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Post by pastels on May 12, 2019 10:55:54 GMT
(Ooof wrong dice roll for Eldritch Blast!
EB: cHYxUhde1d10+2
Crit EB: 1d10+2)1d10+2·1d10+2
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Post by Malakbel on May 13, 2019 6:21:31 GMT
Sword attack: oSLnnt9W1d20+5 Damage 1d8+2
Things were most definitely not looking good, in the last few moments after the last barrier had gone down the man that had seemed like the best fighter of the group -if he could even be considered a man- had gone forward and got himself killed down the fountain. Talk about something that would make the morale of the group falter, he could even feel it himself and he did not give a crap whether anyone else lived or not. But that was one good fighter down that had single handedly managed to almost melt a capable fighter and hold off his own in the last fight. If there only was some way to bring him back, but he possessed no such magic to his knowledge. Not even one to raise him as an undead to try and stave off the enemy. That left him alone against the newest enemy: The raider that had just came rushing towards him sword in hand; his battle reflexes were quicker however and he managed to raise the shield in time to block it feeling the vibration of the impact.
That wasn't so bad. He could take on him. And just as he was getting ready to do so, the cat lady he thoght he had seen earlier rushed past him, stabbed the raider in the back and kept going; a second later one of those majestic bolts landed on him. He smiled. He always wanted to know exactly what those would do to living tissue and he now had his answer, even if he had to squint his eyes a little bit to see what was going on. He decided to not waste any further time and, as he was, tried to take a swing at the man. Unfortunately, he wasn't yet quite done, and would not yield in order to die.
It was three on three now. He took a deep breath.
"What did you said earlier? I couldn't quite catch that, sorry"
He yelled over at the man that had singlehandedly killed two of the most capable fighters already. The elf had some dangerous magic but she wasn't looking like she could take more hits, and the Tabaxi... He didn't know anything about her but she didn't look like the kind to stand in front of the onslaught and bear with it for the sake of it. With Crucible down, that only left one possible path. He could only hope that he remained alive long enough for it to be fruitful. But if it didn't, he wasn't going to end up more dead because of it.
"I couldn't hear you over the sound of you slurping all over lord Sayid's penis"
He readied himself for the onslaught that could probably come. He had no way of knowing if the taunt would work, but he did seem to care quite a lot for Sayeel's opinion, and impression. Surely, insulting it would make him want to kill him quick. How wise a choice that was? It remained to be seen.
Persuasion 1d20-11d20+5·1d8+2·1d20-1
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Post by 3personal5me on May 13, 2019 18:00:49 GMT
Death Save: wT5Gl3FK1d201d20
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Post by 3personal5me on May 13, 2019 19:09:57 GMT
The Guiding Bolt had landed. The pain from the blow he took while disengaging was searing, but he forced it aside. He sprinted past the tents, deft footwork letting him pass through the various stakes and ropes unhindered. A quick dodge, and he avoided another one. He could see the Leader. A high overhead strike.
His military training was in full gear. Don't raise the shield, it will block visibility. Time for the old "get out if the way" move. His blade was clocked over one shoulder, just a hair. Right handed. Dodge away from the follow through, by juking right. It was almost instinct. He planted his feet, bringing his mace arm up in a feigned uppercut. It would, hopefully, goad the attack out early while still letting him naturally transfer his energy and leap to the side. Once there, his shield would be on his left to protect from the counter attack th-
He was already in the air, when he realized his mistake. The leader was swinging. The overhead strike itself was a feign. Crucible found himself leaping ribs first into a sweeping strike from his right, towards his neck.
It was too late.
He twisted the best he could. With his feet in the air, there wasn't much he could do. Too much weight to stop. The blade bit in, easily sliding past the protective plates to the softer wood underneath. It was excruciating. A split second later, his mind exploded.
He hit the ground hard. Hundreds of pounds of steel and stone, now limp, slammed into the water. His systems were shutting down. He was vaguely aware of two more savage gashes tearing across his back. It should have hurt.
But he was numb.
Even his mind struggled, limping along. He was fading. He fought for something to hold onto. His vision was darkening.
Enchee. The little Goblin girl he had practically adopted. She needed him. Dimly, somewhere far away, he thought he felt his arm twitch. Enchee. He had to find her.
Enchee.
His body was motionless.
