The blades whizzing past his face cause Greis to lurch backward. He reaches behind him and pulls at the handle of his shortspear, twisting it from its tether and bringing it up into both hands and thrusting it awkwardly at the elf that had so nearly killed him, face puckered up in frustration and anger at the elf--not so much for having tried to kill him, but rather for failing to fall under his charm spell like he was supposed to, and forcing Greis to fight him. The stab is wobbly and off target which further infuriates and humiliates the sorcerer, now flushed red with his spear out in front of him.
As the band begin to close around the mad elf, stabbing, swinging and punching – for the most part wildly – at him, Anarath’s fear that they will not be able to take their assailant alive begins to change to a concern that he will kill some of them.
His mind races as he mentally reviews the spells he so carefully prepared for this escapade – and finds most of them almost utterly useless for this current turn of events. Well, perhaps he can reduce the elf’s combat effectiveness somewhat. He reaches into his component puch for an old pork-rind, intoning a brief chant, and then points at the elf’s longsword, ending with a quick prayer to Wee Jas that this might work.
The elf curses as his sword seems to become too slick to hold onto and it slips from his fingers. He bends down to pick up his fallen sword.
The elf curses as his sword seems to become too slick to hold onto and it slips from his fingers. He bends down to pick up his fallen sword.
[ooc]This is exceedingly strange. First (last round), I roll a natural 1. Then, on the next roll (this round), I roll a natural 20.
Critical confirmation roll: 10 + 4 = 14
Still oblivious to Anarath's shouting, Corvin rights himself, panting.
Seeing Greis' predicament, Corvin takes his opportunity, and while the elf is distracted, he leaps again for the crazed attacker, yelling a battle cry that sounds something like this:
BWAAAAHHHHHDIEF~&+ERDIIIIIE!
The now VERY, VERY ANGRY fighter slams bodily into the elf, knocking him to the ground. Corvin raises his mailed fist to deliver a punishing blow.
Eyes sparking with fury Greis raises his shortspear high above his head, teeth clenched and drives the weapon down with all his might...
It isn't a critical. How much damage?
Dohrlok aims another blow at the elf as it stoops.
It isn't a critical. How much damage?
The elf appears weakened but is still alive. His grey eyes begin to dart around the clearing, looking for an escape.
"Someone grab him!" Greis calls out, trying to wheel around him to form part of a circle and block off a possible escape. He stops attacking for the present, and just snakes his spearpoint around menacingly to forbid passage.
Channeling Gawlak...
Gawlak swings at the elf as he bends down to retreive his weapon, smashing his morningstar onto the elf's back. The elf staggers and appears even weaker than before but he seems ready to fight to the death.
Corvin smashes into the elf with great fury and slams him to the ground. The elf seems to have been knocked unconscious by the force of Corvin's blow and is seriously wounded.
Excellent, thinks Dohrlok, a prisoner. Interposing himself between Corvin and the fallen elf, he attempts to stabilise their new prisoner.
"Step away from the elf, dwarf. The bastard's MINE! I'll make sure he NEVER shoots at me EVER AGAIN!"
Channeling Gawlak...
Gawlak steps forward and begins to try to heal the elf as best he can without using one of his limited spell slots.
"What is WITH you people? First, he SHOOTS me. TWICE! Then, you want to SAVE his pointy-eared ass?"
"He might have some useful intelligence," says Dohrlok quietly. "Our trip to the manor apears to be a more complicated affair than we originally bargained for."
A puzzled look comes over the merc's face.
"So, you're sayin' that this pointy-eared scum is that guy who did all the stuff? Y'know, the builder-man? I mean, he attacked us..."
"It's a crazy world, Corvin. But I guess you know that."
"I'm so confused..."
Anarath looks up at the confused warrior from where he has been kneeling besides the injured elf.
"Corvin, yes, we think he might be the architect. Remember, the man is supposed to be mad... probably just trying to protect his creation or something."
Anarath shakes his head, and pulls out the floorplan from a hidden pocket, laying it flat on the grass before him.
"I hope he'll be willing to talk to us when he comes around. Perhaps we should move him back into the cave, or at least the clearing?"
Anarath investigates the floor plan of Grimmbold Manor
What can I determine about the plans and the design? Are they created by a master architect? Is the penmanship good? Can I detect any elvish influence in the design? Do the plans seem "complete", or would they be an early draft?
The plans to Grimmbold Manor don't seem to have an elven influence, although everything is labeled in elven. It s the work of a relativley skilled architect. It doesn't look like this s a finished floorplan but it isn't a rough draft either, somewhere in between. As you study the floor plan of Grimmbold Manor the elf lets out a low moan of pain and begins to stir...
Corvin notices the architect beginning to stir.
"HEY! You ain't got any business in wakin' up. Ya want me to hit you again?"
"No Corvin!" Anarath says sharply. "I think we've hit him enough for now. Perhaps we should see that he's properly restrained though ... we don't want to go through this all again..."
The elf sees to becoming more alert and is beginning to open his eyes groggily.
"No Corvin!" Anarath says sharply. "I think we've hit him enough for now. Perhaps we should see that he's properly restrained though ... we don't want to go through this all again..."
"Go through what?"
Anarath sighs at Corvin, and turns towards the elf, ensuring that he has been properly restrained.
