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Post by moralhazard on May 10, 2019 21:59:10 GMT
“It’s definitely this alley,” Robin Fairhaven said, squinting down yet another dingy Dock Ward alley sandwiched between two equally dingy buildings. “This is definitely the prophecied – prophesied? Proph… proph…” He paused. “The alley of prophecy!” After a slight fumble, he managed to draw the sword from the scabbard hanging at his hip, and brandished it manfully at a nearby pile of garbage. “Merryfingers,” Fairhaven turned to the bard standing behind him. “You’re writing this down, yes? In preparation for a heroic ballad?” “Of course, sir,” Merryfingers snapped to attention, adjusting the harp hanging from a strap around his neck. He pulled out a sheath of papers and a quill and, mumbling aloud to himself, began to write, “At the sixth alley of the day, brave Sir Robin…” “No, no,” Robin frowned, trying to cross his arms over his chest, almost losing hold of his sword, briefly juggling it as he danced out of the way, and ultimately letting it clatter to the ground next to his feet before scooping it up and clearing his throat. “Don’t mention the other alleys. Just – just this one! And uh – don’t mention the sword thing either.” “What sword thing?” Merryfingers asked. “Exactly,” Robin winked at him. “Exactly right.” He tapped the side of his head with a gauntleted hand, beamed at Merryfingers, and turned eagerly to Gigi. “All right, Gigi! You are – ah – ready with your spells, I take it? I’m sure at any moment the foul beast will be upon us! As proph – as the prophecy said!” Gigi had first met Robin Fairhaven that morning, perhaps six hours ago. It had been, quite possibly, six of the longest hours of her life. Robin had hired both her and Merryfingers in support of the epic deeds he was allegedly prophesized to complete that day; Gigi as a healer, which he had confidently he assured her he wouldn’t need but for something about ‘insurance,’ and Merryfingers to chronicle the entire thing in song, preferably live. If Merryfingers saw any humor or irony in the situation, he had yet to voice it; he seemed entirely earnest. As far as Gigi could tell, this wasn’t their first time working together; Merryfingers had made a few cheerful references to an incident involving kobolds which Robin seemed very, very eager not to discuss. “Well!” Robin rubbed his hands together, or, at least, rubbed one hand against the hilt of his sword. “To – ah,” he paused, looking deeply thoughtful, then brightened. “To honor!” He raised the hilt of his sword and strode into the alley, Merryfingers hurrying behind while making notes on his papers. |
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Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109 
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Post by Gigi on May 10, 2019 22:27:30 GMT
"Hey Geeg - got a job for you, I know you've been low on coin since you had to pay off that whole thing with that one kid and the Diamond Dogs." An even rougher looking female with dark hair with corn rolls tight against half her scalp and the rest woven into dreads. She was thinner then Gigi even, tank top hanging off her frame in a very 'care less' sort of vibe.
"What's this job about?" Gigi asked, prosthetic arm laid out on a table in front of her, sling over the wound area, tinker tools in the right hand.
Nine just grinned like a chaotic joker.
She was going to kill someone.
That was it.
That was the solution.
She was gonna kill someone, and make Nine deal with the body.
Then kill Nine.
It was all her fault anyways.
She's the one who signed her up to the contact for a bodyguard like healer in the first place.
Gigi walked behind both Robin and Merryfingers, a hand constantly pinching the bridge of her nose while she smoked through her supply of cigarettes at a dangerous rate. She didn't even grace his question of if she was ready with any sort of reply. At the end of the day though, silver lining, she supposed, this was one of the easiest jobs ever. She'd get her coin whether or not she had to heal him or Merryfingers, and by the looks of it? She was more in danger of running out of cigs than anything else.
"Monster's all in your head, bud." The healer rolled her eyes as she lit up another cigarette, muttering under her breath. At least if there was an actual monster over this way? She'd maybe be able to get a debt owed by Red Snakes. Heh, she could daydream.
The two ran down another alley, Gigi simply pushing up off the wall she'd been leaning on and sullenly following along like a depressed teenager. Her leather jacket was unzipped, right hand in a pocket. Boots and cargo pants finished her look while the ever present D-hook collar at her neck and dark eyeliner acted like a cherry on top.
"To disappointment more likely." She snorted to herself and kept reminding herself she'd be several hundred gold richer if she could just - tolerate this a little longer.
