Life in Hell

[Vixsor Lumin]

His moment of ecstasy over, Falthor sees the 3 men moving. "How could anyone not be satisfied by that? We should go find out." he says in response to Moira. He adds in the language of the dark,"I don't think this area will be safe for much longer." he draws his bow and moves to intercept the men.

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perception to look for weapons or any hidden allies (1d20+8)[10]
Sense motive to see what their intent is (1d20+8)[17]
Can I take 10 on these?

[Snowfire]

Falthor finds himself in a similar situation to Nightbane, unable to discern anything from the three except for their intent focus on Lord Callista. For a moment, he thinks that his movement and the unslinging of his weapon has gone unnoticed, but then the man at the back whispers something to his comrades and changes the direction of his step. Straight towards Falthor.

The other two continue their steady approach on the Lord's Box, their hands grasping...something beneath each of their coats.

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Falthor, that's you taking 10 on both your checks.

[peacenlove]

(Native Shadow tongue) "You will have mystical support from the shadows if things get ugly." she said as she observed and tried to analyze the situation.
"It would be a shame for this night to end badly." She states in common as if to conceal her previous speech.
(Native Shadow tongue) "Let's be ready for everything then. If trouble appears, harass the shadow brother's target, while protecting him from harm. If you are wounded, protect yourself and return to me if you feel you can no longer fight." she addresses to Nightbane.

Nightbane's battle plan

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Flank Falthor's opponent and disrupt attacks to him with his immediate action until it is down to 18 hp. It will be above ground.
If at 17 hp or less, he doesn't intercept attacks, but continues to grant falthor +2 dodge AC. He fights half inside the ground (cover).
If at 8 hp or less it retreats.
Incorporeality reduces damage to it by 50%.

Moira's Stealth (positioning herself to have both Falthor and his potential combatants in sight.

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(1d20+12)[28]

[Vixsor Lumin]

"Uh oh..." Falthor is a bit concerned that he can't figure out their intentions, but decides to play it safe. He says in Shadow Speak to himself, "By the Eternal Night, I guess its time to act."

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I use Dissapear to bcome invisible as a swift action. Then I move to get behind where the 3 men and use my shrouded in shadows ability to cast darkness on the Lords shoes granting him and anyone within 20' 20% concealment.

[Trodon]

Zalabar moves to intercept the newcomers, trying to look like just another guest on the move. Should have brought a sword, I may have to revile myself... He thinks to himself as he looks them over.

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Disguise for looking like another member of the crowd. (1d20+11)[20]

Perception. (1d20+8)[14]

[peacenlove]

Damn it Falthor couldn't you be more discreet? thinks Moira sighing.
If confusion is your bright plan, lets add to it then.

Moira's actions (EDIT: Added swift action)

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While my move action is spent on hiding in the crowd (granting me cover, enabling me to hide even while observed), my standard action is casting Tugging Shadows on the hostile person closest to the Lord.
He/she must make a reflex save DC 19 or be immobilized (can't move, no other penalties) for 5 rounds. As a standard action I can drag him up to 30' to a direction of my choosing.
DC 23 Perception to notice my shadow moving, if successful DC 17 or 21 spellcraft to recognize the mystery.
As a swift action I use Roughen ground to make 2 5' squares between me and the person closing to us cost twice to move.

Nightbane follows the plan by observing and following Falthor. If Falthor acts, it positions itself to flank Falthor's target, attacking it if possible.

[Madara]

Haken moves closer to the walls. It'll be easier to chase them if I have a bird's eye view. Once next to a wall, he climbs up just enough to see over the crowd and get a good look at the men, while trying to keep a low profile.

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Perception (1d20+8)[14]
Stealth (1d20+4)[14]

[ArkenBrony]

Damien walks in the direction of the lords box, and when close to the box, say about 8 feet, he casts Extended protection from evil 10' radius, and, as a swift action, uses the hat of disguise to quickly change his appearance to the look of one of the guests he saw earlier, without his white robes anymore. whats with all these people approaching the lord box, better protect him from the impending danger just in case *casts spell* and to change my form to keep safe in case of someone who is displeased with my spell. he thinks

[Snowfire]

The man moving towards Falthor stumbles slightly as Moira gestures at the stone in front of him, and his face twists in an angry grimace. His head turns, trying to locate the source of his difficulty, and Moria holds her breath as his eyes slide over her...and continue moving.

