(Casual D&D III) The Man in Black

[wings]

Hmmm

Aerda nods, "You have at most a hand's count of minutes before the spell's magic runs dry. I shall bestow Quella tuulo’ elea on you, now, but you all must hurry." With that he clears his throat, beginning the spell with the usual whispered chant that becomes amplified and echoed as the energy between his hands build. He slips a hand into one of the pouches at his side, withdrawing a small globule of arabic gum, it catching and holding the energy. He takes Nurthk's hand, and folds it around the gum; immediately afterwards the man's visage melts away as if the colors and shapes composing him were frail enough to be cast off on the wind.

When the spell is complete hi clenches and unchlences his hand, trying to disperse the energies that leave a slight tingle. He nods at the others. "Five minutes, a mere twelfth of the hour glass."

 

[wings]

Hmmm

Aerda nods, "You have at most a hand's count of minutes before the spell's magic runs dry. I shall bestow Quella tuulo’ elea on you, now, but you all must hurry." With that he clears his throat, beginning the spell with the usual whispered chant that becomes amplified and echoed as the energy between his hands build. He slips a hand into one of the pouches at his side, withdrawing a small globule of arabic gum, it catching and holding the energy. He takes Nurthk's hand, and folds it around the gum; immediately afterwards the man's visage melts away as if the colors and shapes composing him were frail enough to be cast off on the wind.

When the spell is complete hi clenches and unchlences his hand, trying to disperse the energies that leave a slight tingle. He nods at the others. "Five minutes, a mere twelfth of the hour glass."

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Alright then, my thanks to you," Nurthk's disembodied voice replies, and heads for the mayor's house.

He sighs inwardly.

Using elven magic to aid myself in killing orcs, I must be despicable.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Before he enters, Nurthk finds himself the subject of more Elven magic -- or half-elven magic, at least. Shavah cast Bull's Strength and Protection from Chaos upon him.

Oliver finds little difficulty nudging loose the latch to the window to the study; Nurthk enters, and on first peek through the door, sees from across the front room and through the window that the guard orcs outside seem wholly unaware of any presence.

The rest should have no problem moving into the study, themselves.

(Probably not specifically relevant yet, but I should mention that the orcs out front carry longbows at ready, and greataxes on their backs... As for what the others have available, that you haven't been able to see just yet. Also, Shavah has left her armor and shield at the inn, for sake of silence.)

 

[DrZombie]

Raven follows Oliver, an arrow nocked in his bow, ready to fire over the old rogue's head if any targets should present themselves.

Init 4+7=11
Move silently 12+6=18

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Thanks, Shavah," he says, having received blessings from her.

Later, in the mayor's house, Nurthk creeps down the stairs, headed for the basement.

 

[dpdx]

Fendric and Hiritus, nearly frozen for fear of alerting the two orcs on the ground floor of their presence, wait for the rest of the party to enter before entering the mayor's house themselves. Taking careful note of where the two orcs were said to have been on the ground floor, both of the Pelorites attempt to stay out of the way, yet in sight of their companions in case anyone is in need of their services...

 

[wings]

Couple more spells

After casting the spell of invisibility, he continued casting, amber motes of energy orbiting him and being absorbed into a field just above his skin. For a brief moment the outline of sleek, translucent plate mail resides on his form, but fades away as the spell ends. He pants slightly, stretching out his fingers as he starts another spell, on the tail of the two others.

This magic is whispered, and as he casts it his body is surrounded by a nimbus of energy that spreads out about him randomly, causing a trio of illusions to appear in a triangle about him. They are shadowy and obscure at first, facing towards him with arms outstretched, seeming to sap magical energy from him, as they gain detail and substance they each in their own time turn to mimic his casting until a final diffusion of energy signals the end of the spell. He tests the effects, stepping, which causes a confusing display of images crossing paths as each image steps in a different direction, the real Aerda being lost in the jumble.

He nods, satisfied with his spell and signaling that he is ready.

Init -- 9, move silently -- 21, good ol' boots.

 

[dpdx]

Fendric
Init: 1 (Yay!)
Move Silently: 11 -3 = 8
Listen: 10 +7 = 17

Fendric, hanging to the back (at least until all hell breaks loose), mumbles a soft prayer and touches Oliver. (Shield of Faith: +3 to Oliver's AC for the next 6 minutes.)

Hiritus
Init: 11
Move Silently: 11 -6 = 5
Listen: 16 +2 = 18

Hiritus positions himself next to the front line, and in doing so steps on a loose floorboard. The squeak seems to reverberate through the now-silent house. Wincing at the mistake, Hiritus freezes, listening intensely for a reaction from the orcs on the ground floor.

 

[Sparky]

Oliver whistles low at Aerda’s magical display and chuckles at Raven, elbowing him, “Remind me not to ever startle that one,” he grins gesturing at the winded elf. “Her too.” He gives Shavah a lascivious wink.

The group slips out of the tavern, leaving the slaughtered orc to the depredations of the scared and frustrated villagers. Hope they don’t vent too much. Against his better judgment Oliver nods Tatlock along with a tight and humorless grin, “Stay close. Not a peep. And do mind the furniture.”

He nods gratefully at Fendric before looking quickly away, guilt flickering across his wrinkled face. He glances at the ceiling, Don't hold it against Fen, that he helped me in this.

Oliver strains his ears to hear over the rustlings and pent up breath of the Company. He can’t hear a thing. It’s been too long. He takes a deep breath, checking and double checking the draw of his daggers and blades finally relaxing into a footpad’s trance. His shoulders slump a little and he rolls onto the balls of his feet. His eyes rove the room, searching out telltales that will save his hide or the others’ – vague reflections, rumpled curtains, closet doors ajar. He slinks into the next room listening for the tread of Nurthk’s invisible feet. A creaking splits the silence and Oliver freezes. He moves quickly.

Glancing up the stairs he hears a slight shuffle of Nurthk’s feet on the flight down. His eyes widen and he urgently waves the others over, “We were to go upstairs first,” he speaks in a barely audible voice, “I’ll go on up.” He glances around the tense faces, “I need two of you come with me,” He noticeably skips meeting the eyes of the Paladins and Priests. And Tatlock’s as well. He glares insistently at Raven, Aerda and Nicollo.

He holds up two fingers and quietly turns to climb the stairs, short swords drawn.

OOC:
Init: 20
Listen: 14
Spot: 9

Move Silently: 22
Hide: 24