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Post by pastels on Mar 17, 2019 5:18:10 GMT
Strength Saving Throw against DC 13: vKI5RlH71d20-11d20-1
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Post by pastels on Mar 17, 2019 5:41:56 GMT
“Oh, wonderful,” Astra muttered in tandem with Mitja, who swayed and croaked on her shoulder as the world around them devolved into chaos. She yet had a basket of vegetables tucked under her strong arm—she went to the market for the simple reason of making a stew, one she fondly remembered from her childhood. Why was it bad things always happened whenever she reminisced? The elf was just about halfway through her shopping list when the pandemonium began, and wouldn’t you know it… One of the inhuman attackers picked her as a target.
Astra only noticed that she had company when her raven screeched and launched itself backwards, a wing raking across her ear during its furious escape. She bowled over backwards, the day’s produce spraying from the basket, as an unseen assailant charged at her—the force issued by the charge could not be met by her frail, malnourished body.
The elf pushed herself up from the ground, reeling from the impact, and grabbed onto her head, trying to will the dizziness out. In her confusion—and in a blinding, exhilarating rush of rage—she let herself be swept away by the nausea, using it to tap into a smothered, shadowed corner in her psyche. Gurgling, unnatural words—twisted beyond the ken of mortals—rushed from her lips, a potent curse meant to sink an anchor into the fragile demesne of one’s sanity… and drag what remained into the interminable abyss. As the magic of the Entity seeped into the rational world, Astra fumbled blindly for her weapon, fingers tinged cold and dead despite the spring heat.
(Action: Astra expends half of her movement to get up, casts Dissonant Whispers DC 13 using one out of her two second-level Warlock spell slots, and then unsheathes her shortsword.) Dissonant Whispers: ZKMy1jmp4d6 4d6
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 17, 2019 5:52:30 GMT
Marauder Save: bvYp3I4f1d20+11d20+1
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 17, 2019 12:05:59 GMT
(Just as an update - we're back round to Echo, the leader looks pissed off but it still very healthy, the marauder who hit Astra looks a little rougher and has run away from her; I'll do a full map update on my next post)
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Kestrel
Approved
Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on Mar 18, 2019 21:14:09 GMT
Echo fist pumped when she saw their leader drop the merchant in a haze. Yes! Her spell had worked! But then the big guy, half-heartedly motioning in her direction, drew his big, pretty silver sword. And then sliced open the merchant’s stomach. And then spun the weapon around to decapitate him. And then two of the other strange people leveled their crossbows at the tree. The tabaxi’s grin disappeared and her ears drooped.
Oh. Crap.
Echo pulled herself back into the tree and ducked down into the foliage, but her ears picked up two unmistakable thwangs and the crack of bolts tearing through leaves and branches. The first one, by the dull thud, had lodged itself in a thick branch just in front of the treasure hunter, but a moment later she felt a sharp pain radiate out from her left shoulder and gasped. The second bolt had slipped underneath her vest pauldron and pierced deep into her skin. Gritting her teeth, clamping a hand down on the wound, and ignoring the red stain growing on her tunic, Echo peeked out from the tree again. The merchant was dead. Sooooo very dead. Like, basically in three different pieces kind of dead. But her old warforged companion had moved to engage the leader himself and, by the harsh glow of the big guy’s burnished armor, was doing pretty okay. There was also some commotion farther off to her right (besides the expected mad scramble of civilians at least), but at the moment Echo ignored it. Instead, her narrowed eyes were locked on the two jerks who had shot at her.
It was so on.
One of the spikey people was still on their own but the other, the one closest to her tree, was next to a weird blurry man thing who was wildly gesturing and making, uh, noises she guessed was technically the right word? He sure was moving his mouth and doing something. Either way, it presented an opportunity. Unslinging her own crossbow from off her back, the tabaxi loaded a bolt, winced as she leveled the weapon and steadied it on her shoulder, and then took aim at her distracted target. Thwang. Her own crossbow sang as she squeezed the weapon’s trigger, but Echo took no time to confirm if it was a hit or not. It was like Nimble Light had used to say: “Fool me once” – blah blah blah - “but twice and I’m a dead cat”. Or, something like that? She honestly forgot. The point, though, was that she really did not want to get turned into more of a pincushion, and so Echo lifted her crossbow, dove back into the tree, and moved to a new branch as she prepared to load another bolt, hoping to confuse her targets in the process.
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Action: Echo will attack M3 with her light crossbow and, because Naizelos is within 5 ft of them, gets to use sneak attack as well.
Attack roll: 6y_J7xwE1d20+5
Damage roll (if it hits): 1d8+3
Additional sneak attack damage: 1d6
Bonus: Echo is then going to use Cunning Action to take the Hide action and try to break line of sight within the tree's foliage.
Stealth check: 1d20+5
Unfortunately, that means it's Kai Wren 's turn! 1d20+5·1d8+3·1d6·1d20+5
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 19, 2019 7:36:05 GMT
Chaos breaks out across the market, pure and undiluted chaos. People run for their lives, screaming, but at least for the most part the marauders in this section of the market seem to have their attention drawn by the gathered heroes.