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Post by Kai Wren on May 13, 2019 20:37:51 GMT
Prerolling: MgGkYKHy1d20+5 / 1d8+31d20+5·1d8+3
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Post by Kai Wren on May 13, 2019 20:45:46 GMT
The Githyanki warrior's lip curled into a condescending sneer as the yuan-ti attempted to shout past him and gain his master's ire. The hooked blade flashed out, and cut him across one cheek for his insolence, the raider's expression hard as stone.
"Your fight." He said, "Is with me. If you think your pathetic mewling will stay my Lord's hand from slaying your idiot friend, you are much deluded."
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Kestrel
Approved
Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on May 14, 2019 0:29:41 GMT
Echo covered her mouth with her free hand. Her ears lay flat, her tail limp, and a soft whine escaped her throat. She closed her eyes tight.
Crucible was…was…
Done.
Echo had watched, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent warning, as the warforged had continued his charge, bad wound and all, and tried to attack the big bad guy on his own. The whole thing had looked awesome. His metal body glinting in the sunlight, his mace held high, and his feet almost dancing between every obstacle in his path. It was…really, really brave. It was daring. It was reckless and stupid and super dumb, but…the most important thing? For the rest of them? He had tried. Tried! Just…tried. It was like Crucible had been nothing more than a slight inconvenience. The leader’s sword had met the cleric mid-leap, one big swipe of its massive blade, and there was nothing she or the others or even Crucible himself could have done. All that was left was a hard splash as the body tumbled into the fountain. Still. Unmoving. Quiet. Two more downward cuts had made things certain.
The invincible Crucible. The super strong Crucible. The Crucible who could bash heads and melt faces and shoot sparkly beams of light and who had been, like, a literal metal rock for the group each and every time they had worked together…was done. Just like that!
Echo opened her eyes. The big bad guy’s sword? Now pointed straight at her.
The tabaxi swallowed, tail on end, as she listened to him. Pelt? Her pelt? On a wall? She absently scratched at her neck as her fur began to crawl and itch. Then, he started to advance toward her – barely dented silver armor, gigantic bloodied sword, and confident sneer and all. Her tail twitched. Wide, two toned eyes looked around as Echo, claws digging into her crossbow, inhaled sharply. She…wanted to run. She wanted to just run really, really, really far away and forget all of this had ever happened. That was what Wisp would have told her to do. This? This, uh, whole situation? Dumb! What was the point of dying for no reason? She barely, like, even knew anyone there. She barely knew the skeletal elf and the blur man and, honestly, she barely even knew Crucible! He was just someone who had always been there. And if he could do nothing but die against the big bad guy, what in the Nine Hells was she supposed to do instead? Echo planted her feet against the ground, tensed, and began to stand.
But then, she heard the voice.
The treasure hunter nearly leapt straight out of her fur. The voice was cool and calm, yeah, but also…muffled and warbled in a watery way like a thousand different people drowning at once and calling to her for help. It came from inside her head, too. It was…awful. Really damn awful. For a moment Echo wondered if it was the leader who was doing it, already trying to distract her from fleeing or fighting. But then the voice said something about Crucible and helping him and advancing. Like, good things. A…friend? Echo glanced over her shoulder and back toward her remaining companions. She met the elf’s eyes. The elf! Cat Lord, she really was terrifying. But there was also nothing she could do. Crucible was done for. She had healing magic, sure, but he was right there in front of the big bad guy and the other spikey hairs and, even if she somehow did manage to reach him, she, like, honestly? Really wanted to not be skinned alive that day. That would be great! Super great. Really reasonable request, she thought. But, then again…
She had mentioned Crucible.
She, uh, barely even knew the warforged! That was true. But…that was enough, really. Echo gave the elf a look, eyes narrowing, and shook her head. She was not going to help Crucible. No one could now. The tabaxi swung her body and crossbow around and slammed her back into the root now behind her. But, what she could do? For him? Echo hissed. Was make sure that they all paid for ever stepping foot in Waterdeep and attacking them. This city was her home now. These people were her friends and her neighbors and her allies now. Her people. Not someone she could abandon - not even to save her own fur. Not like she used to. And Crucible? He had been one of those people. A kinda, sorta friend. There was one thing, more important than most, that a thief held close to their hearts when it came to life out on the streets. Survival? Awesome. Great. But when someone messed with one part of the gang?