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Post by moralhazard on May 10, 2019 22:52:54 GMT
Robin strode up and down the alley, periodically thrusting his sword at an imaginary monster, trodding on several mysterious and unexplained splotches on the ground, and rousting a still-drunk human who looked like he’d been sleeping behind an unusually large garbage heap at the end of the alley, where it sort of dead-ended into a high wall.
Robin half-chased the man down the alley, then cleared his throat and turned back to Merryfingers.
“All right, Merryfingers!” He nodded. “While we wait – let’s have the song as it stands, so far.”
Merryfingers nodded. “Yes sir, happy to!” He shoved the sheath of papers back into his bag, wriggled the harp back to his front, set his hands to the strings, and thrust his chest out, somehow popping his head so the feather in his hat arched proudly back, lending an oddly majestic air to the smell of garbage and human waste.
“Bravely bold Sir Robin,” Merryfingers sang, his voice surprisingly pure (and not-so-surprisingly high, a delicate clear soprano), strumming the hanging harp as he played, “who hailed from Waterdeep. He was not afraid to die, Oh brave Sir Robin!”
“Bravo!” Robin clapped, cheerfully. “Oh, bravo! That is very good – very good! Don’t you think, Gigi?” The healer’s utter lack of response didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest; he seemed remarkably skilled at reading enthusiasm into the clouds of smoke hanging about her head if nothing else. “Go on, Merryfingers, go on!”
Merryfingers cleared his throat, put his hands back to the harp, and paused. “Er,” he said. “I’d better – I’d better start over. I think I lost my place.”
“No problem, lad!” Robin beamed. “Happy to hear it again.”
“Yes sir!” Merryfingers straightened up once more, popped his feather, and began again. “Bravely bold Sir Robin, who hailed from Waterdeep. He was not afraid to die, Oh brave Sir Robin! He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways. Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!”
Robin was dancing back and forth slightly, shoulders jostling from side to side, sort of conducting the bard with his sword, very much not in time with the rhythm.
“He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp,” Merryfingers continued. “Or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken!”
Robin abruptly stopped conducting. His eyes were no longer focusing on Merryfingers, but locked onto the garbage pile beyond him, which was… moving?
“To have his kneecaps split and his body burned away,” Merryfingers continued, happily. “And his limbs all hacked and mangled, Brave Sir Robin!”
“What…” Robin swallowed hard. The garbage pile now seemed to be glowing.
“His head smashed in and his heart cut out and his liver removed and his bowels unplugged,” Merryfingers continued, beaming.
Robin screamed.
An enormous creature burst from the pile of garbage. It was nearly eight feet tall, and an unhealthy green purple color. Its head was vulture like, stripped bare of feathers, with rolling yellow eyes, huge feathered wings that burst from its back in a v-like shape, and sets of three fingered claws for feet and hands. It flapped its wing once, rising into the air.
“And his nostrils raped and his bottom burnt off and his penis – ” Merryfingers’ song abruptly cut off when the creature dived for him, knocked him to the ground, ripped his stomach open, and began to feast on his entrails. He screamed and thrashed, the wet hot stench of his bowels filling the air.
Robin screamed, even louder than Merryfingers, turned, and sprinted out of the alley past Gigi, running headlong into the street.
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Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
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Post by Gigi on May 10, 2019 23:37:11 GMT
She didn't take note at first, leaning against the wall as she was, smoke drifting up around her as she tried to numb her annoyance with tobacco. At least the singing wasn't bad all things considered. Picking at her nails and tugging bits of hanging skin off the edge Gigi kept mostly to herself here existing as simply backup and nothing more, nothing less.
She was to accompany Robin through the streets and heal him if he required it. Easy money.
The screams of Merryfingers pulled her head to glance up. A single eyebrow rose into the air as the torso was ripped open and entrails spilled out, Robin taking off like a cat being chased by a dog. As far as she was even more convinced of now? He didn't deserve to be named after a bird. At the snap of organs breaking Gigi did wince, half of her face scrunching up at the grotesque scene.
Seemed the bard was more of an oracle then he gave himself credit for. The gristly well sung tune? It'd been for his own sake, not Robins. At least, not yet. When she found him again? Because, oh, she would be, he'd be wishing for the same fate as Merryfingers.
