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Lorderl

The Dead of Knight

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Tempest slips deeper into unconsciousness as the poison overwhelmes the last of her defenses. It clouds her mind with peaceful blackness, rendering her oblivious to the chaos around her.

 

 

[Fortitude Save DC 13: 1d20+3 = 9! Yay! I still suck! But at least I didn't fail by 5 or more, so... 1d2+1 = 3! But I sure can max out the bad rolls... *sigh*]

 

 

~v

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Tempest…

You lay upon the floor expecting the peacefulness of sleep to carry you passed the day’s strange events. Then, worst of all things begins to take place, words seep into your mind, even as the vapors seeped into and fill your lungs. It speaks to you, or seem to.

 

The Effluvium, said the voice. Do you like it? It is our weapon of vengeance. All who live are helpless in its influence. We could have killed you, and can yet kill you, as well as all others alive in Waterdeep. But that is not justice.

 

Sleep now, and the Effluvium will provide your nightmares. Sleep until we waken you in time to see your city ruined, demolished, your precious city walls a caldera. Then you will die, and we will live. That is the justice of the unliving.

 

You sense the Effluvium billow up stronger than ever, eclipsing you minds view. A pit gaped wide in your mind, and you fall into a worse torture than pain or numbness, the torture of nightmares. With perhaps the last of your fleeting conscious thought of despair, you doubt if there is anyone alive that can fight this. What hope is there?

 

 

Kurith…

The smaller undead goblins continue with their tactics of hounding you, though they haven’t been very successful at more than a few scratches and minor cuts, you know that prolonged battles such as this in cramped close quarters will only continue to hamper your fighting capabilities, as is proven with your latest attack, as your stab with the short sword whizzes passed by the undead goblin harmless, making you look like an inexperienced fighter that is wet behind the ears.

 

You hear the shield of the undead goblin before you clatter to the floor, its fiery pin prick eyes ablaze with the fury that all undead have toward the living. It tenses as if to prepare to lurch at you once more but instead it strike with its sharp boney claw. It lashes at your right leg cutting open a small stinging wound and as you react to its attack, its counterpart, trying to seize an open opportunity swipes at your neck, it misses, but not by much as you feel the brisk rush of air near your sweaty skin. Your bigger frame is apparently giving the creature more than what it bargained for.

 

The hobgoblin zombie lets out another moan as it bangs its shield against the wall and swings its blade across the open air as if implying that it will take your head, its stench is now beginning to linger heavily in the room, perhaps adding yet another distraction that you don’t need right now.

 

 

Eligos…

Taking a step back (L2) you focus your concentration on the new threat, you scrunch your face and squint your eyes, putting considerable effort into pushing the magic from you body, a greenish glow starts to appear on the palms of your hands. The undead skeletal goblin lashes at you with its rusty blade, at first you think that you were cut as the blade tears through your shirt and the tip of the blade barely brushes against your skin. You give a sigh of relief knowing that your guts are not pouring out of you.

 

Begins Casting Summon Monster I

 

 

Kurith damage spoiler:

3 points of damage

Edited by Lorderl

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Fearing the others have left her behind to die in a den of undead horrors, Kurith abandons her trusty shortsword and uses both hands to free herself from the goblin's bony grip.

 

Now that she is rid of him, even if only for a moment, she scrambles up the ladder where she hopes Eligos and Tempest are still waiting.

 

 

{OOC}

I think I prefer putting the die rolls directly in the story as hotlinks

{/OOC}

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Ready to completely surrender to the blackness of unconsciousness, a spark of resistence flares within the recesses of Tempest's mind as the voice, real or imagined, invades her thoughts. LIES! The rational part of her brain lashes out against the invasion into her thoughts. I am stronger than this. I have survived brutal torture at the hands of a cruel and merciless master. I am free and I am strong. Do your worst; you will not break me, nor take me. I will rise up against you and you shall feel my fury... fear the TEMPEST! Her body begins to twitch and spasm as the nightmares flood her mind; her old master twisted into a tireless undead abomination, lashing out with a barbed whip against her body again and again, the flesh being ripped away from her body until she is laid open all the way to her bones... and yet she does not perish, nor lose conscious. There is only pain, and agony, and fear... and the resolve of her mind to hold against it.

