Round 5

The dwarf eyes the hobgoblin suspiciously -- hobgoblins aren't high on his list of non-dwarves.  But what the monk says seems to comport with the elfish-ness of his surroundings.  "Son of a b%#%&!" the dwarf curses.  "That gud fer nothin' curlbearded mage teleported me into du wrong lost dungeon!  An' it jus' had tu be an elf dungeon!" he finishes with disgust, taking a hack with his axe at one of the illusionary elf dancers for good measure, though his axe of course sails straight through.  When the cleric mentions a wight, his eyes light up, but his anticipation turns to disgust as he sees it is simply cowering against the wall.  He lumbers over to it.  "Guess a cowardly, dead elf is as gud a target as I'm gunna get tu take out me frustrations," he grumbles, and his axe bursts into flame as he raises it high above his head, hacking down at the wight as he might a cord of wood.  "Name's Balrok," he says over his shoulder as he chops.  "Pleased tu meet ya, I suppose -- even if yer a goblin."

---

Round 5:

• [Move]:  to C9 (charge if possible)
• [Swift]: None
• [Free]: None
• [Standard]: Attack wight (charge if possible)

Attack: 17 (does not include a charge bonus)
Damage: 12

Initiative: 15

Effects:

• None

STATS

NON Rage, Bio Line 1:  Init +0, AC 15 / same / 10
NON Rage, Bio Line 2:  HP 70/70, Saves +10/+1/+5


RAGE, Bio Line 1:  Init +0, AC 13 (or 15 with shield) / same / 8
RAGE, Bio Line 2:  HP 80/80, Saves +12/+1/+9


10:29, Today: Balrok rolled 12 using 1d10+11. Damage (PA -5, +10 dam).
10:28, Today: Balrok rolled 17 using 1d20+5. Power Attack -5 v. Wight.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:10, Wed 09 June 2010.

Gurgun effortlessly keeps up the pace with the dwarf, at takes a swing at the wight. Strangely enough the hobgoblin doesn't quite seem to put his heart into it.

OOC: 22:04, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 6 using 1d6+4. Damage.
22:04, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 14 using 1d20+8. QS attack.
Not sure if that is a hit even.

Slove smiles at new dwarf.  This going to be fun.
"So let me get this right.  You hired a Wizard to use bad arcane magic to Turn yourself from a dwarf which you hate being into the elf which you always want to be.
However all you manage to do was get transported to elven land instead."

He then sends two arrows in direction of undead before adding to what he said.

"My heart goes out to you Balrok Elf-heart."

23:01, Today: Slove rolled 7 using 1d8+3. damage.
23:01, Today: Slove rolled 16 using 1d20+10. Attack with arrow.
23:01, Today: Slove rolled 20 using 1d20+10. Attack with arrow.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:06, Wed 09 June 2010.

Between a flaming axe, a mighty fist, a striking arrow and being stricken with terror of divine power, the wight didn't stand a chance. It hit the glass floor and lay still, never to dance or slay again. [All attacks hit, bar one one arrow (miss chance). Wight is slain!]


OOC: Battle is over! Rave lighting and music will end in around 5 minutes.

Gurgun steps away from the fallen corpse, at a pace the dwarf can keep up with. We must go down the stairs to face Mourel. Are you ready dwarf?

Balrok fumes at the man's scandalous insinuations!  "Turn meself into an elf?" he growls incredulously as he plants his foot on the twice-dead wight and yanks out his waraxe.  "Paerth!  I'd sooner turn meself into uh goblin ballerina an' dance around in a tutu den spend one second as a goldnosed elf!"  He eyes the edge of his axe, wipes it clean, then turns to glower directly at the man.  "Nay, I hired uh bad wizard tu use bad arcane magic tu teleport me to du Lost Temple of Vergadain and find me lost brudder.  But du dumb wizard teleported me here instead.

An' who in du Nine Hells is askin', anyways?  None of ye but the goblin has said who ye are!"

At Gargun's words, Balrok's dark look brightens.  "I dunno who the hell this lich is or why we're hackin' 'em up, but there ain't no way tu teleport back to du wizard who sent me, so hackin' somethin' up sounds like du next best thing on me agenda."

