4E - Stranded [IC]

[Bialaska]

[SBLOCK=Rayex]Ahh. Okay. I just got the impression since I was dry and stuff. Oh well, I must have instinctively stepped through the Feywild or something while sleeping or something then. [/SBLOCK]

"By the Queen, what is that? Get her down!" Tara yells, as she runs towards the woman. As she says this her hands starts flickering with eldritch energy, preparing to take a shot at the vine holding the woman.

[SBLOCK=Combat stuff]If Tara gets close enough (within 10 squares), she'll fire an Eldritch Blast against the vine holding the woman, focusing on 'root' of the vine, so she'll not hit an innocent.
First roll is to hit, second is damage (1d20 4=16, 1d10 4=7)[/SBLOCK]

 

[Falkus]

Durvin stepped forward and performed a quiet blessing as he saw the body. "May your gods ease your passage to your next life," he said, quietly.

 

[nonamazing]

Cyrial's spirits are lifted at first, as the survivors are organized and practically no injuries are reported, aside from a minor bruise or scrape here and there. It's incredible, Cyrial thinks to himself, but no one is seriously hurt, and there don't appear to be any dead. Perhaps Melora is more forgiving than I thought...

But before Cyrial has a chance to relax, the survivors begin running toward the edge of the forest, responding instinctively to the sound of a scream. Cyrial follows, a bit more cautiously, and hovers at the edge of the gathering crowd. His expression turns grim as he sees the mutilated body.

[SBLOCK=OOC]Perception check. (1d20+2=12)[/SBLOCK]
I don't recognize her...was she from the ship?

Cyrial steps forward to get a closer look just as Durvin begins to bless the body. "Dwarf!" Cyrial struggles to get the red-haired warrior's attention. Damnit, Cyrial curses to himself, what was his name? The other dwarves mentioned him...oh, yes!

"Durvin Deepfire! Beware! This may be a trap!"

 

[Kaodi]

The big bugbear's eyes narrow, and he approaches the tree, eyes and ears open, and his arcane senses stretching outward, feeling for the presence of illusions and other magic.

[sblock=OOC]Perception: 1d20+1=7, Insight: 1d20+6=7, Arcana: 1d20+8=14 What an uninspiring set of rolls...[/sblock]

 

[Zweischneid]

Mordras trails behind Tara and the others, feeling naked and helpless without a blade and unsure of how to help.
"There goes our hope for help from the forest I fear."

"Durvin Deepfire! Beware! This may be a trap!"

Hearing Cyrial contemplate a trap, he responds in melodic elven.
"Ta naa neuma. Amin weera yassen lle."²

"No ship. No wounded. No memories of how we came here? I fear the trap is not just a poor women staked to a tree. The trap may well be the whole Island."


Turning back and forth he adds gloomly.
"Question is, are we the quarry? Or the bait?"³




[sblock=²for those who speak elven]"It is a trap. I agree with you."[/sblock][sblock=³DM]
Perception; (1d20+5=12)
looking around, not at the women. Poor roll, but maybe I still catch something others miss by concentrating on the victim. (call it roguish instincts)
[/sblock]

 

[Graf]

Ooc: perception (roll 1646188 = 24)

A crime?
Reflexively Alternative absorbs the scene immersing itself in the details as had hundreds of times over the years it served in Autonomous.

Eyes pulsing with a gentle green throb it scans the faces of those assembled around the body.
Who was here when it arrived on the scene?
Who came after?[sblock=rayex] Insight check +5 to see if anyone seems happy or not horrified. Particularly interested in the reactions of the other troupe members...[/sblock]

 

[Kobold Stew]

Wittgenstein continues to run, his toes splayed so that his light body will sink even less in the sand, his tail extended, shifting back and forth as a counterweight to the alternation of his legs.

The Elven woman he doesn't recognize, but he sees her point, and he continues, to find the human transfixed. Those spikes would make a good weapon, perhaps, he thinks instinctively. It's the adrenaline, surely, that makes him think of that before he notices the vine around the woman's neck.

Wittgenstein stops. A glance at the rock in his hand is all he needs, for him to throw it at the vine, hoping to miss the human figure.

[sblock=ooc]
W. stops at range 5 from the tree, and takes his shot throwing his improvised weapon. +4 (dex), +1 (fighter talent) = +5 to hit.

W. will use Combat challenge to mark the vine (assuming it is something that might attack him or others) -- *my* hope is that this will force it to release the human (if it is a human) and attack W.

Also, W. has +2 defense vs. traps.

Roll to hit: 13+5 = 18
Damage (if successful): 3+4 = 7

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1646201/

Also, you might need an iitiative roll. If so, here you go:

5+4 = 9
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1646203/
[/sblock]

 

[pathfinderq1]

The heavy wet sand of the beach was nothing like the soft drifts of his homeland, and O-Haril lumbered a bit clumsily towards the woman. She looked familiar, and he scanned the group, looking for those who had been with her. Once he had closed most of the distance, he slowed, continuing to approach but more carefully- he had seen tortures like this, but something seemed out of place even if this poor female had been crafted into a gruesome warning...

OOC: [sblock] Moving up another single move, or to within about ten feet or so. Passive Perception 19, and checks against Nature (+9= 18) and Dungeoneering (+7= 15) to see if the situation yields any useful info. Rolls http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1646241/ ; [/sblock]

 

[A Passing Maniac]

Malik stares in shock at the crucified woman. He had seen plenty of corpses before, but none like this corpse. Those he had seen in Valefar had been killed by malnourishment or disease most commonly, though sometimes by bow or blade, as with the slain wizard whose items Malik had recovered in the slums...

It is this that finally causes the tiefling to realize his equipment is absent. Oh, damn! My staff--my spellbook--I am weaker without them, and there is a killer here... Among us now, perhaps?... No, no. Not these people. I have spoken with them, dined with them, slept beside them. They are better than that.

Malik warily approaches the woman's corpse. When he notices the bloody sack hanging from the dead woman's neck, he resists the urge to retch. This... I have never seen anything like this. Not even in Valefar. So brutal--cruel--an awful way to die. The woman... I don't recognize her. Was she from this place? Or from our ship? I think she was from the ship, but gods... I can't remember. I can't remember her name. The poor soul...

[sblock=OOC]Perception check: 1d20+1 = (14)[/sblock]

 

[SKTillBreakODay]

With a groan, Szel stirs from the wreckage of the Silver Swan. Through blurred vision, she looks around, feeling extremely light without her scale armor. Her eyes shoot open as she realizes her late mentor's cloak is missing.

Seeing the group ahead of her, she runs towards them. The words bubble up, "Have you seen a cloak, my people? What happened to the boa-", but her questions are stifled by a raging wave of bile as she sees the crucified body.

Once she finishes vomiting, she asks the nearest person, "What the hell is that?"