Under Common Stressors
Log Info
- Title: Under Common Stressors
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Aryia, Zeke, Ashes, Rhar
- Place: Alexandros Wilderness
- Time: January 03, 2022, 2:02 PM
- Summary: Adventurers are hired to check on a missing shipment of mithril and wood. They head up the road, encountering some goblins who have a massive treasure hall, and a massive issue with each other. This is not the caravan they are looking for. They soon come to a campsight and decide to check it out. Aryia and Rhar approach directly, while Ashes wanders around to check things out. She finds dead horses, a dead guard and warns the others. Battle ensues, with a giant invisible thing attacking Aryia. Ashes and Zeke join up to keep Aryia healthy and the opponent disadvantaged. The gug is finally defeated in a flash of golden light. The halfling survived, the guards did not, and they soberly return to Alexandria.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. Zeke 6'8" 239 Lb Sith-Makar Male A blue-scaled sith-makar in white Daeus vestments. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face. Rhar 3'0" 36 Lb Halfling Female A furry lucht. In furs. Baness of Night. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The Khazad-Aul responsible for placing today's contract is a fellow of some minor infamy, one Aehrick Oddskeeper. That thing with the gremlins, yes. Or at least he says it was gremlins and he wasn't selling shoddy wares to grift folk. He did end up in the jails briefly. Guilty people don't go to jail, right?
The black-haired dwarf paces impatiently to one side of the road, just inside the technological marvel that is the Phoenix Gate. His hair is back from his face and neatly braided, one hand tugs through his beard time and again as an anxious tick. He's dressed like the craftsman he is, his coat too short to conceal all the tools and gadgets dangling from his belt.
Heavy boots splash in the half-melted slush as he goes back and forth, constantly looking between the road out beyond the gates, the streets leading into the city, and a short pillar with a sundial to track the time.
His low voice grumbles with self-directed musings.
The job is to find a trade shipment that was expected last night. Seems he was impatient enough to place the job the night the caravan was due. Something about bad luck.
A hasty job about shipments? And the guy requesting the job was a tinge infamous?
Count a mute pugilist in. She's surely a shady shipment snipper.
Aryia arrives in her verdant green buckle jack and a mask that covers the face from the nose downward. She eyes the Khazad, checking her work slip for the job and nodding to herself. The elf approaches.
In truth, this was not naturally something that Zeke would concern himself with, but another of the People had promised to aid this man, and had asked Zeke to look into it on their behalf as they were currently unable to assist. Which is how Zeke finds his way to the edge of the city, his quarterstaff acting more as walking stick than weapon, as he slowly makes his way across the intervening space between him and the poorly described individual whom he is supposed to be helping.
Once he is close enough for niceities, he bows his head to the dwarf. "Peassce on your nessst. Thisss one isss known asss Zeke, and thisss one wasss told that you have a problem? Sssome-thing about misssing cargo?" His question is politely curious. He glances to the side, noticing Aryia for the first time and nods to her as well. "Peasssce on your nessst."
A grey form drifts in with the wind. Tall, her clothes are loose where they are not covered in armour. She wears a breastplate of a foreign nation, and cavalry boots. Her hair is thick and rope-like, and she carries a parasol that is open, and has a pattern of bones and jovial-seeming skulls.
Quiet for her size, she arrives beside the black-haired dwarf and looks even more faded in comparison to his strong colouration. With her comes an eerie, unsettling aura, not unlike a grave. She also has a skull for a face.
When she speaks, her voice is monotone. Clearly, she's a Mourner, and she gets right down to business. "I was told there was a body."
Startled out of his ramblings, the Khazadi craftsman turns and claps his calloused hands together. "You're la--" a glance at the dial and his eyebrows raise; it just FELT like hours. "A bit early, in fact. Wonderful." He doesn't sound like he thinks it's wonderful. So used to frustration and disappointment he's waiting for this seeming-boon to turn around and bit him somehow.
"Yes, hullo, thanks." He continues to hold his hands together and gives a nod in greeting. "Aehrick Oddskeeper," he unholds his thumbs so both are side-by-side and tosses them towards his chest. He shakes his head at Ashes only to nod at Zeke. "Workin' on a project. Expectin' starmetal and darkwood last night." He cranes his head to look around the street and gives a shrug. Obviously, it's not here.
"Bought from Goldbell Mercantile. Old Grinder was a bastard but he's dead now and his son took over. His people are bringing the goods in from the Mythwood. Normally wouldn't worry but it's a Goldbell and, y'know, those rumors about the monsters in that neck.
"And our luck hasn't been the best this year, neither."
Aryia glances to the bluescale and gives an up-nod in greeting. It's hard to read her expressions due to the mask, but her gloved hands to flit about in a familiar manner. "Peace on your nest."
As is custom with these kinds of jobs, she leans on her back foot to the let others ask questions. A button snaps open on her jacket, and a journal slides out as the mute shadow elf takes notes, and prepares possible inquires that others may miss. <Handspeech>
Shipped shipments didn't ship all ship-shape to shape they shipped to? That sounds like some shifty ship.
Not that Rhar knows much about trade, other than shinies for stuff. Gurr, on the other paw, is something of an investor in the future; the old wolf can't run around adventuring forever, afterall.
So... now he's out here adventuring. Because people need help. And Rhar is always quick to help. And someone has to look after Rhar. The larger, slightly furrier wolf plots up with Rhar on his back to listen to the dire need of things, with missing darkwood and starmetal. -Now- the khazad has her rapt attention.
First she gasps, then she growls. "Sticks missing!" After that, she smiles wide with teeth at the others and waves her hand energetically. "Hi! Rhar! Gurr. Protect pack. Find sticks!" Introductions are the polite thing to do, afterall.
"Mourner Ashlee Ciaradh," the ashen Arvec says, in flat monotone. She might as well be screaming her profession, she embodies 'tender of the dead' so effectively. Her head turns, she glances then nods at Aryia, Zeke, Rhar, Gurr, finally looking back to Aehrick Oddskeeper.