It was perhaps the ugliest thing she'd ever seen, and she'd fought undead. And saw Arlo when he stumbled hungover out the door to head to the local bathhouse. "Holy. Fucking. Shit." She swore as the thing reared its head and screamed into the sky. "Damn it all to hell and back." Did this count as her losing a patient? She didn't think so, she hadn't been hired on to heal Merryfingers. Only Robin. Her count was still zero since she swore to keep count that she'd lose no one else.
'Well, you could at least stabilize the body from going into shock.' A soft femine voice said in her head.
'Or you can just fucking book the hell outta here. No shame in the run away game.' A stronger, gruff voice like Nine's said.
Her shoulder angel and tiefling were back. One blonde, young, petite, and drop dead gorgeous. The other dark blonde-brown hair, glowing green eyes, and a semi skeleton like frame. Gwen and Nine - or at least, angelic and tiefling versions of each of her sisters.
The stench of the organs ripping - the bowels had opened, as had the stomach - bile's potent unmistakable smell rippling through the air. A potent bacteria gas smell wafted through then as well - seemed Merryfingers had some sort of gangrene budding somewhere inside. It was like poop and sewage sludge and rot and dead stuff all rolled into one. Even having smelled it before? Gigi gagged and turned her head away, not ready for the potent scent.
Fumbling in her cargo pants to pull out a vial of wintergreen from her healer's kit, one of the few smells that could cut through such a potent mix, Gigi argued with herself.
'Yeah, and if something doesn't happen to this beastie then it'll go on and ravage the Docks. Like I need the Red Snakes after my trails after just finishing with the Diamond Dogs debacle.' The oil was a calming relief under her nose, letting her think without the pungent smell assaulting her nose.
But shit if she could think of what to do right now.
Initiative!
XRvBSiO01d20+21d20+2
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Post by moralhazard on May 10, 2019 23:41:13 GMT
Merryfingers let out a last, anguished scream, and slumped against the dirty ground, his last desperate twitches slowing to a stop.
The monster let out a sharp squawk of satisfaction, ripping his head up, a massive line of intestines dangling from its beak. It tossed its head down, beak clacking as it swallowed the bloody gray flesh, and left Merryfingers behind, stepping over the body. It cocked its head at Gigi, beady yellow eyes studying Gigi and the streets of Waterdeep beyond.
It had been a long and unpleasant day already.
Kara had slept a little the night before. Warren’s re-opening, following a temporary closing of the bar to deal with fire, ice and acid damage that had been done a few weeks earlier. It had been a long night, longer than usual, involving a lot of humanoids and non-humanoids, many of who were too drunk to walk themselves out of the bar. She had been puked on three times, a new record; arm-wrestled with two times, not a record; and had gotten home shortly before dawn, also not a record.
After a rinse under cold water with a lot of soap, her few hours sleep had been interrupted by a loud pounding at her door. Kara had dragged herself out of bed, frowning grumpily at the man wobbling about in the doorway, still drunk and looking for someone else.
Kara had sent him away, mostly with the deep scowl on her face, but lying back down hadn’t gotten her any closer to sleep. She gave up, finally, and reached one of the larger workshops on the docks just in time to pick up a day shift, wearing her half-plate in the hopes of getting a better paying shift.
By the time she headed home, Kara felt drained beyond belief. It had been a long miserable day. She liked Warren - she liked the bar - but there was nothing worse than a long boring guard shift. She felt antsy and oddly useless, new feelings that she hadn’t dealt with it - years. Kara wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
Kara was walking down the street brooding, when a scream burst out of an alley ahead of her, leading ahead of a man in oddly shiny armor who burst out of the alley, clanging noisily as he fled down the street, still screaming.
Kara slid her glaive off her back and ran into the alley. Feelings of confusion and uncertainty faded away, replaced with the sharp tang of adrenaline at the sight of the monster ripping a man apart halfway down the alley.
With a flick, Kara flung the leather cover on her glaive off to the side. She stepped up next to the woman against the wall who was fumbling in her belt and staring at the monster. Kara held there, gripping her glaive tight, the swordpoint was aimed towards the monster.
This, Kara thought - this was what she was meant for. While she stood - while she breathed, even if she couldn’t stand - this thing wouldn’t harm anyone else.
