CLOSED Pathfinder: Rise of the Runelords, Burnt Offerings

[hewligan]

Round 2

OOC: Init order = Jokad (19), Kael (12), Nualia (10), Jovik (7), Danth (2)

Jokad shouts a battlecry, raising the strength of his fore-fathers, and sends his blade into the witch. Nualia screams in pain, an animal noise that sounds sweet to Jokad's ears. The boy is hurting, but he was made for battle, and he has been in bad situations before.

Despite the strength of his blow, however, he doesn't fell her. He is left hoping that his companions can take her down.

They try. Kael sends forth a stream of magical energy that thrusts under Nualia's guard and catches her flat. It explodes against her chest, sending fragments of armour and flesh outwards. The blood traces follow after, taking the air from her.

OOC: Nualia now at a total of -31hp

And then she drops him! Her sword stabs forward again, rending another ragged wound to his gut. Jokad gasps as he feels death approach. Nualia, seeing her prey falter, slashes sideways at him with her claw, dislocating his jaw and sending a fresh gout of blood into the air.

As Jokad falls to the stone floor, she lets our a hideous laugh.

"For Sandpoint!" she shouts sarcastically.

OOC: Jokad is dying. 2 hits from Nualia for -14hp damage, so he is now deep in negative territory and dying fast! JOKAD AT -6!

Jovik screams as he sees his friend fall. Screams with rage, and fear. His dagger slips so easily into the back of the witch, embedding up to the hilt under her shoulder blade before he shakes it free again, but still she lives, turning now to face him, her sword dripping like a butcher's saw!

OOC: Nualia now at -41hp. She is looking VERY injured, but is still standing.

Danth: Actions and rolls please.

Also, I am out for the weekend, so no update from me until Sunday. Sorry for the cliffhanger - accidental as it happens, just picking up the keys for a new house!

 

[Fenris]

Jovik reacts quickly to Nualia, knowing that time was running short for Jokad.
With the Shoanti down, Jovik found himself int he unusual position of being the group's main fighter and was now faciing the full wrath of Nualia.

Jovik knew that he couldn't stand up to Nualia for long and quickly decided to be a bit more wary, lest the claw take him next
[sblock=OOC: ]
Jovik R3 Init (1d20+3=23)

Combat Expertise -2 to hit, +2 to AC

Jovik R3 Attack (1d20+4=14, 1d4+2+2d6=10)

[/sblock]

 

[Rhun]

Danth's actions updated above!

 

[hewligan]

The Death of Nualia

Danth watches Jokad fall. The wounds the young Shoanti have taken are hideous. He must be dead, thinks Danth, he must be. Surely? But the young man's chest heaves a ragged breath. Not dead yet, just dying.

Danth has spent his youth learning how to save, how to heal, and how to bring forth the hidden hope and goodness in people. He knows he should probably kneel down and heal the fallen warrior, but that is a gamble he feels lies against him.

Now is not the time to kneel. Now is the time to fight. If he bends to take care of Jokad, then who will fall next? Himself? Jovik?

He meets the eyes of Nualia. She looks so young, the same as him, the same as the rest of this rag-tag group. Only a few years into adulthood, and here he is about to potentially sacrifice a friend to slay a girl.

He lunges forward. His goddess would want him to serve the greater good, even if it meant his own sacrifice, the sacrifice of a friend.

Scimitar flashing in the dancing light of the burning skulls, he slashes forward. Nualia blocks his weapon easily, his scimitar trapping in the serrated edge of her bastard sword.

"Now you too can die, priest!" she sneers. Danth turns his shoulder a little, feinting. She turns her blade a fraction, ready to throw his scimitar wide and open him up for the attack, but Danth had been waiting for that reflex move. His scimitar clicks loose, and her mid-rift is suddenly open to him. He throws himself forward. Nualia tries to turn her blade again, to block his advance, but he is already inside her swing.

He feels his forehead strike her chin, hears a muffled groan from her.

What feels like seconds, but is probably little more than the time it takes to blink an eye, he stands there, head pressed against her chin. And then he feels the warmth on his hands. He looks down.