She says nothing further. She's asked her question. She waits with her weight evenly balanced between both feet, a somewhat relaxed 'parade rest' stance, ruined by her parasol.
That, spins slowly, and some lumps move under her clothing.
"So..." Aehrick trails off and watches Rhar and Gurr arrive. He nods again and then looks between the four people arrayed in front of him. He definitely has that 'this city is so weird' look that visitors often make.
"So," he tries again, clearing his throat. "This is a map of the route they usually take, says Goldbell. Supposedly just the main road," the dwarf shrugs meaty shoulders and half-inspects the parchment for the hundredth time before handing it over. There's a stamp on the back, too, a bell. "Wagon should have the bell on it, too, painted yellow, he says. Three guard and a Lucht Siuil driver," there's a moments hesitation and then he nods at Rhar, pretty sure she's a halfling. "Driver's Goldbell's cousin, Hero."
Aryia scribbles that information down, brows knitted slightly as he speaks of the Myrthwood. The woods have always been something of a... mixed bag for the mute.
She pauses in writing, watching the newcomer with torch-bright eyes. She raises a hand in greeting, and gives a worn piece of paper over to them. It reads in faded ink:
"Hello. I'm Aryia. I'll do my best."
Once Rhar had the chance to look it over, she takes it back.
The shadow elf eyes the parchment before listening to Aehrick and nodding along, her taking down notes. She didn't have many questions, except for one. She shows her book to their dwarven employer.
The book poses the question in Trade: "Can this shipment be carried, or will we need to bring something to haul it?"
Ashes listens intently as Aehrick explains. So he knows he has her full attention, she stares at him, directly in the eyes without blinking. Her parasol continues to spin slowly, skull, crossed bones, skull, crossed bones. The pattern is white, the parasol grey, and strangely substantial looking.
"Ok." Her breathing is slow, regular. The shadow-elf's question was a good one; she wasn't planning be outside the city, and hadn't prepared her usual method of riding. She does have a horse... good for a one-way trip. Best save it.
Maybe they'll walk. It's a nice day, only the halfling seems to have brought a mount, or the wolf brought a turret. She glances up at the sky. A large centipede emerges from the collar of her shirt and crawls over her face. She doesn't react at all to the many tiny feet stepping on her, beyond closing her eyes. The centipede settles like a tiara across her crown. Her lips move. She wonders if she's going to have to repeat herself.
Some others are pretty sure Rhar may be a lucht, also; at least in part. She steps up to Gurr's head then leans over it to investigate the papers: first Aryia's, then the map. This mostly involves sniffing at the squiggly drawings.
The speed of sound is faster than the speed of spell, though, so she takes in the words faster. She processes all that and summarizes to confirm and share with all (helpfully!), "Find Hero driver, cart with bell, bring back cart of sticks."
Zeke blinks, apparently lost in thought for a long moment before he comes back to the present. He lets others do the talking, though in truth the one doing most of the talking seems to be the dwarf who hired them. "We can travel the way back until we meet with them." This seems the best course of action for locating the missing carravan. "Thisss one doess not mind the walk." He glances toward Aryia. "Hopefully, the carravan isss intact, and we will not need to carry any-thing."
"Gurr strong! Gurry carry all the things!" Rhar volunteers excitedly. Gurr.. refrains from comment, though lifts his head to dump his lucht back onto his shoulders. Ears are not toeholds.
"Forty pounds of metal, should be, and two-hundred of the wood in trimmed logs. Might not be so heavy for some but don't know how long you'll have to carry it... IF you have to carry it," he nods in agreement with Zeke's observation.
"You have... a..." Aehrick lifts a hand to point at the vermin crawling up the Arvek Nar's neck but lowers it by the time it gets to her face. He winces and half-flinches back when it's moving across her face.
It takes some time for the craftsman to stop leering and remember he was in the middle of a conversation. "Uh... right, yes," he tells Rhar.
Finally, Aehrick fishes a bit of stitched leather from his breast pocket and flips the fold open. There's a carved stone coin half-again as big as the local mint. It has a chip missing and a thin crack running from the chip. The face in profile is another Khazad that looks vaguely similar to Aehrick. "Can show them this to confirm you're acting for my family. House crest. Has a magic bit on it for authenticity. 'Oddskeeper,'" he reminds them, "and they work for Grinder Goldbell the Seventh. Because Grinder Goldbell the Sixth just got shot to death trying to doublecross someone else. And the driver is his cousin, Hero."
He's doing his best to make this all very clear and seems a bit relieved to see Aryia taking notes. The bug jewelry and furry halfling might have raised some concerns.
Aryia nods along, scribbling down more notes and figures. She could probably carry that much. Though, she'd be complaining about it the entire way. Hopefully Zeke was right and they didn't need to do that.
Her pen slows to a stop as their employer points out something on Ashlee's face, the shadow elf watching the bug crawl across skin. Her eye twitches. She shudders. There's a huff of air behind the mask that moves faintly. Clearly she mouthed something but it's lost in the fabric.
The journal snaps shut at the last bit of notes and she takes the map and the symbol of authenticity with one hand while a thumbs up is provided with the other.
"Chippen." Ashlee names him, brushing the centipede on her head with her free hand. The centipede skitters about a bit, seemingly enjoying the touch. "He teaches me spells."
So, two people that talk to their... companions.
She stares blankly back at Aehrick as if this is perfectly normal, then watches Aryia take the map and stone coin. There's another glance at Zeke and then she says randomly, "I'm not a swamp witch."
"Hopefully the people'r alive and well; maybe the wagon just had problems. We've had our share of airship problems, opa'n I." Aehrick sounds genuinely concerned for the people-- at least as much as one is generally concerned about the health of strangers. "But I'm sure Goldbell would want his people back and buried proper if they didn't make it."
A pause.
