Slidell Storm-Raven's page

Slidell grins at the halfling woman, and shakes the outstretched hand enthusiastically.

"Hello Fiosa! I wouldn't worry too much about the complaints. It's just been a long day. Night. Whatever it is now? I think we're just happy being alive and able to b!tch about something!" He waggles his prodigious eyebrows as he pops another bite of cheese into his mouth. Or was that a mushy vegetable? Oh well, he's really too tired to care. Not that it showed as he enthusiastically engaged the smaller chatterbox in conversation.

"Brawling? Erm,... No. Not my specialty." He confesses ruefully, looking at his scrawny arm in the over-sized borrowed sleeve, then glancing at Odhran's massive biceps. "But don't let that fool you! In mental acrobatics, I am unequaled! Sometimes I can't even keep up with myself." He puffs out his chest.

"Magic preserving food? Sure. I'm certain that there's a simple enough charm that could be used to preserve food. Not indefinitely of course,... Hm it should be fairly easy,... All you needs is,..."
At this point Slidell pulls out a scrap of parchment from a pocket (overfilled with items salvaged from his dirty clothing) and continues muttering as he begins scribbling on it with a nub of charcoal stick. After a minute he looks up to see Fiona looking at him quizzically.

"Oh, Right! Sorry, Where were we? Oh Right! Why you're here! I can imagine that you have quite a stake in all this, seeing the poor taken care of and all. Being a servant isn't the best paying job in the city. And that's saying something. How did I know? That's easy. And no I didn't use magic. Although that WOULD be a great spell! I simply noticed that your tired, yet seem enthusiastic to be here. Your hands are not soft, so you work, but not the heavy callouses of hard labor. Your over-familiar with the inner workings of rich persons houses, and how much wasted food they generate, yet your obviously not a thief, too open and sharing. Oh, and I may have overheard someone saying they thought you skipped too many weapons lessons to learn about Iomedea. Add it all up, apply judicious logic, and voila!" He grins, and pops another bite of food into his mouth.

"MY reason for being here? They tickled my curiosity. I love a good mystery. And I love solving them even more. I mean,... Curfews? Mysterious disappearances? Shadowbeasts? Where are THEY from huh? What's not too love?!?!" He asks loudly, throwing his arms in the air in excitement.

As they enter the abandoned temple proper, the raven gives a derisive sniff and wings itself to the darkened rafters above, vanishing into the shadows.

"Yeah? See how good YOU smell after trekking through sludge for powers knows how long,... then there's the acid-mites, and goblins, and,..." Slidell murmurs off, caught up in the mental review of their sewer encounters.

The wizard gratefully takes advantage of the available facilities, (although he concentrates until sweat runs down his face trying to magically heat enough water for it to be merely cool, and not freezing.) depositing his clothes to be cleaned (After emptying the pockets of anything useful) and emerging with a borrowed robe and halo of frizzy hair wrapped about him.

He appears to be fully focused and alert once more. And gives each of the members of the group a keen eye as Janiven introduces them. He swiftly identifies the obvious employment of most, (correctly identifying the bartender, stableman, servant, scribe and acolyte,) and then making educated guesses about the rest. (right or wrong)

As the 'meeting' degenerates into general chatter and generally friendly arguments, Slidell focuses on what is said, and who is talking to whom. He wanders past Janiven and Odhran, patting the burly man on the arm. Pausing to look again at the lack of movement from said arm when patted. Slowly pokes Odhran's bicep to verify its unyeildingness, starts to say something, looks at his own scrawny bicep hidden beneath the oversized borrowed robe, sadly decides that silence is the wisest choice, and continues on.

He joins Araxus at the table.

He heads over to the food and picks disdainfully at the cheese. "What's that they say? Hunger is the best seasoning? Let us hope that is true." He looks up to see if that got any reaction from a bystander, one way or the other.

Slidell picks up a piece of cheese and pops it into his mouth.

"I try not to think about where it's been. Then my mind gets rolling, and I figure out where it going,... and I think we've all seen enough of THAT for one day." He says cheerfully. With a polite nod Slidell wanders over to the closest group of 'Children of Westcrown' and introduces himself.

"Hello! Slidell, Arcanist and part-time troubleshooter. And you are,...?"

