Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
The barbarian knows what circling birds means, but seems relatively unfazed. He shifts his gaze downward, looking for the source of the groaning.
Without a word, Retay places his greataxe on the ground - the handle leaning against his leg for easy retrieval - then reaches behind his back to the pack he still hasn't taken off and takes out a shortbow and quiver. It seems slightly odd how quickly he finds them, without any rummaging.
He silently readies the bow, staring out into the darkness.
As much for my own reference as anyone else's . . .
If Retay sees anything living (or undead or a construct for that matter), and it's within good shooting range, he'll fire. He'll continue to shoot it until it gets within 40 feet or so; then he'll drop his bow, grab his greataxe, and close for melee (charging if possible).
Perfect, just as were about to get into a fight someone has challenge authority. Between the rumbling and the circling crows stealth was starting to seem irrelevant. Standing Norgold positioned himself in front of the shelter, chain hanging ready in one hand. His other hand went to his belt pouch and rested on one of the remaining potions within, in case it would be needed.
Can anyone light this place up a bit? It obviously knows where we are already.
"If you insist." Without moving his eyes, Retay eases the arrow out of his bow in order to reach into his pack and somehow pull out a torch, already burning. The lean-to is flooded with light. "I like to be prepared," he mutters, barely audible above the strange creaking. He tucks the torch into his belt, so he can use his bow again. The flame continues to burn happily.
Bows. Right. Good idea. Get ahold of yourself, Damian.
Slipping his daggers back into his belt, he draws his crossbow, and loads a bolt in. Glancing around the area around the leanto, he focuses on a concealed area near the downed tree, and quietly slips out of sight, scanning the horizon for movement.
Hide - (1d20+13) (assuming he can find a spot to hide)
On the edge of the firelight, Khazrael takes on a new look. His sharp, perfect teeth seem overlong and jagged, the saliva making them catch the flickering luminescence. He looks to Norgold and grins at his comment.
The young man's eyes are black, save for a small highlight--the thin layer of moisture reflects the light of the campfire back--and he speaks. His breath floats past his curled lips as a thin white vapor and rises into the night air.
"The birds will be surprised to find that tonight, they feast upon their provider."
Katrin dashes back to her pack and retrieves her everburning torch and crossbow. She tosses the torch towards the group of people at the front of the outcropping, knowing it will do no harm, loads her crossbow, and moves back towards the front. Those things are huge... and I'm not sure I like what that says about whatever they intend to feed on.
Damian wakes the sleeping survivors while Tiriel, Katrin, Faluil, Norgold, and Retay fan out in front of the shelter, weapons at the ready. Both Katrin and Retay have everburning torches that illuminate the area immediately in front of the rock outcropping.
Grynde, Damian, Desmona, and Adalmar form a second defensive line, half-in and half-outside the lean-to, their backs to the solid stone.
Between the torches, the moonlight, and the reflective snow cover, there appears to be a clear line of sight in 180 degrees in front of the protective boulders. The scraping, grinding noise gets louder - it is definitely getting closer - but what is creating it?
Khazrael clambers up the sheer rock face until he is perched at the top of the outcropping, about 20 feet above. Illuminated from below, the gangly feather-headed human looks something like a monster himself ... a gargoyle perhaps.
Cocking his head, he gazes outward from his vantage point, looking for the source of the rumbling. At first he sees nothing ... then he notes a rippling in the distance. The icy crust is being distorted by something moving underneath its surface. The wake creates a beeline directly towards the shelter's position. Whatever is creating it is large and moving quickly ...
Katrin, too, is somewhat shaken by Khazrael's announcement. Although she had heard of a creature that could burrow like this before, she had never seen one or experienced its attack. If what she had heard was correct, even accounting for the exaggeration that usually comes with tall tales, this creature could easily snap her in half. She quickly stows her crossbow in her pack and scans the rock outcropping for handholds and footholds she can use to pull herself up.
(OOC: If is likely Katrin will fall by climbing quickly (accelerated climbing, Climb modifier reduced to +5) then she will move well out of the way to the side instead and retrieve her crossbow from her Handy Haversack.
Pushing down the lump in her throat, she overcomes her fear enough to know that she will likely be in the way of the fighting. Taking a few steps back but staying close enough for her spell to effect as many of the group as possible, Tryntha begins a spell, asking for the land of her home to bless these people with it's protection and to help them overcome these obstacles so they can deliver their dire message to the Iron Lord.
Tryntha casts Bless.
Each ally gains a +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and on saving throws against fear effects.
Giving thanks for the enchantment, she moves further back and begins looking on the ground for small stones until she has three she considers acceptable.
Cupping the stones in her hand, she again prays for these stones to fly straight and true in striking down any who would threaten those who wish no harm to Rashemi.