"Well, I hope their families would, at least."
The Khazad nods and tosses a thumb towards the gate. "Forge strong. Bring what you find back to the Guild. You'll get paid when I've got the goods and my crest back. We have a lot of money tied up in this purchase. 'n thanks."
The road out the west gate stretches out into the cold. At least the skies are clear and blue.
Aryia flips her journal back open and notes down a couple of more tidbits of information before slipping her journal away and giving a thumbs up to Aehrick. She glances to Ashlee, a brow raising high. Swamp witch was certainly something she didn't think of to describe Ashlee, but it was the Mourner's words, not hers.
The shadow elf checks herself for her things once last time before stepping away to rent a horse from the stables.
She comes back a minute or so later atop a wiry brown steed, and holds out a few various colored scarves to everyone. Her face was bundled in a green one. "Cold," was her only explanation with her free hand. <Handspeech>
"Onward! To sticks and bells and waggins!"
Rhar seems more than a little excited to get out riding out into the wild yonder. Gurr... less so. It's been awhile, for both of them; stuck in a warm, cozy little pub with little to do but gnaw happily on bones and sleep alot. Well, Gurr, at least, which may be why he's less than excited.
The two start padding off, and probably in the correct direction. Rhar may not be the best at reading a map, but Gurr is smart. He's also the one driving. Even if Rhar might think otherwise.
So there might be bodies after all! There's just the slightest tilt of her parasol to signal her excitement. Otherwise, Ashlee remains standing at semi-attention and staring holes into Aehrick. "It was on my Wanted Poster," she adds, as some sort of explanation as she takes a face scarf.
Chippen however, goes a little mad, running in a circle her head tapping for attention before dropping flat down, spreading his legs out to interweave them into her hair.
This seems to be her cue to go, and there's a map and only one way out of the city. Ashes heads in the obvious direction, winding the scarf around her face. Someone is bound to jump ahead and tell her where to go. She also doesn't walk very fast, it's more of a stroll.
Zeke graciously accepts a scarf from Aryia, wrapping it around his neck and looking out at the cold road with a sigh. Without a swiftscale to carry him, he will be walking, and not terribly quickly at that. Though both his crystalline limbs work just fine, he's not the fastest-moving sith-makar ever born. Still, he moves with an odd sort of grace and eventually will reach their destination. He motions with his hand one of the few handspeech signs he knows to Aryia. Thank-you. Then sets off down the road.
The adventure begins! But it's really not very exciting at all. The map is almost entirely unnecessary; you aren't forging through untamed wilderness or forgotten ruins. It's the main trade road stretching between Alexandria and Ylvaliel... and Marniar'nir beyond.
So it's a walk and/or ride down the well-used (if a bit soggy) road keeping an eye out for signs of an impacted (or imperiled) trade caravan. It isn't but a few hours down said road and the sun is making lazy intimations of starting its descent. Since leaving the city the fairweather clouds have also decided to make an appearance.
A pair of gobbers struggling under packs that seem impossibly over-full and heavy are your most interesting contacts on the way. One has a filthy rag tied tight in his mouth and looks quite disgruntled. His partner explains that it's his brother-in-law (who he hates) and only agreed to let him come on the trip and earn some money if he kept his "Hith-cursed, foul-smelling mouth shut." After failing to do so on an early leg of the voyage this was the compromise they arrived at.
They're rambunctious and loud-- well, the one that can talk is-- and you spent some time at conversation before you're sure they have nothing to do with Goldbell's people. They do, however, mention that there was a camp just a little ways back; they could see the smoke of a campfire a ways off the road.
Squinting at the sky you can make it out even from this distance.
Their gear clatters and clanks as they resume their walk. The gagged half of the pair tries a 'mmm mffmm ffm mmmf' and his brother-in-law screams 'I WILL STAB YOU IN THE THROAT AND LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD IF YOU DO NOT STOP.'
Ah, family.
Aryia has fallen into a lull on the ride. Eyes half lidded, the clopping of hooves against the soggy ground rhythmic. The occasional glance is stolen to the map that she half pulls out of a pocket before folding it back and watching the horizon.
The loud gobber pair breaks her reverie, a brow raising at their explanation, and the corner of her eyes crinkling in amusement. She glances to the overfull packs, tilting her head to the side at it. Some quick math goes about in her head, her pretending to scribble some Kulthian on her leg before shrugging. A camp was a good place to ask better questions. And, perhaps, miss a brother in law getting stabbed.
Ashlee says very little during the journey. She's oblivious to how it might seem rude, she's spent lots of time with the gang, not speaking, and enjoyed it a lot. Usually there was enough being said she could use the secret weapon.
The encounter with the goblins gets at least a "Hello," out of her. The family details are filed away into the same place she keeps the grieving relatives details, so she forgets them almost immediately when they are no longer useful, which is when the goblins turn away.
She stares at the smoke, then takes a small cigarillo out of her satchel. She lights it, inhales, blows the smoke out of her nose. She inhales another, saying, "how would running up to the camp go?" Her words come out as puffs. A third inhale, exhale, and she's staring at the the smoke as it drifts up.
Zeke plods along somewhat behind everyone else, his quarterstaff moving along apace. He doesn't offer much in the way of conversation either, preferring the silence. Even the goblins get a simple 'peasce on your nesst' and that is all from him. He leaves the encounter with them shaking his head and feeling somewhat reassured that their destination is close at hand.
Rhar does some pointing here and there as well as sniffing. She doesn't leave all the work to Gurr and even leans down across his head and muzzle to help. Smelling the pair of gobbers makes two noses twitch, but then they're right back to snuffling. But then there's...
"Smoke!" Rhar calls out to helpfully inform, along with pointing! Sticks could be burning! She urges Gurr forward so they can get a better look and/or smell. "Go!" This prompts Gurr to ... turn and look at the others.
For the briefest moment's the distant smoke appears to go lighter, white, and then darkens to an ominous black. It's very quick.
