Torsten when he walks in. The hobgoblin washes efficiently in silence before letting himself relax into the water. Once he settles in he finally pipes up. "What brought you to the arena, Torsten?"


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

”Bloody fookin’ wasteful Drow.” The Deurgar growled. A bar of soap scrubbed his back by itself. ”What? Do ye think me one of them idgits who sign up for this? Bah!” The spark of anger made the soap fall into the water. With a twitch of the eye it rose up again. ”They wanted me for other work, first. Me telekinesis, they thought it’d make me a good servant.” A nasty smile crossed his face. ”It didn’t. So they put me in the mines. That got well and truly mucked up too. Cost ‘em a lot of gold. So they sent me here to die. How ‘bout ye? Did yer army invade the wrong cave system, soldier?”


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok chuckles. "I didn't take you for a volunteer, no. Me? My old tribe's shaman was scared I'd challenge him for leadership, so here I am in the underdark. The drow found me and, ah...gave me a place to stay. Made me tell stories, tried to turn me into a jester. They didn't like the stories I told after that. And here I am." He splashes his face with water and shakes off the droplets.

"There are a lot of battles to go yet before we win this war."


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

Torsten nodded at the mention of being sold. The story made sense. But at the end he chuckled. ”Win? Hehehe...no. We aren’t going to win. We’re going to die. The Drow will use us until we are no longer useful or entertaining and then they will kill us. It’s all a question of when. Hope will drive ye mad. It’ll also get ye killed before yer time. Best to accept the inevitability of death. Ye’ll be happier that way. Though...I suppose the merchant houses have been known to breed more wares. About the best anyone can hope for, as they’ll only kill ye when yer too old to be useful.” Water fell over his head, ending his dour statements.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

"Yes! We live as long as they like seeing us fight, that's exactly it. I got lucky last time, there was a lower rung I could catch on, but this is as low as it gets. And that's what our companions don't seem to understand yet. We need to keep the drow watching." he starts to gesticulate wildly with one hand while standing up and sloshing over towards Thorsten.

"That's the trick." He claps the waving hand on the duergar's shoulder. Under the waterline, he points a finger on the other hand and drives the nail into Thorsten's side underneath his ribs, hard enough to make a point. Then he slogs out of the bath and heads toward the Caldarium.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

Torsten grunted in annoyance as the naked hobgoblin walked off. He then shrugged and laid back to enjoy the water. The Deurgar figured that it was best not to get attached to anyone here, given how they’d all likely die sooner than later.


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

Spikey gently strokes Sable's bat and whispers in a low tone "There there, little buddy. I'll have more for you tomorrow and we'll get out of here as soon as we can..."


F Oread Warpriest (Sacred Fist) of Gorum | HP 10/10 | AC 16 | Perception +8 | Init +3 | Problem Slave, Cestus | Portrait
Vitals:
CN Oread HP: 10/10, AC: 16 T: 15 FF: 15 Perception +8 (Darkvision) Initiative: +3 Fort +3 Ref +1 Will +7 CMB: +4, CMD: 19, Speed: 20
Skills:
Know(Religion) +4, Perform(Act) +5, Profession(Gladiator) +8

Serisa eases her stony skin into the caldarium, enjoying the stark heat penetrating deeply into her muscles and temporarily forgets that it all happens again tomorrow.


Sorry for the delay!

Serisa

The Caldarium is a large, rectangular bathing chamber tinted in a warm, red glow. The heated water does indeed feel quite relaxing on your crystalline skin--perhaps it even brings up a memory of home.

Your quiet soak is briefly interrupted by the sound of the Caldarium's door opening...
------------------
Jazrok

When you open the door to the Caldarium, you're greeted by a burst of warm, humid air. The Caldarium itself looks quite similar to the Tepidarium--albeit it's filled with a warm, red glow.

You notice Serisa quietly soaking in the pool.
------------------
Torsten

As you're soaking, you hear the Tepidarium's door opening again.

A very nervous-looking young man sidles into the room, his brown hair decidedly messy. His eyes are a clear blue colour--and they dart about incessantly, as if looking for something waiting in ambush.

He slides into the pool a good distance away from you.
------------------
Spikey

As you're feeding Sable, you feel a tall shadow fall over you.

Standing over you is the tall, brown-skinned elf, Caladrel. The wound on his stomach seems to have healed over.

"...well struck." He says, crouching down. "Forgot how dangerous Nature can be."


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok takes a moment to savor the warm air in the Caldarium, then steps into the hot water, sitting down and laying his head back to relax.

"You fight well. What brought you to the arena?" He turns his head slightly in Serisa's direction.