Katrin recalls the bulettes she had seen harnessed to wagons in the Underdark when she, Tiriel, and Si'rene had first left Velprintalar on their journey under the Sea of Fallen Stars. She feels a pang of sadness, remembering the loss of her gray elf friend. She also remembers that Lumpy was a part of that caravan. The hardy half-orc must have finally run out of his nine lives, and presumably now lies buried under tons of snow back at the Running Rocks.
She has no time for more than a second or two of introspection, however, for in a matter of moments, the monster has arrived ...
Khazrael's warning causes quite a stir. Some survivors snarl and grip their weapons with additional intensity. Others abandon their weapons and start to try futilely to climb up the icy, sheer rock face with their bare hands. (Katrin quickly realizes that she doesn't have enough time to climb, and instead she retrieves her crossbow and moves off to one side.) A few simply stand still, too surprised or terrified to move ...
The monster breaches the surface of the snow about 30 feet from the shelter. It is a giant white worm with a pair of fearsome mandibles. The creature is as thick as a massive tree trunk and probably 40 or 50 feet long.
On its first pass, it severs an unlucky member of the caravan in half completely. (Norgold recognizes him as the man who helped untangle him from the crumpled wagon ...) Steaming dark blood sprays across the white snow, as the two halves of the unfortunate man's body tumble to the ground ...
Panicking, survivors scatter in all directions across the icy ground ...
OOC: You can make your own attacks if you wish (preferably using the GitP roller). The monster is huge and has AC 18 (touch 8).
Hidden off to the side of the leanto, Damian waits until the worm closes within 30', and then fires his crossbow at the mind-numbingly huge beast, hopefully placing his shot well. Let this shot strike true... if my guess is right, white creature, snow environment, I'm gonna guess he's well adapted to the cold.
His thoughts drift down to the chain of holy symbols on his belt. They were never more than tokens before, simply conduits to aid the magical powers he could take from others. Their crude construction testified to that fact. He never gave much thought to the gods, or religion. He had always made his own way.
The corpse lying a stone's throw from him made him question the wisdom of that approach. Just for a moment.
Attack - (1d20+9) (+1 from the Bless)
Assuming it hits, and assuming I'm hidden, sacrifice 1d6 sneak attack to take resistance to cold (worm loses nothing, as he's immune, and I gain cold resistance 10 for 1 minute) Damage - (1d8+1) Sneak - (1d6)
(OOC: crud. Great time to roll a two. Well, never mind all that, then!)
Damian swears as the shot flies well wide. That's what I get for lamenting my lack of faith. His cover at this spot well blown, he drops his crossbow and moves from this position, circling to the side of the giant worm, staying about fifteen feet away. Hopefully, one of the others will move in on the other side to distract the worm. In a moment, more direct action might be necessary. The two daggers that slip into his hands gleam with anticipation.
Shoot, miss, yay. Drop crossbow, move to within 15' of a flanking position, hopefully. Draw daggers.
The gentle tinkling of silver on silver surrounds Khazrael as his hands weave in an intricate dance. A single word sparks the energy within and a blue-white bolt of lightning streaks from his hands toward the worm.
He pants as the bolt streaks away. His hands shake and his vision starts to lose focus.
"Holy-" Desmona draws her spiked chain and runs along the side of the huge worm, thrusting it at the beast's flank from a distance.
"Everyone, scatter and hit it from all sides!" Desmona shouts out, her chain whirling in her grasp.
Desmona will keep her distance from the worm using the full reach of her spiked chain. Next turn if it's within ranged she'll use her flurry of strikes ability (Three attacks at +10/+10/+5) to hit it harder.
Rolling attack: (1d20+12)
Damage from attack if it succeeds: (2d4+3)(7)
I am the Catboy. I demand pettings!
Tiriel feels the bottom of her stomach drop out from under her as she watches the white worm rise from the snow. It really wasn't all that long ago that she, Katrine, Si'rene, Trinark, and the lizard-man druid had almost been killed by a similar monster.
Well, at least this one's only got one head, she thinks to herself as she starts preparing for a long, hard, fight.
Tiriel casts Aid on herself, assuming that she is not w/in reach of the worm.
new HP = 45 + (1d8+4)
AC = 20
+2 morale bonus on attack rolls (+1 from bless, +1 from aid)
+2 to saves vs fear effects (+1 from bless, +1 from aid)
He was so quite before the avalanche. I didn't even know his name. Norgold watches as his one time savior is killed instantly. Then the plight of the rest of the group takes over. Glancing over his shoulder at those huddled in the cave he pulls a potion from his belt pouch and downs it in a single swallow. Loosing a battle cry the normally slight Norgold grows a good four feet taller. His muscles bulge and the snow sags taking on his increased weight. Taking two steps forward he once again plants himself in front of the shelter as if challenging to beast to try and pass.