Slidell, tired, weary, battered and smelly, gratefully climbs out of the sewers. While he easily keeps up with the furtive movements of the others, he seems unrushed, almost relaxed now that they have escaped the subterranean environs.

He allows himself to be ushered towards the (hopeful) safety of the nearby building with the others. Idly taking note of the location by comparing it to the maps in his head. It is almost his turn to enter the barely opened door when he jumps for no apparent reason.

Slidell frantically looks left, right, then up. Just in time to catch a face full of rapidly descending black feathers.

"Wha,?!? ACK! Ohfortheluvuv,... POWERS DA##IT VERAN!" Slidell sputters, finally managing to get a grip on his black-feathered familiar.

Holding the Raven at arms length, Slidell fixes the bird with a baleful glare.

"Darnit Veran! Your supposed to WARN a guy about an attack! Not CAUSE the heart attack!"

Slidell spits out a single black feather. Veran opens his beak and drops the tuft of Slidell's hair he had plucked.

"Yeah yeah I missed you too. Now get inside before some Heck-Knight decides to mount you on his mantle." Slidell huffs, obviously unable to stay angry at the bird. He places the bird on his shoulder, but a sharp-eyed observer notices Slidell catch the tuft of hair before it hits the ground. The wizard enters the doorway, doffing his hat with a smile to Janiven, despite her own baleful glare at the ruckus.

As the others enter and Janiven shuts and bars the doorway behind them, Slidell mutters sotto voice to the bird now sitting calmly on his shoulder as if nothing had happened.

"Remind me to have a long talk to you about following orders. Last I checked, this wasn't home."

"Oh it is PAST time." Slidell grumbles agreement as he not-so-subtly prods his companions with his cane,...

;P

Slidell nods in agreement with Damien.

"Manners are all well and good. But there are times when brevity is the soul of politeness. Annnnd I'm thinking this qualifies. Shall We?" He smiles and makes shooing motions to encourage the others to follow the direction of Damien's outstretched hand.

"And really, My magic is quite effective. But sometimes spells just cannot replace a good old fashioned BATH!" He Sniffs as he passes the remains of the re-un-dead-ed.

Slidell uses his almost constant-on Prestidigitation charm to clean the worst of the muck from his companions' wounds, trying to prevent infection.

"Oh dear. I made a clean spot." He observes, looking at the nearly spotless areas on his companions' otherwise muck-covered clothes.

"That'll have to do for now. Unless you want me to clean the rest, while we wait and see if Sammy the Skelly had any MORE friends down there?" He asks slyly.

Hey I'm back! Mostly. ;P

Yeah, I think your right, One Infernal Healing Scroll on Araxus!

"Oh, fudgeaboutit!" Slidell grumbles. And pulsl out a scroll case, carefully removing the valuable scroll from it's case, he looks at each of the injured, trying to determine which one is closer to death.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

"I've only got the one scroll,..." He mutters as if apologizing to the unconscious forms before him.

Will use my scroll of Infernal Healing on the one closest to death. (IE= Non-stabilized and bleeding out) That should stabilize and maybe even bring that one up to positives. Hopefully we still have time to save the others! Does anyone (conscious) actually have points in HEAL?

"YES!" Slidell cries into the sudden silence, raising his (worthless) cane in triumph.

"NO!" he cries moment later, realizing there are THREE of his would-be companions lying on the filthy floor. The wizard drops to his knees to assist the nearest one, heedless of the muck he kneels in, giving the battle cry of the adventurer as he does so,...

"CLERIC!"

Heal check: 1d20 ⇒ 8

Um,... I think I'm doing more harm than good, Can I get another Heal or Aid Another over here? :)

Miss! Miss! (My BASE AC is 12, Thank goodness. All we need is yet ANOTHER bleeding adventurer in here.) :)

Slidell leans left, then he lens right. He glances at himself, as if surprised to find a lack of bleeding slashes on his torso.

"Huh. I always knew that Tengu technique would come in handy one day." He says happily, then looks back up to see the skeleton still standing there, drawing back for another swipe.

"AAH! I mean, Ah-HAH!"

Club att: 1d20 ⇒ 61d6 ⇒ 4

Slidell flails with his club, his panicked swings coming nowhere near hitting the thing.

