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Post by Malakbel on Mar 26, 2019 17:25:36 GMT
Initiative hBB7svGD1d20-11d20-1
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Post by 3personal5me on Mar 26, 2019 22:41:50 GMT
Initiative: zoJQdHFj1d20+31d20+3
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Post by pastels on Mar 27, 2019 4:55:58 GMT
Initiative: FaEaaP7o1d20+21d20+2
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Post by enchilada on Mar 31, 2019 17:23:52 GMT
For now I’m calling him “shovel man” fyi
Shovel man is going to make an attack against Citrine
TSQyArp11d20+2 To hit
2d6+2 Damage if it hits
wildly the Shovel Man attempts to clamp his jaws around any part of Citrine it can, seemingly in pure rage at losing his delightful shovel. Without shovel, Shovel man becomes just Man, and what is a Man but a machine of flesh? Shovel Man cannot say.1d20+2·2d6+2
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Post by pastels on Apr 1, 2019 4:18:27 GMT
Initiative Tracker: Shovel Man: 22 Astra: 21 Citrine: 14 Stephen: 10 Malakbel: 1
[Can everyone clarify their positioning, too? I don’t want to accidentally Eldritch Blast someone’s face off. XD]
Astra scoffed when the creature lurched towards Citrine, whose action had deprived him—it—of his precious shovel. In relative safety behind the rest of the group, she opened the tome with a decisive thwack… then thought better of it. No. She wasn’t going to waste a spell on a solitary creature. The arcane gem tied against her right palm glowed softly, sharp against the ice pooling around their feet, and Astra watched as the man swung with reckless abandon towards the firebird. A miss, was it? She raised an eyebrow, unsurprised, and continued leafing through the tome in disinterest. “Hm. I discover new levels of ineptitude each passing day...”
[Action: Vicious Mockery, DC 12]
If fail: 8VH9hQHA1d4, Disadv. on next attack roll
1d4
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Post by enchilada on Apr 1, 2019 9:03:49 GMT
Oof I didn’t think about putting up the init! I do have it in my notes but oofWis save: 76dPQcrW1d20Here’s a quick map, you guys can mark off or pm me on discord and ill add to it accordingly 1d20
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Post by 3personal5me on Apr 2, 2019 7:59:33 GMT
(Given how things played out, I would place Stephen somewhere near the fresh dug hole, but I'll leave the specifics to you. Unfortunately, I can't really edit or post the map)
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Post by enchilada on Apr 2, 2019 8:49:08 GMT
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Post by pastels on Apr 7, 2019 7:28:45 GMT
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 21, 2019 19:04:50 GMT
From here he would move left five feet (back, from his perspective) and cast sleep on the man, and see if it works. Sleep! VWbpf|bN5d8Afterwards he'll move ten feet forward one again to flank him, in case he's still awake, so he doesn't kill Citrine. 5d8
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Apr 22, 2019 21:23:05 GMT
Her look of surprise at being turned against morphed to one of childlike joy as her wings spread out like a sunset behind her, pulling her backwards as she kreed a laugh at the poor attempt by the zombie-not-zombie's smack towards her face paired with the dismissive very Astra thing she had to say about the creature's ineptitude. "Ya're tae slow!" She insulted it with her whisky accent - whites of her teeth grinning as if this were all a game.
Perched on the fence like the overgrown bird she was Citrine sharpened her wings behind her, grin detailing now to something a bit more devious. Springing up off of the fence she backflipped off the barrier - clawed feet glinting in the sun while her hair cascaded as if in a storm. Her wings lit up from an internal fire, each feather brightening and catching light starting from ach quill and stretching to the edge of each barb. The fire, orange and magic and yellow and violet and very, very, real collected between the two within the time it took for each to wing beat once - set aflame, twice, collect, and three? Explode outward in a conjoined firebolt towards the unfortunate soul.
The phoenix fire barreled through the air, cutting through the fence to wash over the shovel man. Without looking to see if she hit or not landed cat-like on her feet upon the completion of her backflip, hair settling swiftly down her back as she posed dramatically as if a salsa dancer, one arm across her waist and one held flamboyantly in the air.
Cantrip firebolt, 4th level is 2d10. Ending movement is in the square where the 'ine' of her name is written, 10 feet away 'east' from Shovel Guy. ORjhM6HB1d20+6
If hit:
2d10
1d20+6·2d10
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Post by enchilada on Apr 22, 2019 21:39:31 GMT
He looks pretty bad off, but he’s still on his feet.
The shovel guy shrieked, an unearthly, terrified shriek of pain.
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Post by 3personal5me on Apr 23, 2019 6:05:41 GMT
Stephen unslung his short bow, a simple weapon with no decoration. It was straightforward, functional, and mirrored its owner. His fingers plucked an arrow from his quiver, nocking it and drawing the bow in one motion. One more breath in, slow exhale, and release.
Thwang.
The same technique he had practiced, just as he practiced slashing with his shortsword and thrusting with his dagger. Simple techniques taught to all members of the City Watch.
Attack Roll:
_3As5DHN1d20+5
Damage:
1d6+3 1d20+5·1d6+3
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Post by enchilada on Apr 23, 2019 9:13:09 GMT
The shovel man growled, clumsily and stiffly trying to reach the arrow in his shoulder. He was struggling to do so. It had gone right through his common clothes, and his hand just kept missing as we was fumbling. He turned his back on Citrine, but otherwise simply began to look rather hopeless, he was going to die.
(mala are you sticking with your turn?)
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Post by enchilada on Apr 30, 2019 18:57:58 GMT
The shovel man turned, fumbled on the ground for his shovel, and then picked it up. Mala’s spell just seems to fizzle!
Then he started to dig again.
Astra is up
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