The white-robed priest shimmers in the crowd, taking on the appearance of a simple guest as he approaches the Lord's Box and a swirling field of protection surrounds Lord Callista, just as a sudden darkness descends on the area around him.

The crowd panics as the oily blackness blooms out of nothingness, scrambling for exits in a screaming tide of flesh. Haken latches on to the wall, pulling himself up and away from the rush. It swirls around Falthor as his form seems to dance through it, bow rising with an arrow on the string.

The man who was approaching Falthor spins back towards his target, trying to place the now vanished mercenary in a panicked crowd. His dark eyes harden slightly as he finds nothing and turns back towards the Lord and his own compatriots. His mouth opens and he barks a command in a tongue none of you recognise as his hands rise, sparks of arcane light dancing at his fingertips.

And as Zalabar bursts out of the crowd a bare ten foot from the two men, one of them lurches suddenly, his legs frozen in place by tendrils of darkness reaching up from the floor. But they're close enough for their purpose, and their hands flash out of their coats in a ear-crushing blast of thunder.

Glaring white light flares out across the room as the weapons in the attackers hand's spew thunder and death. One, two, four, six pounding beats slam out, split between Lord Callista, Lady Crimson, and Master Nox.

Damien's creation flares around the Lord, deflecting the first shot in a blaze of protective light, but the second strikes true, slamming into the Lord's flesh with a wet thud.

Taken by surprise, both Gretalus and Amel are hit twice and sent flying by the force of impact. Gretalus hits the wall hard, blinking a few times from the impact before rising to his feet and you all watch in astonishment as he...changes.

His skin shifts, becoming scaly and hard, and his primary incisors lengthen into razored, serpentine fangs.

Amel doesn't even hit the ground. In flight, her physical form blurs and then collapses into a shimmering golden mist of swirling mathematical symbols and equations. The mist drops to the ground, Amel's body reforming out of it as it does so, and she draws her sword, preparing to charge.

The guards around the box move into defensive formation as Mical pulls Delat from his seat, interposing himself between the two assassins and his Lord.

((The two men who continued moving towards the Box close to ten foot before Moira's mystery takes effect and immobilizes one of them. They then each draw something resembling a magically powered revolver and unload two shots each into Lord Callista, his Guard Captain and his Master of House Affairs. The third is yet to act, but appears to be preparing a spell.

Initiative time folks.))

[Vixsor Lumin]

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(1d20+3)[14] initiative

[Madara]

They've got guns!, Haken is now in combat mode. Awesome shall ensue.

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Initiative:(1d20+1)[15]

"Everyone down! They're armed! Keep moving in an orderly fashion!"

[peacenlove]

That was unexpected. Still if this was their best shot, we are still in control.

Initiative

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(1d20+2)[16]

[ArkenBrony]

initiative:

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(1d20+2)[3]

[Snowfire]

Sparks of light shimmer in the darkness as they slide away from the hands of the third man in the group. His fingers blur, blue-violet flame pouring out of nothingness around them, and he barks three words.

"Eldra! Jiso! Delia!"

The fire around his hands explodes outward, branching out like chain lightning to seek its targets. In the instant before impact, you notice that those who were hit by the gunmen flash in the same colour as the fire. Then it hits.

Roiling columns of fire lance through the chest's of Amel and Gretalus, and the two scream in sudden agony. The third lance slams straight through the two guards who try to stop it, pouring through Mical into Lord Callista. The two guards burn away into nothing but dust, and Mical staggers, but the bolt is depleted by their sacrifice. It still strike the Lord, but not as hard as it did his counsellors. Unlike them, he is still standing.

"My Lord! Run!" You hear Mical whisper-scream. "RUN!"

Off to one side of the hall, the Guard Captain pulls herself from the floor. Light pools deep in her hands, her sword lying forgotten fifteen foot away, torn from her grasp by the sheer force of the spell that hit her. You catch glimpses of spinning equations and strange symbols flickering around her hands, and a bolt of lightning springs from her fingertips.