"I really should have practiced those Shoanti attack styles as well,..." The mage mutters as he braces for the inevitable,...

OK, good dice rolls gone. Again. ;P

"What did you think of THAT one Araxus? Araxus?? Oh, right. Bother!" Slidell mutters, pulling back his cane once more.

"Excuse me, Bernie? I do believe that your making my friend uncomfortable. I'm going to have to ask you to BACK OFF!"

Hand of Apprentice/Cane: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 131d6 ⇒ 2

? I don't get it. Isn't THIS the Gameplay tab?

"No no Amadeo, like THIS!" Slidell cries encouragingly, once more tossing his heavy cane with a mystic word,...

Hand of Apprentice/Cane(Club): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 211d6 ⇒ 5

"YES!" Slidell cried in triumph, raising his left fist into the air and pumping his elbow into his side. His right hand reaches up and effortlessly catches the magically returning cane.

"And THAT sir, is how you do it!" he says with an infectious grin.

Slidell recoils in a combination of fear and revulsion as the slimy skellies press their attack. Then he returns the favor, using his magic to cause his cane to fly at it's target, and return to his hand.

Hand of the Apprentice/Club Att: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 51d6 ⇒ 1

Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me?!? I thought that only REAL dice could hate someone so much! :P

Waist deep on a medium creature... yeah.

Oh. Oh dear. I didn't realize that it was THAT deep. :( So very, very sorry Camris.

Well,... This group of Skellies are certainly evil SMELLING! :)

Smite evil! SMITE EVIL! :)

Well, I was going to say that the noble Camris would run to the aid of the fallen, BUT there are 3 skellies RIGHT next to him! So he'll attack the one at B/+3. (If he doesn't actuallt show up to make his own post!) :)

With a battle cry that much larger than he looks capable of, the brave Camris steps forward to engage the nearest filthy foe,...

Longsword att! 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 191d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

"Mysterio? Stop fooling around." Slidell admonishes the prone dandy.

"Oh, bother. That's not good." Slidell notes solemnly as he notices the amount of blood pouring from the man's leg.

No worries, ONE of us will get to you! :)

"Um,... THAT was a warning shot! Next time I won't miss!" Slidell declares.

"Oh, yeah,..." He mutters afterwords. "Skeletons. MINDLESS undead. bluffing and warnings likely won't work. Just like on a normal guard,..."

"Ack! I've heard of skeletons in the closet before, but never skeletons in the chamberpots. THAT'S a new one!" Slidell adds to the general commentary as he foppishly flips his heavy cane towards a skeleton. A muttered word and the lazy arc becomes the straight line of a missile. A moment later the cane flies back to his outstretched hand.

Hand of the Apprentice/Cane(club) on Skelly B/-3

Att/Dmg 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 61d6 ⇒ 3

Even magic cannot easily counter the terror of facing an undead rising from the sewage, and Slidell's missile makes a beautiful circle around the skeleton before returning to his grip.

Map! Does this look OK?

Works for the squishy,... I mean the Wizard. :)

Sorry, Been,... BUSY,... ;P

Per: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

SLidell peers about, but seems preoccupied with not tripping over his companions, or stepping in something worse than he has already stepped in, to be his usual perceptive self.

He does notice, and avoids, the floating piece of,... ???,... that bears an amazing resemblance to a Flumph.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

EDIT- Wow. Just,... Wow. Didn't even know that was possible.
;P

"I'm not sure. Is where the Hellknights were headed also where we need to go?"

Slidell looks around, blissfully unaware of much at the moment, with an odd sort of pleasant, slightly stoned look on his face.

"Hm. Maybe, depends on if they were headed out or in." Slidell says bemusedly.

Slidell looks at Damien, then back to the voice.

"Leaving is good. Leaving we can do." Slidell agrees amiably.

"I'll let 'Mysterio' handle the goblin negotiations from now on though. The last one didn't go quite the way I had planned." He sniffs slightly.

Slidell bows, somehow managing not to tangle his gangly limbs in his enormous overcloak.

"Thank you for your time Master Seer. Don't bother with the door on our account, We'll let ourselves out." He says cheerfully, prodding Araxus towards the door.

