He says in awe, "Xantor... do you see it?! Its 'her' symbol!" Obviously stunned by something the rest don't see.
Search Posts
With Anevia on one side and the elf behind he keeps moving them. But stops at the door...
He coughs then answers Xantor, "Negative energy normally." Onyx slowly brings the others to the sight of the battle.
The medium sized scaled lizardfolk begins to head back to the others. After taking a few settling breaths he states, "I am out of healing."
Round 7 He charges forward through the lion and slams his leg into the final skeleton.
Round 6 He steps down and heals Preacher. "By the rights of Desna I heal thee."
Round 5 He does a heal check to see how wounded the lion appears to be.
Round 4 Onyx shifts and channels to heal the living.
He shrugs and states, "أنا آسف، هذه هي قناتي الأخيرة." Infernal: "I am sorry that is my last channel."
Round 3 With the holy symbol in hand he speaks, Hargrish Lefellskkra. Also he tries to touch the lion. The golden glowing spell may not go off if the lion refuses.
Infernal:
May you be healed.
Round 1 He states quickly to the back group, "I will be back I have to help Xantor!" Seeing him come forward the cloak pulls back and he grows. He grows to the size of a large man, maybe even a goliath!
Spellcraft DC 11:
Alter self. Some may notice the great horns upon his brow, that of a minotaur. Round 2 He moves again to get near Xantor and raises his holy symbol, a ..., then channels to harm the undead. The symbol seems to be a pile of twisted gold.
"Yes, there will be plenty of places to use darkvision but with two light sources we are fine. I can producing dancing lights if needed as well." He offers to help either of the afflicted.
He quickly adds his hands to help, knowing full well he would not have the strength needed for the coming testament.
He helps brace the leg and shifts the brace to the right spot. Then he ties his own rope to secure the leg to the brace/sheath. He whimpers, "I am so sorry for the pain..."
He slowly looks over her leg and assists Xantor with any adjustments needed for the makeshift brace. He even looks around for some crutch improvisations. Once confirmed he will channel once more to make sure all are healed. ---
He does not try to cover up, though his black cloak still covers most of him. His scaley almost talon like hands with the black scales, and his serpentine face. He looks rather sinister as he tries to remain in the shadows when aware of being observed.
He quickly comes over, and looks over the problem...
He freezes... "Oh no! Oh I am so sorry! Xantor I need you!" He walks away a few steps and whispers to his friend. Perception DC 15: "We need to set the leg... we will need to break it first before proper healing can be done. Can I rely on your strength?"
He whispers prayers and moves among the group silently, as he touches each of you, you hear a specific name. He would make a circle of it renewing the limited spell time frame if needed until combat takes place. Perception DC 15:
You can hear the whispered word to each of the others as well. Sylvara:
Iomedae Bengi:
Good Xantar:
Iomedae Guriok:
Irori Preacherelius:
Desna Captain Fergus: Cayden
As the terrible scene unfolded before him his eyes glazed over. He didn't move from his chair on his own. Among the rubble he channels healing most of you and any other living within 30 feet of him. As the group begins to move he asks in his raspy voice, "I think its time to move. Should I summon dancing lights?"
Preacher than directs a question at Onyx, "Onyx, would you enjoy talking arcane theories with someone from the Age of Legends?" He shakes his head indicating no. He tries to keep covered up after being placed in the chair and simply observes...
He timidly looks up at his friend, "Yesss, thank you my friend. You are cursed with me!" He laughs at the joke. Then seeing the spirits as he peeks out from the side, he quietly exclaims, "Huzzuah?!"
What was my campaign trait again... archmage?
The small figure pads along in the wake of his tall, muscular, armored companion, never quite stepping into the light. He moves like a living shadow, his black cloak drawn tight around him, the hood pulled low to swallow his features. Only when the fabric shifts does a hint of dark, scaled flesh glimmer beneath, catching the light for the briefest instant before vanishing again. Barely three feet tall, the creature’s stature is diminutive, his presence easy to overlook by anyone not paying close attention. Yet there is a coiled alertness in the way he moves, a quiet precision that speaks of instinct and caution. Lizardfolk, perhaps—though of a smaller, rarer kind—his nature remains as obscured as his form, trailing his companion in silence like a faithful, watchful echo.
Riftwarden Orphan (associated mythic path: Archmage): Its still open so I will likely take it! |