 

~v

Edited by Shakandara

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Focusing his concentration on the new threat, Eligos scrunches his face up and squints his eyes putting considerable effort into pushing the magic from his body, a greenish glow appears in the air near the zombie and a form quickly coalesces out of the glowing particles and attacks the undead creature.

 

Cast Summon Monster I

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Rothgar falls from his chair in the dining room, oblivious as the fog envelops the main room of the Underdark, his meal left unfinished. Not a word passes his lips as he drops. Not a single attempt to arrest his fall is made.

 

The pain is searing as his head strikes the floor with a solid thud and everything fades to black as he is swallowed within the mist.

 

The Effluvium, said the voice. Do you like it? It is our weapon of vengeance. All who live are helpless in its influence. We could have killed you, and can yet kill you, as well as all others alive in Waterdeep. But that is not justice.

 

Sleep now, and the Effluvium will provide your nightmares. Sleep until we waken you in time to see your city ruined, demolished, your precious city walls a caldera. Then you will die, and we will live. That is the justice of the unliving.

 

You sense the Effluvium billow up stronger than ever, eclipsing you minds view. A pit gaped wide in your mind, and you fall into a worse torture than pain or numbness, the torture of nightmares. With perhaps the last of your fleeting conscious thought of despair, you doubt if there is anyone alive that can fight this. What hope is there?

 

Rothgar awakens, his head throbbing and moves to check for damage, but finds his arm is pinned. In fact, there is a pressing weight on his entire body! He tries to turn his head but it will not move. Opening his eyes, Rothgar sees absolutely nothing! His world has gone black! Rothgar’s heart begins to hammer in his chest and he can feel icy rivers of sweat running down his back! Panic begins to set in as he writhes and struggles to free him, but all that happens are his joints are wrenched and his body begins to ache in a dozen new places. Rothgar opens his mouth wide in a scream of rage and horror and begin to gag as dank foul earth chokes the breath from him. Rothgar gags and coughs, and slowly works most of the earth from his mouth as he forces himself to be still and calm. Expanding as little energy as possible. Taking shallow breaths in an effort to conserve what little oxygen left.

 

Cave In! Impossible! How can this be?

 

Rothgar forces himself to disbelieve, but he cannot argue with the bitter taste of the earth in his mouth and the pressing weight of the earth on his chest. Slowly, his eyes adjust to the utter darkness as he begins to see into the earth around him. With mounting terror, Rothgar wishes he could remove the vision of shattered bodies and rubble surrounding him. Clenching his eyes shut until colored lights dance in his field of vision, Rothgar wills away the sight. But the lights dance and merge as his eye remain closed. Despite his eyes clenched shut, Rothgar still sees the dead, their faces contorted in a rictus of horror and pain.

 

What? How? I’m in a tavern. This is not possible.

 

Through the earth screams of pain ring, but Rothgar cannot hide from the noise because he remains pinned, unable to do something as simple as plug his ears. Through the cacophony Rothgar hears the sound of digging tools and begins to struggle again, screaming for help and choking again on the soil. Gagging and retching, he notices the bodies turn towards him and leer. Inexorably they begin to slide through the earth towards him, their arms reaching, hands ending in wicked talons. Paralyzed by fear, Rothgar tries to shrink from the pursuing dead and finds his limbs can move, not much, but slowly. Ever so slowly he inches his arm through the dank earth towards his belt knife.

 

I don’t know how I got here, or where I am, but by the gods, I will not die here smothered by the earth.