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

Spikey whirls when Caladrel approaches and eyes the elf suspiciously. He had been jumped by defeated enemies outside the arena before and had had to fight them stem and leaf to stay alive. But the elf doesn't seem interested in fighting at the moment so Spikey doesn't lash out. After a moment of awkward silence, he responds "The Drow think they can cage anything... One day, they'll learn how wrong they are."


F Oread Warpriest (Sacred Fist) of Gorum | HP 10/10 | AC 16 | Perception +8 | Init +3 | Problem Slave, Cestus | Portrait
Vitals:
CN Oread HP: 10/10, AC: 16 T: 15 FF: 15 Perception +8 (Darkvision) Initiative: +3 Fort +3 Ref +1 Will +7 CMB: +4, CMD: 19, Speed: 20
Skills:
Know(Religion) +4, Perform(Act) +5, Profession(Gladiator) +8

Serisa says, "Thank you, your help was greatly appreciated."

Gesturing to the bath, "Please join me, it feels wonderful after the fight to loosen up all of that tension."

Tipping her head back against the side of the pool, she closes her eyes and answers, "The community where I was born was raided when I was younger and most were slaughtered. I was one of the "lucky" ones and taken prisoner. The cult that stole me away made me fight in the arena."

She sighs, "I was beaten badly over and over again. I was never really trained to fight. Then, one day I was begging whatever gods would hear me to end the torment. I wanted to die. Instead, Gorum answered and I was filled with his power and I killed my opponent, similar to what happened today."

Chuckling a bit, "Then I became the problem fighter. I won battle after battle, slaughtering my opponents despite indications to spare them. The long torment of them constantly beating me senseless to where I could barely walk at times was over and I was paying them back."

"That wasn't very good for business. Eventually they tired enough of me they decided to sell me to these drow. Their thought was the drow would be able to break me and I'd receive punishment for my sins. The sin of being bad for business."

"How about yourself?"


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok chuckles back at her story. "Must be handy, having a god of battle answer your call."

He looks over at her question and taps himself on the chest. "What I've got, that's all me. Nevermind the how. My tribe liked that well enough, brought us victory when we'd been starving and all. It bought me position, comfort. Our shaman, well, he didn't like all that. Liked the gods better. So here I am, fighting in the dark. Spent a stint with another family, they liked my stories. Right up until the stories had 'em dying."

He looks up at the ceiling again, feigning thoughtfulness. "Lot of troublemakers about here, funny that."


Male Kobold Draconic Bloodrager (Rageshaper) 1

Drahkn steps into the caldarium after cleaning his wound. He slides into the water until only the top portion of his head, with his eyes, nose, and ears sticks above the water, letting him maximize absorption of the water's warmth. He is careful to turn where he can observe he door and other occupants. Just in case.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

"Ah, the mighty dragon. We were just discussing our lot here. How did you come to be here? Were you another troublesome requisition on the part of the drow?"


Male Kobold Draconic Bloodrager (Rageshaper) 1

Rising enough to speak, Drahkn shakes his head. ”I was born to this, more or less. My clan has served the Drow for...well, longer than any living can recall. Most mine or build. I am one of the lucky few to escape that drudgery. At least I get to fight.”


The gladiators finish their bathing and return to their cells to rest for tomorrow…
——————————
Fireday, 6th of Sarenith, 4705 AR

When morning (or a reasonable approximation of it) comes, the gladiators are fed and equipped before being assembled in the Exhibition Grounds once more. The large arena’s grounds have been filled with several devices and obstacle courses, ranging from a circle drawn in the dirt with chalk to several dummies equipped with practice weapons and even a smaller wooden arena. A guttural snarling is coming from the wooden arena.

Aside from the newest crop of gladiators, there are three other teams assembled in the arena today—one team composed entirely of ratfolk, another made up of four drow (three male and one female in chains) and a single purple-scaled kobold, and the last team: a band of four half-orc men who answer to an especially massive orc with an axe the size of a man.

The grizzled form of Doctore Corazen begins to pace up and down the line of gladiators before stopping in front of the new blood. ”As of today, you are no longer the worthless scum that House Volatexia, in their endless charity, allowed to train in their arena, under my watch. You are gladiators—your worth has been proven in blood.”

”But do not think to rest upon your laurels.” He continues, his eyes narrowing as he starts to address the rest of the assembled stable. ”Whether you are freshly blooded—“ He looks at Serisa in particular. ”—or a proven champion—“ His eyes snap back to the team of orcish warriors, staring at the axe-wielder specifically. ”—your training is of paramount importance. In three weeks’ time, the Week of Carnage will begin.”

”For those of you who don’t know, the Week of Carnage is a week-long tournament held to glorify the Shining Scourge. Five days of combat against beasts, challengers, and champions—and the winners receive gold and glory.” He pauses. ”Sometimes, the winning team is approached by one of Zirnakaynin’s oldest Houses and offered a contract. A chance to rise to greater heights of prestige.”

