|
|
Post by Stix on Oct 23, 2008 14:36:38 GMT -5
The road gets a bit muddy ahead, but it's a mercifully short slog to the nearest sign of civilization. The deva and the fisherman have lapsed into a quiet coma-like state as the group leaves the woods and crests a hill, spying below them a three-story building aglow with lantern light. Following the road around a curve, the group spots a curious sight ahead: where the inn door should sit, there is only splintered timber and broken plaster around a wide aperture where the wall was completely destroyed by something very large. The gaping hole extends even to the second story, where floorboards have collapsed into the commons beneath.
Within, all is deathly silent.
|
|
|
|
Post by john on Oct 23, 2008 23:24:48 GMT -5
"That doesn't look promising." grumbles John.
|
|
|
|
Post by exile on Oct 25, 2008 13:32:49 GMT -5
“Powers, let this not be what it appears,” Hadrian remarks in grave tones. Relinquishing his hold of the sled’s makeshift yoke, the aasimar draws his newly acquired longsword and brandishes it in a guarded fashion. “This bears investigating, cutters. If tragedy has befallen this place, perhaps we are not too late to lend a hand.” Walking ahead of the others Hadrian proceeds to the ruined entrance with caution, trusting to his cunning and arcane armaments to keep him clear of the jaws of harm.
|
|
|
|
Post by john on Oct 25, 2008 14:09:11 GMT -5
John creeps behind, taking his bastard sword out, holding it in two hands and generally looking very unhappy, his vulture helm only partially concealing his horribly disfigured jaw. Then, he remembers his debt, and steps back, standing over the aasimar and the other poisoned man.
"I'll cover from here."
He puts his sword down, and reaches into the magical bag he acquired, retrieving some of the knives he had found in a bandolier.
|
|
|
|
Post by Stix on Nov 25, 2008 10:17:08 GMT -5
The lanterns of the commons are still burning bright as Hadrian picks his way over the wreckage into the cozy-common-room-turned-charnel. Five bodies in various states of dismemberment -- cut throats, spilling bowels, severed limbs -- lie strewn about, showing haphazard wounds like those of the dead fishermen, as though from the work of an immense razor. The floor is slick most everywhere with still-cooling blood, and only a single set of tracks leads away: a set of bloody grooves in the floor and soil, made undoubtedly by the great weight and sharp limbs of the bebilith.
From under an overturned table and a pile of plaster and broken timbers issues a weak groan....
|
|
|
|
Post by exile on Nov 26, 2008 21:16:44 GMT -5
Gazing upon a scene of devastation that Hadrian could not bring himself to wish upon the halls of his worst enemy, the aasimar noticeably struggled to hold back tears. This was not a battlefield or even a rout, it was a murder pure and simple.
Danger it seemed had passed however; the bebilith vanished into the air leaving only carnage in its wake. Sheathing his sword with heavy heart, Hadrian rushed to the upturned table to lend whatever aid he could: be it to tend to the wounded living or to offer final rites to the dying.
“Easy, cutter, friends are near.”
|
|
|
|
Post by john on Nov 27, 2008 13:27:27 GMT -5
Just keeps back, watching for the moment. There is no payment to be had or gotten here, beyond the indebtedness of some soon to be dying soul. Besides, Hadrian appears to be handling it effectively.
|
|
|
|
Post by Stix on Mar 9, 2009 8:32:01 GMT -5
With some effort, Hadrian clears most of the rubble from a badly wounded young man, who reflexively raises one bleeding arm across his face in a meager attempt at self-defense. When he sees the bebilith is nowhere near, he slowly relaxes his limbs as best he can, beginning to suffer tremors from the pain. The worst of his injuries -- the one that may kill him without immediate intervention -- is a long, jagged piece of ceiling timber embedded in the left side of his abdomen.
|
|
|
|
Post by john on Mar 9, 2009 19:12:22 GMT -5
John just grunts, and keeps quiet for now, looking over at Hadrian to take the lead here.
|
|
|
|
Post by exile on Mar 12, 2009 10:26:49 GMT -5
(OOC: I have no clue what spell levels I may or may not have remaining for the day any more… Hadrian will cast whatever spell he has left in his arsenal of sufficient level to attend to the wound.)
Hadrian laid the stricken man back upon the timbers and invoked a short prayer to his Power. Hands enwreathed in ephemeral light, he removed the penetrating timber and eased the poor sod’s pain.
“Easy, basher. You’re safe now. Tell us what happened; were there others here as well?”
1d10+1 Health back presumably:
[dice=10+1][rand=36065141209762213987771105138620976129689920099362784936928059343]
|
|
|
|
Post by Stix on Mar 18, 2009 14:48:24 GMT -5
The wounded sod groans as the timber is removed...
Constitution check[dice=20]
...and promptly passes out, even as the wound seals.
From behind the still-intact serving bar on one side of the common room sounds the sharp cry of a young woman. Standing with an expression of horror and alarm, she clutches a small girl, no more than four years old, to her chest in an effort to shield her from the horrific scene. She seems to take no notice of anyone or anything else, beginning to hyperventilate.
(Trying to reason with/calm her will require a Charisma check.)[rand=813533649915339315842017222721416337703887162108416145399538775085]
|
|
|
|
Post by exile on Mar 18, 2009 20:36:13 GMT -5
(OOC: Does the NWP Diplomacy have any bearing here? Hadrian has five ranks in it so go ahead and alter the die roll as necessary. I’m just going to do a raw d20.)