 

A whisper in the back of his mind blames Rothgar for the collapse and the dead curse his name. Despair washes over him. Rothgar hears the digging tools, and friendly voices somehow reach your through the earth, but he knows it will be too late. The talons brush his chest and reach towards his throat. As Rothgar screams, his fingertips rest against the pommel of the belt knife. Lungs filling with earth, he can feel the crushing weight of despair mixed with the rending pain and heightened awareness from surging adrenalin.

 

Marthammor show me the path. Do not let it end like this.

 

Rothgar slowly draws the knife from its sheath, inch by steady inch so he can grip the handle and position it over his femoral artery.

 

I will not let death slowly choke the life from me. If I must, I will open my leg and give my life to the earth, quickly, painlessly. Better to die this way, than to endure this torture.

 

The bony hands claw at his flesh and reach for his throat. The earth crushes in and Rothgar feels the hammer of his pulse in his ears as his breathing slows and his body becomes starved for air.

 

The time is upon you.

 

Rothgar cries in pain as the talons find purchase in his chest tearing furrows into his flesh. Plunging the dagger into his thigh, Rothgar misses the femoral artery and major damage but the pain roars through his body. Endorphins and adrenalin surge. Rothgar’s mind screams its vengeance and the blade snaps. Rothgar feels the warm blood seeping from the wound, but knows it as not enough. Not fatal. No end to the pain.

 

False path! Must find the trail…

 

A voice echoes in your head You think you shall have a swift end? Where is the Pathfinder, your Trailblazer now? You failed your clan, your family. The Pathfinder leads you down false paths. You run from the earth and pray for swift death, you have dishonored me!

 

Great grandfather!

 

I am no kin of yours the voice sneers. Let you live with your dead

 

Rothgar screams in agony as talons pierce his abdomen and pull on his guts, white hot agony flaring as his torment continues.

 

Marthammor, I beg thee, grant me a swift, clean death!

 

The silence is deafening. The only thing Rothgar now hears is his own screaming and the rending of his flesh.

 

Oh yes, we have just begun with you... is the last thing Rothgar hears.

Edited by Qwyksilver

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Kurith…

Having only limited success in the battle fighting the undead creatures below in your crouched position and seeing that Eligos was no longer obstructing the trapdoor, you make for the opening. You commit yourself to the task of making it to the next floor regardless of the vulnerable position you’ll be placing yourself in, better that, than to have these undead wear you down bit by bit were you can’t maneuver. Instead of climbing up the ladder were you would be exposing your backside and a far easier target, you instead thrust your arms up through the trap door opening as you jump. Grabbing the sides of the rim of the floor above, you begin hoisting yourself up and kicking as you do, to further frustrate the undead below whom you know will be attempting to claw at you to tear your flesh away. You feel one kick butt something aside but only slightly as it wasn’t a solid blow. Your pulse accelerates with the excitement of the exertion and the thrill of having made your escape unscathed. Or so you thought, now that you stand atop the next floor you feel another minor sting along the side of your right calf.

 

Another battle is taking place on this floor. You eye Eligos, though you do not instantly see Tempest, after a moment of surveying the events you spot that familiar bluish skin beneath the wavering fog. Perhaps more importantly you note that the undead have not made any attempt of pursuit, nor are they viewable when you peer back down the trapdoor.

 

 

Tempest…

The nightmares ensue and you endure, reality continues to meld with fantasy as your horrific torments flourish at your expensive, and you endure. You are starved and feed your own rotted flesh, and you endure. Come what may you continue to suffer and endure the experience, but is it your will that keeps you going or are you simply being toyed with, so that you may undergo these torments to the point where your mind will tolerate no more and shatter!

 

 

Eligos…

The celestial dog (L3) tears into the undead goblin (L4) getting a solid BITE on it, but the creature seem to have suffered no ill effects from the magical beast attack as it brings it own weapon to bear on the celestial dog, cutting a nasty gash open across the dogs shoulder.

