Bruenor gave an angry smirk as the corpse attacked Volsh.
"Don't turn your back on me, Dead-boy!!!"
He swung his fiery sword with two hands, in a quick succession
OOC:
03:49, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 16 using 1d20+12.  1st attack
03:50, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 6 using 1d8+4.  1st damage
03:50, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 1 using 1d6.  1st fire damage
03:49, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 27 using 1d20+7.  2nd attack
03:50, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 12 using 1d8+4.  2nd damage
 03:50, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 3 using 1d6.  2nd fire damage .

Haazheel says Rand stay behind me; watch my back. If there are more of these abominations, we'[ll be going outside, and I'll be casting spells.

[Fireball, Flaming Sphere, Lightning; depending on situation. Friends would know he has these spells memorized.]

The elf frowned and slowly pulled her bow around.  That fog wasn't natural.  Perhaps it was the fog the villagers spoke of.  She wasn't sure how an arrow would do against fog, but she might be able to do something else.

Narthian remains still, within 60 feet of the trap door, listening and watching. Being aware that Farian is not far inside, he decides that the only real use of the trap door is for those already inside to get out and flank them. He chants softly, making a twisting motion with his hands. He wills the wood to warp and swell, wedging itself in its jamb. Cast Warp Wood to make the door stuck, requiring a STR check to open.

---

The loose, water-soaked flesh tears easily under Thunder's teeth, and the force of Bruenor's and Volsh's blows make it impossible to hang on. He has trouble finding solid bone to grasp and break.

19:49, Today: Thunder rolled 9,7 using 1d20+7,1d6+2 ((2,5)).

Farian withdraws 200 gp worth of platinum, gold, and valuable ancient coins from her purse with one hand. With the other, she collects a small pouch of powdered silver. She gives Sir Aberlayne a look that says that she has little more cash left. In the pit of her stomach, she feels that there is little need in paying anyway. "[Language unknown: Ntess Butticnte hehiwh t k alan Any u Ivethuprehis!] she says, quickly spilling the powdered silver around herself.

Casting Protection from Evil.

"The Sea Scorpion. I will have to try that one. It sounds interesting. How do you prepare it? Anything in particular that needs to be done?" Dellas asks as he continues to gamble away his small pile of chips.

Regarding Firvian with more obvious interest, Dante said, "That sounds promising, but I'm not looking for just any book... I'm searching for a particular one. Elvish, made of rosewood, with gold foil pages. Have you seen one like that?"

Volsh takes the hit with a grunt before signing his spear into two thrusting attacks. His first attack lands true, but his second hits the door jam. An audible snarl escapes the man's lips at the attack, his eyes flashing yellow as he pushes the beast within down.

OOC: I assumed I couldn't charge, that's why I didn't roll. Did you take into account my DR in the damage? I assumed you hadn't, so I adjusted it myself.

Actions:
Full: Full Attack


This message was last edited by the GM at 21:58, Tue 16 Feb 2021.

The Jade Rose Inn



Bruenor's strikes at the undead's back sever it in twain, leaving two stinking halves upon the floor.  But two more lurch into the doorway, unheeding of the fact that they are trampling upon their brethren's guts.



There are, indeed, more of these things, but they are clogging the doorway and it would taking forcing yourself past two more net-bedraggled undead plus Thunder, Volsh, and Bruenor to get clear space.  But the kitchen must have a door out to the alley, and that's where Haazheel can venture if he wants to try to circle around.  Elsewise he can try to target the undead clogging the doorway, or beyond...


Rand nods at Haazheel's words, but continues his chanting song, hoping that the regular beat and encouraging words will stop the customers and staff in the inn from panicking and give heart to his new friends.

OOC: Continuing inspire courage, +1 to attack and damage, +1 to saves vs fear.



Thunder can't quite make his attack on the next undead crowding the doorway, but his presence keeps the foul things from pushing past him to the screaming diners and inn staff within.



Volsh's next stab with Widowmaker easily penetrates the waterlogged flesh of one of the two newly-arrived undead, though his second is momentarily tangled in the nets and hooks embedded in its skin and fails to penetrate.