Slidell freezes, raising his head slowly to look at Damien as if in horror.

Then he turns to give a cynical look to Araxus.

"Really? Gustavo Plina and the chicken bone? THAT's your idea of news? I would have thought that some misguided fans attempt to drop a chandelier upon an aging Diva would have ranked slightly higher on the list?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course, I may be slightly biased, since it was yours truly who managed to cast a modified Featherfall and allow the chandelier to settle slowly, instead of crushing everyone center stage." He admits with a smirk.

"However, I believe that Master Damien has the right of it. (Although I might have phrased it a mite more, politely,) He coughs slightly, then continues.

"We are, indeed, the NEWest bit of news to come forth from the city above. We have only just recently come from a meeting where we agreed to make a more,... coordinated, attempt to rid the city of the nightbeasts and make the streets safer. A meeting that was interrupted almost as soon as it began. I find that curious, don't you?" Slidell asks, Turning his head to his companions at the last question, as if the thought had just occurred to him. (Or he just recalled it)

Slidell tilts his head thoughtfully.

'If some,...thing,... that says it has the SIGHT tells you that you will need it again one day. You should probably listen.' The mage tells himself soberly.

"Well, I'm afraid that we don't have thousands of gold coins with us. At the moment." Slidell admits.

"Although now we certainly know to come better prepared the next time we meet! Right guys?"

"But your offer sounds more than fair. After all you DID help us with our little 'unwanted admirer' problem. A bit of new knowledge is a perfectly respectable asking price for pest control. One moment, please,..."

Slidell rubs his temples briskly, as if massaging his thoughts into a coherent whole. His brain is so full of facts that finding ONE 'new' thing about the city should be child's play. Unfortunately, his brain is SO full of facts, rumors and theories that sorting out one interesting 'new thing' is, problematic.

"This will just take a moment,..."

"Ummm,... Ah,..." Slidell says sagely, his mind turning furiously.

K: Local: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

"Rumors? Oh rumors! Yes, of course!" Slidell says confidently. (Obviously having NO clue what the creature is referring to.)

"Well, I for one AM a seeker of knowledge Master Seer. And would gladly trade you my meager coins for whatever pearls of wisdom you would deign to share. But, truth be told, the only thing we were seeking was the exit. I'm afraid that we stumbled across your most benevolent self purely by accident." Slidell confesses apologetically and most humbly.

Then the wizard's eyes light up.
"Ah, perhaps it was not chance that brought us here after all? I rarely give 'chance' credit for anything after all. Perhaps,... well,... 'Destiny' might be a bit much. How about 'Fate'? Yes, I can work with that." The wizard starts murmuring and rubbing his chin, on the verge of forgetting that he is actually in the middle of a conversation.

"Yes! That's it. Fate brought us to your door! We WERE 'searching' for something after all, and we found you. Destiny precludes the ability of choice, Fate involves BEING involved, making the choice to go and do something, yes, That's it!" Slidell grins cheerfully.

"Thus, having made the choices that brought us along this path, we have found ourselves at your door. And, I might add, are most appreciative of the timely assistance." He bows in the last direction the voice was heard from.

Slidell looks into the room with obvious curiosity.
And obvious caution.
It looks like his caution is at war with his curiosity.

In the end, the outcome is inevitable.

"Step into my parlor,..." He whispers merrily as he steps eagerly inside.

Once the door closes and Damien douses his magical lights, Slidell conjures a light of his own, but it is tiny and dim, a mere candle glow compared to the multiple burning torches of Damien's spell.

The wizard turns his back to the door, his body shielding any chance of the dim candle-glow giving them away to their pursuers.

While he waits in the near-deathly silence, Slidell takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then inspects the room himself, trying to figure out who, or what, their mysterious benefactor is.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

K:Arcana: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9

K:Dungeoneering: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Slidell puts together the clues, and decides 2+2 = 22 ??? ;P

"That MR cheeky to you." Slidell mumbles with a sniff.

"Try the door. See if it is locked. Erm, yeah, maybe NOT you, Araxus." Slidell agrees with his fellow mage in a whisper.

"If it is locked, we should not waste time with it. Just clean the dust off the handle, and let those behind us waste time busting the thing open." He suggests with a smug smirk.

