Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe] — Legacy Forums

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#41

Melior

He was so lost in his own superior thoughts, that he almost failed to hear the obvious...

Somewhere close by, he quickly ascertained, some mindless savage-savant was playing the most breathtakingly haunting drum beat Melior had ever heard before. Like low thunder, the beat spoke of loss, anguish, and unbidden memories. Haunting, and yet inviting and infectious.

He glanced ahead and could now make out three shapes between the light of the moon and the shadows cast by their make-shift fire.

For some reason he smelled the whiff of orc.

Thorgir, Lumori, Somnak

Thorgir noticed the slim figure wandering the beach immediately. He tensed, but as the figure came closer into the fire-light the barbarian could tell it was only a mere, spindly elf. Clearly, he posed them no immediate threat.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#42

Little could surprise the barbarian at this point.

"Come, join our fire," he said to the elf, poking the fire with a long stick and sending a cloud of sparks into the air. "Were you on that cursed ship as well? "

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#43

Somnak's vision grew focused as Thorgir spoke and he turned to peer at the newcomer. His drumming never missed a beat as he snorted, "For a deserted island this place sure has a lot of people." His lips curled up as he realized the man was of elven lineage. Thorgir had nothing against elves, personally, but the tales of his tribesfolk painted the image of as elf as a pompous lot who held themselves in too high regard. Hopefully this one could prove his bretheren wrong!

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#44

The morning's rituals were simple. A brief prayer to her Lord, asking for guidance and protection, and she stood, breaking down the tiny tent into her pack, shouldering it. For a moment, she cast a rueful glance about the clearing, wishing the jungle was dry enough for her to simply burn this loathesome island to the ground, and pick amongst the ashes for anything left that her Lord and Master wanted. But no - it probably wouldn't catch, and it might well burn her too.

Rather, all she could do was cock her head, and try to listen for the source of that sound. Chances are it was important, and she'd like to find out if it was a threat, or something else before continuing her mission.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#45

Melior decided that they were worthy of his company. They had fire, and they could very well make themselves useful as bodyguards.

"I was on a ship. Not the one you three were on, though," replied the elf, glancing at the half-orc drummer. "And I am not here by choice. The ship I had negotiated passage on decided that they no longer valued my company. This island happened to be nearby at that time."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#46

"These seas seem busy, fine waters to seek plunder it would seem, if you don't mind the fish-men and other things of the deep.
Why'd they maroon you? Seems they were angry enough not to just plop you in the drink."

Perhaps his hood fell off, and the crew saw they had an elf on-board, and not some effeminate dandy, thought Thorgir.

Thorgir barely took his eyes from the fire, still prodding it with the stick. He grimaced. It would need a log or two soon, especially they were to sleep any time soon.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#47

Melior looked at his companions, and decided that they had a decent chance of originating from the ship he was against helping. Logic resulted in knowing that it would probably be better to have some allies, and that they would not be accepting his company if they possessed such a reason.

"Oh, the captain and I had a disagreement. And as he had a ship full of crewman to make his wants occur, and since I had paid him in advance, he decided that since he wasn't getting his way in our intellectual debate, the suitable course of action is dumping me on this insignificant flea-speck of an island."

Melior moved closer to the fire, so the shadowy, flickering light danced over his countenance.

"Or... Is it? I believe I read somewhere in my youth that this island, part of the Shattered Archipelago, is not as insignificant as its mere 90 by 14 mile perimeter would claim. You see, a century ago, the greatest explorer of the age, Francisco Dreillilllidor, set out to these here island, after escaping the mad Troll-Lord Hothen with a detailed topographic map of the area and a chest full of loot.

"Francisco mapped numerous islands in detail before coming to this one. His crew saw his return when he was screaming and running in terror from threats that weren't there. He was driven mad by the experience. Of course, he was gibbering about a fantastic treasure, heaps of gold and jewels, beyond anyone's wildest imaginations."

He paused, and glanced at Lumori. "Perhaps not beyond yours, though, pickpocket. Your kinds' dream far too much of other people's wealth as it is; I shouldn't be encouraging you now."

"But where was I? Ah yes, heals of gold. You three, well, us four, are all all ready stranded on this island anyway. We might as well get filthy rich while we wait for rescue, eh? And who knows? I might chance upon some magic that might allow us freedom from this sandy prison."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#48

Somnak slowed his drumming to a halt and considered, watching the elf. "Gold and jewels, you say?" he turned his head to peer into the jungle, "perhaps it would not hurt to take a quick look... Though we do not want to risk angering the spirits of this isle any further. I am not doing back in there at night, however; we should rest!"