Kara init: VfbF6v7V1d20+1
Monster init: 1d20+21d20+1·1d20+2
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Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
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Post by Gigi on May 11, 2019 0:07:53 GMT
Mind clearing due to the wintergreen Gigi wiped at the top of her nose as the closed the vial up. Front lines wasn't idea, no, but it wasn't impossible to function here. Rolling her shoulders she psyched herself up, shooing the two shoulder sub-consciousnesses away with a 'I'll deal with it, just like I deal with everything else.' That was, to say, with a cocky attitude and the fake it till you make it persona that she kept wrapped around her like her very life depended on it.
Squaring off to face the thing, she was sure that cry would have attracted someone else nearby. The Griffin Riders at the very least. Guards otherwise. Then it could be their problem without any mental backlash or regret whatsoever.
Cupping her hands over her mouth Gigi whistled a high pitched bird whistle to ensure she had its attention. Fun fact. It did. It's gross yellow eyes were practically sickly compared to her own warm honey eyes. "Sit, bitch." She Commanded, the weight of her own confidence backed up by the celestial power she'd obtained in her own life or death coin flip. "And stay there." The last wasn't part of the spell per say, but the implication of 'stay there' was well within the direction of 'sit'. Too bad the creature didn't understand common, and the command was lost on it. ((Unless it does know common... o.o)) The hope was? It'd sit so she could take another few moments to figure out her own game plan without running up and putting herself in harm's way.
Someone stepped up next to her, the sound of armor causing her to do a double take. When the fucking hell had she? She. Gotten here? Didn't matter, the presence of the glaive there spoke louder than any words the warrior could have said.
Gigi nodded her head towards the vulture monster creature, a slight grin growing behind her cigarette, feeling much more confident at knowing she now had backup. "Wanna go kick it's ass?" She asked, then cracked her fingers. "I'll keep you up an' kickin' so you just need to focus on tellin' that thing all about your glaive there." Her eyes darted to the blade then back. "I'll even throw in a spell here or there to handicap it a bit. Ya look a bit tired there, shorty."
It was an asshole thing to say, picking on someone's size and saying they needed a booster seat of sorts. But adrenaline and needing to let off steam at being angry, and proving someone wrong was a great motivator in giving someone a second wind. Mean? Yes. Steaming from a place of care and encouragement? For Gigi, it was. Being told what not to do, or that she couldn't do something? It just made her more focused. This warrior seemed the same sort.
1/4 level 1 spell slots used
0/3 level 2 spell slots used
Spell list shared in DM on Discord
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 0:16:45 GMT
Kara turned to look at Gigi, a small frown creasing her face. After a moment, a little amusement flashed through her eyes. She nodded, turned back to the monster, and readied herself.
The monster cocked its head to the other side, slowly, its gaze focusing on Gigi when she spoke to it. It clacked it’s beak again, loudly, flapping its wings to lift off the ground and glided forward, sharp beak aimed at Gigi.
Kara’s glaive flashed forward, cutting through the air as the creature closed in.
Glaive attack of opportunity, to hit: xywW4JVx1d20+7
If successful, damage: 1d10+4
If successful, movement drops to 01d20+7·1d10+4
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 0:19:47 GMT
The monster shrieked aloud with fury as the glaive bit into it, blood splattering it’s feathers. Momentum choked, it dropped to the ground, reared on to its hind legs, and let out a loud, horrific shrieking noise.
(Make a con save before Gigi’s next round!)
Kara con save: 8Bmg3GZ21d20+61d20+6
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Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
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Post by Gigi on May 11, 2019 0:21:14 GMT
Con save, coming right up
VWASvJsi1d20+31d20+3
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 0:26:12 GMT
Kara gripped her glaive as the noise washed over her. It seemed to flood in through her ears and batter at her somewhere deep inside, almost echoing through her.
Kara shook it off. She needed to focus; she inhaled, deeply, letting the rest of the world fade away. The smell of the man torn apart before her, the sounds of traffic and children laughing on the street behind, the fear bubbling in her chest - none of it mattered. All that existed was the fight before her.
Kara lunged again, throwing her body into two vicious, brutal strikes. She pulled back about five feet at the end of it, eyes fixed on the monster, pointing the blood-dripping end of the glaive at the monster.