”But that day is a long way off yet.” He points two fingers at Drakhn and Gorovash. ”You two—report to the missile range.” He points at the southern wall of the arena, where a rack of bows and arrows await. He then points at Torsten & Jazrok. ”You two will spar in that circle.” He points to the northern wall, where a chalk circle has been drawn in the dirt. Finally, he points at Serisa & Spikey. ”You—you will come with me to the beast pit.”

He turns and begins to walk to the improvised wooden arena.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

”Aye then. What’s the rules for sparring?” Torsten asked.


"Either force your opponent out of the circle or beat him down. No killing." Corazen points at the chalk circle. Sitting nearby are a couple of weapon racks, a stoic-looking drow priestess and an armoured male drow with a ponytail standing nearby.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

”A’ight. Say when.” He looked around to see what objects he could start throwing...


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok smiles and flips his drumstick in his hand.

"No problem"


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

Is the Doctore a drow?

Spikey says nothing but follows to the beast pit. Filthy fool thinks he trains warriors. He's just dressing up pigs for the slaughter. That's how the drow see us. This is all a worthless waste of blood...


@Spikey: Yes.

I'll have more in-depth posts later.


Male Kobold Draconic Bloodrager (Rageshaper) 1

Drahkn eyes Gorovash suspiciously. This is not going to go well. Best not turn my back on him. Nevertheless, he heads for the missile range, careful not to draw ahead of the gnome, keeping him constantly in his peripheral vision.


The other gladiator teams disperse to train, and the exotic specimens prepare for their trials...
------------------
Drakhn

You're led over to the southern wall of the Exhibition Grounds, Gorovash keeping pace with you. His usual mad gleam is in his eye.

Manning the ranged weapon rack is a tall female drow clad in decidedly more modest armour than any of the gladiators here. Her silvery hair is tied up in a military bun that contrasts with the devil-may-care smile on her face. She twirls a pair of hand crossbows as you approach, spinning them around with such finesse that it's obvious she's done so thousands of times before.

"The two small ones, eh? Right. Kobold, against the wall." She points one of her hand crossbows at the wall. "Gnome, take one of the bows and get ready to fire."

"You know the drill--five shots, blunted arrows only, no killing. Kobold, dodge the arrows he fires at you. Gnome, shoot him." She stops spinning her hand crossbows. "You'll be healed after each round of practice."

"Ready..." She pauses. "Set..."

She raises her hand crossbow, points it ceiling-ward, and fires. "BEGIN!"

How this'll work is you make five separate Dexterity rolls. Gorovash will then make five attack rolls. For each shot, if your Dexterity roll is higher than his Attack roll, you dodge the missile. If he rolls higher or ties, he hits you for non-lethal damage.
-------------------
Torsten & Jazrok

The weapon racks are filled with wooden practice weapons that the two of you have become familiar with. A couple of rocks and pebbles are scattered about the arena floor.

Standing off to the side of the chalk circle is a male drow with an immaculately-kept ponytail. He's dressed in leather leggings and a manica with a couple of daggers at his side. He raises a hand as the two of you arm yourselves and step into the ring.

He points at Torsten first. "Are you ready?"

Then he points at Jazrok. "Are you ready?"

Once the two of you answer him in the affirmative, he claps his hands. "FIGHT!"

Initiative (Jazrok): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Initiative (Torsten): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
--------------------
Serisa & Spikey

Doctore Corazen leads the two of you to the smaller wooden arena--it's really more of an impromptu cage, to be honest--and points to its occupants.

The source of the snarling becomes evident. Standing in the arena, tied to a wooden stake in the wall, is a withered corpse of a drow female clad in the decaying clerical vestments of Nurgal's faithful. Her milky white eyes blaze with hateful red light.

"A pathetic creature, is it not?" Corazen sneers at the thing that was once a drow. "This one's faith in the Shining Scourge failed before she met her end, and now she has been reduced to this."

"You two will work as a team to slay it. Succeed, and there will be another challenge." Corazen turns to the two of you. "Are you ready?"


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok hustles over to Thorsten and swings his club overhand with two hands, letting out a ferocious battle cry but aiming away from the flatfooted duergar's vitals.

Attack for nonlethal, damage: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 161d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Intimidate if hit: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

Spikey eyes the drow hatefully, trying not to be pleased at this opportunity to kill one of the race he loathes. "I guess I shouldn't be like them... Liking killing and blood... Then he speaks up to Corazen. "Ready." He eyes Serisa to make sure she is ready.

I have my normal equipment on me at the moment?