Somnak had one more thought and raised the necklace he had found for Melior to study it. "Elf, you seem well-learned. Do you recognise the symbols on this?"

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#49

Thorgir's face visibly brightened at the prospect of gold, no matter how unspendable. He would rather chance the creatures of the land then those of the sea any day.

"I'm with Somnak here. Tomorrow we find your heaps of gold, Elf."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#50

Melior examined the necklace thoroughly.

"And where did you find this?" He asked. Perhaps his answer would not be throughly mangle by those tusks.

"I don't recognize the symbols: though there is a chance of it being magical. A simple spell shall determine this."

He flipped open his spellbook. Examining his neat and orderly table of contents, he quickly found the spell "identify."

Melior, after reading the requirements, put the necklace around his neck and cast the spell.

I burn my burning hands for identify.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#51

Identify Spell results: the dweamor is twofold. Firstly, its appearence is an illusion. It is not a wooden ball, but really a ball of solid amethyst (still on a rope chain.) Secondly, it function as a ring of mind-shielding, but with charges (3 left). In essence, +2 to save against any mind-affecting magic, +4 vs charm/suggestion magic.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#52

They slept that night dreaming of riches, glory…and floating eyeballs.

When morning came, the island’s weirdness seemed to go away. The sea was calm, the beach full of crabs, and the palms at the jungle’s edge swayed innocently in the breeze.

Yesterday seemed like just a bad dream.

Until they spotted what looked like Rasmus the Willow, emerging or rather stumbling, from the surf, a bewildered yet righteous look upon his face.

Brin
Brin traversed the jungle at a slower pace than she had hoped. The island was literally ‘overgrown’, and progress was slow. Thick, serpentine vines were overhead and underfoot, threatening to snap her neck, or break her ankles at every step. Swarms of unidentifiable insects molested her without relent. And by mid-day, the heat was stifling.

Breaking through yet another green wall, she spotted a clearing. Here the ground was carpeted with vegetable matter, but there was some open space, a bubble of sanity in a jungle of madness.

Up ahead, a rectangular stone stuck up from the ground, what looked like a boundary stele, chipped and carved, with one unmistakable symbol, an egg with a lidless eye in its center. To make out the rest she’d have to get closer...

…perception check please

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#53

"Who is that man?" Melior asked. "Any of you know him?"

"Oh, and you, half-orc. This necklace you discovered. It is worthless. Now, if there was no illusion on it, it might have some kind of petty value, especially to you avarice-filled philistines, as this is no wooden ball in the actual reality. Here." Melior lightly tossed it to Somnak, before stretching and yawning and swiping the sand off his robes.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#54

"Up until now, I considered him fish-food. He was drawn into the depths with some foul floating eye sea demon. Apparently his god is powerful if he survived that.
His name is Rasmus and he's a priest of some ram-god who's name escapes me. We know him about as well as we know you."

Thorgir went out and began collecting crabs and more driftwood to bring the fire back from its barely-smoking embers.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#55

Lumori sliced some of the driftwood Thorgir was accumulating into kindling, to speed up the process of rebuilding the fire. "I believe the god was named Khaum. Something about smiting and defeating a cult that lives here on the island."

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#56

Rasmus stumbled from the water's edge toward the beach, shaking water from his ear and generally feeling like a wet cat. His lantern jaw and strong chin were drooping from his night-long ordeal.

He plodded along until he caught sight of the others and then veered off in their direction.

"My friends! I see you waited for me. My thanks! I have had a most grueling night, making it through only by Khaum's great will, and..."

With that he dropped to the ground and began snoring.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#57

By the time he had woken up again it was midday and hot as hell again. The others seemed ready to head out...somewhere. His "friends" eyed him somewhat suspiciously, as he rose rubbing his head, casting out unwanted memories.

Thorgir managed one more sweep of the coastline, to see if any ships were near, then turned away from the sea in disgust, and eyed the yawning jungle. Lumori was checking and re-checking his bow, then proceeded to check every knife-blade on his person, while Somnak was lovingly oiling the leather on his drums. Melior was a jumble of verbal activity, spewing out "facts" about the island, jungles in general, treasures, ancient ruins, madness, and elven superiority in all things.