Then it's just smoke again.
"A slow approach might be better," Ashlee interprets, glancing at Aryia, then Zeke. Or it could mean half-and-half. She see's the brawler's bounce in the mul'niessa's stance, a second look at the blue-scale. "We'll catch up if you go ahead."
Aryia raises a brow, a hand raised to answer what she thought was a question to the group. But it falls to her side. She scratches her head. Hmm... rather certain no one would understand her gestures here. Felt like she was just stepping off the boat again all those months ago.
The mute looks to the bluescale, then nods, a light tug of the reins suggesting that she'd be willing to head on.
Rhar is nudging Gurr still. The wolf of unusual size takes in the lack of charging ahead and starts moving. Not charging, as getting there first isn't always the best idea. Besides, they're here to protect. They can't do that if they are not WITH the others. So it's a lopoing, walking not-charge ahead.
Zeke nods his head to Ashes words, acknowledging that the others should move ahead at whatever pace suits them. They could catch up in due time. He doesn't seem overly concerned, and if Ashes prediction was true, then the slower route might be the better one in any case. Caution usually served him well.
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (8)+27: 35 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+37: (3)+37: 40 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (13)+18: 31 GAME: Ashes rolls perception: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Zeke rolls perception: (13)+4: 17
The path is not nearly as well maintained as the trade road but it's there, leading off the main route and into the snow-dotted hills. It's mud that squelches and sucks and slips as you walk it and snow dusts the grass, brush, and trees to either side. Then it goes down-and-around a bend and into a natural basin.
The hills make for some halfway decent protection against the winds but the ground is increasingly soggy in the basin from the melt. Swings and roundabouts.
Three tents sit around a firepit with a fire burning high. Two are a tan canvas and triangular while the last is tapering cylinder made of hides. All three tents were erected atop large throws of treated oilcloth to keep them dry. The wagon sits behind one of the tan-colored tents and seems to be intact.
There's one fellow crouched by the fire warming his hands, a quarterstaff standing, braced between his shoulder and neck. His skin is an olivet one and he has long, tangled, and wispy grey hair hanging out of an oddly-shaped, sagging hat with dangling tassles.
"Calmpaknee..." he observes without standing or looking up from the fire. His accent is incredibly bizarre and thick; it takes a moment to realize he likely meant 'company.'
Aryia ties her steed off at a tree a bit into the path and follows Rhar to the smoke signal.
She slows to a stop, dark blue boots muddied with one tapping the ground. Glowing gaze drifts over from one part of the camp, to the other. She squints a bit at the cooking pot and its tripod tipped over to the side. Her ear twitches, and she glances upward.
A heavy sigh leaves her. Great.
Hopefully he knew what she was saying. She raises a gloved hand, then tucks a thumb under chin, and waggles her index finger. "Who are you?" <Handspeech>
Rhar doesn't mind the wet and soggy ground at all. Possibly because its not her paws that are trodding through it! Not the Gurr minds it terribly, either. He is a big, bad wolf.
As they trot on up the hill and Rhar spies the shelters and people, she waves her hands, and a stick. Since her big round stick is strapped to one arm. "Hi! Where Hero? Bells?" She looks around. "Waggin?" Though, all that could be in tents.
"Hoo. Hoo." The strange man echoes, pointing up with a bony finger and smiling to reveal crooked teeth. He looks like he might be elf or elf-blooded but his ears are tucked into his hat; he certainly has long, narrow features, and elven-shaped grey eyes but his nose seems almost too long.
"N'o belles, n'o." He shakes his head, amused. Maybe a little mad. "Iii yamme me, core...rekt? Rode-mann. Chravuller." He does little walky fingers above the fire.
"Zo kolde." When he cocks his head at Aryia and Rhar the little dangly bits of his hat sway. "Yooo kolde?"
GAME: Ashes rolls stealth+3+5: (4)+23+3+5: 35 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (1)+18: 19 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Ashes rolls perception: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Ashes casts Message. Caster Level: 12 DC: 14
Ashlee slips away from the blue-scale into the woods, and through them like a ghost. She passes a form, another form, then comes up on the wagon. A good long stare is had, but she's having trouble seeing useful details.
The two draft horses are dead and half-eaten/half-buried. You pass them on the way to the wagon. The wagon seems to be in good enough shape. It's covered with a canvas top. There's someone under the wagon. Well, half of someone. Their legs are missing. Looks like they crawled under the wagon before dying.
Still, she sees enough.
The grey hobgoblin raises her hand to her mouth, as if coughing. Instead, she tells Zeke, "Two dead horses. One dead person. All half-eaten."
Zeke startles a little as Ashes voice comes to him from seemingly nowhere. His eyes flicker skyward, and he continues along his path toward the encampment. Now however there is a grim air about him. One that is taunt with suspicion. "Wait for thisss one!" He calls to those ahead, warning everyone that he is incoming. He's not good with subtlety in any case, and if he is a distraction then Ashes can get closer without being noticed.
GAME: Aryia rolls linguistics: (18)+6: 24
Aryia takes a moment to parse that speech. Though, trusting her gut, she cants her head to the side. He understood her. Hands motion once more, both of them this time, so that they could be seen as not a threat. "Road man? You seem the rather traveled type. If you're so cold, why'd you knock your stew over then?" she motions, gesturing to the cooking pot and stand toppled over. "Everyone knows stew warm the soul."
It's pretty obvious she's picked up on the oddities of the camp based on her tense shoulders. A long, silver clad ear twitches at Zeke's callout. But she doesn't take her eyes off the oddity. That accent was too familiar...<Handspeech>
The squatting man opens his mouth in a wide smile, laughing silently and holding his staff with hands to rock back on his heels. There's bits of meat between his teeth and the inside of his mouth is dark; more a purple trending towards black than a meaty red. "Gh! Gh! Gh!" The sound comes from deep in his throat; almost like a series of amused cough. He rocks back forward and leans the staff against the crook of his neck again so he can clap off rhythm. "Zo gudd, yaz. Zo-ooo pfugnee."