They messed with all the gang. And, like? That was usually a bad idea!
Thwang. Echo fired off her crossbow, not at the big bad guy, but at the raider she had stabbed earlier. At the one fighting with her companions. A lot of people had died that day. Someone she knew had died that day. Not. One. Damn. More. The tabaxi then sprang to her feet, shouldered her crossbow, and extended her claws. Her tail whipped from side to side. Then, she sprang forward. Claws digging deep into wood, Echo climbed her way over one massive root, jumped to the other side, and then began to hop and dance toward another. She looked behind her. Big bad guy wanted her fur for his wall? Ha!
He could try! This fight was far from over.
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Action: Echo is going to attack R2 with her light crossbow; sneak attack and all.
Attack: Q1q2OWu11d20+5
Damage: 1d8+3
Sneak attack: 1d6
Move: She's then going to use Cunning Action to Dash and move 60' to the west of the map. 1d20+5·1d8+3·1d6
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Post by Kai Wren on May 14, 2019 6:42:24 GMT
The raider prepared another flourishing blow with his blade, only for a crossbow bolt to lodge itself through his windpipe. He fell, gurgling, to the ground and Lord Sayeel sneered. Things were not going according to plan. Of his direct guard, he had only a single surviving minion; and from what he gleaned from the rest of his assault force, the same could be said throughout the rest of the market. Much Githyanki blood had been shed today.
That cat-person was fast.
It was irritating, really. He found himself caught between two conflicting drives. On the one hand, he wanted to slay these people; they had cost him dearly, and he was confident that he could take any one of them in one on one combat.
But this wasn’t one on one any longer.
And this wasn’t about his wounded pride. The Yuan-Ti's flung insults were like cold water thrown over his fury; a reminder of all the flaws these people had. All the many, many flaws.
He raised his hand and – as he did – Dantallion rose into the air. The body flew into the waiting arms of the surviving minion. It wouldn’t do for Lord Sayeel to have to carry his bounty home himself, now would it?
“I do not blame you for struggling.” He continued, “You are limited creatures, weighed down by the burden of ages. We are ageless and eternal. Well.” He smiled, unpleasantly, and cast a look at his fallen brothers.
“Those of us who are not foolish enough to die. You may bask in my magnanimity. I shall settle for taking my prize, and let the inevitability of time spell your ends. You may praise me for my mercy, if you wish. Though I do not expect you to be self-aware enough to realise that you do not deserve it. Besides. My Queen has a use for this one, and I shan’t keep her waiting any longer.”
And with the speed of thought, he and his minion shimmered, and were gone, leaving only the bodies of the many fallen, and a thousand lingering questions in their wake…
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Post by Malakbel on May 14, 2019 7:05:05 GMT
Malakbel grunted at the slight cut, but smiled nonetheless. He thought about keeping his cards close to his chest in the melee combat but after that he simply thought it better to destroy him ipso facto where he stood. Perhaps, then, the rest would take him seriously and focus on him instead of focusing on the cat girl, who had just moved remarkably fast. Surely, nothing so fast could be also tough, it would be odd if it were the case, right? Words came out however, and a long monologue followed capturing his attention as well. It had never ocurred to him until that particular point in time that he, the man talking, was the sayeel one. Who in their right minds would talk about themselves in the third person? He wasn't sure but he would have bet at least ten gold coins on it being a mental disorder, diagnosed in a couple books. Nonetheless he would need an actual library to find out and he was past caring that much for the Githyanki and their antics. Their flash invasion of their plain seemed to be nearing his end and as it was happening he found himself to be... Oddly disappointed. As if when the climax was approaching they decided to pull out, he felt cheated out of a satisfying victory, and a sensation, a bother, not unlike a kind of tame anger began to make itself present within him. He had been so close to feeling a strong emotion, something between fear and accomplishment, akin to courage, something rewarding... And now it wasn't a possibility anymore.