The undead moan and grasp for Volsh and Bruenor, missing Bruenor cleanly, but grabbing Volsh.  The hooks thrust through their flesh also penetrate Volsh, and the nets tangle up the barbarian's limbs, drawing him into the undead's embrace!

OOC: Volsh takes 10 points of damage and is grappled.

---

The Wanderfoot Gambling Room



Pelas arranges his chips as the dealer sets up for the next game.  "Generally you soak it in clean water for a day, as it's salty as well as spicy, sometimes so salty it can make a dish inedible if too much is used.  I've tasted some success using some only lightly rinsed in a large dish of stew, so it salted and spiced at once, but for most dishes you'll need to soak some of the salt out or you'll regret it mightily.  It likes to grow in mats twined with certain seaweeds, which can sometimes be hiding place for certain sea predators, like sharks or sea lancers, so best to pluck them with a gaff rather than your hands.  Bright purple, they are, and about the size of your fist, so easy enough to spot.  Or for creatures to avoid so they don't eat it by accident!" Pelas says with a laugh.

"Oh he regales us with stories with his close calls when procuring culinary delicacies.  One would think he was an adventurer in the guild with the way he carries on," The Lady says, putting her tea wine down.  "Tell me, young man, do you collect the fiery peppers like Pelas does, like baubles to put on a shelf and bring out at fancy dinner parties, or do you use them in a more interesting fashion?"



Firvian pauses as Averdante describes his book, and nods slowly.  "That does sound familiar.  I believe I recently acquired one that sounds similar.  Do you have the title or author of the book, perhaps?" 


---

The Secret Cove



Moments after Narthian casts his spell, the door rattle slightly and he hears some cursing from within.



As Lantamori casts her spell, Buno jumps backwards away from the two women, giving a shout of alarm at her unfamiliar words.  Sir Aberlayne pulled her axe from her belt, but held her blows for now.

"No harm is needed, just the exchange of the ring and where it came from for the money!" she says quickly, keeping her voice calm.

Buno might have looked convinced, but soon enough you cannot see him, as thick fog rolls over everyone, obscuring friend from foe!  You can just barely tell where the entranced to the hut is from its light, but everything else in a murky blur!



Lantamori, the fog curdles around everything and everyone on the ground, but no higher than the hut itself, and far too even to be natural.  Though you're not a magician, you've traveled with a few for a while, and it's likely someone is making this happen.  It seemed to stem from the hut itself, and you still have a clear view of the top of its porch and roof.  There's some banging from the back, around where its built into the hillside, and some cursing from the front, where your companions and Buno and his pals were standing.

Bruenor,  clearly having fun up to that point, scowled angrily as his barbarian friend got attacked.   He swung the Prince's Sword with both hands, attacking the second of the undead, clearly wanting to make short work of it so he can help Volsh

OOC:

17:16, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 26 using 1d20+12.  1st attack
17:20, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 10 using 1d8+5.  1st damage
17:21, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 5 using 1d6.  1st fire damage .

17:17, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 18 using 1d20+7.  2nd attack
17:20, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 6 using 1d8+5.  2nd damage .
17:21, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 4 using 1d6.  2nd fire damage




 

Still unhappy with the unnatural fog, the elf slung her bow and began a silent descent.  The timing of this boded ill for the two below.

"It is a simple prayer for protection," Farian says at Buno's reaction. "Something isn't right here," she adds just as the fog rolls in, as if to confirm her suspicion. "[Language unknown: Lesourart ortck evnoio os ev Unildi Oulantant derounard an!]" A golden flame spreads out from her holy symbol, wreathing her entire body. She unlimbers her shield and mace. "Buno, is this the fog that this island is known for?"

Casting Fire Shield, Warm, for protection from cold and fire damage against melee attacks.

Just in the nick of time, Nathian thinks. Certainly the cursing and the fog isn't good, but there isn't the sound of battle and thus no need to get too excited just yet. So who's banging on the trap door, and why? He sneaks closer to the trap door, keeping his bow in his left hand and getting a Tanglefoot bag for his right.

---

More prey! Enough to feed the whole pack! Thunder snaps at the legs of the new comers.

22:43, Today: Thunder rolled To Hit, Damage, Trip STR check: 13,8,5 using 1d20+7,1d6+2,1d20+2 ((6,6,3)).