"Phrennd mek mezz, yaz? Zo beg ind zo-ooo zhtrong."
He puckers his lips and raises his eyebrows as high as they'll go. Then grins madly and crosses his eyes as he wrinkles his nose.
GAME: Ashes rolls stealth+3+5: (19)+23+3+5: 50 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (6)+18: 24
Ashlee bites her lip with one small fang, pondering what to do. The Arvek Nar love their horses, and while these weren't _her_ horses there is a certain sensation associated with them being dead. Also there's a humanoid body of some sort to pick up. That is her job.
Quietly, she drifts through the snow towards the wagon. It's worth checking to see if this is the wagon they are after. She'll also be able to take stock of the corpse. It is going to need some work. Silently, she peers inside, then crouches to look under the wagon. Her goblinoid ears flicker, in case there's something to hear.
Someone's had a rough lookthrough of the wagon. The crate with the mithral is opened and the bars were spilled. The logs are kind of half-standing and tossed around. The body under the wagon is an elf lady with a chain shirt, probably one of the guards.
Zeke continues on his way to catch up with the rest of the group, moving a bit faster than is his normal. He takes immediate note of the odd individual that he sees talking to the remainder of the companions he had begun this trek with and gives the campsite a once-over as well. "Peassce on your nessst." He offers to everyone, and admittedly his expression towards the man is one of suspicion.
Aryia's brows knit tightly as he laugh-coughs. She didn't have much left to say to the man. Except for a signing in front of her with narrowed eyes, "Friend? What friend?"
Anxiety was rising. She starts glancing about, stomach twisting in knots. Worries alleviated slightly by the Sunguard approaching behind her. <Handspeech>
Zeke comes stomping into view and the madman's big smile falls into a pout. 'Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt' he goes, his rubber cheeks expanding before his lips go into spittle-flecked flapping fit.
"O'h, n'o-ooo. Buuuuuu." He makes two fists and does a twin thumbs-down motion. "Blein-ding dungge. Buuuuu." The thumbs continue to be shook downwards.
"Phrennd eette. Phrennd!"
Something that has been deathly still in the circular tent begins to move. "Gh! Gh! Gh!" Laughs the madman, clapping. "PHREEEEEEENNDE!" he gestures for Aryia.
The hide flaps of the tent explode outwards and something invisible crunches into the snow. There's a bone-snapping crunch and from ten-feet up a boot comes tumbling down into view. There's still a foot and part of a chin in it. A brief rain of blood and half-chewed offal tumble to the ground from an invisible mouth.
"Ug! Ug! Ug!" cheers the madman.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+34: (15)+34: 49 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+13: (3)+13: 16
The ground squelches and snow is kicked up as something very large tears across the short distance from the tent to where Aryia and Zeke stand. There's a swoosh and claws tear into the mul'niessa, picking her up bodily and throwing her across the snow.
Revealed, the monster looks like a massive, muscled gorilla save for its head, split down the middle with a vertical mouth holding fangs the size of short swords. It's long arms split at the elbow, each sporting two forearms that end in taloned fingers.
It hunches forward, blood-flecked spittle drooling down to the ground.
<OOC> Aryia says, "looks like dimension door does /not/ remove your prone. So, going to get up and run to 10,16 to body block for zeke" GAME: Aryia rolls acrobatics: (3)+21: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+19: (10)+19: 29 (vs AC 30)
The explosion of violence catches the mute off guard. She was just a tinge too slow on the draw, and she's thrown head over shoulders into the ground over Zeke. With a breath of fresh air, she gets to her feet and speeds back to the monster, trying to interpose herself between it and the Sunguard.
Her footwork was attempted to be tricky, but she was too telegraphed, and just narrowly misses another full bodied strike.
She gulps. Raises her fists. And knocks them twice together.
Moonlight wreaths them.
GAME: Ashes rolls Spellcraft: (15)+12: 27 GAME: Zeke rolls spellcraft: (14)+4: 18
The manman continues his choking laughter, picking up his stick as he stands to dance next to the fire. He pumps the weapon in the air and his filthy robes fall open. He kicks one foot up and then skips and kicks the other up. "Gh! Gh! Gh!" he laughs.
The idiot is armored, his breastplate an impossibly intricate set of glittering black scales. "Eeeeeette! Duh-redd wolvvvvv! Gh! Gh! Gh!"
GAME: Zeke casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17
Zeke growls as the monstrous _thing_ rises from its hiding place. The dead fall from it and his growl only echoes louder. "FORGOTTEN!" He snarls at them both. At the thing and its master. He can do nothing as it strides forward and shoves Aryia backwards, but he prays to the Dragonfather for a spell to help them. A magical circle forms around him, offering protection and aid to the warrior that defends him as well as ensuring that neither of them will run afoul of mind-control.
"Airwalk. He's a druid." Ashlee speaks into her hand, her message relayed to Zeke. She moves closer, glaring at the suddenly visible being, with a side glance at the mad druid. Her look says it all, remember, you too are mortal.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (12)+17: 29 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (17)+17: 34 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (9)+17: 26 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (8)+17: 25 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (7)+17: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+11: (1)+11: 12 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+11: (5)+11: 16 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+11: (4)+11: 15 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+10: (1)+10: 11
"H'lo... dinnnnner," rumbles the looming creature. It's maw hanging open as the muscles of its throat flex to shape the words in Undercommon. It's breath smells like the backside of a slaughterhouse at highsun.
With suprising alacrity for something so large it bites down on the mul'. The arms come next, stabbing and tearing. When two sets of claws find hold they dig deeper and pull apart, making an already-bloody wound even worse.
