"Let's all go up together, and hail them before we clear the edge of the alcove." Timdok limbers up, in the unlikely event that his outgoing companions can't talk their way through this.
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Timdok shimmies down the rope and advises the group. "Pair of guards--scorpionfolk this time--behind an illusionary wall about halfway up the shaft. Illusion magic--it's the Tomb of Hidden Eyes all over again."
"You're right, Esirelle. No sense leaving thing to rot in the desert," Tim agrees. "Now: Ready to move on?" He gathers all of the valuables while the group has their esoteric discussion about beauty.
Timdok lifts an eyebrow at Kharya's comment and sighs. A long-running argument. Money!
"A giant's treasure trove," Timdok looks over the takings. "Not much to fight over. I wonder what their new overlord promised them."
"Just put that sword down, friend. You're going to hurt someone. Probably me." Tim slides over to the grabbed giant and tries to disarm him, following up with a punch! or for
"Much obliged, Cas. These giants are out for halfling blood." Timdok says. "They don't know what a friendly guy I am." Feinting a shot at the giant's head, Tim goes for two body blows.
for for
Tim enters his stance, closes on the giant he has marked, and smcks him in the back.
for and Opportune Riposte: for and
"Happy to get a bit closer." Timdok marks one of the giants for death, then sneaks closer to the blind.
Timdok squeezes back down out of the crack, "Not much up above, just a windy ledge."
Tim looks up at the howling hole. "Happy to try to squeeze up there a bit if anyone has a way to get me up there." He pats his pack and scowls, "I didn't bring a grappling hook. Bit out of practice, I suppose."
Timdok tosses aside the seized scimitar and cracks his neck, then shrinks down to his usual size. "47 scorpion men, huh? Sounds like 40 for Cassiel and we'll split the rest." He gives a wink to his friends.
"None of that, you might hurt yourself!" Timdok jokes as he spars with one of the remaining giants. He tries to grab the sword away from the giant, this time flipping the blade into his own hand. or Holding the blade away from the giant, he darts away, flanking the final giant, content to let the other burn to death. for and
Opportune Riposte: for
Tim's hands are a blur as he tries to rip the scimitar away from the giant. He follows up with a firm punch, then tries to tumble between the giant's legs.
for and
Timdok closes with the giant being held by Kharya, strikes at the blade in its hand, and then follows up with a punch.
for
Tim takes advantage of the wide miss of the giant to attack him.
The giant may have hit Timdok, he's still swinging. He quickly tries to wrest the sword from the giant's grasp, then feints and tries to finish the giant off.
for and
Timdok pretends to stumble back as he drops into his fighting stance, then weaves to confuse the giant before swinging on him.
for
Tim's second shot barely hits the bone.
Round 3
Timdok slams the elixir and a giant grimace grows as his body swells in size. He picks up a skull, hefts it for a moment, and then tosses is down to knock over a bone.
"An interesting prospect, but are you not afraid of what the Slumbering King will do to you if you let us by?" Tim questions. "Aren't you his guards?"
"More likely we're just an excuse. He would have seized the tribe fore some reason, I'm sure," Timdok notes. "We all know the type." "So, we've some giants inside. Shall we make our way in? Perhaps we can also convince the scorpion folk that we are not their enemies."
"What is the nature of this Slumbering King? Is he a giant?"
Timdok snacks on his morning cabbage roll and chases it with the elixir. "Away we go!"
Timdok stands right behind Cassiel and whispers, "Giant up here, and winds blowing deeper in the cave. Nothing unnatural about that."
Timdok hands the gloves over to the group. "I suggest we don't call out for a lift up this elevator. I could climb the rope, but I don't want to get shanked by a group of giants. Anyone have bright ideas?"
Tim squints at the runes on the poles. "Well, doesn't look like a fireball, so that's good news." He pulls runs his gloves hand across the runes and tries to break the magical bindings.
"Come now, Farrina, that's no way to talk." Timdok replies as he flexes his newly-healed muscles. "You've upset Cerulean so much she just about poked me in the eye with that suture needle. And, you know how Cassiel mopes if we pass on the opportunity to do something heroic." "Plus, you can't beat a pre-paid job," he observes as he tucks the potion of flying and healing potion into his belt. "Let's at least check it out."
