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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 5, 2008 1:45:21 GMT -5
[I'll post my character's reply tomorrow. For now, her dice rolls!]
Fort check [DC 13]
[dice=20] +5
Spot check
[dice=20] +5[rand=0453196083093694354122013916109057505397258643219283582345314955]
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Post by exile on May 5, 2008 7:31:36 GMT -5
(Should have been a search check, I’ll include it with this post.)
“This is almost certainly the poison,” Hadrian announces to the room at large. Casting a faint smile towards Wraith’s boy, the aasimar beckons him over. “Aerin, is it? Stay close, child.”
Fort: [dice=20+6]
Search: [dice=20+4]
(I am not having much luck with these search checks...)[rand=5105884515768480880895546108053690746381715967968388835156823872]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 5, 2008 22:56:39 GMT -5
Perspiring with the effort as her condition quickly worsens, Uathach assists the laborers with their task. Swooning as the nausea strikes her again, she catches herself on the edge of the table, and sinks to her knees. Easy, Uathach, these men and your son depend on you. Do not fail them. She chides herself, and staggers to her feet again. Making her way around the tables, seeking the worst of the poisoned laborers - no easy task, because all of them were in urgent need of her care - she points at the men who helped her.
"Sit down and rest easy. Or you'll make yourselves even sicker than you are already." Placing her hand upon the delirius, twitching, bleeding man before her, she calls upon her God. "Apollo, hear my prayer; fill me, your vessel, with your glorious light and song, the power to heal this man." As the light begins to flood through her body, Wraith sings a soothing Guardinal melody...
[Casting Cure Moderate Wounds to buy the laborer some extra time]
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Post by Stix on May 8, 2008 13:16:46 GMT -5
Cures up to [dice=8][dice=8]+5 HP[rand=9992850352512643091559351740287841513886568964625345590481756152423]
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Post by Stix on May 8, 2008 14:26:27 GMT -5
“ This is almost certainly the poison,” Hadrian announces to the room at large. Casting a faint smile towards Wraith’s boy, the aasimar beckons him over. “ Aerin, is it? Stay close, child.” Aerin obediently shuffles closer to Hadrian, clutching a stuffed doll in the likeness of a smiling tridrone. (Another DC 12 Fort for Hadrian during the search) "Sit down and rest easy. Or you'll make yourselves even sicker than you are already." Placing her hand upon the delirius, twitching, bleeding man before her, she calls upon her God. "Apollo, hear my prayer; fill me, your vessel, with your glorious light and song, the power to heal this man." As the light begins to flood through her body, Wraith sings a soothing Guardinal melody... All but the loudest arguments stop as Wraith begins to sing. When the bubber's bleeding stops and he lies still in peaceful unconsciousness, a reverent silence overtakes the entire taproom. Those who still have the strength to move pick their way across the floor, careful not to trip over bodies, making their way toward Wraith, their eyes alight with new hope of survival.... (DC 14 save for Wraith)
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Post by john on May 9, 2008 20:21:46 GMT -5
John pauses at the door, asking Hadrian for some momentary assistance, "I'll pay good jink for a bit of light down this way, spellslinger."
John begins heading down the steps, knife in hand. [dice=20-6]
And a fort save [dice=20+8][rand=5519376796311706104533519036358660401139521012473535433734714993825]
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Post by exile on May 9, 2008 21:21:58 GMT -5
Hadrian was quickly beginning to recognize the futility in his continued search of the kitchen. At least his initial attempt had borne fruit. Guiding Aerin over to the door where the Bleaker could better keep an eye upon him, he called back to John.
"Aye, Taker, I'll add it to your tab."
Hadrian stepped in quietly beside the shorter, heavily armored man and began to cast. Reaching out a graceful finger, he touched the weathered surface of John's vambrace and the metal plate suddenly burst into light.
Pausing to check on the boy once more, he offered his most reassuring smile and added: "I'm right behind you, cutter."