"We, limited creatures, shall remember this day as the day Lord Sayeel was so afraid of getting his shit pushed in he couldn't be assed to finish his own sentence before bolting out"
If he ever wanted to find an actual good reason to learn how to shift between the planes he now had one. The vengeful idea of going to the astral plane in search of that Lord Sayeel, or simply, finding a way to make an extraplanar summoning and bring in forth in front of twelve hired thugs with spiked clubs just as he was taking a bath became really, really tempting. But then again wouldn't that just be wasteful? What did he have to gain other than petty revenge for an unfulfilled thrill? It was criminal, being let down like that, but it didn't warrant being wasteful. Now however, if he could find a reason to do that, one in which he had something else to gain other than simply satisfying himself with petty vengeance... What about the secrets of their weapons? Or their facility to shift between planes without the need for dedicated spellcasters? Those secrets were worth learning. So, the plan shifted in his mind, removing the spikes from the thug's clubs. Everything else remained the same.
With the threat gone, the Yuan-ti looked to one side, then to the other, looking to find the elf and the catfolk with his gaze... Before slowly walking towards the fountain.
"Is anyone else as disappointed as I am he would just bolt like that? I haven't really done anything cool in my life before and I thought to myself. This is it. This will be it, I can take this guy. Maybe even impress the hot elf. And then I get blueballed by a squid faced man. Now that's a sentence I never thought I'd say. For someone who talked about himself in the third person, he sure knew when to quit though."
He said taking a few moments to look around at them, talking over the sound of burning and silent confusion before the sounds of the city post-raid came flooding back. As usual, it was hard to discern whether he was being sarcastic, or simply truthful. When he reached the fountain he leaned over, trying to see if the metal man was still alive. Though was he ever alive to begin with? He tried to fish him out of the fountain, unsure whether he needed to breathe or not. What was he supposed to do then, take his pulse? Did the thing even have a pulse? How did you go about healing such a construct?
"Hey... Are you... Still alive?"
He questioned, trying to feel maybe a small breath coming out of him, a reaction. Maybe an electric pulse. He tried shaking him a little, maybe he was unconcious.
(WC: 5092)
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Kestrel
Approved
Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on May 14, 2019 22:23:45 GMT
This fight was…very much over. Wow.
Reaching the far root, Echo steadied her shoulder against it, loaded her crossbow, and aimed toward the fountain. Her eyes and weapon centered on the big bad boss. The guy was saying…a heck of a lot, actually. Her ears flicked. There were bits about being limited creatures (uh, rude?), ageless and eternal guys, something called a magic anemone which, honestly, sounded pretty dang cool, and then some more about a prize and mercy and a queen and other stuff. Really – a bunch of rubbish. All of it. What Echo was waaaaay more concerned about, all in all, was the unconscious and floating dwarf body close to them. Their impromptu dwarf ally’s body. As she watched the leader raised his hand, thrust the body into the arms of the one other surviving raider, and then smiled. The tabaxi shivered. A smile that made her spine crawl.
Still, Echo narrowed her eyes and steadied her crossbow. Her finger rubbed against the trigger. She yelled.
“I don’t care, like, at all about your mercy or your dumb ego or your maybe cool magic anemones! I don’t care about you! You just pissed off the wron- “
The treasure hunter paused and blinked. She blinked again. She then blinked a third time and lowered her crossbow, head cocking to one side, as her mouth still hung a little open.
They were…gone?
One moment the two raiders and their dwarf captive had been standing in the fountain and then, in the next…poof. Gone! Not even a splash of water. Was this, like, a trick? Were they invisible or tiny or something? Echo climbed to her feet, raised her weapon again, and began to creep forward. One step. Foot sliding around a vine. A second step. She slowly made her way ever closer to the fountain, eyes darting side to side, and her ears stiff and raised for the slightest of sounds. But there was…nothing. Nothing at all. No sounds. No attacks. Not even the feeling like she was being watched or the slight gust of someone sneaking by. Nothing! Echo met the gaze of the blur man and the skeletal elf as they all gathered around the fountain. She dropped and dangled her crossbow from one hand. She rubbed the back of her neck with the other. She scowled, swished her tail, and motioned at the air.
“Oh, come on! Really?”
Echo hissed.
“I had, like, this whole thing going on back there! Ready to, y’know…get revenge and kick their butts and whatever. Ugh.”
She stomped her foot. The tabaxi had even gotten, like, a couple splinters from that last root climb and…for what? For the big bad guy to just use his dumb magic to run away? Splinters hurt! Oh, right...there was also the bit about her getting shot with a crossbow. That hurt, too. Ugh! Echo huffed, tightened her scarf, and then shouldered her own crossbow, her arms crossing across her chest afterwards. Not like there was anything they could do about it now, though. They were gone. So was the dwarf. At least, uh, they were still alive! Most of them! The tabaxi clicked her tongue. That was something. There was her, the blur man, the…Echo tilted her head and raised an eye.
