Cal looked around, trying to spot the spellcaster.
Cal Perception Check: 1D20+1 = [16]+1 = 17
Cal called out his location to the others.
Cal Perception Check: 1D20+1 = [16]+1 = 17
Cal called out his location to the others.
[IC] Evilhalfling's Dark Sun
Evilhalfling
Adventurer
Round 4:
The raider attacked by Plool is badly wounded but not dead. He seems unwilling to fight for the death. Instead he disengages and flees into the desert. His long graceful legs carry them just slightly further than a human could move.
Plool is left in the open as his cover flees, and is struck by 2 arrows. Chtckh rushes along the full length of the Caravan, and a couple of archers take shots at him, but has a better view of the situation. The Elf struck by Varsh turns on him hitting him with a short blade, and missing with a dagger
The raider attacked by both Dukkoti and Blaze was already slightly wounded by the guard and goes down.
Cal points out the Elven webcaster on the NW side of the caravan behind good cover. The second elf of the tag-team comes after Cal. Cal dodges, and the elf’s obsidian blade strikes the wagon instead and shatters. His off-hand is blocked by Cal’s magical defenses.
Then the Croudlu Calvary gets organized. Their captain a man who shares the same authority and ability of the nearby Mul, has them dressed in a line, ready to charge when suddenly his mount goes down. He jumps up and you can hear his angry yells over the battle. Some kind of minor, but well timed psionics.
The Calvary is coming, but its not here, and the slaves are continuing to die. The slaves are holding their own in melee, but the archers are picking off people in the open. You see a lot of slaves checking for escape routes. An elven slave shouts “the Mul lied, elves dont want us dead, we should go!”
The Mul is too busy fighting 4-1 to respond. He and the elf with the iron sword are slightly wounded.
Graarrk goes down, and arrows continue to fall around the older Sysra. He turns a blast of acid on the raider attacking him, but it just makes the elf mad.
the fourth fireball explodes on the front wagon. It finally catches.
The raider attacked by Plool is badly wounded but not dead. He seems unwilling to fight for the death. Instead he disengages and flees into the desert. His long graceful legs carry them just slightly further than a human could move.
Plool is left in the open as his cover flees, and is struck by 2 arrows. Chtckh rushes along the full length of the Caravan, and a couple of archers take shots at him, but has a better view of the situation. The Elf struck by Varsh turns on him hitting him with a short blade, and missing with a dagger
The raider attacked by both Dukkoti and Blaze was already slightly wounded by the guard and goes down.
Cal points out the Elven webcaster on the NW side of the caravan behind good cover. The second elf of the tag-team comes after Cal. Cal dodges, and the elf’s obsidian blade strikes the wagon instead and shatters. His off-hand is blocked by Cal’s magical defenses.
Then the Croudlu Calvary gets organized. Their captain a man who shares the same authority and ability of the nearby Mul, has them dressed in a line, ready to charge when suddenly his mount goes down. He jumps up and you can hear his angry yells over the battle. Some kind of minor, but well timed psionics.
The Calvary is coming, but its not here, and the slaves are continuing to die. The slaves are holding their own in melee, but the archers are picking off people in the open. You see a lot of slaves checking for escape routes. An elven slave shouts “the Mul lied, elves dont want us dead, we should go!”
The Mul is too busy fighting 4-1 to respond. He and the elf with the iron sword are slightly wounded.
Graarrk goes down, and arrows continue to fall around the older Sysra. He turns a blast of acid on the raider attacking him, but it just makes the elf mad.
You are near the front wagon, you can see the guards huddled inside, taking cover from the repeated fireballs. The mellikots pulling it are dead.
120' Across the mostly dry riverbed a party of elves stands in the middle of a great circle of defiler’s ash. The Matriarchs Inix is a smoking corpse, but the fortified platform seems charred but mostly intact, it is tipped over on top of its door. The elves move forward cautiously and a Grey cloak wrapped figure in the middle casts and
120' Across the mostly dry riverbed a party of elves stands in the middle of a great circle of defiler’s ash. The Matriarchs Inix is a smoking corpse, but the fortified platform seems charred but mostly intact, it is tipped over on top of its door. The elves move forward cautiously and a Grey cloak wrapped figure in the middle casts and
the fourth fireball explodes on the front wagon. It finally catches.
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Leatherhead
Possibly a Idiot.
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Evilhalfling
Adventurer
not enough for even a halfling toa walk under them, but you could manage a stooped dash with an athletics/acrobatics roll - otherwise it is difficult terrain.
Leatherhead
Possibly a Idiot.
The deadly reality of the situation had finally hit Plool, twice.
Graarrk had gone down. His opponent was running for their life rather than standing to fight. There was an unending bombardment of explosions behind him. And two of the raiders were aiming their finishing blows right at him. This was no arena fight, no hunt. It was a massacre in the making.
Someone had shouted shouted from behind him, pointing him to an elf cowering in the northwest. “A mage?” Plool could dodge a few arrows on his way to escape, but who knows what this mage was capable of, maybe it was the one launching the explosions too? He needed a way to tie up that mage while he makes for safer ground.
Taking in a deep breath in to focus himself and ignore the pain in his side, the halfing begins a sprint that shouldn't be possible for his short stature. Rushing first to the other side of the wagon, he begins to whisper a song of dread, his innate powers carrying the words directly to the ears of the mage.
