The small party bristles at the appearance of Sirroco, but relax visibly once Radik produces the black daggers. They look from one man to the other, than ask of Holdrus, “Are you here to help destroy that weapon? We had some difficulty hardening the pools.”
Zuko feels the need to take charge of the situation, "Alright! All of You lot raise all your hands so we can see them! We'll sort you out!"
Zuko gestures with the flame in his hand.
No, I will destroy the weapon later. I have come to find the others though, where are they? There was some difficulties outside and I must be sure of their location. Quickly, before the invaders overtake us!
*Mentally* Follow my lead Scirocco and if you can mentally tell Gregale to follow that would be helpful. I won't allow any harm to come to you.*
Radik's got a bad feeling about this. He raises his arms slightly, daggers clutched tightly in his fists. While staring malevolently into the room, he whispers to Faindraic.
"I don't like this at all."
"In that, at least, we are agreed." Faindriac whispers back.
"Keep your weapons ready, but silent." He whispers upon noting the others reactions to the blades, as Holdrus spins his yarn.Following Holdrus' lead, Faindraic enters the room, his trademark frown and intelligent superiority in full force. (If still slightly less egotistical than than Radik)
'Cair, Tell Zuko that I said to stand ready, and follow my lead.'
Unseen to any of the others, his psicrytal in his carry bag begins to flash yellow in response as Faindriac places a calming hand on Zuko's shoulder.
'Done.' Comes the nearly instantaneous reply.
Faindriac pats Zuko's shoulder once more with a lessening of his frown, then turns his gaze upon the men in the room.
"Well of COURSE your having problems! What procedure are you using? Tell me you didn't listen to that imbecile,..." He looks back at the others, "It's a good thing we came ourselves."
He glares at the one who stated they were having problems. "Show me what your doing, so I can instruct you how to do it properly!" Without looking, he points to the other man. "You. Do as he says and help him secure the items." He barks, waving vaguely in Holdrus' direction. He walks over to the speaker.
"Proceed." He says, frowning.
Gregale Detect Psionics (at will), Marada uses this power now...
"Oh g...g...great. There are m...m...m...more."
Friend! We are friend, though not all of us can say the same.
"What is your meaning, Lady?"
<Aso is rethinking his choice to be among the bigjobs. He walks over to the Thri Kreens.>
"B...b...b...bigjobs: all c...c...crazy?"
<Aso is rethinking his choice to be among the bigjobs. He walks over to the Thri Kreens.>
"B...b...b...bigjobs: all c...c...crazy?"
"Answer: Yes, all. Listen to talking hit-cut things. Not listen wise council. All not good in head."
"Cept for ole Shenker though. He's still the same. Hrrmmm..."
Scowling at Holdrus as he brandishes Sirocco, the small crowd of people appears to be at a loss, muscles twitching slightly at Faindrac’s commands, but remaining in place as if rooted to the marble tiles. Uncertainly, they look Faindrac over as if searching for something.
Looking upwards, you see a robed figure clinging to the ceiling. Upside down, his hood peels back, revealing an exceptionally handsome half-elf male wearing a crown of silvery wrought metal of an unknown type. His hand already extends towards you, and with barely a word, flames rain down upon the party in two deadly columns (Scorching Ray (ranged touch) (1d20+3=10, 1d20+3=5)) before you can react.
Fortuitously, the man’s precarious position spares the group members from charbroiling, and the twin beams of scorching flame strike to either side of Zuko, who takes it as a clear sign of fire’s patronage.
Unfortunately, those in the hallway are not quite as blessed. You turn sharply as Issiki gasps, only to see a slender, grey blade protruding from his chest. Flecks of bloody foam speckle his lips as he looks about, confused. The blade slides back just as quickly, and the Halfling coughs, sighing something that sounds like “…wind…” before collapsing to the floor.
Behind him stand two women clad in finely tooled leather armor. The closest one is blonde, hook nosed, and wielding a gem gilded, thin short sword with a non-reflective surface spliced by a vein of silver metal, while behind her stands a tall, white-haired, well muscled woman holding a three food blue rod between her outstretched hands. As you watch, the rod transforms, becoming a razor sharp, deadly looking githka with blades of black iron. She grins, and you see your death in her eyes.
Back in the room, the small crowd tenses, preparing to spring as one and pile upon an unlucky group member.
Caster Init (1d20+7=25)
Women Init (1d20+2=3)
Sextet Init (1d20+1=15)
However unlikely, Radik doesn't seem to mind having left his club behind in the entrance hall. Something in the way he holds his daggers says that he won't be going back for it.
Radik crouches in a fighting stance, one of the black daggers held against his forearm, and the other held in position for throwing. The veins in the fighter's arms and neck throb with eldritch power as his eyes begin to take on their familiar violet glow. Radik's skin darkens alarmingly, taking on the appearance of case-hardened steel. The blades in his hands appear to meld with the fighter's flesh.
"I like this."
PARTY INIT 18
MY INIT 26
Throw a bone dagger at spiderman wannabe. r11+7=18 damage r2+ 4(sneak damage if he is denied his dex due to crawling around on the ceiling like a freakazoid).
Initiative 25 for Holdrus-
Holdrus' body flares with a deep red fire which ripples across his body for a moment before coalescing in his hands. He then moves to block the hole in wall so none can escape.
"None shall escape from here! Your actions have sealed your fates and you shall pay with your lives!"
*Ready Scirocco? We need to kill them quickly so we can save your brethren.*
Kirrish emits a buzzing similar to a horny cicada from his throat as he barrels toward the white-haired woman.
Faindriac observes the wild blasts with a sardonic smirk. He observes the appearance of the 2 women in the doorway and the murder of Issiki with a single, softly spoken word,...
"NO."