Methinks perhaps we need to declare an Aid Another,... or three? ;P

"Damien, would you be so kind as to bring your lights over here a bit closer? Ah, yes, thank you,..."

If Damien is the Aid Another, that makes Slidell's a 13 now,... still ;P

Perception, because Slidell thinks he can,... ;P

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

How perfectly,... Average, of him,... :(

Slidell holds aloft a finger, where a small blue-tinged light the brightness of a candle, a dim candle, glows cheerfully. He peers around the intersection, looking confused, as if expecting a road sign and finding a literal fork (eating utensil) in the road.

"Yes yes. Certainly more than enough accidental ignorance going around. No need to go looking for boogie-men to blame things on." Slidell Agreed.

"On the other hand, There also seems to be no shortage of intentional idiocy either. Best keep your eyes open. Just in case." he adds cheerfully.

Holding up his small candle-bright ball of light, he peers through the dank dimness towards the glimmer of Damien's dancing spheres of lights.

"Finally! I was beginning to believe that we HAD been sent on a wild sewer-rat chase! So,... thataway then?" He asks, pointing his heavy cane towards the tunnel the mark indicated.

"Odhran! Of course you are. Who else would you be? So glad you could join us! So Sorry to rush, but we ARE on a schedule. If you would be so kind as to stay in line, the tour is THIS way!" Slidell gestures grandly out the door and indicating the general area where Damien is standing.

I believe that is correct, Damien. Slidell is holding the unidentified scroll and stone (unless Araxus wants to hold them?) Araxus and Sli each have a wand, you have the dagger, we can divvy the coins evenly. Slidell doesn't really want to lug old moldy leather armor around, but we can if the rest want to sell it for a few coins?

"I told you. They cater to ALL sorts down here!" Slidell murmurs to Araxus, in a stage whisper that clearly carries down the hall to the newcomer.

"I am called Stormraven, your host and guide for your understreet adventure this evening. Ah! I see that you already availed yourself of our famous 'mud' baths! Invigorating, aren't they? If you will allow me?" The mage says, waggling his fingers with a raised eyebrow.

Unless the newcomer strenuously objects, (And possibly even then), Slidell manifests another use of his ever-constant 'all-purpose' spell, cleaning the worst of the muck and slime from the newcomers hair and clothes. The mage adds a puff of scent of roses at the end. Because. Mage. And he's really not fond of the sewer smell.

While he magically cleans the newcomer, he also gives him the 'once over', to determine what he can about him.

Per: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

Slidell is obviously suddenly FAR more concerned about the state of the man's clothes and hair than he is about the newcomers potential for mayhem.

"You know, with a little time, I could work WONDERS with you! Those broad shoulders,... I'm seeing snakeskin! Nothing but snakeskin!" Slildell chatters on, his voice suddenly higher pitched, and more,... effeminate.

Continuing from above:

As Damien bravely advances towards the sounds of imminent destruction,... sorry,... 'curious noises from unknown person or persons', Slidell hands one of the wands to Araxus Grease and slips the other wand into a pocket. Hold Portal wand

Slidell also slips the battered magical gem and tattered scroll into another pocket of his copious coat. For safekeeping.

"Until we get out of here and can examine these in better light." He offers with a grin. Then he turns his attention back to the sewer corridor, where he listens for Damien,...

"Hm. Armored, probably armed, and likely dangerous." Slidell says, counting the amount of metallic clanging noises he just heard.

"Very dangerous. YOU go first!" he says to Damien with a grin.

"Nice folks. We should ask them to tea."

"Another time, perhaps." Slidell demurs, seeing the reaction of his companions to the idea.

"Perhaps, if these fine fellows are leaving, we should follow them? Possibly the quickest way out. Or we continue to look for the marks, and hope we find them before another swarm of killer cockroaches finds us!"

Slidell nods in agreement.

"I hear voices, but can't, quite, make out what they are saying. I surmise that at least we are not facing acid-devouring cockroaches again."

Slidell tilts his head.

"Unless they've developed language?" He smiles with a scholar's peaked interest.

Slidell pulls his head back in the door, and turns to look at Damien.

"My. The sewers are certainly popular this time of year! If I had known, I would have made reservations." He Whispers to Damien, barely loud enough to be heard a foot away.