HP: 65/65
Bonus action: Kara enters her rage
Reckless attack
Glaive attack 1, to hit: 3RDJfM2t1d20+7 or 1d20+7
If successful, damage: 1d10+6
Glaive attack 2, to hit: 1d20+7 or 1d20+7
If successful, damage: 1d10+61d20+7·1d20+7·1d10+6·1d20+7·1d20+7·1d10+6
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 0:26:43 GMT
Extra crit damage: ELmNQgnw1d10+61d10+6
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Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
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Post by Gigi on May 11, 2019 0:40:45 GMT
Steeling her nerves against the creature's war cry Gigi focused on the wintergreen scent in her nose, the cigarette in her mouth, and the pattern of her breathing to not go crazy due to the screams. Inhaling deeply the healer watched as the warrior ran up and met the creature, lunging in a way she would have had a hard time believing if she hadn't seen it.
Alright, things were good so far.
The thought of running didn't cross her mind, despite what some might think of her. Once she was engaged, she was there. Stubborn. Unrelenting. Though she didn't wield swords, notch arrows, or throw heavy arcane energy that was often the highlight of bard tales, she had the perseverance of one who was determined to do what she could in order to be... something. Worthwhile. So right now, even if it would have been too easy to turn and run? It was time to at pull her weight. Heck, if they got through this alright she'd split the gold she was owed by Sir Robin with whoever this was. She'd told whoever this was she'd back her up if she in turn backed her up. And Gigi never went back on her word. Ever.
Clenching her metal hand together Gigi focused on channeling the necromatic powers she had at her disposal. Green light pulsing through from the tattoos as seen where her torso was open to the elements, lighting up like a lightening bug in the middle of summer. This green flowed into her metal hand, spiraling and leaving sparks of green residue to pour out of her jacket sleeve. As the energy went through her arm but right before it passed the wrist Gigi's hand flicked to drop and spin so her somatic component was now a mirror of her usual hand motions. The green began to bleed into a deep sickly purple, a deep violet with black and green speckled in it, like the colors found in a bruise.
She snapped her fingers from this hand's inverse position, the toils of a graveyard bell booming to count down the strokes towards midnight of the creature's death. There was a dark resonating church bell tone of a single dark, ominous, and foreboding herald of demise.
Wis 14 saving throw! If fails, it takes damage:
WqXid_ht1d121d12
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 0:51:35 GMT
The monster hissed at them both, blood dripping from its wings and body in several places thanks to Kara's glaive. It eyed her suspiciously, and didn't try to close the distance. Instead, it stretched its wings out wide, the massive things nearly touching the alley walls on either side, and flapped them once, powerfully. The feathers quivered, shook - and a huge burst of something black and foul looking burst free from the creature, spreading through the air around it, soaking into both Kara and Gigi.
Monster saving throw (advantage): LcGK842|1d20+4 or 1d20+4Kara con save: 1d20+6
Spore recharge: 1d61d20+4·1d20+4·1d20+6·1d6 |
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Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
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Post by Gigi on May 11, 2019 0:52:42 GMT
Con save #2
2C0nsISs1d20+31d20+3
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 0:58:53 GMT
((Okay! Both Kara and Gigi are poisoned. Roll 1d10 poison damage at the beginning of each turn. You can also make a con check (DC 14) at the end of every turn to end the poisoning)) Kara damage (poison): hUagXZi71d10Kara breathed at just the wrong moment, and felt the black things almost crawl inside her. She made a sort of choking sound, giving her head a violent shake and trying to cough them out, but it was too late; there was no pain, not yet, but a weird aching feeling somewhere deep inside her that told her something wasn't right. It didn't bother her for long. Kara closed the distance she'd left open, and struck again at the monster in front of her, as vicious as she'd been the last time, glaive slicing at it once with the blade, once with the heavy butt, and again with the blade, whirling into a blur of metal and wood in the confined darkness of the alley. This time she didn't pull away; she lunged close to the creature, and she held, not giving it a chance to escape.
((Poison damage rounds down to... 0))
HP: 65/65 Reckless attack Glaive attack 1, to hit: 1d20+7 or 1d20+7If successful, damage: 1d10+6Glaive attack 2, to hit: 1d20+7 or 1d20+7If successful, damage: 1d10+6Butt of the weapon (bonus) attack, to hit: 1d20+7 or 1d20+7If successful, damage: 1d4+6
Kara's con save: 1d20+6
1d10·1d20+7·1d20+7·1d10+6·1d20+7·1d20+7·1d10+6·1d20+7·1d20+7·1d4+6·1d20+6 |
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