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

”You can use a melee weapon that deals lethal damage to deal nonlethal damage instead, but you take a –4 penalty on your attack roll.” So pretty sure that misses. If it doesn’t please tell me. Will Save fluff for if these rolls happen

Lethal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Damage: 1d8 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6
Torsten Runeforger wrote:
”You can use a melee weapon that deals lethal damage to deal nonlethal damage instead, but you take a –4 penalty on your attack roll.” So pretty sure that misses. If it doesn’t please tell me. Will Save fluff for if these rolls happen

The Mock Gladiator trait lets Jazrok use clubs for nonlethal without taking the hit penalty.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

Ah! In that case I’m Hit. And my Intimidate DC is 10+1+3=14. 23-14=9, so shaken for 2 rounds. GM? Do we have armor on? If so my attack missed due to shaken. If we have no armor it would hit.

Caught flat footed, Torsten took the blow to the side of the head. The Deurgar staggered backwards. Cursing loudly he tried to slam a rock into his rival...


Yes, you all have armour on. Torsten & Jazrok have training weapons so no permanent damage happens.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

Right. Now Jazrok do me a favor and kindly miss your next attack ;)

...but the attack went wide. Perhaps if he wasn’t so perturbed by the savagery of the attack he would have connected. As it was, the impromptu weapon he flung at the hobgoblin went harmlessly over Jazrok’s head.


Male Kobold Draconic Bloodrager (Rageshaper) 1

Dexterity: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Dexterity: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Dexterity: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Dexterity: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Dexterity: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok grins and tries to do a repeat performance.

Attack for nonlethal, damage: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 151d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Intimidate if hit: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13

But the club misses by a hands' breadth.


Burn (0) Non-Lethal (0) Wounds (0) HP (12) Saves (5/5/4, +2 Hardy) AC (17/13/14) Initiative (+3) CMD (13, +4 stability) Immune (paralysis, phantasms, poison) Performance Combat (+2)

Hit, Shaken: 1d20 + 3 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 3 - 2 = 21
Damage: 1d8 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

Confirm?: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Torsten barely dodged. The hobgoblin was fast! Far too fast. His head hurt, his helmet was now dented, and worst of all, he was about to be humiliated!

His powers were psychic in nature, which meant that they fed off of his emotions. Rather than reaching out with his mind to throw a rock or a weapon at Jazrok, he instead lifted the hobgoblin into the air and slammed him into the ground. Which left Torsten standing there, panting from exertion.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Tosten's ferocious throw laid Jazrok out flat, a look of surprise slipping quickly into unconsciousness and the hobgoblin doesnt get up again.


Drakhn

Shot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Shot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Shot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Shot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Shot: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

1 hit for 1d6 ⇒ 6 nonlethal damage!

You duck, dip, dive and dodge--and only once do you get a blunted arrow to the gut. Gorovash becomes more and more frustrated with every shot he misses--culminating in firing into the dirt at your feet with his final shot.

The trainer looks at him with a disdainful sneer. "You're as blind as a one-eyed spider, you know that? Pathetic." She scoffs before waving you over. "Your turn, kobold. Let's see if you have better aim than he does."

The mad gnome seethes with barely-restrained rage as he storms across the range to take his place at the wall.
-------------------
Torsten & Jazrok

The trainer's eyes widen in surprise when Torsten plants Jazrok in the ground. He makes a series of gestures with a hand, and an acolyte of Nurgal comes running in. Her expression is a mix of interest and amusement as she starts channeling healing energy into the unconscious hobgoblin...

CLW: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

"An impressive blow." The trainer addresses the duergar. He then turns to Jazrok as he starts to come around. "Stand up."
-------------------
Serisa & Spikey

Doctore Corazen waves a hand, and a scared-looking slave comes running, her blonde hair matted with sweat. She's carrying Spikey's spear and shield in her trembling grip.

"...well, crystal warrior?" He addresses the silent oread. "Are you ready?"


HP 20/20 | AC: 17 T: 12 FF: 16 | F: +6 R: +1 W: +3 | Init: +1 Perc: +7 Speed: 20 ft | Rage rounds: 8/8 | Botted attack: +3 for 1d6+7

I believe Serisa posted in some other games that she's traveling for a bit.

Spikey accepts his arms and settles in, ready for the fight.


Male Kobold Draconic Bloodrager (Rageshaper) 1

Drahkn takes a crossbow and smiles wickedly at Gorovash as he cocks the weapon.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Welp.


Init +2 | AC 16 T12 FF14 | Hp 11/11 | Fort +5 Ref +2, Will +3 | Perception+4 DV | Spells: 1:2/2 | Song 6/6

Jazrok sits up and grins at Torsten. "Good hit, well played. You're always flinging things around with your mind, never expected that from you."

He grabs his club and stands up again, ready to fight.

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