"I hear my bed back in Sothis Calling--and a pair of britches that don't have sand in them." Timdok says, but there's no bitterness in it, now. "Let's find those kholos before a terrible villain turns them inside out, or drains all their fluids, or something equally appalling." He gives Cassiel's arm a light punch, then rubs his knuckles, smarting from the impact with the champion's armor.
"Barely hours into this expedition, and we're already on a rescue mission," Timdok runs a hand over his sweaty face. "Unbelievable."
"Rescues are our specialty! Timdok lies. "Do you have any information about his lair that might help us?"
"Yes, if you give us the local information about the king, I have no doubt that we'll destroy him straight away," Timdok assures the kholos. Well, I have some doubts.
"Oof, terribly sorry, chaps. You obviously have some scheme going on here," Timdok rubs his aching head, hiding his annoyance with the "rescued" kholos. "As my flash friend says, we are merely do-gooders who got carried away by the display of evident injustice. Please, straighten us out. What's going on here?"
The battered halfing says, "I know better than to refuse a drink from you," and winks sardonically before downing the elixir.
He takes one more punch at the giant he has marked. for
When the first giant's third attack whistles over Timdok's head, the halfling takes the opportunity to jab at its exposed stomach.
Tim feints at the giant, then jabs at it again.
He follows up by spinning around and smacking the other giant, who is still off-balance because of his stumbling stance.
With the boost of speed provided by his comrade, Tim streaks across the battlefield. He drops into a fighting stance when he nears the marked giant and takes a swing.
for
Timdok adjusts the cloth wrapped around his face that keeps the sand out of his nose and mouth. "We can slip behind them if you distract, my dear." The (former?) assassin quietly studies the leftmost giant, noticing a hitch in its step that whispers "weakness" to him.
"The luminous memory of your beauty will keep me warm," Timdok makes a mock bow to the alchemist. "And memories of last time we had to do this will keep me awake. *Sigh*" Quickly finishing his refreshments, the halfling readies himself for the start of the vigil.
"I'll take first watch," Timdok valiantly offers. "If I don't get 8 hours uninterrupted sleep, I'll be as grumpy as Kharya in a thunderstorm."
"Right: Perception, sparkles, cuss words, bat guano, and strange smells. The five aspects of magic!" Tim jokes to disrupt the moral quandaries that the party has gotten themselves into. Again.
"Hold your chargers, folks," Timdok says to his eager companions. "It was a dream! Sure, we all had it, but that vampire messed with all of our minds. No wonder there's some connection." Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leans back, "Look, can't we just enjoy a nice catch-up? Without running off on some errand? Or right into a trap?" The halfling quirks his lips. "I just got the sand out of my favorite boots."
"Mere association with us risks the need of an atonement, I think," Timdok finishes off his drink and moves around the table, siting where he can easily see the entrance.
Timdok grabs a short glass from the sideboard and pours a slug from the flask he keeps in his vest: "A friend of mine, a distiller consecrated to Cayden Cailean, once told me that the body is like a copper still: wine corrodes it, liquor polishes it." Raising the glass, he addresses Cas, "To you, my righteous friend. May the Dawnflower scorch our throats and our enemies' fortunes."
Timdok is quietly building a model of a Andoran battleship on his desk when a paper flutters in through the window and lands next to the stack of balsam. The halfling delicately unfolds the message with a sliver of wood, careful not to touch the paper. His brow furrows as he reads the short message. "For the love of...here we go again." -------- When Tim strolls into the tavern, it's with an air of familiarity. "Farrina, looking lovely as always," he greets his former teammate. "What do you know about these dreams? I'd love to get this over with quickly, so I can get back to my retirement."
Tim gasps awake in his rumpled and twisted sheets. "Erastil's a@%$+%*$! That was a new one..." Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolls out of bed. The halfling was accustomed to bad dreams about those he had put in the ground--it was one of the reasons he had officially gotten out of "the business"--but at least he didn't regret this one. "Sodding vampires, mucking around in peoples' minds." With feet on the floor, he darts quick glances at the door and windows, ensuring that there are no telltale marks of entry. Habit from the old days, but a good one. "Why'd I let that fool talk me into drinking Sauerton Red last night? I need a sausage before my head leaves my shoulders." |