Nodding to Albion, Sharps grins. "I can have what I need created fer us at th' docks. No needs for yous until later," he outlines. "Collect yer pays from th' captain an' I'll do my thing an' we'll meet up at th' inn."

The day drags onward as you sit, ponder and argue over your next move.  Tensions are finally starting to bleed through as the reality of your situation sinks slightly further into your psyches.  Some of you retreat into silence, still others turn to food and drink.  Your search of the town and various inquiries yielded little to nothing while the captain, as helpful as he could be, only added further confusion.

Night soon takes over day, your only clue being the rabble that descended upon the tavern.  The jovial mood of the crowd belies the air that hangs just outside of the tavern walls; little comfort or distraction is found in the games, dancing and song that soon fill the room.

Slowly but surely, one by one, the inebriated patrons trickle out or to respective cots and makeshift beds.  The captain, keeping true to his word, secured you three rooms with two beds a piece.  Finally, both drink and exhaustion take each of you as well and you make your individual ways to a much needed rest.

OOC: If you have any questions or actions you'd like to take, just let me know.  If you're all set otherwise, just give me a quick d10 roll...it's for a friend.

Frederick will take his gear to the room, and ask Hawkmoon if he would like to room with him.  He had woken up here with the man and had a certain kinship with him that he did not have with the others. Plus he seemed to be an able fighting man so there was that.

In reply to Frederick (msg # 225):

Sounds good.

In reply to Albion Hawkmoon (msg # 226):

Stoney eats and drinks his fill, shares stories, and listens to towns folks.   Afterwards he retreats to one of the rooms, and tosses his gear to the floor of the bed, and snuggles in for a good night sleep.

In reply to Stoney Applesmith (msg # 227):

Boris hangs out with Stoney, then also calls it a night.

Sharps unlimbers himself in the third room.

OOC: Stoney, Boris and Sharps are startled awake by screams and shouts coming from somewhere inside the building.  Shaking off your drowsiness and confusion, you quickly deduce that the voices are those of Frederick and Albion.

In reply to The Powers That Be (msg # 230):

Stoney pops up, as quickly as he can considering what he had to drink.
"Wake up! Boris, wake up!"
Opening the door, and trying to remember which rooom they are in, he swings open the nearest door.   That is if he cant deduce where they are from the screams.

In reply to Stoney Applesmith (msg # 231):

Boris started awake, confused and disoriented. Hearing the screams he crossed himself. "Coming, Stoney! What the devil is going on?" he asked, buckling on his sword. He then opened his door.

"Someone's in trouble, where?"

Sharps is out, too, sword in hand. He's not talking, just listening to the sounds and their sources.

In reply to Sharps (msg # 233):

"Let's go!" He wasn't sure where he was going, but assumed someone got attacked in their room at night.

Once the initial fright and pain have been dealt with, Frederick tries to do a fast weaving of mana, hoping to flings mana darts into the little beastie.

((ooc: what little beastie!))

In reply to Sharps (msg # 236):

Stone is in the hallway trying to figure out where the screams came from.
"I dont know where the screams came from." He says to those in the hallway.

Deciding to not wait further, Stoney, Boris and Sharps crash through the door into Frederick and Albions sleeping chamber.  Giving your eyes a moment to adjust, you take in a truly unpleasant scene.

Hovering just above Fredericks chest is a winged, reddish-pink creature, about the size of a cat.  It's limbs are humanoid and end with slick, black talons and claws.  It's eyes are completely pitch and it grins with rows of tiny dagger-like teeth.  In it's hand sits what looks like a shaving razor.  Looking about you see several of the creatures in the room...

(There are 6 of the creatures present in the room.  One flies near Albion as another approaches him on foot.  Two more are tearing through any backpacks or belongings in the room and the final one sits upon the window sill watching the entire affair.)

In reply to The Powers That Be (msg # 238):

OOC:  Teach me to not check in for a bit, won't it?