The spellcaster screams as electricity assaults him, flares of the crackling energy dancing across his body in a tortuous ballet that is almost beautiful. He goes to his knees in pain, hands tearing at the stone of the floor in a desperate attempt to counteract the agony.

Then the lightning fades, the light around Amel's hands vanishing with it. The mage rises slowly, almost delicately, and his eyes blaze with fury.

((The spellcaster seems to use the bullets of his compatriots as something eerily similar to conductors, channelling magical fire straight into the bodies of those hit with them. Gretalus and Amel are forced away from their Lord again, this time clearly wounded. Delat, shielded slightly by the sacrifice of two of his guards and the loyalty of Mical, manages to hold his footing. Amel acts next, casting Lightning Bolt on the spellcaster. It doesn't kill him, but it hurts him badly.

Madara, you're up.))

[Madara]

Haken runs 40ft. along the ceiling, his Soul Graft allowing him to cling to the wall. When he reaches the attackers, he flings a Javlin at the spellcaster.

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Attack:(1d20+6)[10]
Damage:(1d6+5)[7]

[Snowfire]

Haken's javelin skitters off the stone floor of the hall, and the spellcaster barks something at this compatriots. The immobilized one unleashes another flurry of shots at Lord Callista, the bullets glowing faintly in the unearthly blackness.

And once again, the Lord's guards move to shield him from the four lethal projectiles. Two are stopped by them, punching through the bodies of the guards in front of them in explosions of blood, but they lose their power in that impact. A third bullet goes astray, slamming into the seat in which the Lord had been previously sitting only moments ago and a fan of deadly splinters explode away from it.

But the final shot goes home, and Delat staggers at the impact. Like his advisor, he doesn't fall. But he can't be all that well after that either.

The second gunman spins, stepping back towards his lightning-struck fellow, and raises his weapon at the half-orc on the ceiling. Haken has a moment to recognise the sudden threat, and then two solid thunderbolts slam into his chest.

Gretalus comes to his feet again, staggering slightly this time but still up, and fixes his gaze on the unmoving man who aimed at his Lord. Ugly hate flares in the snake-man's eyes and he begins to move forward slowly, all the while his gaze pinned on the assassin.

Madara

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Take (2d8+12)[19] damage. It counts as piercing, so your DR comes into effect.

((Haken misses the spellcaster with his javelin, but prompts a response. Gunman 1 (immobilised by Moira), ignores the half-orc and continues firing on the Lord, whilst Gunman 2 moves back and shoots Haken twice. Two more of Lord Callista's guards go down in this volley, leaving only two on their feet.

Peacenlove, work your (shadow)magic))

[peacenlove]

To her mind eons had passed until she recovered from the shock of the attack.
Her next moves however didn't come from her, or at least they weren't part of a coherent plan.
While her mind was working, her face took a calm expression while her eyes reflected those of a frigid beshadowed being. As wisps and tendrils of darkness danced around her form, she addressed the spellcaster with a heavy alien voice:
"The Night will relieve you from the pain of living."

(Move action) Intimidate

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(1d20+21)[23]

Even while her gaze was fixed on the spellcaster, the gunslinger shooting at the half orc suffered a horrible mental assault, as if the most demented of nightmares took life and tried to force themselves into his skull.
(Standard action) Turbulent Dreams

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DC 18 Will or sleep for 1 hour. If he awakens before the hour passes, second will save DC 18 or he is dealt

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(1d4)[4]

wisdom damage.

Twilight reigns. At last.
Nightbane waits for Falthor to attack so he can harass the opponent first. If he felt impatience, no one can discern it.
Nightbane's attack (assumes both flank from Falthor and the penalty for protecting him and giving him +2 Dodge AC, he tries to attack just before Falthor.).

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Attack: (1d20+6)[13]
Incorporeal damage: (1d6)[1]
Cold Damage: (1d6)[2]

[Snowfire]

The caster takes an involuntary half-step back as he sees the shadows blooming out around the young woman, now standing in the open space of the hall, then shakes his head. "Your Night has no power here." He spits back at Moira, but you hear a slight quaver in his tone.