<OOC> Aryia going to spinning kick this first one. Vs flat foot, stunning fist (DC20), choosing staggered GAME: Aryia rolls punch-4: aliased to weapon0+2-4: (12)+18+2+-4: 28 GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2: aliased to weapon0+2+2: (13)+18+2+2: 35 GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2-4: aliased to weapon0+2+2-4: (19)+18+2+2+-4: 37 GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2-4-5: aliased to weapon0+2+2-4-5: (19)+18+2+2+-4+-5: 32 GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2-4-10: aliased to weapon0+2+2-4-10: (9)+18+2+2+-4+-10: 17 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (15)+11: 26 (Fort vs DC20) GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (13)+3+2: 18 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (7)+3+2: 12 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (11)+3+2: 16 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (8)+3+2: 13
Aryia spies Ashlee coming out. Seeing her glance to the madman.
She herself was mortal, too.
And that reminder kept her from screaming blood as pain erupted in her side. As sword hands came down, as did moonlit strikes. A moonlight wreathed foot snaps upwards at blinding speed, bursting out bright light that leaves spots in the eyes. Crushing and flashing strikes pepper up the and down the arms, microbursts of light marking their impacts where bruises would form if they were to get out of this alive.
She shines bright like the full moon.
"Gh! Gh! Gh!" Laughs the mad druid, battering his fist into his breastplate. He climbs invisible stairs on his way into the sky and then he turns. He throws out a hand and shoots a gust of air into the eastern tent, blasting it over.
A secondary effect is that he goes ass-over-teakettle through the air in the opposite direction, tumbling higher and higher like a kite caught in a storm.
"Gh! Gh! Gh!" he continues to laugh.
GAME: Zeke rolls spellcraft: (16)+4: 20 GAME: Ashes rolls spellcraft: (12)+12: 24
He's casting Gust of Wind.
<OOC> Zeke will drop-cast a spell for Cure Critical. 4d8+15 for +1 to caster level. GAME: Zeke casts Holy Smite. Caster Level: 14 DC: 18 GAME: Zeke rolls 4d8+15: (22)+15: 37
Zeke utters another prayer, this time altering one of his spells to cure Aryia's wounds and fix the damage done to her body. He remains behind her, touching her back lightly with his claw. It wounds him that there is not time to ask her permission for the touch, but her wounds are grevious and his healing needed now not later.
The ashen arvec tilts her head, watching the mad druid go tumbling up into the sky. That could be a problem later. It's something she can ignore now.
She keeps trudging closer to the group, skirting the fight. Her eyes are locked onto the behemoth battling the mul'niessa. A baleful state. A look she's used before.
She watches, and sees an opening there, another there, a weak spot. Her simple act of gazing is a reminder, he's not as well protected as he thinks he is.
She gets closer to Zeke.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+12: (15)+12: 27 (vs DC21, 1 round of -4AC) <OOC> Jinks says, "5', Lunge (gives it 20' reach), and full attack, -1 for sparkles" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (10)+18: 28 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (8)+18: 26 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (14)+18: 32 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (16)+18: 34 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (13)+18: 31 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+11: (2)+11: 13 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+11: (3)+11: 14 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+11: (2)+11: 13 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+10: (1)+10: 11
The monster hops back and falls into a six-pointed stance. There's a bigger target to hit but this low to the ground his reach is even better. He lunges forward, snapping down his awful mouth inches away from the monk before the four-handed barrage is tearing claws.
It scurries back, preparing to attack again, and issues a wet gurgle of amusement.
The cloaked druid curls into a ball, his staff parallel with his waist in the middle of the battle, and goes rocketing across the sky. At some point the laughing stops and he vomits violently on the world below. Still, he's making good time.
<OOC> Aryia nod! "was weighing my options between tanking up more or going on with Ashlee's opening" <OOC> Aryia says, "alright. going in on it with flying kick. stunning fist on the first at 10,15" GAME: Aryia rolls acrobatics: (1)+21: 22 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+18: (2)+18: 20 (vs AC 30) <OOC> Aryia says, "phew. Ok, stunningfist set to stagger" GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (13)+18+2: 33 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (11)+11: 22 (Success!) GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (19)+18+2: 39 GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (9)+18+2: 29 GAME: Aryia rolls punch-5: aliased to weapon0+2-5: (2)+18+2+-5: 17 GAME: Aryia rolls punch-10: aliased to weapon0+2-10: (13)+18+2+-10: 23 GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL. GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (5)+18+2: 25 GAME: Aryia spends TWO uses of STUNNING FIST. GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (5)+3+2: 10 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (8)+3+2: 13 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (4)+3+2: 9 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (11)+3+2: 16 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (14)+3+2: 19 (67 total)
Aryia was seemingly quite alright with her back being touched with a talon. Hell, she'd sign the waiver and everything. There's a breath of relief and a nod to the Sunguard. A moment of reprieve. That is quickly snatched away by a barrage of long range shanks and rends that slice her up.
Get closer, gotta get closer...
A moon streak tears through the air to land a drop kick on its side, microflashes of moon wreathed punches explode along its lowered stance.
Violet was going to kill her for this.
GAME: Zeke rolls 7d6: (16): 16
Zeke steps after Aryia, murmuring under his breath in concern for the woman. She's taking so much damage and he can't _heal_ her if he can not reach her. "Be careful!" He warns the woman, though he's uncertain that she will understand given the circumstances. A pulse of healing energy rolls outwards from him, healing his allies, but he carefully excludes the beast that they are fighting from his healing power.
<OOC> Ashes says, "put another Evil Eye Hex on, this to his attack rolls -4" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+12: (16)+12: 28 (vs DC 21) <OOC> Ashes says, "cackle as a move action, this will double the duration of any hexes"
Ashlee continues to stare. The fight is interesting and she compares it to Donna's abilities. She glares at the beast, it shouldn't be so effective. It's slipping up.