His scimitar has penetrated her exposed, scarred gut, impaling itself up to the hilt. Thick, warm waves of blood flow from the wound.

He lifts back his head a little. Nualia's head lolls back. Her eyes are empty, her body rapidly emptying. He has killed her.

Nualia is dead!

 

[Friadoc]

"Well struck, Danth!" Kael shouts from his post in the doorway, a post he does not yet leave. Kael keeps his watch as the foul woman falls, wary of her unnatural ways.

OOC

Basically, Kael is keeping watch as the others deal with what is left. He has a magic missile ready in his mind, in case he needs to attack.

 

[Fenris]

Jovik watches Nualia fall to the floor.

He grins at Danth "Poetic justice that the Priest of Sarenae landed the death blow of the follower of darkness." Jovik sees that Danth is not in the mood to enjoy such witty banter and Jovik kneels Jokad's side to start stipping away the armor and stauch the blood loss.

 

[Rhun]

As Nualia falls, Danth lets go the hilt of his scimitar, letting the blade fall with her. He stands quiet a moment, as if digesting the situation. Then, he turns from the body of the foe, and kneels down next to Jokad, summoning the power of his goddess to heal his companion's broken body.

Touch of Healing, 5 points healing per touch. Heal Jokad to half hit-points.

 

[hewligan]

While Kael nervously guards the entrance, all too aware of the door across the hall from where he stands, and the cold, foreboding sense of evil that emanates from it, Jovik and Danth set about healing Jokad.

The barbarian's armour is ruined. The damage done to his flesh is cruel. These wounds should have killed him. They WOULD have killed a lesser man. Only his stubborn determination to live, and perhaps the strength that his grandmother claims came form her powdered ankheg carapace tea.

Slowly the healing magic of Sarenrae coursing through his body starts to knit and heal the wounds. After a few long seconds of the magic working away at him, stitching him together like some hidden seamstress, he gives out a shuddering breath and starts to open one eye. He has an almighty headache, like an orc-ale hangover, and a web of silver scarring across his gut to show for his wounds.

Jokad offered a breathless thanks, before running a hand over his gut. His muscles were now overlaid by the fine mesh of scarring. Scarring that would never fade.

He looked to his side, to see his destroyed armour. Such was life. Armour could be bought and sold, but this was the only body he had!

 

[Friadoc]

"I think the final bend was just had, my friends," says Kael as he points toward the evil door. "But the last turn is through there."

With a wand in each hand, Kael and Mal makes their way toward their comrades in arms and adventure, his watchful eye on what may be the final door.

 

[frostrune]

While Kael nervously guards the entrance, all too aware of the door across the hall from where he stands, and the cold, foreboding sense of evil that emanates from it, Jovik and Danth set about healing Jokad.

The barbarian's armour is ruined. The damage done to his flesh is cruel. These wounds should have killed him. They WOULD have killed a lesser man. Only his stubborn determination to live, and perhaps the strength that his grandmother claims came form her powdered ankheg carapace tea.

Slowly the healing magic of Sarenrae coursing through his body starts to knit and heal the wounds. After a few long seconds of the magic working away at him, stitching him together like some hidden seamstress, he gives out a shuddering breath and starts to open one eye. He has an almighty headache, like an orc-ale hangover, and a web of silver scarring across his gut to show for his wounds.

Jokad offered a breathless thanks, before running a hand over his gut. His muscles were now overlaid by the fine mesh of scarring. Scarring that would never fade.

He looked to his side, to see his destroyed armour. Such was life. Armour could be bought and sold, but this was the only body he had!

Jokad slowly rubs a callused hand over his newly mended face and torso. His head was pounding like a thousand smithies. The copper taste of blood still fresh on his tongue.

He opens one eye warily. "What are you all looking at?" he croaks trying to break the awkward moment.

He tries to sit up despite the pain in doing so, nearly panicing when see the wide pool of blood around him. "That bitch could sure swing a sword."

"Thanks Danth."

"Anyone got a drink?"