(ooc: unless there is anything else, you wish to do or say, we're off to the jungle!)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#58

Wringing the last of the water from his robes, Rasmus looked about.

"Well, I must say that this is to be a good day for the righteous followers of Khaum! The beast is tricky but not tricky enough. We shall outsmart it and be off to destroy the evil cult. Come, my friends. To the jungle!"

With that, Rasmus The Willow began wandering toward the jungle's edge.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#59

The jungle was a living adversary. Bizarre insects feasted on their flesh, without them the wiser for it. Weird trees and seemingly animated vines slashed at them mercilessly, with razor-like leaves, as the companions moved through the foliage. Various flowers and plants released weird spores into the air, with soft popping sounds.

At one point Lumori began sneezing and couldn’t stop. Melior complained about the heat. Thorgir developed a severe rash on his hands and arms from gods knew what, and only Somnak seemed to escape the jungle’s many curses, perhaps his orcish strain girding him against such things. Rasmus too seemed unaffected, nothing would interfere with his mission, the jungle’s many dangers be d**ned.

They travelled for what seemed like a while; several hours or more, it was hard to tell with the sun hidden away. At last they came upon a fast moving brown stream, piercing two walls of jungle. The stream was maybe twenty feet across, and murky, disappearing into the jungle in both directions. The current seemed surprisingly fast.

The five-who-came-from-the-sea paused. Two empty reed canoes sat on the river’s steep bank, tied to vines from above.

Thorgir scanned the jungle across the river, and then peered through the foliage on the near bank where he stood. For a moment he paused, staring into the canopy. Somnak pricked his half-orcish ears, as he too glanced around.

Nothing.

Then something.

As Thorgir stared at one spot through the trees, it was obvious he was looking at something intently, on the opposite side of the river, maybe sixty feet away.

A huge man (?), at least seven feet in height, Thorgir judged, maybe close to eight, was standing motionless on the opposite bank, completely camouflaged and hidden by the thousand shades of green and brown the jungle had to offer. There was something about the man’s skin or flesh that made him utterly blend in with the foliage around him. His entire body was covered in bizarre paints, ritual scars, and chaotic swirls, it seemed. Thorgir remembered seeing similar men in circuses of great cities…ones entirely covered by tattoos. He was bald, hairless completely in fact, with a single black topknot of hair on top of his weird, elongated head.

Thorgir stared at the figure, and the figure stared back. A strange feeling began buzzing in Thorgir’s head. His mind was suddenly clouded and heavy, like after a night of heavy drinking.

Then just like that the figure was no longer there and Thorgir's mind cleared.

A fat frog jumped into the river suddenly, spooking Melior.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#60

Thorgir asked Somnak
"Perhaps I have been driven mad by this acursed jungle, but I saw something standing across the river. He was there but a moment, but I swear he looked real. Like a painted Ogre it seemed."

Thorgir unslung his bow and fitted an arrow to it, watching the waters edge carefully.

He smelled sorcery. He hated it.

Of course, if there is any sudden disruption in the water, Thorgir is going to send an arrow that way. And he will use his detect illusion and magic powers.
Also, I have not posted it on my character sheet, but the barbarian receives additional saving throw bonuses. I'll update it tonight.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#61

Somnak was silently disappointed at the results of Melior's identify, thinking it to have no power, but he wore the necklace anyway.

When they reached the river, Somnak eyed the canoes warily. when Thorgir shops of the disappeared giant, Somnak nodded, believing him: he was far too superstitious and suspicious of this island not to. "okay... Show me where. Point me out the tree he was standing before." Somnak drew a bolt and then, considering something, drew his bag of flour from his pack, unwrapping the wax paper and returning it to his backpack. Somnak perforated the bag with the end of the bolt then tied it to the shaft with a length of string. Finally, he aimed where Thorgir pointed and let fly his bolt! A stream of flour poured out as the arrow flew across the water.

Attempting to make a dusty cloud of flour in the region of where yonder beasty is (ideally sticking the thing with the arrow too, but doesn't matter if it misses!) hopefully the dust will reveal any outline. If you need a roll for something or other, my dice app got me a 15.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#62

"Gods d***ed frogs..." Muttered Melior as he gazed around the clearing. He perked up with the mention of a possible foe. At last, something he had permission to blast! Sometimes in life, its the simple things that are the most important. And most fun.