Unexpectedly, she cackles, a piercing laugh that cuts across the battle and makes her unsettling presence stronger and the evil eyes she's focused on the thing last that much longer.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (16)+17: 33 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (6)+17: 23 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (7)+17: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (3)+17: 20 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+17: (20)+17: 37 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+13: (7)+13: 20 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+13: (1)+13: 14
The creature has a few broken teeth in that large head and something structural gave way under one of Aryia's previous punches. Still, it doesn't seem ready to quit the field of battle and bites at her again, nearly taking her arm off at the shoulder. It slurps as it pulls away, distracted so that only one of its clawed swipes finds her flesh.
GAME: Aryia spends ONE use of STUNNING FIST. <OOC> Aryia says, "stunning fist, going for stagger" GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL. GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (6)+18+2: 26 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (14)+11: 25 (Fort vs DC 20) GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (6)+3+2: 11
Aryia gasps as her arm is nearly rent out of socket and out of her body. The fight with the spider undead comes back to light, and she finds herself charging into the maw as it pulls away instead of yanking back. And her hair catches the light as well.
She cracks her skull against theirs.
The mute suddenly vanishes in a fading after image, the brightly lit and bleeding profusely woman landing beside the bluescale and stagger to a knee. She looks up at Zeke, her mask half off and panting.
'Hey, I listened!' her expression reads.
<OOC> Zeke will five foot to 10,18 and drop-cast for Heal. Because she needs the HP :"D <OOC> Zeke says, "As a note, Zeke gets +1 to the level of healing spells so this does a base 150 HP." GAME: Zeke casts Banishment. Caster Level: 14 DC: 20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Name | CHP (T) | HP | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Aryia.........| 126 | 126 | | Ashes.........| 81 | 81 | | Zeke..........| 108 | 108 | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zeke is already praying as he steps back, his words filled with power. It's not often that he is required to use his more powerful spells, but he is grateful to be so blessed by the Dragonfather today. He pours all the healing power that he can manage into his hands and touches the Mul'nessia woman gently on the shoulder and offers her a gentle look that explains that this is why he asked her to come back.
GAME: Ashes casts Ill Omen. Caster Level: 12 DC: 15 (next 3 rolls it makes, roll the d20 twice, take the worst)
"Feiu of the Tears, give him a bad time." Ashlee says, as she moves up to stand beside the blue-scale, touching the holy symbol on her breastplate.
There's an annoyed growl as the wounds disappear from the brawling elf and then a wince and further sound of complaint when it feels the curse befall it.
The creature narrows tiny eyes and digs into the bundled rags hanging around its waist. It produces a potion that looks incredibly tiny in its massive claws and just tosses it-- bottle and all-- into its gigantic mouth. There's an audible crunch and swallowing noise as it vanishes from view.
GAME: Aryia spends ONE use of FAERIE FIRE.
Aryia blinks as the creature uses tactics to overcome the change of tide. Then, she scowls. A memory surfaces of her sister reminding her that the light can be used to snuff out those that avoid it.
She staggers to her feet, but stops suddenly, gasping at the wave of relief from Zeke that floods her. She looks up to him, nods in appreciation, then stamps her foot in an advancing step.
A pulse of light washes over the ground, then shoots to where the sword armed creature was.
It finds its feet, then snakes upwards, revealing it in a silvery-hued outline.
Zeke once more lays a hand on Aryia. "Thisss one offersss the blesssingss of the Dragonfather upon you. That you sstrike fassst and with sstrength. That you ssstand sstrong in the fasssce of thisss evil thing." He motions toward it. "Ssstrike and be scertain that the Dragonfather isss in your handsss." He speaks with certainty, with power, and Aryia will be able to feel it too. The power surging through her.
<OOC> Ashes says, "okay so no hexes up, try the -4 attack evil eye" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26 (vs DC21)
"And he's in Vardama's," The ashen Arvec adds in her slow monotone. She stares at the creature. His attacks will be weak, he can feel it, the cold embrace of death creeping up on him with a surety. He will fall, and the skull-faced hobgoblin will be there to receive him for her goddess.
Limned in fire that doesn't burn, the invisible creature stands to its full height and hocks a gawb of half-digested elf-meat at the trio of adventurers. It mutters a curse in Undercommon before turning and tearing through the camp to exit on the far side. It's attempting to flee into the wilderness.
GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL. GAME: Aryia spends ONE use of STUNNING FIST. GAME: Aryia rolls punch+7: aliased to weapon0+2+7: (13)+18+2+7: 40 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL) (Stunned) GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (5)+3+2: 10
Aryia looks over to Zeke, her glowing gaze growing brighter. Her face firms. Her fists clench. This wasn't the first time she's had divine help from her friends. And she could feel it coursing through her veins.
She nods sharply.
The mute gets low, inhales deeply. And launches off after the monster.
Fading after images mark where she is, kicking up snow in her wake. She appears up on a tree, then launches herself downwards. A fist cocked back.
Gold scales of a curled taloned fingers shimmer in tandem with the moonglow. And it crashes down with the ferocity of a dragon in a mixture of silver and golden light.
She thumbs her nose.
Zeke trails after the monster, knowing that he will not catch up, but hoping to stay close enough to Aryia that if she has to retreat he can heal her again. It's the best he can do. He also prepares to cast another spell should it try to heal itself somehow.
GAME: Ashes casts Fly. Caster Level: 12 DC: 17
The Mourner moves the blue-scale, an ominous shadow. She touches him on the shoulder, "Feiu of the Tears, help him catch up."
A gravelike chill forms around him, and with it the shadows of wings. More like tattered shades than a physical presence, it bears him up.
It's stunned to find that it can't do anything!
GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (14)+18+2: 34 GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (9)+18+2: 29 GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (20)+18+2: 40 (THREAT) GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (11)+18+2: 31 (Confirmed) GAME: Aryia rolls weapon-5: (19)+0+-5: 14 GAME: Aryia rolls weapon-10: (3)+0+-10: -7 GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL. GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (16)+18+2: 36 <OOC> Aryia says, "unsure if it survies, but DC 14 will save or blind for one round" GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (10)+3+2: 15 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (11)+3+2: 16 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch+crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2+2d8+strength+2: (8)+3+2+(12)+3+2: 30 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (6)+3+2: 11 GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (9)+3+2: 14 (85 total)
Aryia takes a moment to size the beast up as they stagger about. She inhales deeply.
