Shadow-Maeve's page

Sense Motive 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Maeve is more interested in the environs than in those speaking; she looks around at the furniture with delight, letting her hand run along the smooth curves of the wood. Catching Rys's gesture, she sits in one of the chairs indicated. "Cad a dhéanann sé a rá?" she demands of Halla. "Mura bhfuil tú ag dul a aistriú go dtí mé, a shannadh ar an ceann leis na súile glas a dhéanamh. Déanfaidh mé air a insint dom nuair a fuair sé an deic na cártaí."

"'Faigheann,' b'fhéidir," Maeve agrees, "nó 'eagla.'"

"'Cad a tharla?'" she repeats with a half-smile, spreading her shadowy hands before her. "Tá a fhios agam ach go bhfuil mé ag troid mo bhealach ar ais ar an saol ó rugadh í." She nods to Halla. "Chomaoin mé go puinte fiach buíochais. Sea, is féidir linn a taisteal ar, ní féidir linn, leanbh?"

She smiles and returns the gesture. "Mar sin, a dhéanann tú."

She smirks back. "Go mbeannaí Desna duit freisin, gariníon. Baineann sé le bheith chomh fada ó bhí sé ábhartha. Tá bean a cheadaítear le áibhéil beag." She runs shadowy fingers tentatively over her face.

Fort 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 211d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

The other woman seems barely to note the beetles swarming over her, though she winces at their bite.

She wants to lead the mule and its rider toward the exit. Don't know if she can double-move or needs an action to control the mule.

She looks down at her hands spread out before her as if surprised to remember she has them. "Bhí a b'fhéidir. Gan go bhfuil ceann," she replies, jerking her head toward Kló, and doing her best to move the unresponsive Halla.

CMB to Reposition? 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

Any chance she can Reposition Halla onto the mule's back? If not, she'll just move her 5 feet toward the exit.

The newcomer looks between Halla and Kló. "Beidh ceachtar acu freagra a thabhairt. Ar mhaith leat iad a fhágáil?" she challenges Cai.

Fort 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

The newcomer turns to Halla beside her and seizes her unresponding arm. "Halla! Ní mór duit dul!"

The shadow resolves into a roughly humanoid shape, swallowed in a billowy cloak so the details are hard to make out. As a matter of fact, the whole figure is a little vague, the dark hair blurring into the hood of the cloak, which itself seems to melt into the patches of fog at the margins. It stumbles up against a tombstone and stares down at Halla with a woman's careworn face. "Cad atá déanta agat di?" it angrily demands.