Argyri wrote: I think that us working together... I admit I didn't think about it at all (drunk etc). Let's see! Blacklock base speed = 50 ft, double dash for 150. Or 50 (150)
We have the same strength category, so solo we get reduced to: B: 20 (60)
Then together our strength is 21, putting us into the -10 category and we get: B: 40 (120)
So yes, although carrying it together would slow Blacklock down, it would be the exact same speed he could achieve solo.
"What's that, a sea storm?" the idiot asked, perhaps ignoring the obvious shrieks and moans of the sea monster on purpose. Glancing briefly at the strange, fallen undead, the kid noticed a dying light (one final ember) within Rummy's gem of light. Just briefly, it seemed the image of a small island was suspended within...verdant palm hillocks encircled by white sands, a rapid sunset casting the exotic destination in shadow. But with the obvious threat, he had to put the mystery of Rummy's magics behind, psyching himself up to grab the prize and escape. Grabbing box marked A.
Me again? Was it surprise? Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
MA: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Flurry: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
If its something you think Blacklock could tell, he would go for one that saved against blindness (which the gem allows at the end of their turn). Finally, moving out of melee to a maximum of 25 ft or whatever works with the space here.
Blacklock plopped down into the wastes, holding Rummy's strange stone high. It burst into a terrible radiance, like an electric charge bound on lodestone... 30 ft cone of 1 minute Blindness on a failed DC 15 Con save. Hoping to get all the ghouls. Then, ki point for patient defense and bonus action dodge...but not getting into melee.
Healing Potion: 2d4 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2) + 2 = 7
Blacklock took a second to yank the cork out of a bottle at his waist and drain the draught. "Bleh...what the hell? That didn't taste right..." A portion of his wounds closed, but many remained. Little did he know, the healing potion and Rummy's island juju were forming a violent reaction in the depths of his body's metabolic pathways. Rummy's mix collided head on with the divine gift distilled, and a normal man would've collapsed right there on the spot. Instead, the kid's fighter's spirit was amplified...every tiny spider bite igniting in a bright silver light like points of stars across his skin. His scream was startled at first but turned rapidly to ultimate relief "AAAH?ahhh." 2 ki spent, back to 27/27 hp
Con Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 takes 12 poison and 3 piercing Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Blacklock jabbed the thing in the throat with his crutch, then just angrily punched it in the head. Ki point for Patient Defense.
Blacklock was in bad shape, but would've been much worse off if not for Kwin's magics. Repeatedly the cleric had appealed to some divine destiny, cleansing the streetfighter's wounds with some unseen authority. "...we shoulda destroyed that thrice-cursed spider alter..." the kid regretted, myriad little red bumps dotting his face and neck. Fine with short rest.
Heh, turn of the tide. Always seems worse than it is I guess. That magic missile was clutch! Blacklock weaved his body to catch Argyri's blade, scraping off handfuls of spiders with its razor edge. He picked at the large one inside his belly-button hole, squashed a crispy pancake on his shoulderblade, and headbutted himself in the thigh as a stream of marching arachnids tickled a little too much... Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Sorry, was short on time earlier, wanted to add a little something... Later sages would credit this moment for the invention of the jackhammer. For the body of Blacklock bounced up and down so vigorously, attacking 100 spiders in rapid succession all with the pointy end of his pegleg attacking directly from above.
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Blacklock flopped around chaotically, punching himself in the face one more time for good measure as he somehow swatted a fraction of the things crawling over Argyri.
Con Save vs DC 11: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17 Blacklock, a tiny conga-line of spiders marching up his nostrils, grunted and turned to attack the swarm on Argyri... Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
...somehow punching himself in the face instead.
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Blacklock grasped his cloak at the neck, throwing it to the floor with his walking stick dramatically. The streetfighter's bare chest was cut with muscle and already wet with sweat. He stood secure on his good leg, lifting the peg slightly off the floor in a balanced stance. Fists up, he wiped the sweat from his nose before tumbling in to attack the spider in a blur of combo moves. First a surprise attack, the walking stick he had dropped was lifted up with with his foot, throwing it into the spider's face. It clanged off the exoskeleton but bounced back towards his hand. Before catching it though, the kid was already mid-air in a sweeping roundhouse kick...threatening to topple the spider down. and hopefully... Once down, the kid piledrived the thing right in its 8 eyes, squishing the arachnid into pureed bug juice before catching the stick behind his back...finally triple backflipping back up the stairs.
Blacklock tucked the charts and maps into his porno mag from the haunted house, thinking they might help track down Xendros later. "How did all these spiders get on board anyways, did they swim out here? Oh. Wait. That goddess, right..." rubbing the back of his head and clopping down after everyone.
Assuming he can get through the door and such... Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Martial Arts: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 +prone
Flurry: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Like a rising tide at dawn, the kid crashed into the ettercap nearly barreling the thing over before receding again back to sea.
Blacklock would not lay the lightest finger on a thing until Drusilla the Crab Lady's magical feather-dusters had done their work. Once cleansed, Blacklock took a sideways glance at the mathematical diagram, with not the slightest clue what the f*ck it was... Int: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7 "Oh yeah, this makes perfect sense." the genius analyzed. "Buy high, sell low...its the classic pair-of-dime with the balls to serve the next generation." the copy-cat regurgitated. |