Fort: [dice=20+6]
Initiative: [dice=20+1]
(OOC: Casting Light, duration 1 hour.)[rand=730619042342671481433575110319162667103145576097431975523011884244]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 10, 2008 4:53:49 GMT -5
[I'll post her fort save first, then reply accordingly. *fingers crossed*] Fort Save: DC 14 [dice=20] +5[rand=557895958120049847524156374598636686521567047248953956609162488]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 10, 2008 5:10:13 GMT -5
[Bugger. How I hate these dice rolls. Methinks Wraith's gonna die for a good cause here. ] The song ends to the awed silence of the drunken patrons, and none too soon, either. Crippling nausea threatens to drag Wraith to her knees, and she stumbles, catching herself on the edge of the table. Her head spins, and the bile rises to her throat. Clutching her churning belly, stoically ignoring her own pain and worsening condition, she moves from the man she treated to the next patient. This poor sod was in no better shape, either. Clutching the sacred caduceus, coiled about the symbol of Apollo she wears around her neck, she calls upon Him for His divine favor. Then her eyes fall upon the berk quietly edging along the wall toward the kitchen, trying to escape notice. Sodding Hells. Laying her hands upon her dying patient, so as not to alert the sneaky patron that she was aware of him, she sings again; opening herself up to Apollo's healing light... [Wraith casts Cure Moderate Wounds again.] Wraith makes her way toward the man trying to give them the slip, stopping along the way to tend to her patients, again being careful to not alert him that he'd been spotted. If she did, he'd run, and all hell would break loose. She hoped she could handle this as discretely as possible. [How many rounds would this take? And in her current condition, stopping to treat one seriously ill patient per round, would she reach him in time?]
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Post by Stix on May 13, 2008 12:14:36 GMT -5
A spell of nausea overtakes John on his way down the stairs -- together with the unstable footing and heavy armor, the Coldblood finds himself taking a fall...
Damage [dice=6][dice=6][rand=6844001601988257364707096032335155383864146348666719436074419336]
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Post by Stix on May 13, 2008 13:59:44 GMT -5
(I sent a PM. In the future, when you cast a healing spell, go ahead and include the die roll with it.)
Cure Moderate Wounds heals up to [dice=8][dice=8] +5 HP
The heavy crashing on the kitchen stairs sounds throughout the establishment; a half-dozen of the patrons still in passable condition decide to go and investigate.
At the bottom of the steps, John rights himself without much pain -- he's been banged around a bit inside his armor, but his steely second skin certainly saved him from a lot worse. Taking in his surroundings, he finds himself in a cramped cellar piled high with dry goods, dishes, linens, and kegs.[rand=1844670868122371962791034462875243095587716154968982211719769976]
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Post by john on May 13, 2008 19:28:25 GMT -5
John stands up, shaking his head from a momentary blur, and uses his vambrace like a lantern, wandering around and trying to find an exit, thinking that perhaps the barman (Unless he'd seen him earlier, and I reread posts to make sure he didn't) might be the culprit of this foul poisoning, or at least some kind of party to it.
[dice=20+14] (search check)
[rand=62343581570100619192088888299573436193402076377366546335087419219]
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Post by Stix on May 16, 2008 11:55:18 GMT -5
(John discovered the cook and the bartender bleeding out in the kitchen in this post. I'm PMing the search result.)
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Post by exile on May 17, 2008 10:12:08 GMT -5
Upon noting the entry of the more inquisitive of the walking wounded into the kitchen, Hadrian rounds on the small crowd with assumed authority.
“No one touches anything, do you bashers hear me? And for light’s sake stay away from the kegs, there’s poison on the floor.”
Gathering Aerin closer, Hadrian takes a tentative step down into the gloom below. Peering into the shadowy chamber, he calls out to John. “See anything, Taker?”
