Finally, A Post!
(Sorry, dear readers, but I started work last week and things have been hectic.)
Bailey watched, his mouth going dry, and then his training took over. You can beat any enemy. Any enemy. You just have to strike first, and strike well. In the span of a heartbeat he had repeated that mantra to himself thrice.
Farvin was first to react, he had always had the best reflexes of the group. The dour man let out a war whoop and shoved his full body weight against the door, seeking to knock the half-orc over onto the half-elf. Strong though the half-orc was, he was caught off balance, and he stumbled into the half-elf's embrace. The half-elf swirled and dodged, trying not to touch his half-breed compatriot with the blue sparking hand.
(This is a 25 foot by 25 foot room. Using battleship grid terminology, Farvin has entered square C1, knocking Kaspar to square D1 and slamming the door shut. Castille avoids accidentally tagging Kaspar, but stumbles into square E1, which he shares with a wall torch.)
The light from the torches in the hallway was cut off by the slamming door, leaving only the two torches in the gaurdroom, plus a glowing wand tucked into the half-elf's belt. Bailey remembered something about orc eyes, but Farvin's yelling distracted him.
"Gatekeepers!" bellowed the dour man, struggling to get his flail into play. "They must be Gatekeepers!"
(The Knowledge Local Eldeen Reaches check and the Knowledge Religion check fold into the successful narrative device that follows as Bailey's thoughts tell us some stuff about the cult.)
Gatekeepers! One of the five druidic sects on the ELdeen Reaches, gatekeepers were primarily orcs and half-orcs. Their druid sect started in the far-off swamps at the western end of the continent, and had been enemies of the Dragon Below cults for millenia! Bailey didn't know much about the cult, he had joined only to avoid the reach of the law, but Farvin was a nut, a real beliver who bowed at the idols and kissed the hands of the dark clerics, even Bane whom Farvin had despised as the man hated elves. Farvin was figuring that this half-orc was connected to the Gatekeepers. Bailey didn't think so. Nature priests didn't wear chain shirts for one thing. Is that mithril?
"Shaddup!" growled Pled. "Follow yer training! Be they Gatekeepers, Dragonmarked warriors, or Followers of the Silver Flame, they'll fall to us!" Pled crouched suddenly, and whipped his flail around the half-orc's feet. They had all been taught how to take an opponent's feet out from under him, and Pled was a master at it.
(Pled stands in square C2.)
The half-orc jerked his leg free, and Pled stumbled. Red eyes again. That trick would not work on red eyes. The half-orc was too strong.
Why am I fighting them? Bailey asked himself again. It's not like he really believed in the cause. And the odds were good that this was the pair that had killed the gator, the kobold sniper, the elf dark cleric, the initiates, the goblin and orc hirelings, and had incapacitated that warforged. What chance did a man such as he have?
What if they were Dragonmarked? He'd be a fool to take on the scions of the great Dragonmarked Houses.
"The Silver Flame," laughed Vitte as his jowls shook. It was his shaky, little laugh, the kind he gave right before dishing up pain. Vitte liked to dish up pain. The man tortured lizards when he was bored. "Right. These men of Aundair worship the state religion of Thrane, Aundair's enemy across the border." Vitte moved in quickly (to square D2) and swung at the half-elf. Blood flew as the whirling, spiked ball cut the half-breed's shoulder. "That's for trying to peg me with a crossbow bolt!" snarls the cultist. (Castille takes 5 points of damage.)
"Damnit, Bailey, get in here!" roared Farvin, as the half-orc adjusted his grip on the huge sword.
No need to be stupid, Bailey thought. He flipped over the card table to clear the floor, then stepped to the side a bit. "Oh, I'm coming in to crush some skulls!" he yelled. It sounded hollow, even to him. (He moves to square D4 and observes.)
Bailey watched, his mouth going dry, and then his training took over. You can beat any enemy. Any enemy. You just have to strike first, and strike well. In the span of a heartbeat he had repeated that mantra to himself thrice.
Farvin was first to react, he had always had the best reflexes of the group. The dour man let out a war whoop and shoved his full body weight against the door, seeking to knock the half-orc over onto the half-elf. Strong though the half-orc was, he was caught off balance, and he stumbled into the half-elf's embrace. The half-elf swirled and dodged, trying not to touch his half-breed compatriot with the blue sparking hand.
(This is a 25 foot by 25 foot room. Using battleship grid terminology, Farvin has entered square C1, knocking Kaspar to square D1 and slamming the door shut. Castille avoids accidentally tagging Kaspar, but stumbles into square E1, which he shares with a wall torch.)
The light from the torches in the hallway was cut off by the slamming door, leaving only the two torches in the gaurdroom, plus a glowing wand tucked into the half-elf's belt. Bailey remembered something about orc eyes, but Farvin's yelling distracted him.
"Gatekeepers!" bellowed the dour man, struggling to get his flail into play. "They must be Gatekeepers!"
(The Knowledge Local Eldeen Reaches check and the Knowledge Religion check fold into the successful narrative device that follows as Bailey's thoughts tell us some stuff about the cult.)
Gatekeepers! One of the five druidic sects on the ELdeen Reaches, gatekeepers were primarily orcs and half-orcs. Their druid sect started in the far-off swamps at the western end of the continent, and had been enemies of the Dragon Below cults for millenia! Bailey didn't know much about the cult, he had joined only to avoid the reach of the law, but Farvin was a nut, a real beliver who bowed at the idols and kissed the hands of the dark clerics, even Bane whom Farvin had despised as the man hated elves. Farvin was figuring that this half-orc was connected to the Gatekeepers. Bailey didn't think so. Nature priests didn't wear chain shirts for one thing. Is that mithril?
"Shaddup!" growled Pled. "Follow yer training! Be they Gatekeepers, Dragonmarked warriors, or Followers of the Silver Flame, they'll fall to us!" Pled crouched suddenly, and whipped his flail around the half-orc's feet. They had all been taught how to take an opponent's feet out from under him, and Pled was a master at it.
(Pled stands in square C2.)
The half-orc jerked his leg free, and Pled stumbled. Red eyes again. That trick would not work on red eyes. The half-orc was too strong.
Why am I fighting them? Bailey asked himself again. It's not like he really believed in the cause. And the odds were good that this was the pair that had killed the gator, the kobold sniper, the elf dark cleric, the initiates, the goblin and orc hirelings, and had incapacitated that warforged. What chance did a man such as he have?
What if they were Dragonmarked? He'd be a fool to take on the scions of the great Dragonmarked Houses.
"The Silver Flame," laughed Vitte as his jowls shook. It was his shaky, little laugh, the kind he gave right before dishing up pain. Vitte liked to dish up pain. The man tortured lizards when he was bored. "Right. These men of Aundair worship the state religion of Thrane, Aundair's enemy across the border." Vitte moved in quickly (to square D2) and swung at the half-elf. Blood flew as the whirling, spiked ball cut the half-breed's shoulder. "That's for trying to peg me with a crossbow bolt!" snarls the cultist. (Castille takes 5 points of damage.)
"Damnit, Bailey, get in here!" roared Farvin, as the half-orc adjusted his grip on the huge sword.
No need to be stupid, Bailey thought. He flipped over the card table to clear the floor, then stepped to the side a bit. "Oh, I'm coming in to crush some skulls!" he yelled. It sounded hollow, even to him. (He moves to square D4 and observes.)
posted by Charles
| 11:39 PM
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