At the same time the psicrystal flares into life, Faindriac's eyes flare with a silver light. In a heartbeat 5 now-familiar pale frosty missiles fly from him to smash into the nearest 5 figures.
Faindraic's dmg from energy missiles: (3d6 1=14, 3d6 1=9, 3d6 1=14, 3d6 1=10, 3d6 1=17)
Zuko bides his time. He watches for signs of spellcasting from the other side.
At which point hurls a sheet of burning energy at them, hoping to disrupt their magic.
blonde, hook nosed, and wielding a gem gilded, thin short sword.
Marada magic missles this one 1d4+1=4
The women are going to be LoS issues, but there are more than enough crowd targets to smack. What type of energy, btw?
Here's what I have so far:
Ka-Chik-Chik-Ka (pending)
Holdrus (manifesting + move / block (nice))
Shrenker (throwing)
Caster (probably dropping, attacking)
MalaKi (pending)
Zuko (Ready action for caster - might want to alter based on init)
Aso (pending)
Radik (readying knives, likely attacking)
Skarsnikt (pending)
Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik (manifesting + lining up a charge)
Faindrac (Blasting - AE cold)
Marada Bhelu'Ara (magic missile)
Group of 6 (will be grappling if they live)
Women (attacking)
Radik bursts into action with the speed of a striking spinewurm. Lady Onyx flies from his right hand in a blur of blackened steel, aimed directly at the wall-crawling mage. Whirling about, he switches his grip on Lady Ebon with his left hand while drawing Lady Dusk from his belt. With a savage roar, he begins to advance on the pair of women in the hallway.
I don't quite know who I can charge or attack, here.
Rage. Aso is feeling extra sadistic after seeing Issiki go down. He charges the wimpiest dude he can see.
Chrirp, CAW, Shriek; "fire; I shall give yon elf fire for fire
<= fires an arrow :)
18+9 = 27; take that elf boy :)
pls roll damage for me; +2 str if applicable.
am thinking I am in the doorway guarding; can move to get a shot or fly up and hover to shoot the elf mage.
MalaKi will move to defend either Faindriac or Zuko, positioning himself between either man and the nearest opponent. He will ready an action to attack anyone who approaches.
As Issiki collapses and the leather-clad women appears out of nowhere, Skasnikt hisses in anger. "Gythka kreen weapon! Not for softskin! " The air fills with the smell of burning marsh cabbages as he pounces upon the white-haired assassin.
Ka-Chik fires an arrow into the covert caster, and the projectile buries itself up to the fletching in the man’s outstretched palm, educing a yelp of pain.
Rainbow light, ectoplasmic leakage from the astral plane, seeps from Holdrus as a shimmering field of force surrounds the large mul. Moving into position in front of the door, his frame fills the entryway, barring access to the room from inside the compound.
Shenker flips his dagger at the hooded half-elf stuck to the ceiling, cutting a long furrow into his arm, and unsticking him from the ceiling. With a subtle tearing noise, the man plummets atop the party. Reaching out to clasp Shenker’s shoulder as a support, the man manages to keep himself mostly upright (Dex Check (1d20+1=19)). As he does so, silver light streams from Shenker’s shoulder and up the man’s arm to the crown atop his head. Shenker feels a drain of vitality, as if his soul was being wreched out by the man’s grip (Con Drain (1d6=3)). Simultaneously, coruscating colors and a soothing monotone begins to pulse from the crown. A feminine voice croons, “Run away” to Zuko and Shenker, and for no reason you can fathom, her request just sounds so…reasonable () .
MalaKi wheels next to Faindrac, flanking the man and providing him with additional cover for his casting, while Zuko, attempting to disrupt the half-elf’s spell, drenches the party with flame, catching the caster, MalaKi, Faindrac, and Shenker in the confines of his spell. Using Shenker as a shield, the man avoids most of the damage (Reflex Save (1d20+2=14)).
Throwing himself into the small crowd with abandon, Aso engages one of the nobles, but his frenzy renders his strikes impotent, and the small man’s fists rail ineffectually on the chest of the closest devotee. Radik looses a black dagger, to Lady’s Onyx’s shrill cry of “Wrong target, Radik!” The dagger pierces the man’s chest, possibly hitting a lung, as he gasps for air, looking severely wounded.
Ephemeral Thri-Kreen speech surrounds Kirrish momentarily, then dissipates as he brushes passed Holdrus and readies himself to charge Issiki’s murderer, as Faindrac rains bitter death upon the disciples (Fort. Saves (1d20+7=8, 1d20+7=14, 1d20+7=19, 1d20+7=18, 1d20+7=19). Rolling every which way to avoid the brunt of the chill, two of the faithful are not quick enough, and suffer severe frostbite.
Marada fires a screaming bolt of pure energy at the sword-wielding woman, striking her shoulder and leaving a burning hole of flesh in the middle of which the bone of her shoulder blade is now partially visible. Taking advantage of the magical distraction, Skarsnikt tumbles passed the blonde woman, just barely missing a stray kick, and latches on to the dual weapon wielder with his inexorable grasp (Opposed Grapple (1d20+3=9) ).
Recovering quickly, the small group splits in two, one half pouncing upon Aso, the other upon Faindrac (Grapple Aso (11); Grapple Faindrac (25), +2 on each for multiple; Unarmed Damage (1d3=3) if success).
Whirling about, the shorter of the two women stabs at the Kreen holding her companion (Melee (1d20+6=19)), barely missing the insect man as he grapples with the heavily muscled foe. The second women bellows with fury, long, pale hair whipping behind her as she throws her head from side to side, muscles in her neck stretching to the limit as she attempts to throw off Skarsnikt (
"Take that b$&&*!"
wil save r8+3+2=13.
"I'm gone from this place."
Shenker beats feet.