Elriel wrote: after healing
Elriel flexed his arms and made sure that any remaining blood on his armor was old. Or at least not from an open wound.
He turned to the cleric, "Thanks. Save your blessings. The mongrelman gave us some potions and the girl has them."
Elriel sidestepped the cat-thingy and addressed Arrika, "I'll need at least one of your healing potions." He chuckled, "For some reason, these mongrelmen want to kill me and my momma won't like that. I promised her a souvenir from Kenabres."
"May I?" He held out his hand and sneaked a look at the cat-thingy to make sure it wasn't going to pounce on him or anything.
"Mmph! There's a lot of us injured, no? Might be best if I start... But if you say so!" grumbles Bertholdt and crosses his arms, watching Elriel figure things out.
Please note that I'll be away starting tomorrow and returning Wednesday. I will likely be unable to post regularly. Please bot me as needed.
I can channel twice, but then I'm all tapped out.
Anyone still has some healing? Going in weak and without resources might be a bad idea.
"Clear the space!" shouts Bertholdt as he shoulders his way to Sabrina, genuine concern in his trembling eyes.
"Oh Sabrina... What of your dream? You must live!" he mumbles as he tries to stabilize her.
Heal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17
Once she stabilizes, he gives her a warm smile and whispers gently: "There..." then turns to the other companions and barks: "Gather round me! I will share Iomedae's Grace with you, but first, make sure the others around us are dead. The last thing I want is another fight just now..."
Bertholdt calms down as he misses and barely evade the enemy's attacks. Repositioning himself, he takes in the threat to their leader and pushes himself to stay in the battle and protect Sabrina.
"Rot and BURN Harlot!" he croaks as he pushes his spear deep.
Critical: 1d20 + 4 - 3 ⇒ (20) + 4 - 3 = 211d8 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Confirm?: 1d20 + 4 - 3 ⇒ (19) + 4 - 3 = 201d8 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Bertholdt finally takes in the situation, able to do more than not dying, sees the ball of light and whispers, amazed, then shouts, then screams: "Iomedae! She's with us! She's sent Her messenger!!! Chaaaaaarge!!!" as he barrels, spear first, at the remaining foe.
Charge and Critical: 1d20 + 4 + 2 - 3 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 2 - 3 = 111d8 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Great advice should be followed.
Having drawn his last potion when he stepped back, Bertholdt, barely standing, uses his last bit of will to live to take another step and down the healing potion.
Potion clw: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
"Praise the Inheritor!" he shouts as he gets some vitality back.
-1 for taking a standard action, means I'm at +3 hp, right?
Tough spot for Bertholdt... He'll only take a 5-foot step then.
Bertholdt is brought to death's door by the powerful blow, and cannot do anything but stagger back behind his companions, barely standing.
Disabled, single move to the back of the melee.
"Cultists!" shouts Bertholdt, then adds, as he slides forward and takes a stab at the nearest: "Who is Baphomet!? Never heard of him, nor of this Ivory Labyrinth... You silly cultist have spent too much time in dark caves and started to invent your own gods? I serve the Righteous Iomedae and she speaks with cold steel!"
Charge and Wounded: 1d20 + 4 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 4 + 2 - 2 = 211d8 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Bertholdt had recently stiffened quite a bit, first as a result of his holy powers, drawn directly from his iron faith, are upstaged by a blind wizard with a potion, then as a result of his commander being herself upstaged by a smooth-talking risen-from-the-wounded wannabe.
As Arrika climbs down, he approaches Sabrina and whispers loudly in her ear: "You can't just let him boss you around... You're our commander. Make sure he remembers th- HEY! IS ARRIKA OK?!?" he shouts, suddenly aware something was going on.
He looks around and sees her: "Wait! You're here? What's going on?!"
Bertholdt (on his turn) will follow Elriel and attempt once more to revive him: "He's severely wounded!"
CLW: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Inheritor! What have I done to offend you!? he thinks to himself, a heavy frown forming on his forehead.
Bertholdt kicks the mongrel's body off Elriel's and bends at his side: "Iomedae, I have felt You guide my spear! Now, hear my call, stand witness to my companion's courage and allow him to live and stand by my side as we further Your cause!"
CLW: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Pah! I could channel, but not with so many dying mongrels around...
Bertholdt, furious at the offense to Elriel's dying body, stabs and stabs in anger.