The gunman lurches in place, his hands tightening against the onslaught of horror and nightmare. He gives a lurching shake, flinging his arms out away from himself as if warding off an attacking force, and then draws in a deep breath, once again calm.

Mical, taking advantage of the sudden intervention, half-throws Lord Callista towards the wide-open doors to the hall, the man breaking into a struggling run midway. But...things won't be that easy it seems.

The spellcaster twists one hand in a vicious, angry, pulling gesture, and the doors slam shut. You all hear the resounding thud of the bolts hammering home and the click of locks echoes across the chamber.

((Intimidate actually succeeds due to circumstantial modifiers, but the gunman manages to fight off Moira's mental assault. Mical hurls his charge across the room towards the doors, only for them to be pulled closed and locked by the caster.

Falthor, Zalabar, your turns.))

[Vixsor Lumin]

Falthor sees Moira starting to lose control. Well better them than some pickpocket. he thinks to himself. He restrains from spitting out an insult at the spellcaster know ing it could give away his position. He stays still and aims a shot at him instead. As it streaks towards the spellcaster Falthors restraint breaks and he calls out, "Well my Darkness seems to be working just fine!" then he laughs and turns invisible again. Let's hope that'll draw his attention towards finding me.

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Attack roll (1d20+8)[19]
Damage (1d8+3)[11]
Then use Dissapear

[Trodon]

Zalabar moves up to the caster, then attempt to grapple.

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CMB: (1d20+16)[17] (5 BAB, 5 STR, 2 Improved Grapple, 4 Strength of the Undead Lord)

[Snowfire]

Falthor blinks back into being, his invisibility spell fading as he looses an arrow wrapped in shadow at the spellcaster. Dark grey glows around the arrowhead in the darkness of the room as it shoots across the room to slam unerringly into the caster's chest. Shadow wreathes the area of impact, stabbing into the man, and he staggers back a step, one hand grasping frantically for the arrow lodged within him. Muscles flex and tense, and he pulls the intruding object free.

Zalabar, hidden and dismissed until now, springs forward toward the caster, arms stretched out to grapple and carry him to the ground. But he misjudges. His lunge carries him through the empty space right in front of the caster and he hisses in annoyance as he turns to face his target.

And then Nightshade rises from the floor in an icy mist and stabs out, tendrils of shadow questing for the one who has enraged his mistress. The man's movements avoid the main strike of the assault, but a single tendril caresses his shoulder on the return trip. And he shivers as freezing shadow slices through him.

The two surviving guards move forward in concert on the gunman before them, their swords glowing faintly in the darkness. Each lands a blow, the keen edges of their blades slicing through his skins, but he makes no sound.

((Falthor hits the spellcaster, but also pushes him back slightly with the attack, causing Zalabar to miss. However, with Zalabar now opposite it, Nightshade does gain flanking bonuses and therefore hits. The two guards attack Gunman 1, both striking him, but their blows seem to have little effect.

Damien, your turn.))

[ArkenBrony]

know that the fight has broken out, theres not much to do but heal, damien runs to lord callista, know looking like a white mage again so they let me heal him, and i cast cure serious

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touch attack if necessary (1d20+2)[17]
healed (3d8+26)[41]

edit: then i give 9 temporary hit points due to medics favor

[Snowfire]

Light flickers in the blackness of the hall as Damien reaches Lord Callista. One hand reaches out, grasping the noble's shoulder, and divine purity flares into wreathes of white flame. They circle Delat, concentrating in a rosette over his chest. And he straightens, hand no longer clutching his wounded chest. He nods to the white mage behind him.

The caster, already shaken by the rampant shadow unleashed by Moira, staggers back from the now revealed Nightshade and Trodon. Finding himself trapped, he seems to cower between them.

In the corner, silver-green symbols shimmer and dance around slender wrists as Lady Crimson comes to her feet. Sparks of dazzling blue-white crackle between the perpetually reforging equations, skittering down the chains towards Amel's hands. The still mobile gunman twists slightly and shakes his head - almost mockingly.