R̸̛̛͉̚ụ̴̥̣͗ṅ̷̺̯̚,̵͍͝ ̴̧̮̭̎̂͒r̷̳̟͎̓u̸̺͊̾͝ñ̸̨͚͜,̷̣́̾̇ ̵̮̬͍̚ẗ̴̘́́͝ḩ̵̛͌͝ê̸̬̬͖̄ ̵̬͚̂̕͝h̴͚̍̽̐ư̴̩͔̎͠n̵̤͗́͒t̸̮̉ ̶̡̲̺͠ḥ̸̛ȁ̴̱̦s̶̝̬̑́ ̷̨̼͓̅c̷̼̹̲͑͝͝ỏ̷̙̠̗́m̴̪͌̂ȅ̶͇̃
̶͇͌R̷̛̻u̴̠͐́͐n̶̳̓̾̍,̴̏̎̇͜ ̴͖̖̖̓r̷͓̐̿͗ų̷̘͕́͗͠n̷̫̻̓,̸̡̪̝̔̓̀ ̸̢̪͗̍ǒ̷͙̖͙̐͝r̸̯̅̑ ̵̛̪̳̀ỳ̵̼o̸͙͕͆̉u̶̜̦̤͊̋̏ ̷̗̹͂w̸̢͛ï̸͉̈l̶̠̻͑̈̄l̸̮̠̈́̽ ̷̥̀̉̕b̷͖̹̋̋e̴͒̄̊͜ͅ ̸̨̬͝d̴̤̹͝o̴̥͕̒̊n̶̰̩̅͜͠e̶̻͐̾̇!̴̥͊̌͂
Then, as soon as the words leave his lips, he doubles back and dives under the wagon, steeling himself to run after the next volley, and hopefully grab something useful the way.
Graarrk had gone down. His opponent was running for their life rather than standing to fight. There was an unending bombardment of explosions behind him. And two of the raiders were aiming their finishing blows right at him. This was no arena fight, no hunt. It was a massacre in the making.
Someone had shouted shouted from behind him, pointing him to an elf cowering in the northwest. “A mage?” Plool could dodge a few arrows on his way to escape, but who knows what this mage was capable of, maybe it was the one launching the explosions too? He needed a way to tie up that mage while he makes for safer ground.
Taking in a deep breath in to focus himself and ignore the pain in his side, the halfing begins a sprint that shouldn't be possible for his short stature. Rushing first to the other side of the wagon, he begins to whisper a song of dread, his innate powers carrying the words directly to the ears of the mage.
R̸̛̛͉̚ụ̴̥̣͗ṅ̷̺̯̚,̵͍͝ ̴̧̮̭̎̂͒r̷̳̟͎̓u̸̺͊̾͝ñ̸̨͚͜,̷̣́̾̇ ̵̮̬͍̚ẗ̴̘́́͝ḩ̵̛͌͝ê̸̬̬͖̄ ̵̬͚̂̕͝h̴͚̍̽̐ư̴̩͔̎͠n̵̤͗́͒t̸̮̉ ̶̡̲̺͠ḥ̸̛ȁ̴̱̦s̶̝̬̑́ ̷̨̼͓̅c̷̼̹̲͑͝͝ỏ̷̙̠̗́m̴̪͌̂ȅ̶͇̃
̶͇͌R̷̛̻u̴̠͐́͐n̶̳̓̾̍,̴̏̎̇͜ ̴͖̖̖̓r̷͓̐̿͗ų̷̘͕́͗͠n̷̫̻̓,̸̡̪̝̔̓̀ ̸̢̪͗̍ǒ̷͙̖͙̐͝r̸̯̅̑ ̵̛̪̳̀ỳ̵̼o̸͙͕͆̉u̶̜̦̤͊̋̏ ̷̗̹͂w̸̢͛ï̸͉̈l̶̠̻͑̈̄l̸̮̠̈́̽ ̷̥̀̉̕b̷͖̹̋̋e̴͒̄̊͜ͅ ̸̨̬͝d̴̤̹͝o̴̥͕̒̊n̶̰̩̅͜͠e̶̻͐̾̇!̴̥͊̌͂
Then, as soon as the words leave his lips, he doubles back and dives under the wagon, steeling himself to run after the next volley, and hopefully grab something useful the way.
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JustinCase
the magical equivalent to the number zero
Upon hearing a slave call out that the attacking elves don't want their deaths, Blaze retorts instantly, "But they don't care about our lives, either!"
The genasi spots an archer approximately 60 feet away, and with a short run throws his spear at the raider. It lands harmlessly in the sand, however.
The genasi spots an archer approximately 60 feet away, and with a short run throws his spear at the raider. It lands harmlessly in the sand, however.
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Cal dodges, glad he took the time to set up some wards on his clothing. He briefly contemplates using his magic on the elf, but instead slashes with his dagger.
Cal attacking with dagger: 1D20+5 = [15]+5 = 20
Cal Damage with Dagger: 1D4+3 = [3]+3 = 6
Cal attacking with dagger: 1D20+5 = [15]+5 = 20
Cal Damage with Dagger: 1D4+3 = [3]+3 = 6
VLAD the Destroyer
Adventurer
Varsk barely dodges the dagger strike. Uses the momentum of the dodge to lash out with his singing stick, Varsk connects with a viscous slash to the side of his opponent. Not waiting to see if the assailant drops Varsk moves for cover behind the wagon.
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
Chick slung his sling half-heartedly at an elf, not sure if he would rather kill his captors or save them. The stone went wide.
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