Haazxheel nods his approval of Rand. He looks around to see if he can spot anybody armed and ready to eliminate undead.

Volsh continues his attack through gritted teeth. The pain of the two hits weakening his control over the beast within. Eyes flash gold, his face darkens with hair, teeth sharpen, as he struggles with the wolf. Given this interior struggle, he lands two attacks mainly by accident rather than skill.

Full: Attack
Total damage:20 or 29 if a 7 confirms

10:45, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 24,7,25,13 using D20+10,d8+5,d20+5,d8+5.  Attack/damage.

11:01, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 12,9 using D20+10,d8+5.  Crit confirm/damage.

Oops, that should have been only a +5 on the confirm roll making it a 7 though I doubt a 12 would have confirmed anyway.

Dante frowned slightly at Firvian's question, sitting back slightly. "Nothing I want to speak in such a public venue. I'm not the only one in the family searching for it, after all, and to the finder go the spoils for returning it." He shrugged and added bluntly, "I don't want to share."

Prodding his remaining chips, Dante addresses Prreet silently.

Allowing Dante to continue prodding the one conversation he kept the other going "Unique, some of my friends do enjoy eating different peppers. The hotter the better. And I do so enjoy preparing them in different ways. Some you have to slice into thin strips then slowly roast them over coals. Others you will want to boil a bit before your use them."

The Jade Rose Inn



Bruenor's sword flashes twice, the flames reflecting in the dull, glassy eyes of the undead, felling his foe with a wet thud as the now-inert corpse hits the cobblestones.



Thunder rips away some of the netting embedded into the undead's skin, but dodging around Bruenor and Volsh means he can't get enough momentum to tug the undead off-balance.



Volsh, grappled by the net and the creature's filthy claws, cannot bring Widowmaker into play.  But enraged by the foul creature, he managed to get a fist free enough to slam into the creature's slack-jawed face with punishing power!  It still staggers and stands, but its head is partially caved-in by the force of Volsh's blows.




Rand continues to sing, and the steady beat and encouraging words seem to have partially penetrated the panic of the patrons and personnel.  The some of the inn's staff and the stouter-hearted customers begin to pull the more hysterical ones towards the secure storerooms at the back of the inn, clearing the main dining room of potential victims.

Haazheel, looking about, can see an older woman, moderately wealthy by her garb, has kilted up her skirt and commanded the fireplace poker to defend herself.  Two more burly lads in very plain clothes and aprons, likely undercooks or those who tote heavy things for the inn, have gotten ahold of cleavers and planted themselves as a second line of defense.

Outside, Mystique relays that there are definitely more of the undead outside, and he gets the impression of "as many as our group".

---

The Wanderfoot Gambling Room



"Hmm..."  Firvian drums his fingers on the table idly before speaking.  "Well, if it is business, then perhaps you can come by tomorrow for a private consultation.  If I have what you're looking for, perhaps we can agree on a mutually acceptable price.  Beyond that, I shan't discuss business at the gambling tables, elsewise the Lady and Pelas will be certain to kick me under the table until my legs are as purple as blackberries."



"Ah," the Lady says, "Then you are a culinary experimenter, one who actually eats for the fun, rather than simply to prove that your mouth is as flameproof as a salamander."  She wrinkles her nose playfully at Pelas, who chuckles at her sally.  "I have tasted some lovely dishes at Pelas' table, even so.  Fresh shrimp in fire sauce, spice-crusted blue flier, regelt with pepper broth, ahh, lovely!  So, what was the last kind you enjoyed-"

The Lady's conversation is cut off as one of the hostesses goes to the front of the room and claps her hands, bringing attention to herself.

"Ladies and gentlebeings, my apologies.  There is a profound disturbance in the streets, and for your safety, we must unfortunately close the games for tonight.  Carriages and security is being arranged, so if you will please sort yourself into groups of four to six, we will begin to move people out in an orderly fashion.  Thank you!"

---

The Secret Cove



As Narthian heads closer to the door, he can hear someone banging on it, the heavy thuds of someone backing up to ram their shoulder into the door with no little force.  His spell of warping has made the passage difficult, but it won't hold the determined exiter forever.  Poised with the alchemical bag, Narthian waits until the door finally bursts open, revealing a cloaked and hooded figure who swears under his breath in almost every language Narthian knows (save Druidic) and a few more besides.