Potion of enlarge person +2 str -2 dex -1 atk -1 AC +1 size category. Moved to within 20ft so that it is within reach. If it makes another move toward the cave Norgold will use his aoo for a trip attempt, if tripping has any meaning for a worm, else just a normal attack.
not sure if this is right but rolling in advance to speed things up attack roll - (1d20+15) trip strength check - (1d20+12)
or damage - (2d6+6)
Edits because of stupidity (note that previous post is updated too):
Initiative - (1d20+3)
Edits from previous post: I forgot to say Damian drops the crossbow, and pulls out his two daggers (hence the 'direct action next time'). And that 30'? Should be 15'. Sorry, still remembering the way Damian works (and remembering the way Tumble works).
Entirely forgetting his bow, Retay stares at the creature rising out of the snow before him. ...Not quite the sort of adventure I was planning for.
He averts his eyes as one of their members is sliced cleanly in half. Gods that thing is quick! Oh, gods, I don't stand a chance...
He looses his arrow futilely and swaps to his greataxe, preparing for a hard battle. The message echoes around his head: You don't stand a chance... You're useless, absolutely useless...
Hope this works... "Initiative" - (1d20+2)(18) "Shortbow attack" - (1d20+9)(15) EDIT: +1 from Bless "Damage" - (1d6+2)(6)
Hmm. I can get the diceroller to work now, but a 16 ain't so useful...
Dumbstruck at the size of the worm, he practically drops his swords, but forces himself back to reality. Readying himself, one sword hanging loosely at his side, the other held horizontally at chest height.
Daringly, he launches himself forward and past the worm, slashing at it with both swords.
Tiriel places a hand over her heart, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, she fixes her eyes on the giant worm and draws her longsword, which bursts into flame ...
Damian, Faluil, and Retay pepper the enormous worm with arrows and crossbow bolts to little effect. Despite its size, the worm writhes and whips around surprisingly quickly, making it hard to draw a bead on it. Damian and Retay drop their ranged weapons and ready a pair of daggers and a greataxe respectively.
Dancing just out of range of the worm's snapping mandibles, Desmona whirls a spiked chain, trying to hold the worm at bay.
Grynde, seeing an opening, dashes in and his keen shortsword opens up a long gash in the worm's belly. Before he can escape, however, the worm twists and manages to gore the half-elf. Grynde's studded leather tears like tissue paper. The split second of contact chills Grynde to the bone, even as blood begins to pour down his side.
Downing a potion, Norgold doubles in size. His spiked chain also grows proportionally, and the now-massive chain howls as he spins it overhead. Norgold attempts to tangle the worm in its steel links, but the worm twists away, almost pulling the chain out of his hands.
CCRRAAAACKK!!!! Khazrael blasts the worm with a lightning bolt from up above. The monster rears back in pain, screeching in agony. The unnatural cry echoes into the night, freezing many of the scattering survivors in their tracks ...
OOC: Tiriel buffs. Retay misses. Damian misses. Faluil misses with one arrow and hits with a second for 8 points. Desmona hits for 7 points. Grynde crits for 12 points. The worm hits Grynde with an AoO (hitting AC 28) for 27 points. Norgold grows and attempts to trip the worm. Khazrael hits with a lightning bolt for 22 points.
The worm trills ... Everyone needs to make a DC 17 Will save to avoid being stunned for 1d4 rounds ...
The high-pitched trill from the worm screams in Damian's ears as he's crouched near the worm. Maybe... I... should've... stayed... hidden...
Will - (1d20+4)
(OOC: Whew! OK, I'll live with the 2 on the first attack for that roll right about now.)
As the trill continues, Damian shakes his head as the grating sound pulses through his eardrums. The momentary loss of focus in his eyes subsides, and his eyes flick to the others in the party. What was that for? And what did it do?
The cleric almost lost her concentration on her second spell as the giant wurm burst through the snow and ice, but she bent her will towards harnessing the magic and her stones began to glow with a small nimbus of light. Looking up at the giant wurm, she considered whether her small missles would even scratch it, but she was confident the magic imbued in them would prove potent enough.
Will Save - (1d20+9)
The noise coming from the beast threatened to overwhelm her, but her duty to her homeland was stronger, and she fought through the mental anguish.
Backing up, she looked for a section of the wurm that was not too close to one of her companions and let fly with one of her magical stone.
Rolls in OOC Post
Attack Roll = 20 (-4 if considered throwing into melee, -1 additional if she can get more than 20 feet away from it, but not more than 40 feet)
Damage Roll = 6