Bless and Wounded: 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 1 - 2 = 221d8 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Bertholdt takes in the direness of their situation and shouts to the elven wizard: "Damn it Aravashnial! We need something! They're killing us!!" before stabbing at the archer "GET OFF MY FRIEND!!!"
Longspear, bless, wounded: 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 4 + 1 - 2 = 231d8 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Confirm: 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 4 + 1 - 2 = 162d8 + 8 ⇒ (1, 3) + 8 = 12 I rolled the extra damage in case. Is there a way for us to roll on the critical generator?
The spear flies true, perhaps guided by Her hand, and slips under the mongrel archer's armour.
Guys, don't forget the Bless spell :)
As Bertholdt tries to push Sabrina, he winces from the acute pain. Unable to do much, he chooses instead to ask Iomedae to heal his wounds: "Inheritor, tear those shackles of the flesh!"
Converting divine favor to clw: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
"GAAHASP!!" goes Bertholdt has Sabrina's touch revive him. His great eyes open wide and he says: "Oh Sabrina, I've failed you... Could you ever forgive m-Wait! THE BATTLES RAGES STILL??? WHY DID YOU WASTE TIME SAVING ME!?!" he shouts, trying to push off the paladin so he can get to his feet and get his spear.
If I can, this round, Bertholdt will get up and grab his weapon. If not, it will be for the next turn.
Apologies. I got used to looking at the list of who's up to quickly check if I needed to update, but missed that you now put them under spoiler. Sorry about that.
Bertholdt crumples in a ball as Arrika, trying to help him, places her hand right in his opened wound. "GnnnGH!" is all he manages before passing out.
Bertholdt ignores Elriel's question: "We have to cut them, leave them no time to prepare and meet us! TayaaaaaauuuuuuuuT!!!" he shouts, running after the fleeing sentinels.
Double move to bring them within spear AoO threat if they keep moving.
"Form up! Hold a line and move as one! The Inheritor guides your arm!" states Bertholdt with a staccato rhythm as he blesses his allies.
Cast Bless.
"Press on! Friends! Press on!" urges Bertholdt as he stabs with his spear through the opening.
Longspear with cover: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 - 4 = 81d8 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 Given the current positions, Bertholdt might not have cover against them. If so, he hits AC 12.
Cleric level 2
+5 hp
+1 BAB and good saves
+1 orison
+1 level 1 spell/day
+3 skills: diplomacy, perception, spellcraft
+2 background skills: perform (oratory), linguistics.
Bertholdt shuffles behind Elriel, his longspear hoping to find purchase in the flesh of Elriel's opponent, though the cover offered by the barricade and Elriel proves challenging.
Longspear with cover: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 - 4 = 131d8 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
"You mean your husb-" starts Berthodlt with a smile that quickly disolves as his gaze meets Sabrina's and understanding finally dawns on him.
"Erg- I think you guys should come along then! Right Sabrina?"
Bertholdt looks at Elriel, puzzled, then ignores him and looks to Sabrina for orders.
Hearing Sabrina accept, Bertholdt immediately repeats what his leader has said: "Yes, it is pretty straightforward, no? Elriel, I wouldn't worry so much. It makes perfect sense!"
Sorry to twist your words so Elriel ;P
He thinks for a moment, then adds: "And yet... And yet, we are not so numerous. What of An- Anvishn- What about our blind friend? And Anevia? Sure, if they're healed, then I guess we're fine, but if they're not... Can you spare a few warriors, Chief Sull?"
Bertholdt nods and bows and nods and bows, everytime the Cief Sull looks at them. His mind is far away, stuck on the thought that a place such as this can exist, right underneath the great city!
How can this be, he wonders, taking in the size of the settlement, then he thinks: If only they would join the fight...
He turns to Sabrina, looking intently at the back of her head. He will need to find a moment to speak with her.
Please note I'll be away from Friday to Wednesday, with little chances for posting. Bot me if needed.
During the walk, Bertholdt wonders at the comments about lost honours and wishes to pursue the conversation, but he prefers to wait and asks Sabrina in private.
As they reach the chasm, Bertholdt whistles softly: "That's a big one... Was there a rope in that bag we found? We barely see the bottom. Safest is to go down, then all up." He looks at the injured members of the party and winces.
"We need to get to the surface quickly! This is our goal, no?" asks Bertholdt, looking to Sabrina.
Bertholdt snaps to life at Arrika's command and leaving his lngspear within reach, gives the rock a heave.