 

Failed Confirmed Crit

 

 

Rothgar…

Your eyes suddenly pop open, instead of darkness you now see a dense smoky fog obscuring your vision. A brief moment passes as you await for another torment to take place. That brief moment is all that you allow to pass. Before you've even begun to process the thought of lifting yourself off the floor, your already instinctively and awkwardly starting to get to your feet (B7). You feel the remnant’s of a slight BRUiSE on the side of your head, nothing to worry about there you think, its not the first time you’ve fallen and smacked your head against something that was denser and tougher than your skull, and likely it wouldn’t be the last.

 

The experience of the nightmare catches up to you as you visibly tremble for a fleeting moment, you steel yourself thinking that you’ll not be taken again… Need a Fort Save DC15

you are shaken for 1 round, 2 rounds if you fail the save, 4 rounds if you fail by 5 or more

Read regardless of roll result or Spoiler

 

Quickly looking about the room… Need Spot Check DC15

you glimpse a rather large figure moving from G6 to G7, then it goes out of view

Read on Successful Check or Spoiler, you can just make out several shadowy forms laying about the room on the floor as the fog shifts, for a moment you believe your still in another nightmare as the scene is akin to the dead on a battlefield or the still eeriness of a tomb. You pickup the stench of death and decay in the air.

 

 

Kurith damage spoiler:

2 points of damage

Celestial Dog damage spoiler:

3 points of damage

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Rothgar shakes his head free of the cobwebs until his vision clears and the room comes clearly into focus.

What the hell is happening? he thinks. I must have hit my head harder than I thought, everything's still hazy here. A wave of terror rolls over Rothgar as the Effluvium tries to rip him back into another Nightmare, but this time, he is prepared. Steeling his nerves, he lets the terror wash over him. Closing his eyes, he breathes deeply and exhales slowly. The room remains the same, filled with a thigh-deep, dense fog that sends smoky tendrils rising towards the ceiling leaving the room in haze. Glad to be back to "normal", Rothgar scans the room and considers his situation. There are a number of shapes lying still on the floor that seem to be bodies, and he pauses to wonder quickly what happened and why he managed to avoid the same fate. The stench of death and decay burns in his nostrils and the memories of the voice echo in his head sparking instant recognition. Undead! Beware! Scanning the room in more detail, Rothgar notices the large figure moving behind the barrels and realizes he is not alone in the room. Thanking Marthammor for the luck of having his back to the wall and being near a defensible corner, Rothgar strains his ears, listening to determine if there is any more movement and peeks through the meeting room doorway to see if there is anything in there as well. Expecting trouble no matter what else he finds, Rothgar readies his shield and removes the peace knot from his Waraxe's sheath, preparing to face the Living Dead.

 

Fortitude Save (DC 15) = 18, Spot Check (DC 15) = 24

[OOC]Shaken for 1 round[/OOC]

[OOC]Character name for Invisible Castle rolls is Rothgar QAg for future reference.[/OOC]

[Move action: Ready Shield. 2ND Move Action: Listen. Free Actions: Peek into meeting room. Remain on B7]

Listen Check = 26, Spot Check = 26, Initiative = 10 Whoops, looks like I forgot the character name for that one :blush:

[OOC]Listen/Spot checks accounted for -2 penalty for being Shaken :bday: Rockin' the Nat 20's!!! :bday:

Initiative, well it just seemed like I'd be needing to roll it :lol:[/OOC]

Edited by Qwyksilver

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At first, pulling herself up through the trapdoor seemed like a good idea, but Kurith soon realizes that she has aggrivated the injuries she recieved upon claiming her new axe. It still burns, and quite badly, but a split-second look around the upper room tells Kurith that now is not the time to dwell upon that.

 

She spies Eligos, the skeletal goblin and the dog rigth away. It appears that the goblin with his scimitar is getting the best of both tiefling and dog. As the fog wavers, Kurith sees the lady Tempest lying on the floor almost at Eligos' feet. She appears to be dead, though it may just be her colour, which Kurith is still not accustomed to.