Lantamori's descent is as quiet as she would have wished, and the fog closes in around her, making her nearly invisible.  She can hear the sounds of those talking (or shouting, rather) near the hut, and a rhythmic thud deeper into the woods.  She can just see the lights of the hut's doorway through the murk, and knows her friends, plus Buno and his two crew members, should be near there.



"Bleeding hells, woman!  You want to light up everything a bit more, maybe make us a bigger target for the ruddy patrols?  Is that your game?  You working for the mayor?  The forest circle?  Finally come to replace, us eh?  Bought themselves some outsiders to clean us out and give what we earned to their own cronies?"  Buno steps back further into the fog, but then the doorway to the hut darkens.  "Take' em!"

With a rush, a dagger flies out of the fog, missing Farian completely, and one of the tree folk darts in to slash at Farian with a short, jagged blade.  Her shield flares even as the blade licks her, and the treefolk gives a cry of pain as the fires scorch her. 

The other treefolk mutters a few words, and Sir Aberlayne, who had been turning to track them, suddenly slips and falls with a painful-sounding thud!

Good work, Rand! Haasheel praises. I'm leaving to help outside.

Haazheel exits; and, guided by Mystique's observation, invokes a fireball wher it will do the most damage to the undead.

Let the fireball appear
So these undead will sear!

1d6 fire damage/level 20' Radius (7d6)
12:01, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 23 using 7d6 with rolls of 4,3,1,6,2,5,2.  Damage.

This message was last edited by the player at 19:03, Fri 07 May 2021.

Hearing a commotion ahead, Lantamori unslung her bow and knocked an arrow as she crept forward silently to see what they'd gotten themselves into.

"A disturbance? What kind of Disturbance? Is it a fire? Cities always get caught on fire. Or perhaps a bar fight? Seen those happen all the time, usually someone complaining about someone else stealing stuff." Dellas's questions ramble off his tongue at an amazing pace as he looks a bit excited at the prospect? He gathers up what coin he has, and his bags, sending a feeling to his Vish who can feel his thoughts, wishing him to check on his friends. While he looks for his other friend.

Someone sneaking out the backdoor, and now shouting out front, that's enough for Narthian to know that this cloaked figure is a person of interest to not be let free. He throws the tanglefoot bag.

19:33, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 24 using 1d20+8 ((16)).

"Where do you think you're going" he says, nocking an arrow.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:38, Sun 09 May 2021.

Farian takes a step back, holding her palm towards the treefolk, eyes blazing righteous fire. "[Language unknown: Antthuiou fi loand And ioespo trto Aill atevenure!]" A beam of pure light bursts forth towards the tree creature. "You have been in the darkness too long, Buno. And if you will not come to the light, Pelor will see his Light brought to you."

Searing Light ranged touch attack: 19:48, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 16,15 using d20+4,3d8 ((12,6,3,6)).

Volsh, being tangled in the net, can no longer hold back the beast within. The hair on his head thickens and grows down his face, his fingers grow into thick fingers, his mouth extends into snout full of sharp yellow teeth, his eyes burn with golden fire. He howls as he moves to get free.

Free: Transform
Standard: Escape Grapple
18:37, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 16 using 1d20+11.  grapple check.

Sigh. . .

"Tomorrow sounds good," Dante tells Firvian. "Do you have a shop here in town?"

His conversation, and the one Dellas has been having on cooking and peppers, is interrupted by a hostess calling everyones' attention to her.

Dante's first thought, on hearing of the vague "profound disturbance," is to wonder what his companions have done, but then he mostly puts that idea aside. Bringing carriages around with security to see their clients off sounds like something that has been done before here. So maybe it's one of those nights when the mist is causing trouble? It can't hurt to ask.

Collecting his remaining tokens, Dante rises with the others. "This seems well-rehersed," he remarks. "Is this what happens when the mists here get strange?" He plans to keep an eye on Firvian, to see if he leaves with everyone or not, and if he does, where he goes.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:01, Mon 10 May 2021.