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A Monk, a Wizard, and a Swordmage Walk into a Fallcrest; a 4e Story Now game
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<blockquote data-quote="Grendel_Khan" data-source="post: 9552391" data-attributes="member: 7028554"><p><strong><em>LIEF</em></strong><em> breathes some warmth into his hands, then pulls his gloves tight against his fingers until the claws jut through. He watches the dire leopard for a bit, in no rush to head it off.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>He might need the Creep, but that doesn't mean he likes the damn thing. Maybe they'll take a few pieces out of each other.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>After some meditation, his face hunched against the driving snow, Lief runs to the crag and vaults up and onto its face. He moves as fast as his claws, muscles, and brain will allow. As he does, he imagines all the scenarios waiting for him. He sees his death in twenty different ways. He sees the Creep slain, its starved, withered body torn at by a big cat it was too weak to fight off. He sees another black gate splayed open, Acamar's unknowable mouth spilling horrors into this world.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>None of what he imagines is anything like what's actually in that cave, once the shifter pulls himself, heaving, into it.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The Creep is fine—and so is the dire leopard. But the Elect are not. There are dozens of them here, huddled around meager embers, their faces drawn and angled with hunger, their collective smell fighting through even the Creep's pervasive rot, a warning, like death scratching at the door. Two of them are spitting the fox carcass brought by the big cat. A pathetic meal for so many so nearly gone.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Still, one of the Blessed of the Elect sees Lief and rises to his feet like a puppet on strings. Behind him, in a nook too far for the firelight to reach, the Creep watches, eyes shining.</em></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px">---------------------</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Intent: Stalk into the Creep's lair.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Primary: Athletics. r(19)+12 = 31 vs. Medium DC 18. Success.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px">---------------------</span></p><p></p><p>Complexity 2 SC, Level 10 (DCs 13/18/26)</p><p><strong>Goal (staged)</strong>: <em><s>Reach the Creep (3)</s> and convince it to help Lief stop Acamar (5), when that version appears 17 years in the future—even if it costs present-day Lief his life (6).</em></p><p><strong>3</strong>/6 Successes/<strong>1</strong> Failures/<strong><s>1</s></strong><s> Hard DC Available</s>/<strong>2</strong> Secondary Skills Available/<strong><s>1</s></strong><s> Advantages Available</s>/<strong>Primary Skills Exhausted</strong>: <strong>Endurance, Acrobatics, Athletics</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Grendel_Khan, post: 9552391, member: 7028554"] [B][I]LIEF[/I][/B][I] breathes some warmth into his hands, then pulls his gloves tight against his fingers until the claws jut through. He watches the dire leopard for a bit, in no rush to head it off. He might need the Creep, but that doesn't mean he likes the damn thing. Maybe they'll take a few pieces out of each other. After some meditation, his face hunched against the driving snow, Lief runs to the crag and vaults up and onto its face. He moves as fast as his claws, muscles, and brain will allow. As he does, he imagines all the scenarios waiting for him. He sees his death in twenty different ways. He sees the Creep slain, its starved, withered body torn at by a big cat it was too weak to fight off. He sees another black gate splayed open, Acamar's unknowable mouth spilling horrors into this world. None of what he imagines is anything like what's actually in that cave, once the shifter pulls himself, heaving, into it. The Creep is fine—and so is the dire leopard. But the Elect are not. There are dozens of them here, huddled around meager embers, their faces drawn and angled with hunger, their collective smell fighting through even the Creep's pervasive rot, a warning, like death scratching at the door. Two of them are spitting the fox carcass brought by the big cat. A pathetic meal for so many so nearly gone. Still, one of the Blessed of the Elect sees Lief and rises to his feet like a puppet on strings. Behind him, in a nook too far for the firelight to reach, the Creep watches, eyes shining.[/I] [SIZE=4]--------------------- Intent: Stalk into the Creep's lair. Primary: Athletics. r(19)+12 = 31 vs. Medium DC 18. Success. ---------------------[/SIZE] Complexity 2 SC, Level 10 (DCs 13/18/26) [B]Goal (staged)[/B]: [I][S]Reach the Creep (3)[/S] and convince it to help Lief stop Acamar (5), when that version appears 17 years in the future—even if it costs present-day Lief his life (6).[/I] [B]3[/B]/6 Successes/[B]1[/B] Failures/[B][S]1[/S][/B][S] Hard DC Available[/S]/[B]2[/B] Secondary Skills Available/[B][S]1[/S][/B][S] Advantages Available[/S]/[B]Primary Skills Exhausted[/B]: [B]Endurance, Acrobatics, Athletics[/B] [/QUOTE]
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