[AP] Iron Gods by GM Rutseg

Game Master Balacertar

Ruha winces at the savage attacks exchanged between the two, but it does seem like Yambul might be able to get the upper hand after Kevoth-Kul falters.

Depending on how badly that counterattack leaves Kevoth Kul hurt, she'll continue her Advice and AC buff on Yambul. She lets it drop if it looks like the Black Sovereign is badly injured and seems like he'll yield.

Rhoreen continues to try to focus away from the battle and towards others that might be about to interfere with the battle.

Kevoth-Kul reels as Yambul's blade carves into him again and again, three of the attacks being a hit. The last blow crunches into bone with brutal force, and for a heartbeat it looks as if the Black Sovereign might falter, only for him to throw back his head and laugh thunderously "YES! That's it! Make me bleed! Show me a warrior's heart!"

Spittle and blood surges as the Sovereign's eyes blaze, his body trembling. Rage overtakes him. Muscles already swollen from Numerian fluids bulge further, veins standing out like cords as he throws himself wholly into the fight.

The adamantine greatsword whistles through the air in a storm of steel.
Furious Greatsword-PA+rage: 1d20 + 24 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (18) + 24 + 5 - 4 = 43
Slashing/Adamantine damage+PA+rage: 2d6 + 12 + 12 + 6 ⇒ (6, 1) + 12 + 12 + 6 = 37

Furious Greatsword-PA+rage: 1d20 + 19 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 19 + 5 - 4 = 30
Slashing/Adamantine damage+PA+rage: 2d6 + 12 + 12 + 6 ⇒ (5, 4) + 12 + 12 + 6 = 39

Furious Greatsword-PA+rage: 1d20 + 14 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (18) + 14 + 5 - 4 = 33
Slashing/Adamantine damage+PA+rage: 2d6 + 12 + 12 + 6 ⇒ (6, 2) + 12 + 12 + 6 = 38

Improved critical?: 1d20 + 24 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (7) + 24 + 5 - 4 = 32
Slashing/Adamantine damage+PA+rage: 2d6 + 12 + 12 + 6 ⇒ (6, 5) + 12 + 12 + 6 = 41

Improved critical?: 1d20 + 14 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (17) + 14 + 5 - 4 = 32
Slashing/Adamantine damage+PA+rage: 2d6 + 12 + 12 + 6 ⇒ (5, 2) + 12 + 12 + 6 = 37

Two strikes land true, the impact booming through Yambul's frame like a battering ram. The third skims past, barely.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15
None seems to notice that the miss comes thanks to a strange cadence of words, Rūha's voice, carrying her advice through the battle.

Kevoth-Kul grins through blood and madness, his laughter ringing out once more "At last! Someone WORTHY!"

Kevoth-Kul: 125 damage, considerably wounded
Yambul: 106 damage
Round 4: Kevoth-Kul, Rūha, Zzvkgrogk, Khalia, Yambul, Rhoreen

Yambul knows he has but one round to complete his work. It’s gotta happen now, or it’s not gonna happen. He can’t let this farce of a ruler win! He digs in and follows Rüha’s advice.

"Yes, I hope to be worthy. More worthy than you!"

He launches into his attack.

Falchion: 1d20 + 19 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 19 + 6 = 31 (heroism, studied, haste, advice)
damage S: 2d4 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (1, 3) + 21 + 3 = 28 (studied, advice)

Falchion: 1d20 + 10 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 10 + 6 = 35 (heroism, studied, haste, advice)
damage S: 2d4 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (4, 1) + 21 + 3 = 29 (studied, advice)
hasted Falchion: 1d20 + 10 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 10 + 6 = 26 (heroism, studied, haste, advice)
damage S: 2d4 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (3, 3) + 21 + 3 = 30 (studied, advice)

Falchion: 1d20 + 5 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 5 + 6 = 22 (heroism, studied, haste, advice)
damage S: 2d4 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (4, 1) + 21 + 3 = 29 (studied, advice)

hasted Falchion: 1d20 + 15 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 15 + 6 = 41 (heroism, studied, haste, advice)
damage S: 2d4 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (4, 4) + 21 + 3 = 32 (studied, advice)
critthreat hasted Falchion: 1d20 + 15 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 15 + 6 = 22 (heroism, studied, haste, advice)
damage S: 2d4 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (1, 3) + 21 + 3 = 28 (studied, advice)

Jeez. That's some wild damage. If he's not super dead after those hits, I'd be surprised. But also, we'll need to intervene.

Ignoring the sounds of thrashing, Rhoreen continues to try to focus away from the battle and towards others that might be about to interfere with the battle.

Yambul's falchion blurs in a storm of steel, the Black Sovereign stumbles as the strikes get deep on his flesh. Blood streams from a dozen wounds. The crowd gasps, some in awe, some in horror, as their ruler staggers back, chest heaving.
Left exactly at 0 hp!

Kevoth-Kul refuses to fall. His bloodshot eyes blaze with wild joy, his laugh filling the chamber "YES! Worthy indeed... but I will not fall alone!"