So, asleep or not.. Hawkmoon has a 10 foot protection from Evil around him that should make life a little unpleasant for these creatures, and help out both himself and Frederick.

Albion rolls to his feet, his hand reaching for his blade instinctively and wishing it were a Holy Avenger.. well, it would have to do.


Roll for attacks?

Boris was first through the door.

Deciding that he was not as skilled a swordsman as his companions Boris decided to go for the one at the window. If he didn't kill it maybe he could at least drive it off! The one with the razor at Frederick's throat deserved someone with more skill to strike it so they wouldn't hit Frederick by mistake.

Using his shortsword he grabbed his sword and swung two-handed at the one sitting on the window sill.


AC: 5 (Leather plus Buckler with +2 DEX Adjustment)
HP: 36/36
Weapon: Short Sword
THAC0/WS/Damage: 18/3/1d6, 1d8.

13:15, Today: Boris Underhill rolled 15 using 1d20.  To-hit.
22:39, Today: Boris Underhill rolled 8 using 1d8 ((8)).

This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Tue 04 Aug 2020.

Well I guess we are attacking!

Hawkmoon grabs his bastard with both hands and swings at that little sh*t like he wanted to launch him into space.. by the edge.

17 to hit, 8 damage small target

16:27, Today: Albion Hawkmoon rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Attack that close one!

16:28, Today: Albion Hawkmoon rolled 8 using 2d4+2.

Sharps takes a swing and slices one badly.


20:44, Today: Sharps rolled 10 using 1d7+4.  Sharps damage.

20:43, Today: Sharps rolled 18 using 1d20.  Sharps sword attack. THACO 12

In reply to Sharps (msg # 242):

Witnessing these flying little demons, Stoney charges forward to swipe them off Frederick's chest.  While charging he yells, "By the gods, you will not take another life while I am standing!"



Hit AC 3 for 4 damage
09:50, Today: Stoney Applesmith rolled 4 using 1d4+2.  dmg.
09:50, Today: Stoney Applesmith rolled 15 using 1d20.  hit off chest.

The winged creatures move with blinding speed.  The one on the window sill saw Boris coming a mile away and simply floated effortlessly out the window, just far enough to avoid his sword swing.  His jaw almost shaped in mocking fashion as it's shark-like eyes stared him down.  Hawkmoon swings wildly but the beast dances around his blade with ease.  Despite being awakened so abruptly, however, he still manages to avoid the combined attack of the two on him.  Stoney manages to chase the one assaulting Frederick higher towards the ceiling but his swings did little more then prevent further damage.  This however gave Frederick the chance he needed and streaks of lightning shoot from his fingers, slamming into the hovering beast.  The most acrid smell fills the air as the creature unleashes a deafening shriek before collapsing to the floor.  Sharps dashes toward the remaining two who had been tearing through things when they entered.  As he closes in they lift into the air and hurtle towards him.  With only seconds to react he randomly picks one and lays into it; a wing and half a leg take sail through the air, landing with sickening wetness upon the wooden planks.  The creature is still alive but flops around the floor, howling in either rage or pain.  The second one was more fortunate and found it's target as several of it's talons tear through Sharps left bicep (-3hp).

((ooc: Round 2 yet?))

Yes, of course, my apologies on not stating that the next round can start.  By all means, let me know what ya'll be up to this round. :)

The creature scores a hit on Sharps' left arm and the seasoned fighter takes the damage without pause. His voice, however, shows how truly angry this has made him.

"Oh, black chicken's got teeth, eh?" he growls. Sharps trades his sword from his right to his left and raises his right hand, casting a magic missile spell at the beast flying outside the window, just out of Boris' reach.

"Now I'm gonna have ta eat every fucking chicken in this place," he curses, motioning the still-bloodied, nearby flying foe to bring on the next attack.


15:53, Today: Sharps rolled 3 using 2d4. Each missile is a +1 and total damage is 5 points.