At some point Balrok will probably notice Jorn, and will greet him in dwarven, asking him his clan name, relatives, birthplace, etc.  Balrok will be glad to see there's at least one other dwarf in the group, and assuming Jorn seems like a decent enough sort and says he trusts the rest of the party, that will make Balrok more likely to as well.  (Jorn and Balrok might even know each other, since they are both from the Great Rift -- you interested in that, Jorn?)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:53, Thu 10 June 2010.

OOC: Jorn, not Jarl. He's generally around only on weekends, so you'd need to be a bit patient if you want to sort some prior knowledge out.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:22, Thu 10 June 2010.

OOC:  Whoops, thanks!  Fixed it.  I'll let Jorn take the lead on whether there was any prior association, and I'll just play along -- assuming that's OK with you, of course.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Thu 10 June 2010.

Slove lowers his hood so the new dwarf can see his face.
What ever has happened to Slove it was very nasty.  Half his face is scared, burn somehow.  The other seemed to have also been effect but to a lesser degree.
Some healing must been used but somehow it was unable to put the elf’s face back to what it was.
Now the battle is over the new comer can hear Sloves voice is rasping, harsh.  Like someone cutting wood.

"I am Slove.  Elven hunter and follower of Solonor Thelandira."

ASlove winks at the dwarf and as last word before putting his hood up.
"I understand your secret brother elf."

Balrok inspect's Slove's face.  "Gud scar!" he says approvingly.  "Adds character.  Wanna see mine?" he asks, in the manner of warriors comparing battle wounds.  Regardless of the answer he flips up his eyepatch to show the empty socket of his ruined eye.  "Never really needed dat one anyway, I'm right-eyed, heh heh."  He elbows the elf conspiratorially.  "An' the girls dig 'em, ya know what I'm sayin'?  Wemen always love du scars!  Maybe ye ain't so bad, treehugger," he comments offhandedly as he flips his eyepatch back down--he seems to like Slove better now that he knows Jorn trusts him and that he is not the typical "prissy" elf.

Suddenly there was another flash of light, and then a fully-laden mule appeared, a foot above the floor. The poor animal dropped, just managing to remain upright. But the stress of planar travel, the strange floor that made its shod hooves slip and slide, the deafening loud strange noises and the lights flashing and moving all around - it was all too much for the simple beast.

Muley began to bray and whinny, to snort and scream, and in a blind panic tried to run, with hooves skidding. If not calmed, the mule would surely injure itself or others.

Someone calm the beast or Gurgun will wrestle it to the ground! This be your beast of burden Balrok? Gurgun exclaims, dodging to the side to avoid the flaying hoof.

"Muley!" Balrok calls, exhasperated.  "Dag nab it, ya dumb beast, calm down!  If yer can handle a giant dung beatle tryin' tu eat ya, a little elf fortress ain't gunna hurt.  Stand still now!"  Balrok will try to grab the mule's reins and keep it in check, but he'd never been very good at calming the beast, and seems to be making a mess of it now as well.

14:40, Today: Balrok rolled 4 using 1d20-1. Handle Animal.

OOC: I just realized Jorn was still in the form of a Tren, this ought to be good.

The dwarf wizard blinked at the appearance of the new arrival, then grinned widely as he recognized the stream of curses flowing from his mouth. Unfortunately, due currently being shapeshifted into a Tren, this only produced a large number of very sharp teeth;

"Balrok? Hah! The gods be playing a fine game with fate these days," laughed Jorn, though it came out as a hiss through his teeth, "how's the treasure-hunting business going? I hope those tomes I lent yer came in handy. I know those notes on elven religious lore I got in exchange certainly did!"

Balrok blinks dumbly at the lizard man, then the truth slowly dawns on him from the context of its words.  "Jorn Brightcaller??  Well I'll be a bearded nome!  I thought ye were a lizardman!  You an' yer damn shapeshiftin'; it ain't natural.  If Moradin had intended dwarfs tu look like lizards he'da given us scales an' heated caves," Balrok grumbles.  He switches to dwarven.  "What the hell are ye doin' here, and who are the rest of these folks?  Can they be trusted?"