 

Not wanting to make a same mistake twice, Kurith quickly heaves the trapdoor shut before anything else can climb up after her and before she can take a wrong step and fall through the hole again if the fog should conceal it.

 

Once that is accomplished, she reaches to draw her greataxe. The metal handle feels cool to her hand, or maybe it is that her hand is burned too.

 

Now that she is prepared to fight, she takes a step over so that she is standing on the trapdoor. If anything wants to come up now, it will have to be able to lift Kurith also.

 

The Map - Updated

 

 

{OOC}

That's a move action and a second move action to close a door and draw a weapon.

{/OOC}

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Rothgar…

You lean against the wall steadying yourself as you secure your shield in place. The smell of decay lingers in the air and though its not overbearing you are repulsed by it. You take a steady breath as you run through the possible scenarios of what has taken place in the Underdark and where does that leave you. Recalling the words spoken by that eerie voice which invaded your thoughts you believe your dealing with undead, it sure enough would explain the rancid odor. You wonder if that rather large brute you glimpsed could be one of them. For a moment you consider whether to investigate further. As if one cue, the shifting fog reveals a bit of golden braided hair just at the entrance on the floor (D6) behind the bar, your heart sinks with grief at the assumption of whom you suspect it is.

 

Brundha? What of the others, Thor, Bellrose. What of their fates?

 

Not quite what you expected from a routine trip into Waterdeep. You’ve only been within the cities walls for less than a few hours, and now you come to find yourself literally with your back up against a wall, or to be more precise, a stall door. With some thigh high damnable fog all about you. Bringing to bear your training and talents you’ve developed over time while on patrol, you relax and take in the surroundings and try to detect anything that may be of use to you.

 

The sounds of some faint commotion and ruckus, along with a low moan comes from the direction of where you saw the rather large figure head off in. Several other faint sounds from the above floor grab your attention.

  • To the north, in the general area of the bedrooms you hear a low growl

  • To the south in the general area of the Irongullets brothers offices and the private meeting rooms you hear something but nothing distinct enough to be useful

  • You also pickup on a distinct pattern of squeaks you’ve come accustom to from your stays at the Underdark since the upper floors were renovated. You’ve often times joking spoken to Thor about it, making comments like “hey, and here I thought you said you fixed this place up right good” and the pattern also reminded you of a song you once heard so it sort of stuck with you. Someone or something is using the steps between the two upper floors, either going up or down.

You hear another low moan, and its source is closer than the previous one, and its coming from around the corner leading into the what Thor calls his banquet room. You also hear some other disturbance echo out from the banquet room shortly afterwards.

 

As you peer around the corner, the putrid stench of death and decay is slightly stronger, and now you know why. A hunched burly figure stands facing the west wall (C10), its wears studded leather armor, though dirty and unkempt appears to still be whole, in one hand it holds a small wooden spiked shield, in the other, a longsword that has obliviously seen better days. Instantly you recognize the Hobgoblin with its flat nose and chin. The patches of molted reddish-brown hair and its pale skin confirm its one of the unliving known as a Zombie.

 

You quickly pull back as it started to look in your direction, did it see you? As you contemplate whether you’ve been spotted or not, you eye your tankard still resting atop the table you were seated, reaching over you grab it an and finish off the half full tankard.

 

If you chose to, you may replace the tankard back down on the table as a free action

 

 

Kurith…

You assume your position over the trapdoor, confident that your massive weight of 250lbs will seriously hinder any attempts by anyone to move you off of it. You may not be as tall as other half-orc but you’ve filled out quite nicely, if you say so yourself, you know you got it were it counts, Muscles!

 

Unsure of what Eligos intent is, as he appears to perhaps be thinking about his next course of action, you watch as the Celestial Dog and undead goblin continue to go at each other. For a moment you could swear you saw Tempest move slightly, then you hear her let out a shallow grunt.