Str: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
"It's- It's too big!"
Bertholdt frowns at Arrika, obviously wondering whether to stab or help them, and waits for her signal.
Bertholdt's shoulders sag as he learns there is no map, and sag even further when he is reminded of his duties as a priest. His back sore from crouching in caves and digging graves, he shrugs: "Of course we must! Let's gather rocks everyone and I'll say a few words. Quickly now!" he shouts, but his voice is weak, for he wonders what should take precedence in the face of a demonic incursion: decency or expediency. He knows the answer, but he knows he'll die once he reaches the surface...
Once more, he fails to find the right words, but nonetheless sends this Dwarf on his way to the Boneyard.
"Enough time wasted! Let's find the surface..."
"Ok, he's got stuff. Nice stuff. But who was he? What was he doing down here? OH! IS THERE A MAP?" he asks Arrika.
Bertholdt steps to the edge of the grease and shouts at the Dwarf: "How stupid are you?! We're on THE SAME SIDE!!!" he shouts, threatening the Dwarf with his spear, but seeing as some of his friends got harmed by the spell, he pushes his spear towards the Dwarf's exposed gut.
Longspear, miss chance: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 81d8 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 81d100 ⇒ 31
His spear only scoops up grease though.
"Leader!!! Gnh! Get OFF me!" shouts Bertholdt as he shuffles back and brings his separ to bear, then slams it into the strange creature.
Flanking: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 181d8 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
"Well, in that case, we should all be a little more careful with our words, no? Seems Horgus dishes out more than what he can take, if that's really why he set out... So perhaps we should let his sour words go without a retort? We need every man, yes?" offers Bertholdt with a somewhat damning tone.
"Makes sense I guess..." mumbles Bertholdt as he nods his agreement and prepares to head forth.
"We can't be very far, no?"
Please note I'll be away for Eastern from Thursday to Monday, with little if no posting possible. Feel free to bot me as needed.
"Isn't there a way to figure which way he went? Did he leave signs, clues?! If he went ahead, then yes, I agree we need to go on and hope to catch up with him."
Bertholdt pulls the spear, then pushes it back in, aiming for the creature's belly.
Longspear: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 121d8 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
"By the Inheritor! Don't you know your scripture? Though shall regroup when in a bottleneck! There's too many of them facing you two. Regroup in the church, where we can reverse the trap!" he shouts, and moves back in the temple, ready to stab at incoming rats.
Move and ready attack. Did we recuperate some hp from the night's sleep?
Bertholdt is about to speak wisely, say something insightful, but then he realizes.
His mouth shapes an O as he moves through the group, begging for their silence, then, when all is quiet, he asks softly: "Don't you hear that?"
By the way, I should mention. One of my sources of inspiration when describing Bertholdt (movement and speech) is Kramer, from Seinfeld ;)
Link
Alarmed and bolted, Bertholdt paces left and right, waving his arms in ecstatic bursts: "Horgus is gone! GONE! You think he was taken? I heard faint noises during my watch. Just faint, so I didn't raise the alarm, but now he's gone! I should have known. He was up to something... I should have known! Should I? Sabrina, what do you want us to do?!"
I'd be happy to help carry things if needed. We should make sure we know who has the alchemist fire and the cure potions.
I have the Resistance scale.
Also, should I scratch most of the stuff on Bertholdt's sheet.
"Splendid idea. I'll pray for water come morning then." replies Bertholdt, blushing a little at the attention.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
"Elriel, I'd like to have my turn with Horgus, if you don't mind. I'm surprised he didn't come to the burial, and would like to make sure he's at peace. The Inheritor is a rock on which anything can be built..." he offers.
As Bertholdt places the last stone on the pile, he jabs at the others, raising a small pendant, a circle surrounding a sword: "Ok, gather 'round! ... Right. I'll start now. IOMEDAE, receive this man, I mean this Dwarf, and guide his soul to Her- Wait. Where's Horgus? Reaaally? Well... Ok, never mind. AND GUIDE HIS SOUL to Her Boneyard, for he was a decent enough priest, who stood in the darkness and prayed, faithful to Torag until the very end, I mean, until he lost his mind completely and k- and aband-... AND THAT'S IT! May he finds his way and no longer haunt this earthly realm."
There's a pregnant pause, then Bertholdt raises his head, looking at the others: "I'm done. You can keep praying if you want, but you don't have to..."
And he walks off to see what Horgus is doing and glare at the man.
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