And peeks,...

And when THAT joke has run it's course,... :)

Slidell bows back at the dapper dandy, and peeks out into the sewer hallway,...

Per:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

"Oh nononono. After YOU my good man! I insist!" Slidell insists in a cheerful, almost high-pitched, voice.

:)

I think Araxus and I should each take a wand since we've ID'd them. (I'll let him pick which one he wants to carry, I'll take the other) And keep the rest of the magical items (Gem & scroll?) in a pack til we figure out what they are. All the rest is up for grabs or carried til we can sell it I guess?

"So, which one do YOU want?" Slidell asks Araxus cheerfully, holding up the wands. His manner is one asking his friend which flavor of sugar-ice he wants while walking through the park, instead of sneaking through a sewer in fear of their lives.

"I concur. I do not WISH to remain here any longer. However, My spellcraft is nearly spent for the day. I have a couple of scrolls for emergency use,... I suggest that we either hide and hope they do not find us to regain our strength, or flee,... sorry,... 'advance cautiously' towards the nearest exit." He grins.

"We must come upon a mark soon. They would have labeled each intersection I suspect. Wouldn't do for 'friends' to go getting lost down here."

Yeah, I agree CH. I always have grand plans for various magic items, then AFTER a big battle realize that 'I could have used that!'. ;P

As a matter of fact, I only recently decided to 'get out of the rut' of all my PC's using the same spells. So I do NOT have Read Magic prepped. Slidell is SO berating himself for this. (In his defense, what are the odds of needing that particular spell in a sewer? I ask you.
;P

"Well, the wands might be useful for avoiding any other 'denizens of the not-so-depths' as it were. The rest shall have to wait until we are in less odious surroundings, I think." Slidell sums up, glancing at Araxus to see if he agrees.

Thanks for offering to keep the loot list CH. I suck at keeping up with it! As it seems to be an oft-overlooked and important part of adventuring, I'll just put in my 'Thank you's' now! :)

Slidell snorts in amusement at Araxus' statement.

"Buggers probably thought they were 'Hoomie Toofpicks'" He says in a over-exaggerated imitation of the recently deceased goblins speech patterns.

He casts his own charm as well, taking turns examining the items with Araxus.

Detect Magic, w/ Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Slidell pulls back from the hallway door and pulls out a handkerchief to hold over his nose.

"Well said Amadeo. The Hellknights are a perfect example of 'form over function'. I doubt that sewage stains will instill the type of reaction they are wont to prefer." He smirks.

The wizard looks doubtful as Amadeao pokes through the niches.
"I hold little hope of finding anything of actual value hoarded by these miserable miniscule troll-ites. Still, I have been pleasantly surprised in the past." He smiles at a fond memory, then goes and helps search by poking his cane carefully into the niches, loathe to get any of the stench on his own clothes as well.

SLidell raises an eyebrow at the last, determined goblin.

"Stubborn little bugger, isn't he?"

He slides to the door behind Araxus, tapping his cane in his hand lightly.

Slidell nods, looking around the chamber, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
He raises a lip at the small spot of blood on his cane, and wipes it off with a handkerchief.

"I concur. Who knew that a stroll through the sewers would prove perilous as well as odious? I am also fairly certain that we do NOT want the torch bearers yonder to find us, either. Drag the bodies in and lock the door? Or run and hope we avoid any more,... unpleasant vermin?"

Still lurking, back hurts if I sit up too long. Or lay back, or lay down, or walk, or stand,... Stoopid surgery,... Whose brilliant idea was it to go through the FRONT of a person to reach the kidney in the BACK?!? ;P

Hearing the screeching, mad scrabble of the goblin trying to escape, Slidell sighs and hefts his walking stick.

"Really? The little beggars still insist on ruining our stroll? How very rude." He drawls in his more typical upper-crust accent.

Slidell turns, and casually tosses his heavy cane with a raised eyebrow. It spins, then flies straight towards the goblin, and returns to it's master's hand in the blink of an eye.

Hand of apprentice(Club) to Hit 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Possible crit confirm 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

"Now, be quiet you appallingly wrinkled little gnome badly in need of dental hygiene. The grownups are talking."