"Stay down." He drawls, one hand flicking in the direction of the pale redhead. You all see the results, as shining mithral comes apart in a thunderous blast of light.

((Damien heals Lord Callista for a frankly absurd number of hitpoints - that level of healing is just insane. Amel rises to her feet, preparing what appears to be another lightning bolt. And then the bullets lodged in her explode.

Turn to Madara.))

[Madara]

Haken notices that his approach isn't working, so instead he drops to the ground, and uses his tentacles to reach 10ft. and start grappling the Caster. As soon as his soul reaches out, the faintly blue, which can still be seen through, become visible to the others near by.

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CMB (1d20+14)[18] to grapple.

[Snowfire]

Faintly glowing sapphire tentacles unfurl from Haken's back as he drops to the floor, coiling and writhing in the air. Then they spring out, hurtling across the space between the half-orc and the spellcasting assassin with an audible snap. The man gasps in pain as the first coiling limb slams into his chest, driving him back as the others swirl up around him. They grasp his wrists, his ankles, his torso, before snapping tight. The man goes limp in the grapple, desperately attempting to breath as the air is driven ruthlessly from his lungs.

The two gunslingers twist their heads, sharing a glance, and then nod in perfect, unnatural synchronicity. The second one cries out in a voice of death and nothingness, words that make no sense echoing across the perfect acoustics of the room. Black fire erupts around the two - and the shadows clutching at the legs of the first one explode in a spray of obsidian and violet.

Their eyes darken, the blackness of their pupils spreading to cover their eyes entire and a purple flame springs to baleful life at the centre of that darkness. Muted indigo pours down each of the assassin's gun arms, edging the dark fire and enveloping their weapons. The first gunman steps forward, his weapon tracking around on the Lord and the one who healed him. His fellow springs back, away from the revealed attackers and trains his weapon on them.

Fingers tighten convulsively on triggers, and harsh cries of fear flood the room. For this time there is no crash of thunder, no eye-tearing flare of light from the strange weapons. No. This is far worse. Jagged bolts of vivid, crackling purple fire leap from the barrels.

The blasts leave searing trails in the air as they cross it, slamming into their targets with deadly force. In what seems like a single instant, blazing violet links the gunmen and everyone in the room yet standing.

Lord Callista staggers once more as the condensed flame stabs effortlessly through him. Beside him, Damien is driven almost to his knees by the blast of irresistible energy.

Damien

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Take (3d8+12)[22] points of damage

Moira, Haken, and Zalabar each all take similar lances of crackling light to their chests, the flame scorching through them with uncanny ease, setting their nerves ablaze with pain. And another bolt whips through the space which recently contained Falthor.

Moira

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Take (3d8+12)[27] points of damage

Haken

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Take (3d8+12)[17] points of damage

Zalabar

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Take (3d8+12)[27] points of damage

Falthor

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(1d100)[40]
01-69

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No effect

70-100

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Take (3d8+12)[23] points of damage

The faces of the gunmen twist in what could - if one were both drunk and hallucinating - be considered a victorious smile. And, slowly, their fingers begin to tighten again.

Then you hear it. Or feel it, you're not really sure. Heads whip around towards the stage, and eyes widen involuntarily. Standing in clear view at the centre of the stage is Telaya, strumming gently on a hand harp. And as you all - assassin's included - stare in sudden incomprehension, she starts to sing.

Strength surges through you, even as the musics seems to freeze your attackers in place. And your mind clears against the pain. You have a job to do. And by the Gods, you will complete it!

((Haken succeeds in grappling the caster, then the gunmen do...something...and hit everyone in the room with what appear to be flaming purple lightning bolts. And then Telaya starts singing.

For the rest of the encounter, everyone gains the effects of the Diehard feat. Oh, and +5 on attack and damage rolls.

Everyone take their actions in order, ignoring NPCs. So Moira, Falthor, Zalabar and then Damien.))

[peacenlove]

Spellcraft

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(1d20+12)[14]

The shock was enough to bring her into a near death state. But that wouldn't last long.

