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<blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 7338886" data-attributes="member: 6777052"><p>until landing on a solid....... pentagon.</p><p></p><p>"You have to read the number at the top," explained Od, "Not the one it lands on, obviously, because you can't see it."</p><p></p><p>"The numbers around the top are 1, 3, Z, Ϫ, and 2⅞. Doesn't help a lot."</p><p></p><p>"Roll it again."</p><p></p><p>*clackety, clackety, clack* "That's better. 13."</p><p></p><p>"What? You can't get 13 on a 1d7. Let me see. Oh, you're looking at it sideways. It's a fimbrish, the alchemical symbol for <em>heavy rain in the afternoon</em>."</p><p></p><p>"So what does it mean?"</p><p></p><p>"It means we should go west."</p><p></p><p>So they did. The passage to the west proved difficult because it was quite steep in places and there was a lot of loose gravel on the floor. Several times, Od lost his footing and slid back into Nord who promptly threw him back up the slope. Jeli also slid back into Herewulf a few times but he didn't take the hint.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, they reached the top of the slope and entered a large cavern which was occupied by half a dozen orcs. The orcs jeered and remarked amongst themselves how idiotic these adventurers were, and especially the little one with his thumb on fire. "Hey, dinner," called one of the orcs rudely, "You're dead meat. Except that *spit* elf. We'll save that one for breakfast."</p><p></p><p>Herewulf stepped boldly forward, readied his shield and drew his rapier very slowly and deliberately, so that the orcs would know that he was ready to fight. "<span style="color: #0000FF">I roll for intiative</span>," he announced calmly.</p><p></p><p>"Ooh, get you!" mocked another orc. "<em>I roll for initiative</em>, please and thank you. See this polearm? Try to reach me. Go on, try."</p><p></p><p>Herewulf held his peace and Nornthew spoke next. "If you gentlemen would all care to stand together with your halberds raised menacingly, and the metal tips towards me, I would be most obliged," he suggested in a mock-polite voice he had once heard a nobleman midshipman use (the one who inexplicably drowned by falling overboard with his hands tied together behind his back). "Ah, splendid, you make a truly frightening spectacle. <span style="color: #0000FF">I cast <em>Chain Lightning</em></span>."</p><p></p><p>"'Ere, that's a 6th level spell, you gotta be ..." the orc counted on his fingers, then on his toes, "... 11th level to cast that! Wot you doing in this adventure? You OP, you are. We got the DM on our side, un't we?" and he looked around to his fellow orcs for reassurance. But he found little, for all the other orcs had suddenly deserted him and were fleeing the cavern through another exit. Seeing this, he drew upon his inner reserves of orcishness, flourished his halberd and stood his ground. "<span style="color: #0000FF">I attack the bard</span>," he announced.</p><p></p><p>What happened next was quite gruesome ...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BoldItalic, post: 7338886, member: 6777052"] until landing on a solid....... pentagon. "You have to read the number at the top," explained Od, "Not the one it lands on, obviously, because you can't see it." "The numbers around the top are 1, 3, Z, Ϫ, and 2⅞. Doesn't help a lot." "Roll it again." *clackety, clackety, clack* "That's better. 13." "What? You can't get 13 on a 1d7. Let me see. Oh, you're looking at it sideways. It's a fimbrish, the alchemical symbol for [i]heavy rain in the afternoon[/i]." "So what does it mean?" "It means we should go west." So they did. The passage to the west proved difficult because it was quite steep in places and there was a lot of loose gravel on the floor. Several times, Od lost his footing and slid back into Nord who promptly threw him back up the slope. Jeli also slid back into Herewulf a few times but he didn't take the hint. Eventually, they reached the top of the slope and entered a large cavern which was occupied by half a dozen orcs. The orcs jeered and remarked amongst themselves how idiotic these adventurers were, and especially the little one with his thumb on fire. "Hey, dinner," called one of the orcs rudely, "You're dead meat. Except that *spit* elf. We'll save that one for breakfast." Herewulf stepped boldly forward, readied his shield and drew his rapier very slowly and deliberately, so that the orcs would know that he was ready to fight. "[COLOR="#0000FF"]I roll for intiative[/COLOR]," he announced calmly. "Ooh, get you!" mocked another orc. "[I]I roll for initiative[/I], please and thank you. See this polearm? Try to reach me. Go on, try." Herewulf held his peace and Nornthew spoke next. "If you gentlemen would all care to stand together with your halberds raised menacingly, and the metal tips towards me, I would be most obliged," he suggested in a mock-polite voice he had once heard a nobleman midshipman use (the one who inexplicably drowned by falling overboard with his hands tied together behind his back). "Ah, splendid, you make a truly frightening spectacle. [COLOR="#0000FF"]I cast [i]Chain Lightning[/i][/COLOR]." "'Ere, that's a 6th level spell, you gotta be ..." the orc counted on his fingers, then on his toes, "... 11th level to cast that! Wot you doing in this adventure? You OP, you are. We got the DM on our side, un't we?" and he looked around to his fellow orcs for reassurance. But he found little, for all the other orcs had suddenly deserted him and were fleeing the cavern through another exit. Seeing this, he drew upon his inner reserves of orcishness, flourished his halberd and stood his ground. "[COLOR="#0000FF"]I attack the bard[/COLOR]," he announced. What happened next was quite gruesome ... [/QUOTE]
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