“…we have a hot elf?”
There was no way he meant, like…skeletal bone lady over there, right? Echo had seen some pretty elf ladies before and she was just, uh, yikes. Strong! But yikes. Still, there was one person in that list that was missing. Maybe for good. Echo’s ears flattened as she watched the blur guy try to pull Crucible out of the fountain, fail, and then shake him. She leaned down on the other side and waved him back.
“That’s not, uh, going to help! I think. Here…let me try something.”
Taking a deep breath, Echo’s palms began to glow orange as she pressed them over the warforged’s forehead and chest. His metallic skin felt rough, wet, and cold. Dead. She closed her eyes. The tabaxi used what magic she had left to try and heal him, but there was none of that familiar warmth that the spell would usually bring. She tried again. And then a third time. After the fourth try Echo let her hands slide off Crucible’s body, sighed, and then looked up at her companions. Her shoulders sagged and she shook her head.
They had…kinda won, actually! That was great. But it had cost them something for sure.
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Post by pastels on May 16, 2019 10:51:48 GMT
Like his vassal before him, this so-called Lord Sayyeel vanished in a glimmer of purple light. Astra relaxed—she didn’t realize how deep her nails dug into the sharkskin cover of the unholy tome—and raised her hand to recall her raven. “What a disappointment you are,” she murmured with her eyes on the empty space the githyanki had departed. Well. She felt relieved and frustrated he left the field… and with the dwarf in tow, after running his mouth off about his Queen. After his warriors cleaved through the City Guard without so much as a care? It would have been a treat to wipe his sneer—nay, his entire face—off with one well-placed blast. Mitja gave an indignant squawk as he hopped onto her shoulder, and their connection allowed her to feel that he was just as irritated with the sudden retreat as she was. My, my. Who knew familiars could be so bloodthirsty?
In the silence that followed, the three survivors flocked to the fountain where the warforged, and previously the dwarf, fell. Now that there was no more danger, the adrenaline in her veins made way for a deep, familiar weariness. She became aware, once again, of the wounds she had sustained and how hastily she had tried to fix them. “Lord Sayyeel,” she said simply as the others complained, “needs a good hit to the magnanimity.”
Her voice was as dry as cut sandpaper, leaving it all up to interpretation as to whether she was joking. But judging from the hard glint in her deep golden eyes? Probably not.
Lukewarm water lapped at her hands when Astra stepped onto the fountain and reached for Crucible. She stopped checking for a pulse (or whatever the warforged were supposed to have) when the yuan-ti’s words reached her ears. Astra and Mitja tilted their heads to the side in eerie synchronicity. She was aware enough that she was the only living elf around… but she had been so divorced from the idea of, well, appearances that her mind refused to acknowledge the (potential) praise. And “blueballed”? What in the world… She stared at the tabaxi, then the yuan-ti, looking more and more perplexed by the second. Oh, Corellon above. She was too old for this.
“… At least we breathe. Much better than what can be said for Crucible over here,” Astra settled on sidestepping the issue and gave the poor old warforged a tap on the cheek. She held her arm out to keep the construct from slamming back to the ground whenever the others pulled him up then let go. Echo even tried to heal him, which the elf witnessed with a resigned grimace. After a couple more tries…
Astra sighed and stood up. “It’s no use. Is there a wagon we could use to transport his body? And on that note, where is the nearest temple?” It wasn’t as if they could do anything worse to Crucible; he was, after all, as dead as a… well, door nail. “I don’t want to have to carry him. I am, after all,” the high elf paused, a sudden, playful streak passing through her form, and said in a mocking timbre, “a limited creature, weighed down with the burden of ages.”
As soon as it appeared the mischief was gone, replaced by a dull, humming irritation. The elf cast her eyes over the ruined marketplace, and another sigh escaped her lips.
“… The one day I leave the inn, and the damnable city gets sacked… Tsk. Of course.”
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Post by Kai Wren on May 16, 2019 19:21:49 GMT
The clean-up in the wake of the assault was going to take hours, if not days. As the guards reached the heart of the battle, and the gathered heroes, though… that’s when stories started to come out, and it soon became clear that the trio had crossed blades with the man responsible for all this madness, and had survived where all others had perished.