"Its either a figment of your overactive imagination and highly primitive mind, or its a super-advanced, invisible stalker. Which seems more likely?"

Even so, he strained his senses, almost hoping for something to relieve the mind-boggling annoyance of this godsforsaken jungle. perception roll 17!

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#63

Lumori groused as he scurried up the nearest tree to hide in the foliage above. Friggin' know-it-all bookworm. I should put him out of our misery and use his corpse to bait whatever the feck the barbarian had seen hiding in the jungle depths.

Once there, he took advantage of the dense growth and slid from one tree to another along their intertwined branches. I doubt arrows will do any good here. By the time we see anything, it'll be in our faces. He idly twirled a knife in either hand.

Death from above it is.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#64

(ooc: Melior fails perception check. Have to roll per or lower on d20)

Somnak licked a fang, watching the arrow’s flight. Somehow it found its mark. The arrow itself thwacked against the thick bark of a tree, but the flour bag found its own target, making a loud PWUUF sound as it did. White powder spewed everywhere at that moment, and suddenly the companions could spy a moving, powder-white figure amidst the trees.

Several things happened at once…

The figure howled with an inhuman rage, and dove headlong into the murky waters off the bank, as if in great terror of the flour on its flesh.

(ooc: you can take a ‘free shot’ at him if you like)

At the same moment another scream sounded, this one human, and apparently of the fairer sex. The piercing scream reverberated across the same side of the river they were on!

Almost immediately after the scream, a woman clad in the skins of some jungle cat, suddenly leapt from the forest, terror in her eyes, and ran straight toward the companions.

Four painted giants, for they were hard to describe any other way, stepped out of the jungle not far behind her, obviously in pursuit.

The woman ran, her saucer-wide eyes pleading silently now.

The painted giants paused when they saw a new adversary. They looked human enough except for their size, and the devilish swirls and jagged lines of paint which covered them from head to toe. They wore only loincloths, yet all three surprisingly wielded identical sophisticated-looking swords…long, steel ones. They said nothing but surveyed their new quarry like wolves would a wounded deer.

Then one of the four stepped forth, and motioned toward the group. The universal sign of a challenge… “Come, who is strongest among you, come face me,” he seemed to be suggesting silently.

He grinned then, an alien look in his charcoal black eyes, and gripped his blade two-handed. The other three with him followed suit, and began moving forward. Their gruesome blades looked mighty sharp. Their expressions were unreadable. As they neared, Thorgir's headache returned, and now others began to feel slightly queasy.

Lumori half-smiled. At least they hadn't spotted him yet, as he peered down from the foliage.

(ooc: The four painted giants are fifty feet away. Perhaps time for 1 missile volley for you guys, before melee. They cover ground quickly. Also, if anyone among you is brave enough you can challenge their leader mano-a-mano, one on one. Otherwise, initiative. No one was surprised.)

The woman nearly bowled into Somnak as she reached the party. Teal skin, thick honey-colored mane of hair, she was striking despite her harrowed state. Breathing heavily, her bosoms heaving, she said something in a tongue they didn’t understand, and then motioned for them to run away as well, though she didn’t move without them or far from them, out of sheer fear.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#65

"Ftheh." Brin scowled as she caught the motion darting in the trees above. Natives, and well camoflauged. Probably the enemy's worshippers, at that. She would have to use some level of caution.

She despised this island, and wanted nothing more than to sink it to the bottom of the sea, but being taken by many enemies from above... that would be the epitome of foolishness. Anger was her strength, her nourishment, and it would allow her to overcome - but her Lord had taught her wisdom in its application. It had been a hard lesson. For a moment, she considered. The others were many - their concealment was unlikely mystical, but natural, or applied in some fashion. Even so, enough would swarm her under, and leave the mission unaccomplished.

So for now, she would turn to the side, and walk the boundary, doing her best to appear unthreatening, save to whatever vegetation she would have to flail through - There would likely be a break that she could used to slip in. All the while, she prayed - prayed that her lord would help her stay unnoticed.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#66

Thorgir armed himaelf quickly with axe and shield, smashing them together in answer.

"Some imagination, elf."

He roared and charged the leader. He didn't care if the others followed, it would'nt change anything.

Minion: valadaar rolls 1d20 and gets 10, +1 for a bare hit. 11 damage.