With the last of his strength, he hurls himself forward, raising the adamantine greatsword high. His rage drives one final, perfect swing.
Furious Greatsword+rage: 1d20 + 24 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 24 + 5 = 49
Slashing/Adamantine damage+rage: 2d6 + 12 ⇒ (3, 6) + 12 = 21

Furious Greatsword-PA+rage: 1d20 + 24 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 24 + 5 = 45
Slashing/Adamantine damage+rage: 2d6 + 12 ⇒ (2, 1) + 12 = 15
The blade cleaves across Yambul's right leg in a gruesome arc. Bone snaps, blood sprays, and both Kellids crash to the stone floor in a heap of steel and crimson.

Kevoth-Kul lands on his knees, chest pumping once, twice... before he collapses with a smile still carved on his face "Yeah... a son..."

The court erupts. Half the crowd screams in wild approval, chanting both names, while others rush forward to help the fallen sovereign. A few brave hands hurry to Yambul's side.

On the side, Tek Makul does not move to join them. He stands stiff, scanning the chamber with a hard, assessing stare, his jaw tight. His gaze lingers on each of you, the interlopers who have just changed the course of things.

Combat is over!

Kevoth-Kul: 253 damage, unconscious, dying
Yambul: 142 damage, unconscious, dying

Yambul takes the hit, and has his own moment of weakness… -6hp

However, he has planned for this occasion with an Aegis of Recovery, which immediately heals him, cracking down the center as it does so.
Healing: 2d8 + 3 ⇒ (5, 3) + 3 = 11

He stands tall over his father with a whole 5hp. He looks at Tek Makul, ”Anyone else?”

Rhoreen flies closer to offer what healing he can to Yamking and the old man.

1d8 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13 healing

"Well fought, 'your highness'," Rhoreen says, dripping with insincerity for the crown's new title. "You have earned this, at least."

”Yeah... a son..."

Zzvkgorgk grabs a couple of glasses for the Kellid Gladiators. He fills one with wine, but surreptitiously tops the second off with an extract that appears to be water.

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 20 + 2 = 25 Mutagen, Hero
RemoveDisease: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19

”Ooh, yea! I LOVE family reunions!! A son indeed! Let’s have a toast!”

He helps the Sovereign with the goblet with the wine and extract by carefully cradling his head and pouring the liquid down his throat in manageable doses. He'll then offer the full glass of wine to Yambul.

If Yanmbul refuses his glass of wine, Zzvkgrogk will shrug and drink it himself.

"He gave as well as he took. Better even, maybe." Ruha offers to the crowd, but conversationally rather than as a proclamation "A true Kellid warrior."

With Yambul having essentially bested Kevoth Kul, she's certain the fellow will at least give them the time of day. The question is only if he'll just give them an audience, or will listen to their proposal. She hopes no one else here gets any funny ideas in the mean time.

Sense Motive (is anyone getting any funny ideas?): 1d20 + 22 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 22 + 2 = 32

The crowd goes nearly silent when Yambul staggers upright, his bloodied form towering over the fallen Sovereign. The gasp spreads through the court like fire through dry grass, disbelief, awe, and fear blending in equal measure.

The Sovereign swallows the wine as Zzvkgorgk, discreetly gives him in the middle of the crowd. Kevoth Kul's eyes snap open, bloodshot and wild, as the wine and healing force him back to consciousness.

For a heartbeat, it seems he might surge up with blade in hand again, but instead he exhales a ragged, guttural laugh that rattles his chest "Ha... hahahaha! By Gorum's teeth... you almost sent me to the Abyss, boy!"

He spits blood to the side "Not almost. You did best me. Hells, you might have killed me..."

He lifts a trembling, scarred hand, not for his sword, but toward Yambul, as if in acknowledgment "Worthy of my blood. Worthy of the crown, should he have the guts to seize it" he coughs, crimson flecking his lips, then snarls with something between joy and agony "It is strange, that despite the beating, I feel my mind more clear than in years..."

He collapses back against the stone, chest still heaving, clearly too weak to rise again, but his smile does not fade.

Tek Makul eyes remain cold and unflinching, weighing Yambul with the same intensity as a wolf measuring prey until he steps forward "A duel proves a warrior's mettle, aye, but not a ruler's right. We cannot throw away the crown of Numeria to a band of... mercenaries who drift in from nowhere. Kevoth-Kul has not yielded the throne and our land is not a prize to be snatched by outsiders"

The murmurs of the crowd ripple louder, Kellid warriors clashing opinions in low growls. It is at this moment that a new voice cuts clear through the din.

Kul Inkit rises from her place "You are wrong, Tek Makul" she turns so all may see her profile, chin lifted "That young man is no mercenary. He is my son" the hall gasps, half in disbelief, half in dawning recognition as she steps closer to Yambul "By blood, he has the right to stand in this hall, and by steel, he has proven his strength. What remains is his charge: to prove that he can rule better than what we have endured"

A heavy silence follows, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the Sovereign's weak, ragged laughter.

Tek Makul snarls, his face twisting as he throws a hand wide "The boy's blood means nothing to the Technic League. They will not suffer this disruption. They will not bend to a bastard's claim. And when they come, they will come with fire and chains for us all. Is this the doom you would welcome, Inkit?"

The chamber hangs tense, the crowd caught between awe at Yambul's triumph and fear of Tek Makul's words.