 

 

Tempest…

 

The stage of nightmares changes once more. The cruel and merciless master who had beating you relentlessly, countless times more than what you cared to count, had also taken many other liberties with you as well. Liberties of the flesh, for how could you hope to resist, laying there bloody and beating with no strength to spare or to resist. Those liberties, in the form of a seed, bore fruit, which even now is about to be delivered as you lay half naked shackled to the hard cold floor. Nine months had passed, and though your master still continued with the regular beatings, he had refrained for the past three, satisfying himself only with the occasional right cross. The most recent of them which are most noticeable are the bloody cracked low lip and a black and blue left eye.

 

You scream as you give the final push that delivers your child. The cord is cut and you remain sprawled across the floor in you own blood. You smile believing that all of your suffering hasn’t been in vain, and you eagerly await for your child to be brought by your side. Your master barely lets you get a glimpse of your child as he hands it over to someone who quickly exits out the door. He turns to face you, once more his feature change and he takes on a demonic form with a barded lash in hand.

 

“Now!” he roars “we have some catching up to do!”

 

As the lash bites into your flesh you cry aloud. With the next lash your tears explode onto your face, but not from the beating, but from the knowledge of a broken heart that you’ll never set eyes on your child ever again…

Notice: The hidden text is graphic in nature

 

You awaken with a single tear running down each cheekbone, you find yourself a bit confined. Raising your head slightly from your prone position you see that a dog is fighting over you. It growls just before it attacks.

 

 

Eligos…

You watch as the celestial dog you conjured ATTACKS the undead goblin once more. It lunges as it bares it teeth but collides with the undead goblins shield. The undead goblins scimitar slices down as it tries to follow-up with an attack of its own as the celestial dog bounds off its shield. A gush of blood springs forth along with a yelp from the celestial dog as the undead goblin pulls the scimitar free from the creatures neck. An instant later the creature vanishes.

 

 

Game note: Need Initiative in OOC for Kurith and Tempest

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Kurith winds back with her axe and tries to calculate the best moment to make her attack so as not to harm the dog that seems to be trying to protect the fallen lady. Through the fog, she sees the lady's leg move, even if only slightly. Then she hears Tempest make a sound that could best be described as a grunt. She was not dead, though perhaps dying.

 

The dog lunges at the goblin, but collides with his shield instead. The next thing she knows, there is a spray of blood, a gurgling yelp, and the dog vanishes. The skeletal goblin stands over Tempest with his scimitar covered in blood.

 

Though she is a bit uncertain exactly what her new axe's capabilities are, she has no other choice than to find out right here and now. She swings with all her might at the smug little creature, hoping to at least get the satisfaction of having defeated one of the goblins she has encountered this night.

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Seeing the body of Brundha, and realizing that the brothers who have been like father to him for the past 30 years may have also fallen while he was incapacitated was too much. Fury washes over Rothgar's countenance as he swallows the last of his now cold mead. As he takes that final gulp a cold, predatory gleam takes over and his face becomes smooth.

Now we hunt. This time, Marthammor, lead me on the path to their destruction. Give me the chance to avenge those who have been my family, since I was not able to protect them when they needed me. A plan begins to form in Rothgar's mind. It may not be successful, but it will allow him some measure of vengence before he falls, should it fail.

 

Rothgar tosses the tankard across the taproom at the wall [C3]. As soon as the tankard is released he draws his waraxe and crouches by the doorway, hiding within the fog, waiting for anything to come across his path.

 

[standard Action: Throw Tankard. Move Action: Draw waraxe. Free Action: Hide. Plan: Attack of opportunity when noise draws zombie out of meeting room (hopefully).]

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Eligos…

You are relieved to see Kurith unlatch her greataxe as your summoned protector vanishes abruptly, leaving a lingering faint trail of green sparkle behind in the air over the space it recently occupied. For a moment you believe that your the undead goblins next target, but its eyes set upon the larger and more menacing form of Kurith.