The exception being the one to the far north, who had his captive. Once secured, the terrified civilian – a young woman who had been out shopping for a new dress now that the season is turning – could do nothing but flail in vain as the warrior slapped a slender silver collar around her throat. The moment that he did, she ceased in her struggles and grew still, quiet, obediently following him as he turned and prowled back towards his leader.
The marauder who had suddenly sprouted a crossbow bolt in his shoulder snarled, but as much as he wanted to finish off the woman he had shot, he had bigger concerns as a warrior in full-plate, backed up with potent magic, suddenly stepped right up to him and deliberately drew his attention.
“Foolish.” The marauder hissed, “You wasted the chance to surprise me. I’ll make you pay for that.”
He dropped his crossbow, and moving with strange grace, drew his sword. Even as he was turning to bring the curved blade around, the crossbow defied gravity to hook itself along his back. Apparently, even the lowest minions of this race had some gift for magic… or magical equipment.
The other marauder who had shot at Echo lost her amongst the foliage… and seemed to think that, perhaps, she had died to the bolts. That would make sense, people don’t generally survive being shot multiple times in his experience. So, he ran up to catch one of the fleeing civilians on the way past.
The raider who had been forced to flee by Astra’s magic – running full bore away from her – recovered just a few seconds later, and turned, growling, back towards her. As the empowered whispers fled his mind, the warrior let out a guttural cry and hurled himself back at her, no longer trying to knock her over, just bisect her shoulder to hip with that strange, curved blade of his!
The leader, who could no doubt have continued to organise his troops in a more effective manner, had other problems to deal with. His armour was cooking his flesh, and the bright red glow of it sizzled painfully against his bare skin. He set himself against the pain as best he could, and cracked his neck as he stared down the warforged.
“A servant of one of your pathetic Gods.” He spat, “We’ll see what aid your parasite can offer you in the arena!”
With that, the shimmering silver blade carved a path through the air, slashing and twirling as he attempted to cut intricate new patterns in Crucible’s metal skin – the dance was not as elegant as it had been when he slew the merchant, but he still had impressive focus through what must be a shocking amount of pain.
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 19, 2019 7:40:01 GMT
Marauder 1 vs Astra: To-Hit: TkhRAClJ1d20+5 Damage: 1d8+3 Slashing
Marauder 2 captures a civilian.
Marauder 3 vs Nai: To-Hit (disadvantage): 1d20+5 OR 1d20+5 Damage: 1d8+3 Slashing
Marauder 4 applies collar and moves.
Githyanki Leader vs Crucible 1: To-Hit (disadvantage): 1d20+4 OR 1d20+4
Damage: 2d6+2 Slashing and 2d6 Psychic
Githyanki Leader vs Crucible 2: To-Hit (disadvantage): 1d20+4 OR 1d20+4
Damage: 2d6+2 Slashing and 2d6 Psychic1d20+5·1d8+3·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d8+3·1d20+4·1d20+4·2d6+2·2d6·1d20+4·1d20+4·2d6+2·2d6
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Post by Malakbel on Mar 20, 2019 15:08:53 GMT
Things weren't looking so hot on the Market right now, a quick look at his surroundings would confirm that only three people were fighting the would-be invaders, first among those a metal man, one of the kidnapping victims and a cat-person currently hiding in the foliage of the tree. Against an organized group... Didn't seem like things would turn out good. He had to prioritize targets. Well, he would have to start doing that after he took care of the one that was right next to him. Shield held high and firm, Naizelos moved away from the man currently trying to attack him hoping to goad him his way and lure him too, to be able to reach casting distance of the woman in trouble. The metal man seemed to be holding his ground just fine, the cat-folk was hidden in the foliage and currently out of sight so that left her as the most vulerable target right now, and they would need all the fighters they could get. He pointed his hand at the man who was trying to hack the elf woman that was resisting to pieces, and used the various abandoned goods to his side to attack him; telekinetically moving them with great strength towards him.
Then his atention turned to the man trying to cut -him-. He was hoping to get rid of him quickly so he could aid the others, but casting a better ranged spell with an armed monkey flaunting his sword around him would complicate things. That was why it was a priority; he hoped the invaders were as frail as they were ugly because otherwise things could be taking a turn for the worse. While this was happening a single thought danced unchallenged through his mind, parading itself for him to consider. Where was the guard during all this? Were were the famed Watherdavian mages from the academy? Couldn't they have foreseen this? It was their lack of unity, he felt then with a certain degree of disgust. The fact that the city itself seemed to be like an unregulated marketplace of dueling burgouise with some mages here and there that cared about keeping their own wealth coming and going, whether it was arcane or otherwise.
