Thank you for letting us know Hmm, and thanks Rob for taking care of sheets. I’ll update contact info when I’m back at my computer this evening.
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Gregoth holds the broken piece of wood ready as he follows Andagard.
Gregoth jerks back from a zombie’s arm less on purpose than by accident and continues swinging the broken wood around him in a wide, blazing arc.
The howling storm of undead are met with wild blows and burning tears as Gregoth batters his way through.
Gregoth can't move fast enough to avoid the zombie's retaliation.
Dang, I was hoping the Nat 20 would crit. Sad face.
With each step forward, Gregoth's eyes glow brighter and brighter. Tears sizzle on stone, burning brightly for the entirety of their brief lives. Arms jerk, wood swings.
"Left again?" Gregoth's pale face seems to waver in the flickering torchlight.
I’m fine either way (leaving now feels like a decent narrative arc), but I’m not certain what the hook for staying is. Maybe to find the source of the undead and remove it? Not certain how to do that at this point.
"Then we leave." Gregoth stands stoically, ignoring the grey pallor radiating from beneath one of Ernie's bandages.
That is a fail, should you want to reroll that. I don't believe I have any hero points at this time (original one used here), and unfortunately I don't have any other abilities that would let me reroll the check. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Gregoth drops the broken wood and pulls out a bandage - stained in his own blood - to tie around his fallen companion.
Gregoth follows his companions to the other stairwell and swings blindly. His face is haggard, worn, tired.
Gregoth pulls himself back to his feet. Pulls the broken wood from the floor. Pulls his arms above his head, ignoring the pain in his arms and side and legs and chest.
You can also use an action to feed a potion to an adjacent creature, saving them the action to do so themselves.
Awesome - thanks for the explanation! Also, don’t forget about the +1 status bonus to attack rolls and damage @GM! The club also has Backswing to give the next attack after a miss a +1 circumstance bonus to attack rolls. Don’t want you to sell yourself short here. XD
I’m not familiar with troops - do their “attacks” damage all enemies, or all creatures within the area? Looks like we’re going to need all the help we can get… XD
Gregoth collapses under the undead onslaught. Then, an arm breaks through the horde. A broken club smashes open a gap in the crowd. Inside, Gregoth somehow still stands - but his face is a no longer streaked with glowing tears, instead twisted into an unnatural snarl.
The pain of so many arms and hands and snarling mouths doesn’t seem to wound Gregoth greatly, but something about them still causes the tall man to flinch back. Brilliant tears leak from the corners of his eyes, and he howls as the club in his hand swings carelessly through the crowd.
Take the time you need, GM.
Gregoth motions for Ernie to join the rest of the group in the western room, then grips the broken wood with both hands.
Gregoth heads back downstairs to salvage more supplies, stopping for a break only when Andagard pulls him aside for short prayers.
I know that Ernie’s got Medicine feats and such, but he’s also one of our best crafters and we need both fortifications and people in good enough health to man them. Gregoth doesn’t have anything like lay on hands for easy healing, but perhaps he could Treat Wounds on other folks (making four checks in the first hour, then repeating when the immunity has worn off) without impacting the ability of the folks he’s healing to make repairs with un-increased DCs?
Andagard cannot help Ernie from his position.
The screams of the dying ring in Gregoth’s ears. Their spirits cling to him, cry out through him, rage within him. His legs jerkily pull him further into the room, arms flail with careless abandon, eyes weep tears of brilliant fire.
Gregoth steps into the doorway and lets the weight of the broken wood in his hand come crashing down on the zombie on the other side.
Gregoth’s tear-streaked face turns to the towering corpse behind him. His shoulders follow; then the arms; then the makeshift burning club.
Gregoth’s arms jerk the broken wood back and forth, not seeming to notice the pain radiating from his leg.
Gregoth can’t hold himself back as the smell of death washes over him again. Burning tears escape from his eyes, stream down his face and arms. Each swing of the broken piece of wood makes the flames clinging to it flicker, but never completely go out.
Gregoth’s hands tighten around the broken wood he has carried with him since the last time he faced such a horde. Slowly his eyes begin to burn, drops of burning tears pooling in their corners , just waiting for the dam to burst.
Gregoth grits his teeth and gets back to work. Slowly, steadily, he feels around in the dark for sturdy wood or flattened metal.
Gregoth tries to find more supplies downstairs, but without a way to see in the dark he ends up fumbling around uselessly.
As the light fades from his eyes, Gregoth’s shoulders slump and his head hangs low. Slowly he turns to the open stairwells, then to the bedroom. Grey eyes sweep back and forth, looking for anything that could be used to plug the gaps.
Gregoth follows Andaran into the last room, makeshift club swinging in a wide, unsteady arc.
Gregoth is lost in a howling storm of fire and darkness and pain. His arms twitch and jerk, sending the broken wood clutched in his hands flying back and forth.
Gregoth’s legs jerk him into the fray. Brilliant tears begin to trickle down his face, sizzling like tiny fires as they weave through his beard and fall to the ground. The broken wood likewise burns with white light, leaving a faint afterimage as his arms swing it through the air.
Gregoth gets to work on the last unsealed window, pulling another bookshelf away from the wall and turning it into a makeshift barricade.
“The house is wood,” Gregoth grunts as he nails down pieces of bookcase. “And smoke will rise straight into here - could kill us faster than the dead if we set that off without sealing it.”
Gregoth gets to work on the other staircase, pulling down one of the bookcases nearby and using it as a baseboard for the furniture pieces Ernie has already found.
The staircase he's currently next to, which is the main one I believe? And then do I understand correctly that Gregoth's used two hours at this point (one to gather materials and one to do repairs)?
Gregoth heads to one of the beds and pushes the straw and blankets off. He flips it over, then knocks the legs off one by one until he has just a large board. He drags it over to the stairwell, then heads back for another. Once he has several, he starts piling them on top of each other and lashes them together with the blankets.
Gregoth shrugs. “But what were they trying to burn? Themselves? The building?”
"You ever seen an undead teddy bear before?" Gregoth asks, voice a low rumble as he pulls himself into the house. "They need flesh to be undead, and he's got none. He also hasn't eaten us yet, and he's had plenty of chances to do so."
Gregoth breathes shallowly as the group presses onward, grey eyes clouded with pain from the many bruises covering his limbs. He doesn't even notice the clatter and shadow until Andagard's call startles him. White fingers grip broken wood, but he stays with Zeldana rather than chase after the holy warrior.
Gregoth gives no sign of noticing the sting of Ernie’s blade. Inside his head though, thoughts whirl and scream like bits of paper caught in a never-ending explosion. He feels the heat again, tight skin ready to burst like a sausage in the pan, cobblestones and mortarstones and wooden shingles battering him, burying him, sniffing him out like a tiny candle next to a bonfire…
Brilliant tears continue to trickle down Gregoth’s face as he swings the broken piece of wood again and again.
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