Spot [dice=20+4]
Fort [dice=20+6]
(OOC: Since Hadrian hasn’t consumed anything in the Pony, does he have any concept whatsoever that he might be poisoned? I’m just curious to know if there’s a subjective impression associated with all of these Fort Saves.) [rand=3917378941041102904184405119164206223369931184784536232521914948]
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Post by john on May 17, 2008 14:11:53 GMT -5
"I do indeed! Someone played us for silly buggers.... Or the blasted brain rats poisoned us!"
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Post by john on May 17, 2008 14:13:34 GMT -5
John calls up, for clarification, "Those kegs have holes -chewed- in them. Are the rats smart enough to recognize poison and use it on those that'd kill them?"
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 18, 2008 1:58:54 GMT -5
Though Wraith's primary concern was aiding the wounded men lined up on the tables before her, she wasn't completely oblivious to the man attempting to give them the slip. She had every intention of seizing him, and dragging the dark out of him. It was possible he was trying to slip away to just to call for help... but judging by the way he moved, that wasn't likely at all. More likely he was the poisoner, and he had every intention of escaping this mess alive.
Sodding Hells... Now what?! She growls under her breath as the banging in the kitchen not only alerts the sneaky man - who disappears from sight! - but also draws a sizeable handful of the laborers in that direction! This was turning into a complete disaster!
There was no way she could heal these men, find and capture the poisoner, and stop these stubborn sods from bloodying themselves up more than they had already. It was too much for any one woman to handle at once!
She was ready to throw her hands up in defeat, declare to the Nine Hells with it, and start hurling spells at the sneak man's last known whereabouts - who knows, chances were he was still there, and magic might flush the berk out - until the hand of one of her patients shoots up to grab her wrist. Blood pools in the man's mouth, and he gasps as he struggles to speak. But the only sound to come out is the pained gurgle rattling in his chest.
The poisoner would have to wait. Besides if she alerted the men barricading the door, it would only cause more confusion, and may very well give the sneaky man his opportunity to escape. Confusion was the last thing she needed, and if the "guards'" presence kept the man caged here, so be it.
"Lie still. I'm here to help you." Wraith says to the dying man in a soothing voice, and lays her bare hand upon his forehead. Closing her eyes, she opens herself up to Apollo's divine healing light, and allows it to trickle like quiet rain through her body... her song is soft and lilting, like the tinkling of a waterfall, and a quiet evening breeze.
Casting Cure Light Wounds [dice=8] +5[rand=275308185821911349098017237734093598213023833426418091533414286293]
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Post by exile on May 18, 2008 19:22:10 GMT -5
Hadrian ponders the question for a moment before responding. “It would depend how many there were. I shouldn’t think one or two would be able to reason it out, but a whole nest? Maybe. And if that’s the case, well, mind yourself Taker, I don’t think they’ll be pleased to see us.”
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Post by john on May 18, 2008 21:18:58 GMT -5
John looks for rats, his clear, deadly blade nigh invisible, except outlined in the light cast by his own vambrace as he searches for the rats who are the source of his misery.
[dice=20+7] spot check[rand=565061907065094674611850816340953101143299640952719341981866994584]
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Post by Stix on May 19, 2008 10:52:10 GMT -5
(OOC: Since Hadrian hasn’t consumed anything in the Pony, does he have any concept whatsoever that he might be poisoned? I’m just curious to know if there’s a subjective impression associated with all of these Fort Saves.) (I'd totally missed that. No more Fort saves for you.) " The rats?" one man in the kitchen exclaims loud enough for the bar to hear. " Ladds put down poison for 'em after they got into the stores...." Oy, bashers!" he calls, coming to the threshold of the common room. " They was cranium rats! They's the ones that done it!" Most of the room is dumbfounded and angered by this revelation, but too cautious or laid low to move. A few stagger to their feet, beginning to search the room for any trace of rodents. Below, John can hear quiet chittering, but nothing catches his eye.
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