World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

[MrAbdiel]

Jakk'ari's appeal to the elements is heard, and the spirits of water and wind conspire to darken the sky, and begin the opening salvos of a deluge. It patters and hisses off the infernals, partially muting their grand fires and greatly diminishing the spread of blazes on structures and unfortunate folk.

Spoiler: {Fluff} Jakk'ari's Call to the Elements

Show

The spirits require a forceful hand, right now; your invocations must be roared and your gestures must be sweeping and commanding. They are in disarray, here. Water and wind spirits are reacting with convulsive disgust at the fel monstrosities just as mortals do, but they honor the ancient promises when you direct their action. Frustrating are the spirits of fire that are rapidly drawn from the deep furnace of the firelands to the spirit nearness of this place. They vascillate between horror at the demon engines, and their inevitable, euphoric glee at the opportunity to burn things. They are as much obstacle as ally, here, which is very much fire's nature: a troll's most valuable tool, and his most ancient bane.

"...We should..." Zachary begins; green fire flashing in his eyes as the demonic invasion jags into reality to disrupt the otherwise simple search-and-find mission. His attention darts wildly about across the targets, and one hand twitches toward his rifled musket. But he seems stuck in a loop of actions - his hunter mind telling him to run before he becomes prey, his humanity reaching out sympathetically to these creatures who might have been his enemies in past conflicts, but are kin to him in the quality of their suffering right now. "...We should..."

While throughout the once festive town sprawl the same scene unfolds in some awful variety, the drama closest to you carries on. Just over the top of the palisade you can see the shoulders and burning stony skulls of the three lesser constructs, thrashing about with murderous purpose. One hoists a grown ogre, which bellows in pain and defiance, and hurls him blazing into the sloppy pailings of a nearby supply hut. It catches flame at once, the blaze incrementally draining from green to orange as the felfire gives way to its natural counterpart. Another seems to be in a protracted exchange with a defiant enemy, the sound of stony fists pounding into a table improvised as a shield crunching out into the air. The third's form hulks toward the palisade, angled down; and you hear a hysterical chorus from beyond. The sound is strange indeed - the wailing of children, but from throats as large as most race's adults.

"Light save us, there's kids. There's kids in there!"

This assessment, obvious as its conclusion is, comes from Felix. Felix, who seems to not be struck with the bonefreezing grip of fear at this scenario. The cadet's features, glowing in the green flame, are troubled with fear for certain; but they are also puffy and gleaming with the wracking bouts of grief that incapacitated him minutes ago. The party of unlikely allies witnesses a peculiar kind of alchemy happen in the heart of the boy soldier. Some combination of his emotionally exhausted state, catalysed by his disastrous idea of hunting demons in the swamp for the good of all the world, reacts with what an insightful observer would identify as the germinating seed of survivor's guilt and fills him with something so closely analogous to courage the effect is indistinguishable.

The short, straight blade rips from its scabbard, two feet of steel winking with the appealing banality of unenchanted, simple heroism. He lets out a shout that seems to fill the space where a superior's order to charge should be, and serves to release his feet from idleness; and he tears across the field, leaps through a man-sized gap in the sloppy palisade, and throws himself into combat with one of the creatures. You don't see the result of the charge - the permeable palisade nonetheless obscures the exchange - but the sound of the strike, the pitiable, small dink of his sword on the stone of the construct, rings out to your ears like a town bell, calling all hands to arms.

Spoiler: OOC Rolls And More!

Show

We're in combat! You can move through the sloppy palisade when you get there, if you want to; but there's nothing stopping you from turning and leaving Felix and the ogres to their fate, or hanging back and volleying magic over the wall. That'll provide your enemies with cover, but it means you can keep away! The palisade is about 90ft away, and the closest lesser infernal 20 ft beyond that, with another two distracted by their own destructive pursuits positioned at the other two points of a rough triangle with 40ft sides.

Felix's action is to charge! Normal humans have a move of 0 (30 ft). He has a 'charge' move ability with a move speed of 1 (60ft), so he uses extra effort to pump it to 2 (120ft) so he can make it there in one move action, and swing his sword at the infernal for a mighty dink.

(1d20+2)[16] to hit! Looking for a 17 to hit in melee.
(1d20+7)[22] toughness, if it hits.

Fortunately, the sword has a damage rank of 3, which is just enough to beat the Lesser Infernal's Impervious Toughness rating.
Additionally, if he hits, the infernal makes a Reaction Damage attack with his felfire.

(1d20+2)[6] to hit, looking for a 13. And if it hits, Felix will make a toughness check or be burned!
(1d20+8)[25] toughness, looking for a 17.

If you're wondering why Felix's toughness is so high, it's because he's getting a +5 against all fire descriptor attacks from Jakk'ari's elemental downpour!

Additionally, Felix's idiot charge into danger to help his historical enemies entitles all who witness to a +2 to their repeated will resistance to shake off the fear. Marion and Isaera are entitled to roll at the 'end' of their idle turns that have just passed, so you can roll before you make your first in combat action turn and then again at the end of that turn, if you are still shaken.

Edit: Dink! No 'hit' from the sword, so merely a cinematic dinking off one big fiery stone leg. Your move, adventurers!