He swung his axe at the leader, with pent up fury,and gave him all of it....

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#67

The jungle was chaos! Hidden creatures, a pursued woman, and giant pursuers! Somnak felt a rage and excitement slowly build up in him; the spirits have returned to him! With a furious laughter, Somnak urged Thorgir forth, "He challenges you, Thorgir! Show the devils of this forest that we are no easy meat!"

Somnak placed his crossbow on his back and brought his hands to the drum next to his hip. The beat began slow, 'Thum-Pa. Thum-Pa.' and quickly increased in speed and volume as the half-orc allowed his anger to take him; 'Thum-pa-thumpa! Thum-pa-Rumpa!' The beat of the drum resounded through the jungle, burning a fire of excitement and intensity in the heart of Somnak's allies, and instilling an ominous fear in his foes.

The Half-Orc lost himself to his drumming, driven by the promise of combat and blood - the Demon's Dance flowed through him and he began stamping and jumping as he played, spraying mud and chunks of dead leaf unceremoniously across the area, 'Thumrum-PaThum! Tum! Thum! Thumrum-PaThum!' Finally, turning and stomping and drumming, Somnak began chanting in his native tongue, calling on the spirits of his tribe to aid his allies and sap the strength of those who oppose them!

"Rok-Lo-To-Rah-Koreth-Mah'Tath! Gor'Ten-Mak-Tok! Som-Nak Mah-Thor!"
'Thum-pa-Rumpah! Tum! Thum! Rum-Thum-Pum-Thum! Tum-Thum-Pa-Thum!'

+1 to ally rolls! -1 to enemy rolls!

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#68

Brin

Brin skirted the ominous clearing, and proceeded to fight thru the undergrowth once more.

What difference did it make anyway, she mused to herself, which squiggles were etched on that stele. She was sent here on a mission, and the symbol of the Egg and Eye, told her all that she needed to know. She was getting closer to the cult of the Watching Egg.

As she moved in the thick brush, she was once again serenaded with chants of “Kech-kech-kech-kech-kech-k-k-k-kech” from above and all around. Brin was getting used to these chants by now, and thought that she could even sense their vibe. This particular serenade seemed to denote disappointment and annoyance.

Ideally, she reasoned, whatever these creatures were, they feared the unknown. With her obsidian skin, stark-white hair and bloody-red eyes, perhaps they thought her more demon than victim. Is that what kept them from swarming?

An hour or more passed. She began cursing under her breath, when suddenly she looked up and spotted a wall of rock ahead. Well, not a wall of rock, but more a, granite cliff-side of some massive tepui, rising silently, several hundred feet up from the jungle floor. Here the heavy vegetation parted a bit, but other weird plants, like giant lobelia, clung to the cliff edges. The massif wall stretched as far as she could see in both directions. Up seemed the way to go.

Curses!

She could see several cave mouths dotting the cliff-side, but none were below forty feet from the ground. Giant dragonflies with two foot wingspans buzzed about her and around the giant flowers which grew here.

[img width=400 height=171]http://www.airpano.com/files/Angel-Waterfall-Venezuela/photo/14.jpg

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#69

Qullan and Confusion

Somnak drummed and chanted his tribal cant. The pounding beats thundered rhythmically through the jungle.

Somewhere in the rain forest, a panther growled and sunk its teeth into a duiker’s throat. In the canopy, monkeys chased other monkeys, intent on violence.

Thorgir clanged his shield to axe and charged, oblivious now to anything but the battle. Yet he managed to grin as he charged, when he heard the uplifting hammering of Somnak’s goat-skin instruments and rhythmic chanting.

Lumori clung to a viney branch with scissor-legs now, his body vertical and upside down, knives clutched in hand, waiting like a spider on a web for its prey to pass by.

Rasmus was sneaking quick glances at the buxom damsel, in between fiery, indignant stares toward the painted giants.

Melior began talking rapidly, his fingers twitching with anticipation of spell-casting.

Thorgir’s axe crashed mightily into the advancing painted giant, severing the creature’s left arm at the elbow, unluckily not the sword arm. A warming spout of blood splashed Thorgir’s face, but he didn’t flinch, raising his axe once more…

The Qullan somehow remained silent as his forearm flew clean from his arm, and a shower of blood burst forth.