Perhaps ten minutes later, a human woman, in her thirties, dark-skinned and with perhaps the most awesome coat in all of Waterdeep, suddenly materialised in front of them in a shower of brilliant sparks and a clap of thunder.
Whilst it was unlikely that any of them had seen this woman before, if they knew the first thing about Waterdeep’s protections and society, the tall black staff she carried spoke volumes; a silver-shod length of polished darkness which stretched a few feet above her head. The Blackstaff was the symbol of magical authority within the City.
“Well.” She said. “This is embarrassing.”
She walked over to the corpse of one of the Githyanki casters, and prodded its body a couple of times with the butt of the Blackstaff.
“I guess.” She said, loudly, in case there was any doubt that the adventurers might not hear what she had to say. “I should count myself lucky that you guys were on hand, huh?”
She glanced over her shoulder, and favoured the group with a bright smile.
“Not sure how these guys got through my protections, but I’m sure we can figure that out. I’ve got some priests who owe me a favour. If they think being dead is going to stop me getting the answers I want, they’re sorely mistaken.”
She gave the three surviving party members an appraising look – apparently, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself yet. Instead, she struck straight to the heart of the matter.
“I daresay my coffers can stretch to getting your friend there back on his feet as well.” She said, “You stood up for Waterdeep when you could have run. I’m grateful for that. So, two questions. One, what would you like as a token of my saying ‘thank you’? And two. When I figure out where these bastards came from, do you want to go and knock on their door on my behalf?”
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Kestrel
Approved
Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on May 17, 2019 9:34:34 GMT
Echo had…to agree with the creepy elf lady. She stood up. There was no helping Crucible now. If her magic could do nothing for him, then that meant he was...was...well, they knew. There was no point in thinking about it more. What they could think about? Instead? Getting him the hecks out of that fountain! That seemed, like, a good idea. Metal rusted, right? Echo looked down and prodded the warforged’s body with her foot. She would hate to see Crucible get all rusty and brown and sharp and gross looking. That would be a sad way to go! The tabaxi shrugged at the elf.
“I dunno. I’m, uh, not really the temple type! I’m sure we can find a wagon or something somewhere, though.”
Assuming there was also a pack animal that was still alive, too. Echo then looked back up and raised an eye – limited creature? Burden of ages? Ha!
“Yeah! Right? We’d hate to see you, like, snap in two.”
Though...that sure seemed like a possibility, actually! Seriously – did the elf lady have, like, any actual flesh or was she just skin and bones? Literally? Echo shook her head. Not important right then. By now, with the raiders long gone, guards had begun to slink back into the market. About dang time! The tabaxi stretched her wounded shoulder, gave them a wave, and-
Jumped.
Nearly out of her fur! Something had exploded close by. With sparks and thunderclaps and lights! Fur bristling and eyes narrowed, Echo jumped back, reached for her crossbow, and crouched toward the ground. The spikey hairs! They were back! Or they really were tiny! Or they were back and tiny! The treasure hunter’s heart thumped in her chest. She took a deep breath and…exhaled. Huh? There was no spikey haired invader – tiny or otherwise. Instead, a lady, holding some weird black and silver staff (which was really cool looking, though), had popped out of nowhere in front of them. She was poking at one of the marauder’s corpses with her big stick. Echo listened to her, rubbing the back of her neck, and shrugged when she smiled at them. Lucky?
“I guess?”
Who was she? More importantly…where was she during the whole fighting bit! She seemed strong! Echo huffed. Rude. Still, her ears perked a little at the mention of a reward. Well…less so about the reward. Rewards were nice, she supposed, but the tabaxi never really cared much for wealth and stuff. Unless it was magical or cool or magical and cool. Which, honestly, this lady might have! Huh. But they had perked more at the mention of going after the spikey hairs. Echo glanced at Crucible’s body. Going after some old-fashioned revenge. She stepped toward the lady, crossed her arms and swished her tail, and then gave her a grin.
“I can’t say much about a 'thank you' unless you got, like, something really cool and interesting in that fancy staff of yours. But? If you’re going after those spikey haired guys?”
Echo grinned wider.
“Hells yeah – count me in!”
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Post by pastels on May 20, 2019 9:43:04 GMT
No wagons, no pack animals. So be it; she would drag him to a temple by his iron heels if she must. Astra stared down at the warforged’s still form and, with a resolute sigh, pulled his hand out of the water. Well. It was a bad day for Crucible.