Laying the bloody timber down at the wounded sod’s side, Hadrian rose to his feet once again. The basher would live; there was nothing else to be done for him now besides comforting measures, and the other survivors required his attention first.
“Woah there, Sister,” he murmured, hands held before him in a consoling fashion. “You’re safe now. Whatever danger was here is now passed.”
RAW charisma check
[dice=20]
+/- 5?7.0
|
|
|
|
Post by Stix on Mar 23, 2009 0:57:41 GMT -5
(IIRC, Hadrian has used one 1st-, three 2nd- and one 3rd-level for the day. His effective priest level is reduced by two for spell slot and caster level purposes on Elysium.) (OOC: Does the NWP Diplomacy have any bearing here?) (From Spells & Magic: ) (That said, if you don't feel it's appropriate to Hadrian, feel free to swap it out.) The stunned barmaid takes in ragged breaths, peering at Hadrian with the fear left in her from her horrific encounter. " Out of the night," she babbles, wide-eyed. " ...All of them... more of them...." She points at the collapsed heap of timber, then quickly gets a better hold on the child, beginning to limp toward the gaping hole that passes for an exit. The woman's right thigh is bloodied with a deep, sword-like slice. " Don't look," she says softly, stroking the young girl's hair as she enters into the quiet composure of shock. " Don't look." |
|
|
|
Post by exile on Mar 23, 2009 11:11:02 GMT -5
“Hold there a moment, cutter,” Hadrian exclaimed as he quickly cut across the wreckage towards the woman. “You’re not fit to leave.” Kneeling down at her side he began to invoke yet another blessing from his power. At the rate at which injuries were piling up he would scarce be able to sanctify a font of holy water by day’s end. At the culmination of the ritual, the aasimar reached out to lay his hands upon the woman’s thigh and a surge of enveloping light coursed through his finger tips. Before allowing the two to depart his company however, he quickly surveyed the child for signs of injury. Satisfied that she was well, he felt comfortable to turn his attention back on other matters. The ruined heap of timbers namely, and the suggestion of others still trapped beneath…
Cure Light Wounds
[dice=8]
(OOC: Wow I had no intention of education Hadrian in statescraft. Is there a second edition equivalent to Diplomacy in 3rd edition? A skill that essentially allows you to improve your reaction in day to day dealings? I think I’ll resolve this with you in PMs if you don’t mind.)
[rand=33027632950052543971305004772791787851176764369653571601897314627]
|
|
|
|
Post by TheGratefulNed on Mar 23, 2009 11:51:18 GMT -5
Gl'Fnak cautiously eyes the scene of carnage presented as they make their way around a bend in the road. His actions mirroring Hadrian's the horse-hoofed tiefling draws his own longsword while they silently approach the wrecked building. When the aasimar makes his way inside to investigate, the Baatorian circles around the outside to look for any tell-tale signs of the direction in which their quarry left. Finding the deep blood-speckled grooves left by the bebilith leading distinctly away from the area, Gl'Fnak walks around and enters through the gaping hole where the front door should stand. Hearing Hadrian's voice attempting to sooth what are presumably surviving victims, the Cipher trots a bit more quickly. Upon seeing the unconscious man a few paces behind the Madman and the young woman whom he now addresses, Gl'Fnak quickly sheaths his sword and begins poking through the rest of the wreckage for any other survivors.
((Persuasion [General NWP] or Empathy [Trait] might be your best bets for a general kind of soothing, comforting, calming effect. I'll drop the descriptions of them in the OOC thread.))
|
|
|
|
Post by john on Mar 28, 2009 21:23:32 GMT -5
John just watches all this, his skull-exposed face a mask of anger behind the helm.
"More of whom?" He husks at the babbling woman, his own visage quiet horrific to behold as well, permanently scarred as his is.
|
|
|
|
Post by Stix on Apr 7, 2009 8:00:00 GMT -5
Hadrian finds the child in the woman's arms unconscious, but still breathing.
"The people -- the guests," the woman stammers in explanation to John. "It came in and it... knocked... down," she says, sparing a glance at the shattered second floor. "There are s-seven people in there."
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, the woman spies the makeshift sledge with the bodies of the deva and fisherman, then falls completely silent, wearing a puzzled look on top of her shock.
|
|
|
|
Post by exile on Apr 12, 2009 23:15:00 GMT -5
The child’s eyelids fall back over her listless blue eyes as the aasimar’s hand drops away to hang motionless at his side. Hadrian stood, mouth agape, as if struck. It wasn’t the girl that troubled him, her pupils were isocoric, she’d merely fainted and there was no head wound to concern himself over. Rather it was woman’s damning words…
“Seven?” he breathed, hardly daring to move. “Powers have mercy. If you have any strength in you yet, sister, I beg of you: help me.” Finding his feet at last, the Madman strode purposefully towards the wreckage and began tearing it down.
|
|
|
|
Post by john on Apr 19, 2009 1:25:41 GMT -5
"I'll help you as well, Madman, if your words can prove something in it for me."
John waits for Hadrian's best reasoned answer.
|
|
|
|
Post by TheGratefulNed on Apr 19, 2009 9:49:25 GMT -5
Gl'Fnak immediately moves to the indicated rubble and begins helping with the excavating. He subtly shakes his head at John's request for further incentive but silently continues working.
|
|