The sheer carnage wrought should not be put into words. Though the bright flashes of light that came from within the woods were like signal flares. And they grew brighter with each pulse before, finally, it winks out.
The mute returns, covered from waist up in ichor and viscera.
The top half of the thing in the distance was beaten into a pulp.
She spits, and holds up a two thumbs. "Good job. <Handspeech>
There's no sign of the mad druid in the sky. The owl, too, has vanished.
The campsite lies in ruin. One tent is fully collapsed and blown towards the horse corpses. There's puddled blood staining the tangled bedrolls and blankets.
The other two tents are still intact but the monster coming out of the southern one doesn't speak well for the possibility of survivors inside.
The fire continues to burn even after being half-smothered by the fleeing creature.
Ashlee watches, it's her main skill. She takes in the distant flashes, then the returning mul'niessa. She nods, "You've got red on you."
She turns and heads back to the camp. She checks the remaining tents.
While Ashes looks around the tents, Zeke gives the wagon itself a cursory looking over before beginning to attend to the dead. The fact that these bodies were desecrated in the way they were bothers him greatly, and that is evidenced in his form as he moves them to the wagon so that they can be carried to the city. Hopefully to be properly attended to by whomever their families are.
GAME: Ashes rolls heal: (3)+20: 23
The steepled tent of furs is wet at the bottom. The remains of a giantborn guard are in pieces; a dismembered hand still clutches the grip of his greatsword. His foot, too, was dropped outside in the snow. The straps on his banded mail are sundered and the piled plates are tossed against the back of the temporary structure.
Inside the other tent still standing, Ashlee finds another corpse-- either an elf or a slight human-- female, missing its head and neck.
Beneath the corpse, though, is a bit of good news. She finds the Lucht driver alive. He somehow managed to crawl under the larger corpse and hide. The scrawny driver smells awful for soiling himself and he's comatose from terror but she's fairly certain he'll live.
Aryia looks down at herself, sighs lightly, and nods. Yes, she had a little bit of red on her.
The mute goes about the campsite, helping pick up things and fetching her rental horse. Eyes look at the sky briefly for that madman to come back, but they never return.
She gives Zeke a pat on the arm as she passes by him. An appreciative one. Though, she can't help but stare at the corpses and pieces of bodies.
Her lips twist, and she deeply sighs, trying to keep the green out of her face. At least Hero's alive.
GAME: Ashes casts Bull's Strength. Caster Level: 12 DC: 16 (as CMW) GAME: Ashes rolls 2d8+10: (7)+10: 17
Ashlee carefully picks up the halfing. Doing so causes the blood stain on his chest to grow. A wicked claw had cut down to the ribs. She holds him carefully, "Feiu of the Tears, it's not his time yet." She draws her hand, bright with bone tattoos, over the wound. A stillness surrounds the halfling, and he is healed.
She considers waking him. She's almost certain a grinning goblinoid face with a skull, and a happy bee, and a curious house centipede would be a cheerful first sight after near death. Almost.
She decides to let him sleep for now. Chippen might have suggested that.
The rest of the bodies are seen to by Zeke. Each one and part carefully set in the cart while Ashes attends to the one person that survived this encounter with the beast aside from themselves.
There are enough blankets and bedding to wrap the dead. The three guards all died defending the camp and wagon and there personal effects were tossed and probed.
Two Llyranesi, with matching arms (longbows, longswords, and dagger) that might have been siblings, friends, or lovers in life; it's likely this pair was sharing a tent. There's a letter secreted away in an empty boot. Addressed to Ertumal, expressing pride and well-wishes for the man he's grown into. It's signed 'forever amazed, Ianwarin Alderlight.'
The giantborn is the most-thoroughly devoured an the edge of his blade is bloodied; he died on his feet before becoming a meal. He has a sketchbook and journal. There's no information relevant to the job but the last entries are awkward attempts at poetry and lines of him working up the courage to court a girl named 'Frederika.' Several of the drawings are of her strong aesir woman with a crooked nose and braided hair. The last page has a pressed flower native to the Mythwood and his decision to deliver it and ask her to dinner.
The back of the wagon needs to be straightened; the mithral was spilled out of the strongbox, the logs tossed around. That done there's room plenty for the remains and their belongings. The Lucht doesn't stir from his state, terrified beyond his senses. Wrapped in a blanket and propped into the shotgun position of the wagon, he'll ride back unconscious and likely wake in the Soldier's Defense when his mind has had some time to recover.
Aryia can tether her one horse to the wagon and the stronger members of the group can assist in getting it to the road where the one animal is enough to pull. The going is slow and steering is awkward but they'll make it back to town mid-evening shortly after a light snow begins to fall.
Aehrick is tapping his foot in the guildhall when you arrive. He'll pale at the details and shake his head, cursing his family's black luck. He promises to talk to Goldbell VII and offer to pay for the funeral arrangements, asking that the Ashlee and Zeke make sure he's kept in the loop in that regard.
The Khazad-aul thanks you for a job well done and hopes your work tomorrow has a happier ending.
Combatty
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
23 Ug 1
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>> 17 Aryia 6 <<
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14 Chravuller
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13 Zeke 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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9 Ashes 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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==============================================================================
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
| Name | CHP (T) | HP |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
| Aryia.........| 24 | 126 |
| Ashes.........| 81 | 81 |
| Zeke..........| 108 | 108 |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Map
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=m57dywem4y8
After Ashes mentions her wanted poster
https://media.giphy.com/media/mEqMknMZWh1Fm/giphy.gif
<OOC> Jinks says, "He bought 50lbs. But it's mithral so it only weighs 25lbs."