In response the transmuter snapped his fingers, ending the spell. Scaled hides and claws were soon replaced by thick dwarven muscle and hair;

"Yer know, me master once said that if Moradin meant fer us to use weapons he wouldn've given us axeblades for fingers instead'o hand," answered Jorn, "magic's just a weapon, like any armor or blade. Them lizardfolk tough hides have saved mine more than once today.

With a glance at Slove, Jorn sighed,

<Dwarven>"Still haven' quite gotten over tha'paranoia I see. Not tha'I blame yer. How we got'er is a long story, one best shared over a fire and beer. And yes, they can be trusted. Even the elf. Especially the elf."

"Jus' cuz I'm paranoid don't mean der not out tu get me," Balrok mutters in dwarven.  Nonetheless, he seems much comforted that Jorn trusts the rest of the group.

His face also momentarily brightens as he considers having axeblades for fingers, but he quickly discards the idea.  "Moradin wouldn't do dat--it wuld take away free will," he notes in the tone of a theological discussion, "after all, den we culdn't pick whether tu use a hammer or an axe."  That seems to settle the thorny question in Balrok's mind.

OOC: So Slove, Elf Ranger and Cleric of a nature god, is untrained in Handle Animal. Huh. Anyway, NPCing him before the mule dies of fright.
17:05, Today: DM BadCatMan, on behalf of Slove, rolled 19 using 1d20. wild empathy.


Realizing that he was the one needed to calm the mule, Slove came over and took the reins from Balrok, who was having no luck at all. As the dwarves talked, he stroked its flanks, whispered to it, and generally tried to sooth it. It took a while, but eventually Muley settled down, though he was still skittish and frightened. He would need to be led back to the mercenary camp, to the care of the other adventurers, leaving only the hope that the orcs wouldn't get it into their heads to eat him.

Balrok will Intimidate the orcs into not eating his mule!  That is the only sort of agreement they'll understand, in his mind.

Can I do that?  I'd hate to have to try and kill them later for eating my pet mule!

Take 10 Intimidate:  17.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Tue 15 June 2010.

They are too busy fighting the dead-that-walk to worry about your mule. Once Mourel create enough dead-that-walk to launch another assault, we all die. Let's stop him before that happens. Send mule back to camp, and tell the fey to protect it. It will not live if faced with the dead-that-walk. They will turn it into a shadow, or worse. Now, keep your axe ready dwarf; we go face Mourel.

Gurgun leads the way towards the stairs leading down.

I'm confused.  If for some reason we are not actually taking Muley to these orcs, Balrok will attempt to Intimidate anyway (this skill has to be useful for something!) by instead attach a threatening "note" -- a rough drawing of an orc biting a mule and getting his head cut off by a very tough looking stick dwarf, with a note in Common saying, 'Be nice to Muley -- or else!'  Then Balrok would follow Gurgun.

OOC: I imagine we'll let a runner bring the mule back. There's a deranged fey with a pet bear back there that should be able to protect the mule from any harm.

OOC:  OK, sounds good.  Thanks for the information.  I was unaware of the deranged fey and pet bear....

OOC: No, I don't think Mister Wickers and Mister Lumpkin will be the best choices for this... ;) Let's leave the mule with the ex-PCs.
Okay, quickly skimming over.


Being very careful, Slove led Muley out of the strange domed room, with the other adventurers following. Balrok found himself making a careful passage over glass bridges suspending above a churning wine-dark sea beneath a twilight sky, crossing between strange glass towers. One thing was definitely certain. He wasn't in Chult anymore. He wasn't even on Toril anymore, and this place most definitely had nothing to do with the dwarves.

An orc and hobgoblin advance party had seized the bride Nexus, and waved the adventurers through. The hobgoblins were suspicious about a second dwarf appearing, not from the stone circle, but they let him pass.

Back in the main camp, they left Muley with Nikolai and the others, who promised to keep an eye on him, while Balrok attached his note and made fierce glares at the hungry-looking orcs.

Finally, they'd trooped back to the domed dance-floor, finding the flashing lights and loud music and dancing shadows had all been switched off, leaving eerie silence and darkness.


OOC: Okay, carry on. The map of what you see is above. There are wight bodies to check, and stairs to go down.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:49, Thu 17 June 2010.

Balrok will nonchalantly check the wight bodies.  He is always happy to loot the dead, but if there's anything that isn't obvious, he'll probably miss it.

Take 10 Search - 12.