Maybe the only reason Waterdeep had not yet been trampled over and conquered had been not by the might of it's defenders or an organised resistance alongside treaties and careful politicis but due to the overwhelming tame nature of it's neighbors. When was the last time this city had seen a war proper and what kind of threat could they really pose to anything other than an individual? He felt as though the lack of regulations and the incredibly chaotic state of the world itself at large was to blame. Waterdeep was not itself a cause of it, but a symptom of something creater and he had already a faint idea, that was not really that faint, about who was to blame for all of it. And first among those was everyone else, and himself included for not doing anything about it with the pressing concern that priorities required.
[Casts Catapult on M1]
xkGDZLZp3d8
Bludgeoning Damage
Dex Saving throw DC 133d8
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 20, 2019 18:23:10 GMT
(realised I forgot to put the map up)
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Post by 3personal5me on Mar 20, 2019 23:21:33 GMT
Crucible easily evaded the attacks, sidestepping the first and using his shield to block the second. As the sword crashed down on his shield, he shoved back, throwing his opponent off balance. He drew upon his divine power again, attempting to call upon a spell that may have seemed antithetical to a cleric. Necrotic energies poured forth from his amulet, swirling around the head of his mace. Prayers spilled from his lips as he drew upon the dark spell, and finally heaved the weapon at his foe.
(Casting Inflict Wounds at level 2. Melee spell attack for 4d10 necrotic damage, and Bonus Action to sustain Heat Metal)
Melee Spell Attack: HkblNguz1d20+5
Necrotic Damage: 4d6
Heat Metal Damage: 2d8
Heat Metal: 2/10 rounds 1d20+5·4d6·2d8
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Post by 3personal5me on Mar 21, 2019 1:57:09 GMT
Crit Damage: X4sthwZU4d6 4d6
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Post by pastels on Mar 21, 2019 17:19:33 GMT
Before she could recover from her dazed state, the marauder announced his return with a bloodcurdling cry, arm held up to the sky in a pose that radiated raw physical power—the curved blade glinted in the sunlight as it was brought down, and the pain that followed was so intense it dragged Astra’s mind back to reality. She clutched at her stomach as she staggered back. The tome tucked deep in her pack suddenly weighed like a sack of stones, forcing her spine to bend, bend—it was only through sheer willpower that she did not collapse backwards, as though she was pulled back by a collar into the sunless unknown.
Astra knew she had no chance in melee combat. She had to get away, somehow… but it could easily catch up to her, and the effort to escape would be wasted.
As her mind churned half-desperate plans out at a frenzied rate, her body began to recognize the heavy damage it was dealt. The elf grimaced, her sunken features appearing even more skeletal, and clutched at her robes tightly, knuckles white. She considered running. Her feet moved at an angle…
When Mitja swooped down from the air, a cawing, coal-black blur of beak and talons. The raven flew in and out of the warrior’s range, determined to be the most infuriating nuisance there was in this damn market.
Astra’s eyes widened. She didn’t order that… but she wasn’t one to waste chances where they were given.
She gritted her teeth and pulled her arcane focus out from her belt pouch, fingers slick with blood. She called out to the Entity, the request ringing out within the chambers of her consciousness—It answered. Opaque, cord-like feelers with a hundred blinking eyes wrapped around her enemy, and ghostly visions of kelp and wide-jawed sea snakes undulated between his feet. They hovered, not quite there, not quite here… Somewhere in-between and far beyond.
Then Astra drew her own weapon back, and challenged her fate.
(Mitja Action: Familiar helps Astra by distracting M1. Astra Action: Casts Hex for her bonus action, so that’s all spell slots gone now, then attacks with shortsword.)
Melee Atk: sGrv2Q6t1d20+4 Help: 1d20+4 If hit, dmg: 1d6+2 If hit, Hex: 1d6, Disadv. on Athletics 1d20+4·1d20+4·1d6+2·1d6
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 21, 2019 19:14:46 GMT
Marauder Save vs Catapult: Wo51cErs1d20+21d20+2
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 21, 2019 19:15:48 GMT
Marauder opportunity attack vs. Nai i9qSKWvl1d20+5 or 1d20+5 (disadvantage) if hit 1d8+3 slashing damage.1d20+5·1d20+5·1d8+3
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Post by Kai Wren on Mar 21, 2019 19:22:55 GMT
The mace didn’t so much strike the Githyanki leader, so much as it disintegrated him. Apparently, Moradin took exception to the words of the militaristically atheistic warrior. The discharge of power which flared from the point of impact with the Githyanki’s side was far greater than normal, a flare of crackling black energy which briefly cast the world in negative image for ten feet around Crucible and the leader of this band of marauders. When the world stuttered back into view, a pile of jet-black charred bones and half-melted silver armour clattered into a smouldering heap at Crucible’s feet. As Naizelos left his original target, the raider took a swing, but was distracted – perhaps – by the untimely death of his leader. The blade met nothing but air, and a pile of debris thudded into the side of the charging marauder’s back, causing him to turn and snarl, further frustrated by some pathetic, scrabbling bird-thing- Which meant that Naizelos got a very good view when Astra’s shortsword punched through the marauder and he, too, toppled to the ground, very dead. (I believe that you are up Kestrel!)
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