Kaellan Davorim's page

Surprise flickers across Kaellan's face as Balin's blade slices through his sister's protective enchantment and the better part of his torso. He didn't recall the knight as being quite so formidable a combatant the last time they faced. Nonetheless, as the infernal energy Triss summons washes over him stitching together the worst of the mess that had been made of his shoulder, the devilbound man presses the attack. "Mitra will not find you down here. No one will," he taunts, coming around to the knight's flank before lashing out at his vulnerable parts with claw and maw.

Guidance (1st attack), Power Attack
Claw: 1d20 + 5 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 1 - 1 = 25
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 2 = 7
Claw: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (4) + 5 - 1 = 8
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 2 = 8
Bite: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (7) + 5 - 1 = 11
Damage: 1d6 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 2 = 7

Claw (Crit Confirm): 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (19) + 5 - 1 = 23
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 3 + 2 = 9

Kaellan finds himself instinctually stepping forward as the knight looks poised to lay a hand on Senara, hellish red eyes glaring daggers at Sir Balin. Despite being the cause of his sister and their companions' deceitful plan unravelling, Kaellan can't bring himself to feel bad about it. For too long he had been kept apart from Senara, both of them forced to endure such indignities without one another—she while en route to and within the walls of Branderscar and he while banished to the nearest reaches of Hell—thanks to the man before him. He had promised Senara that fateful night that they would have their revenge on those who would try to keep them apart. Little did he know he would be able to begin fulfilling that promise so soon. "On the contrary, you would be surprised to learn how much is possible when you abandon your false gods and turn to Asmodeus," Kaellan answers in a dark, silky tone as he comes to stand between the knight and Senara.

"It isn't too late to learn. Renounce your faith. Forsake Mitra as he has clearly forsaken you and pledge your life to the service of The First. Refuse and learn the hard way what rewards await those who blindly follow The Shining Lord... when nothing but darkness greets you in the next life," he promises.

Kaellan acknowledges Ileosa's advice with an assenting grunt before turning back to the reanimated corpse trying to stand up. Taking advantage of its prone state, Kaellan slashes at draugr's throat, trying to end this fight before it can find its feet.

Combat Advice, Inspire Courage, Power Attack
AoO: 1d20 + 5 + 2 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 5 + 2 + 1 - 1 = 23
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 10

Kaellan's features pull back into a disgusted sneer at the rancid smell coming off of the grasping hand that reaches out from the coffin. Stepping around to line up perpendicular to the arm, Kaellan raises his own arms up before bringing his wicked claws to bear on the bloated appendage, trying to sever the foul limb at the joint. Despite his eagerness to return the draugrs to their eternal rest before they can threaten Senara, the devilish man keeps his teeth well away from the rotten flesh, unwilling to risk poisoning himself with their vile offal.

Inspire Courage, Power Attack
Claw: 1d20 + 5 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (8) + 5 + 1 - 1 = 13
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 8
Claw: 1d20 + 5 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (13) + 5 + 1 - 1 = 18
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 10

A look of mild surprise crosses Kaellan's face at his sister's confession. Throughout all of their years of living in Eaglesport, all the walks they had taken along the shore, he had never known Senara so disliked the saltwater smell in the air. Though perhaps such surprise is unwarranted, as he is coming to realize his sister is not the woman he thought she was. A faint smile touches his lips as he refocuses on the immediate threat trying to break their way free of their confinement. Moving into the room, Kaellan quickly maneuvers around the waterlogged corpses cut down by his allies and those quiet coffins to stand before the southernmost coffin splintering under the force of its undead occupant's blood.

Double move.

Kaellan's arrogant sneer fades as the mist moves to slip around him in favor of pursuing Senara. The elder Davorim had always felt it was his duty to protect his younger sister and it is a sentiment that only grew more intense after losing his life and subsequently being brought back from death by Senara. Panic grips his heart like a vise as he watches the mist surge forth to attack her and he reaches out with blood-slick claws to try to rip into the creature and force it to focus on him.

Power Attack
AOO (Claw): 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 5 - 1 = 13
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 2 = 7

The pained gasp the mist's attack on Senara elicits awakens an almost mindless fury in Kaellan the likes of which he had never before known. Again and again he swipes madly at the barely there entity, bringing even his horrifically sharp teeth to bear against the mist in an effort to gouge and rend and tear until its bloody form is all but dissipated.

Bite: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 5 - 1 = 19
Damage: 1d6 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 2 = 8
Claw: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (17) + 5 - 1 = 21
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 2 = 7
Claw: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (2) + 5 - 1 = 6
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 2 = 7

Kaellan's gleaming red eyes widen at the strange mist that rises up from the floor to attack one of his sister's allies—and by extension his own, he supposes. The devilbound man quickly moves to place himself between Senara and the apparently vampiric mist and nearly takes a crossbow bolt to the shoulder courtesy of the former. He gives a short bark of laughter as the quarrel shatters the arcane orb, the rich sound half surprised and half exultant. He is as impressed at his sister's aim as he is curious to know when she learned how to fire a crossbow, but it was a topic best tabled for later in the face of more pressing concerns. Mindful of the oil that now slicked the floor, Kaellan steps toward the entrance, standing shoulder to shoulder with Godfrey. Keeping his smouldering gaze trained on the ground for any hint of movement, Kaellan's lip curls up in amusement at Sila's comment, the smile he gives the man just a touch haughty. A familial trait, perhaps. "If you're going to dress like a soldier, you need to think like one as well," he japes, something of the former military man he used to be coming out. "Adaptability is the greatest indicator of a fighter's mettle. Think of it as broadening your horizons." Kaellan flexes his onyx claws in seemingly eager anticipation of learning whether or not blood can be drawn from mist.