"Segwin?" he asks softly in elven when it seems the man has regained his awareness. "Are you the architect of the famed Grimmbold Manor? We seek your help - we aim to cleanse the darkness from that place if we can. We did not intend to invade your home or your privacy, and fought only to defend ourselves from attack..."
He is sadly aware of the weakness of his words, and looks somewhat helplessly at his companions, before recalling that they may not understand his words. Sighing, he turns back to the elf.
"I've seen your plans. There is a subtle genius in the work... the interplay of light and dark, the juxtaposition of spaces, the sense of openness within the enclosed form of the building..."
He trails off, waiting to see what effect if any his words have had.
The elf glares up at you with eyes filled with hatred and begins to speak in elven.
Read only if you speak elven.
Anarath blinks in confusion, squinting to see the symbol the elf had referred to, but not recognising it at all .
“Defender of good, we were attacked by ambush! We have been attacked by evil kobolds in this forest, and feared more of the same. In the confusion, we did not notice the sign until it was too late…” Even to himself, Anarath’s words sound weak
He quickly turns and relays to his companions in companions in Common what the elf had said. (Can they read the spoiler above?)
The architect sneers in disgust and says "You're attempts to hide your evil are truly pitiful. I see through you're deceptions. You are merely servants of evil. Perhaps you are in league with the kobolds perhaps not but you are still evil. With that he closes his eyes and pays no more attention to you.
"Hey, I got a intelligent idea. How's about we kill this rodder, then storm the manor. It shouldn't be anythin' we can't handle, right? We jist bust in, take the... well whatever there is, and run out the door. Simple as gravy and cake."
Corvin, the elf looks at you and says "Kill me if you will, soldier of evil, but you will pay for your sins."
"If he is currently unwilling, perhaps he can be persuaded to loosen his tongue?"
The elf merely looks at you silently, uncowed by your threat.
"If he is currently unwilling, perhaps he can be persuaded to loosen his tongue?"
"I'll loosen his tongue for ya," states Corvin matter-of-factly as he pounds his fists together in a rather ominous fashion.
The elf glares up at you and then spits in the general direction of your feet.
“Well, unless someone is more diplomatic than I, it seems we are not going to get much more from our architect,” says Anarath, drawing the others a little away from the elf. “And no Corwin, I don’t suggest we torture him – I certainly don’t have the stomach for it. Besides, what exactly would we hope to find out? I had hoped he might be willing to act as a guide, or at the very least tell us about what had happened all those years back, but I doubt we shall easily extract anything like that from him.”
Anarath sighs. “It seems the man’s mind is truly gone. Did anyone recognise that symbol on his armour, do you think it may be of any significance? Barring that … what to do with him?” Anarath tilts his head, causing Midnight, who has alighted on his shoulder, to mimic the gesture.
“I would say we confiscate his weapons and armour, then bind him and leave him in the cave. I imagine he will escape in time – in fact I hope he does – but hopefully it will take long enough that we are well on our way.
“As for us? Corvin may be right. Let’s head straight for the Manor.”
Ok, lying besides the elf there is a longsword of exceptional quality (masterwork) with the same symbol that is on Segwin's armor. Segwin's bow is lying a few feet away. It is a composite longbow, also of masterwork quality. His armor is studded leather.
"Hmm, a shame. We sought his guidance, and simply find a madman. However, his equipment may be recompense for our efforts. Maybe without it he may be less inclined to ambush those who seek to plumb the depth of the manor he built."
"I say we bring him with us. Maybe he is afraid of his great creation the Manor. Use him as a guide as such. If your tied up with no means of defending yourself and put in harms way, doesn't that make the people that want you alive suddenly your allies?" Looking at the elf. "What do you say Sir. Up for a little walk to the good Manor?"
"Dwarven Swine! You'll get no help from me." With that he begins to mutter to himself in a strange tongue, paying no further attentiopn to you.
"Hmm, perhaps there is something he fears at the manor. Let us take him with us - maybe he will tell us what he fears so as to avoid facing it."
“Well, unless someone is more diplomatic than I, it seems we are not going to get much more from our architect,” says Anarath, drawing the others a little away from the elf. “And no Corvin, I don’t suggest we torture him – I certainly don’t have the stomach for it.
At this, Corvin shrugs.
"I wasn't sayin' nuthin' 'bout torture, just slappin' him around until he says something other than 'DIE HUMAN DIE'. Makes no sense..."
Corvin turns away, muttering.
"Dayum. I was gonna get me an ear, too..."
"So, Anarath, you have a weak stomach? Perhaps I can help. At the monastery, we built up the power of our stomachs by lying on our backs and having extremely heavy rocks placed on then for hours at a time. It builds up the strength nicely. Shall I find some rocks for you?"
"So, Anarath, you have a weak stomach? Perhaps I can help. At the monastery, we built up the power of our stomachs by lying on our backs and having extremely heavy rocks placed on then for hours at a time. It builds up the strength nicely. Shall I find some rocks for you?"
"Heh. Reminds me of back in my youth when I would loot the bodies o' soldiers on the battlefield. Sometimes, I'd have to hide unnerneath one o' the dead 'uns so as to not be seen by the live 'uns. Prob'ly why I got such a strong stomach now. Funny, innit?"