(Swift action 3 charges Healing Belt)

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(4d8)[21]

Any wounds after the effect served only to enhance her fearsome image. Her shadow started to alter into something terrifying, however her stature slightly tended toward a rabid cornered animal's one.
"It does." she answered to the surrounded arcanist.
There is no ground to back now. she pondered underneath her steely gaze. "It is you that do not have any power here." She spoke with a slightly angrier voice to the gunslinger who escaped her bonds.

(Move action Intimidate)

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(1d20+19)[36]

Her shadow seemed to take life, however to the learned it was but a mockery of life, a direct manifestation of her anger, given a twisted form.
While her body remained relatively calm, only barely twitching, despite her previously grievous wounds, the shadow seemed to attack with an unrestrained, yet muted fury towards her enemies...

(Standard action summon an undead shadow with Dark Silhouette positioned to threaten both gunslingers.
It uses Steel wind to hit both of them.)
Attack 1

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Attack roll
(1d20+4)[20]
Strength Damage
(1d9)[2]

Attack 2

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Attack roll
(1d20+4)[17]
Strength Damage
(1d9)[4]

Nightbane, realizing that its mistress is both in danger and close to her breaking point, positions himself to flank with the undead shadow the other gunslinger.
Attack

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Attack roll
(1d20+8)[11]
incorporeal Damage
(1d6)[6]
Cold Damage
(1d6)[1]

[Vixsor Lumin]

Falthor curses as the lighting narrowly misses, flashing past in front of his face. He took a few steps away from where he just was. Seeing that the half-orc with the...ghost tentacles... seemed to have the caster, Falthor shifted his attention to the men with the strange metal devices. He targets the one that Nightbane attacked and fires an arrow, putting as much force behind it as he could. As soon as it left his fingers he flashed into visibility then faded away again.

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move action to stumble away a bit.
Attack (1d20+7)[10]
Damage (1d8+2)[10] used deadly aim feat
Strike From Shadows (3d8)[17]
Then Dissapear

[Trodon]

Looks like that one is held up. Zalabar turns from he caster and moves to one of the other two, then attempts to get a hold of him.

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Moving to one of the gunmen, then grappling. CMB - (1d20+16)[17]

[ArkenBrony]

Damien stumbles over from the agony the blast he received had caused. i remove the "obscuring mist" spell to cast "cure light wounds" on *sigh* lord callista again

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(1d8+16)[22] and 3 temporary hit points

[Snowfire]

As the trails of the bolts fade into blackness, the sound of their passing subsumed by Telaya's song, Moira's shadow explodes outward in a writhing, terrifying explosion of not-black. Two great tendrils, one alone far too large to fit in the slightly built girl's shadow, slam through the two gunslingers. The dark fire wanes slightly at its touch, the forms of the two assassins shrinking slightly at the draining touch of Shadow.

The tendrils seem to swell, as if well fed, as they withdraw slightly, and one of the gunslingers tilts his head to one side as they do so.

"Is this all Shadow can muster?" He half-spits, anger overtaking fear.

Then Nightbane rears above his comrade, stabbing his own - albeit thinner - limbs of shade into the assassin's back. He lurches up in pain, but holds his footing as you notice a thin line of what looks like blood descending from one side of his mouth.

Mical moves across the room, positioning himself again between the gunslingers and Delat.

"Thank you, priest. I give you myself as a shield."

Falthor snaps back into visibility, an arrow cloaked in writhing shadow springing from his bow. Again the dull grey slashes across the room. Again the Knight of Shadow finds his mark. And, finally, there's a reaction. The man drops to one knee, coughing blood in patterns across the floor.

Zalabar, swiftly shaking off the effects of the blast that hit him, lunges forward towards the other assassin. And again fate favours those defending the Lord. The two go down, with Zalabar controlling the grapple.

Damien nods to Mical, then reaches out with light swirling into being around his hand once more. White power flowers around Lord Callista's wounds once more, and he straightens as the last two guards take up positions around him.

The spellcaster, contained within Haken's grasp, calms and smiles viciously at the half-orc. Around his body, swirling sparks of blue and purple begin to form as his mouth moves in silent litany.

((Mical is now shielding Damien, with the two surviving guards standing in the way of bullets directed at Lord Callista. And the spellcaster seems to be doing...something.

Haken, go.))