Now striking one-handed, the Qullan hissed and took an agile lunge-and-swing at Thorgir, his shark-like alien eyes betraying no emotion. The Qullan’s combination of speed and strength were impressive but he only managed to smash his long steel sword into Thorgir’s forward-thrust shield (I rolled, he missed :(). The barbarian grunted from the collision.

Thorgir was about to attack once more, when a feeling of nausea overcame him as the many colors of the painted man’s body paint danced, as if alive, like a kaleidoscope, flashing in his brain.

(ooc: Thorgir has to save vs magic with +1 for Somnak’s drumming, or see ooc table of confusion and roll a 1d6.)

The other three Qullan seeing their leader now fighting one-handed sped up their pace to attack the other companions. One headed toward the drumming Somnak, the other two toward Melior and Rasmus.

The steel of their blades glistened in the heat.

The one that was headed toward Somnak, Lumori noticed from his shadow-bound perch in the canopy, was about to pass at any moment almost directly beneath the hanging thief.

(ooc: you all won initiative. Thorgir just had his attack, and his foe had his against the barbarian. Their round is over. New one beginning. Somnak began playing drums. Rasmus, Melior, and Lumori get an action/attack now, then other 3 Qullan will go. :duel:)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#70

Melior sighed. Apparently the cosmos was somehow against him being right. There was no hope for it. He would have to somehow lie, to save face. Hmm... What could he say?

He quickly cast magic missile at one of the quallan coming towards him, both missiles at the same target.

first missile: 4 damage, second missile: 5 damage

Perhaps he should dismiss it as a coincidence? No, that wouldn't hold up. He would have to ponder this while they finished killing off these Quallan.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#71

Thorgir barely noticed the magical assault - it didn't slow him down at all (init roll 1! (09:30:53) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d10 and gets 1. ) and again he chopped at the creature.

His axe passed through the undefended space created by the missing limb and passed through the thing's face. A second shower of blood splashed out as the Quallan gurgled and dropped its weapon. A moment later it dropped, mangled face-first to the ground.

Thorgir had already lost interest in that foe and pivoted to engage a new one.

(09:31:49) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d20 and gets 20. !!!!

Axe strike for 6 - doubled to 12, and then +3 for Str = 15 hp.

"Eat axe you painted whore!"

(3rd Level fighter/Barbarian 15 for Spells, modified roll of 20 saves. No bonus for Spell saving throw for barbarians :( )

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#72

As she looked up at the cliffs, and starting walking towards their feet, Brin found a word, and said it. Several hundred miles away, the nearest living sailor blushed slightly, without quite realizing what it was he was supposed to be hearing. Still, she dug around in her pack once more, uncoiling a rope. It was with a little difficulty that she knotted up the rope, and passed the strand off to her helpful hand, giving it a brief set of curt commands. Skittering up the wall, almost spider-like, it found a place to secure the rope, and once looped, Brin tied the pack to the bottom of the rope, set her feet, and began to scrabble her way up to the first ledge, sweating all along. It was, perhaps, slightly easier going in reality than it was in her mind, yet the firm expression on her face did not yield.

As she hauled herself up to it, she turned and began to pull the rope and her pack up following her, keeping one eye on that cavern entrance. The protest of her muscles was easy enough to ignore, she supposed, yet her dirt crusted face still let out a string of choice invectives at the island itself beneath her breath.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#73

"By Khaum shall I bash in your fiendish skulls!" yelled Rasmus as he ran to meet the charging Qullan. He swung with all his might happy to be in the service of his god once again. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance, swinging too early, and missed completely.

(08:13:06) Minion: MysticMoon rolls 1d20 and gets 10.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#74

"Eat axe you painted whore!"

--Thorgir turned to immediately look for his dreaded axe's next victim...

Unfortunately, having their leader's face unceremoniously chopped off by the barbarian, did not slow down the Qullan assault. Morale checks were not in the Qullan vocabulary.

--Rasmus swung his mace bravely but feebly, and the Qullan directly in front of him swung back. Rasmus felt little pain, as the painted man's razor-sharp sword gashed across his torso, biting through the chain-mail in a long bloody-red line. Rasmus recoiled and as he stumbled backwards, blood spewing from his midriff. His mind began to cloud over as well suddenly (ooc: failed confusion save). Rasmus imagined that the best thing to do next would be to run, to run like the wind, as fast as his bleeding body would let him...and maybe scream a little.