When the dust settled and a growing crowd of onlookers gathered to gape at the trio, a resounding clap echoed throughout the central plaza. Astra had finished laying her constructed acquaintance down on dry land and was in the middle of a discussion with two guards. She turned towards the source of the noise, one hand aglow with crackling green—
Ah. Instincts.
Instead of any githyanki or their pompous, preening lords, the new arrival was a human woman. All notable aspects of her earthly form paled in comparison to the fact that she was armed with the Blackstaff. How did she know? Well, she had never been able to quench her thirst of knowledge in subjects arcane. It would have been remiss of her to avoid learning about Waterdeep’s protections when such mechanisms were commonplace in Silverymoon. What she thought about how it compared, on the other hand, was a discussion for another time. But a Blackstaff? Really? Most interesting. Astra waved the two guardsmen off and gravitated back to the rest of the group, her feet seemingly moving on their own accord.
The archmage thanked them and even in her advanced age, when she expected to remain unfazed by most sights, Astra blushed. She masked her emotions with a neutral expression—that, she was well-versed in—and nodded along. Yes, how respectable she looked. No inner floundering or gawking here. The familiar on her shoulder burst out a croaking laugh. Tattletale.
(And she chose to ignore the subtext about the dead githyanki. So be it.)
“I have nothing to request of you,” Astra said, and it was true. She did not want for wealth and material goods; she was rather contented with her meagre lifestyle, thank you very much. It didn’t seem right to be rewarded for fighting for her own survival. Those creatures had their eyes set on cutting her down and she responded out of self-preservation. Mostly. Whatever the Blackstaff had to offer should be directed to the City Watch, instead. There was a sudden number of widows and orphans and aged parents without an heir today. Her flat golden eyes drifted back to the body of the lone guardsman they had failed, earlier, who had been moved to the corpse cart along with some others. For a moment there, her nonchalance wavered. “But I know many families who will need help in the days to come. Give my supposed reward to them who need it.”
He was a child. He had the thinnest lines of hair on his chin and barely a wrinkle on his brow.
“… I am ready to respond to your summons, come that day,” the elf said, and her voice carried steel and bile.
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Post by Malakbel on May 27, 2019 6:45:00 GMT
His thoughts at the guard approaching were not exactly kind. He didn't thought less of them for the delay, that thought would imply he respected them on the first place. But at least however they hadn't gone down so easily that it made him think why didn't the unlimited creatures from the other plane just wipe them all out. It was a recurring thought. The problem with the metal man remained... But maybe he could bribe some of the local clerics, blessed by one of those random beings that posed as deities to prostitute their ill-gotten powers for his cause. Everyone had a price, he just had to figure out theirs.
And then a shower of sparks startled him. Not so much of the sparks themselves but the sound as well. The Yuan-ti had already begun to cast a spell, ready to flung it at the squid faced enemy when the figure to appear revealed itself to be a woman and one not too hideous at that. It took him a few seconds to appraise her and figure she muat be one of the archmages whose lack of better judgement was to blame, at large, for the cities defenselessness against extraplanar invaders. It was just really ingrained in him to think the worst about anyone he saw. Specially people with authority or power. And the woman seemed to have both.
"Heroes is a bit of a stretch"
Said Naizelos in response
"I am but an apprentice, and couldn't stop them from getting away. All I've learned is that their ability to shift between the planes requires neither material components nor somatic implementation which has worrisome implications. You should also be aware thet they took a dwarf with them during our final battle. He was unconcious but still alive I believe."
He continued, and sighed, giving some thought to her proposal of a token of gratitudd.
"A useful trinket, perhaps. I have a fascination for magical items, specially those that would prove useful when in combat, as it would appear I can't stay out of trouble for even a week. And ones that would help make it harder for other people to kill me, at that. Other than that I'll settle for permission to use the Blackstaff library, or repository if you have one. It has been remarkably hard learning new spells as it is; perhaps if I had been more knowledgeable less people would have died."
He said to the woman with the staff, though the last part was more like a reflexion spoken out loud
"I was planning on finding a way to summon our friendly lord sayyeel back to our plane, perhaps give him a warmer welcome, sticks in hand this time. But sure, count me in if you're going to get some old fashioned justice done"
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