--Melior fired his magic missiles and grinned at the expected result. They never missed. Two bolts of energy struck at a Qullan approaching Melior. The painted warrior grunted, momentarily registering the searing pain, but advanced regardless.

The Qullan raised his sword to strike down Melior...

--Meanwhile, Somnak was lost in his drumming demon dance, sweat glistening off his skin. He noticed the third Qullan approaching him, feral eyes examining the half-orc like so much meat, but Somnak kept bravely at it, motivating his companions, and dooming his foes for a few more moments...

Luckily, the Qullan heading to attack Somnak, was about to pass directly beneath the hiding Lumori.

(ooc: Lumori gets an attack here. Lumori also needs to save vs confusion once he attacks, and Melior too, since the other Qullan is within 5' now!)

(ooc: new round: Qullan initiative roll: 6)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#75

Thorgir rushed after Rasmus's foe, indecision slowing his reaction...

Init - valadaar rolls 1d10 and gets 10. So with reaction a 9

While unable perhaps to strike first, he bellowed a challenge as he rushed the creature.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#76

--Thorgir's brief indecision cost him, as he bellowed the challenge. The challenge was immediately taken up, as the Qullan who hurt (the now running) Rasmus, turned with panther speed and swung wildly at Thorgir, connecting, across shoulder and chest with his preternaturally sharpened blade. The blade sunk deep, though Thorgir showed as little emotion now as the Qullan had. Blood spurted from the barbarian, but did little to stop him. Thorgir raised his axe...(ooc: you took 10 dam... attack away!)

--Meanwhile, the grin quickly left Melior's face. The Qullan that he had just magic missiled, struck back at the elven wizard and connected, plunging his blade into Melior's shoulder blade. The sword went through Melior's flesh as if it was butter, and the elf grunted, stumbling back, as the Qullan ripped his blade free. (ooc: Melior takes 8 points of whopping damage and still needs to save vs confusion. Good luck, Melior!)

(ooc: BUT WAIT!! I forgot about your cloak of displacement!!!!!! The Qullan misses Melior, the plunging blade into your shoulder merely an illusion, since you are really a few feet to the left of the attack! Sooo, just save vs confusion, sorry, no damage!)

--Rasmus stopped running and screaming suddenly, and turned to face the fray once more. Why had he run like a coward? He had no idea, but he now turned back to attack! Khaum be good! He charged back into the fray, looking for a Qullan to strike down with his mace.

(ooc: Lumori, Somnak, and the 3rd Qullan are in a temporary time fugit, until CM and SE get back to post :))

The wild woman, who everyone had forgotten, suddenly let out a piercing shriek, as she surveyed the battle.

(ooc: Thorgir gets an attack (and another save). Melior gets an attack--if his save goes well--Rasmus back next round. Qullan initiative for NEXT round: 5)

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#77

Thorgir smashed his new foe with his axe, though he too fell under the effects of the magic and stood there drooling.

Attack - (14:24:45) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d20 and gets 13.
Damage - (14:25:48) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d8 and gets 6. So 9.
Save - (14:25:09) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d20 and gets 5. Phuck!
Effect - (14:27:03) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d6 and gets 4.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#78

Brin

Having reached the ledge, Brin spat some dust from her mouth and cursed the island anew.

Her animated hand companion was busy stretching its fingers, and rubbing the back of its palm against a rock.

Hauling the last of her equipment up, she scanned the ledge, and for a brief moment admired the jungle vista spread out below her. She was only about fifty feet above the jungle floor now, but it was high enough to get a panoramic view.

Then she looked up. Another two hundred feet at least to the top of the Tepui…

More cursing.

Brin eyed the cave opening again…a feint noise emanated from inside. At first it sounded like a drafty breeze, but then she realized it sounded more like deep, rhythmic breathing…

The animated hand, which once belonged to master-thief, Ghulkar the Vulture, extended its middle finger at the cave entrance.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#79

... Of course. Brin cursed once more beneath her breath, and quietly flattened herself against the wall of the cave entrance, the better to keep whatever it was from forcing her to fall. A wicked smile came to her lips, the sweat trickling down to them, then, as she selected a prayer to her lord, and readied it upon her lips, waiting for the thing to show itself.

Re: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe]

#80

Yet nothing showed itself or emerged from the cave opening. The rhythmic breathing simply continued. Ghulkar's hand began drumming its fingers on the rock, waiting...