 

 

Tempest…

You eye your companions as the dog makes his attack against the undead goblin. You duck your head back down below the fog, hoping to steal away in the midst of the skirmish. You turn over onto your stomach and hope the undead creatures preoccupation with the celestial dog, along with the cover of the fog is enough to cover your escape. You crawl along the floor and with each movement you expect to feel the sting of rusted steel embedded into your back. You brush past Eligos legs but don’t make a sound as not to give yourself away. Your movement in halted as with a thud your head collides with a wooden crate. You sit yourself upon the floor (M2) and remain there rubbing your bruised head.

 

 

Kurith…

If it had still been counted amongst the living of one of its own kind, the undead goblin before you would have surely turned tail once it saw that it was now out numbered. But that is not the case with these brazen furious little critters that have mocked your fighting prowess since you first encountered them down below. You adjust your position trying to make good on an attack to redeem yourself, with surprising quickness your smaller opponent has made it past your guard as you heft your mighty weapon. You feel the jagged bite of its blade above your left hip along your stomach, either from poor leverage or strength it didn’t cut you wide open.

 

Following through with your own attack, your strike cuts clean through its collarbone and across its right ribcage. For a moment it stand there and you wonder what does it take to down these little bastards, then it crumbles before you as you hear its bones rattle onto the floor.

 

 

Rothgar…

The tankard flies through the air. You knew as you released it that it was an awkward throw at best, perhaps just a lingering effect of your experience while you where subjected to Effluvium! At least that’s what you tell yourself. You’d hoped to smash the tankard against the far wall, for a second you watch what appears to be in slow motion the first phase of your plan flatter, then you hear the tankard hit against an overturned table and clatter across the floor.

 

You position yourself as best you can a bit into the doorway while trying to use the fogs concealing properties to your advantage. A good foot and a half of your upper body still remains exposed but your determination in seeing your adopted family avenged keeps you focused in the task that lays ahead.

 

You hear that low moan drawing nearer. The burly Hobgoblin zombie scans the tavern just as it enters the common room (C7). You suspect that had it not been for the wall between you, coupled with you slightly leaning into the stall the unliving creature would have spotted you, for its view lingered in your direction as if it could sense your living presence.

 

Rothgar, need a Spot Check DC20 (DC25 if you remain crouched)

Though the burly Hobgoblin zombie obstructs your view you spot the other creature just reappearing (G6), another undead Hobgoblin zombie!

Read upon Successful Check or Spoiler

 

 

Kurith Damage Spoiler

2 points of damage, failed confirmed crit roll

 

Edited by Lorderl

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Kurith is a bit surprised by how easily she dispatched the goblin. She is about to make a second gratuitous attack upon its shattered skull when she feels a fresh trickle of warm blood running down her leg. She quickly discovers yet another hole in her shirt where the goblin had made its last forlorn attack upon her. The creature's rusty blade had found its mark right below the maille shirt she wore beneath her now-tattered black overshirt, and only by fortune is the wound nothing more than superficial. Still, Kurith finds a reason to grumble about it.

 

"Gobby bastard ripped my shirt again... damm 'em all..."

 

Kurith steps off the trap door and rather deliberately kicks at the pile of bones. She sees Tempest was able to crawl away during the fight, and now the blue lady is sitting near a wooden crate rubbing her head.

 

"I thought you was gone down for dead there.", Kurith says with her usual level of sensitivity. While still holding her axe in her right hand, she wipes the blood from her left hand as best she can onto her trousers and extends it to the woman as though offering to help her to her feet.

 

"Prob'ly more where that'un came from.", observes Kurith as she takes a look through the door whence the goblin came to see if more are approaching.

 

Downstairs Map Updated

Upstairs Map Updated

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Darius awakes with a start cold and damp on the floor of the chamber. He opens his eyes, knowing that it will do no good, for the utter blackness has not lessened in three days. Strange, gutteral sounds that he can't understand are shouted in his direction, and he is kicked, hard, in the backside. His hands are tugged upward by the chains that bind them, and he rises groggily to his feet. He is not alone. He knows that there are at least two other captives, the one chained to him in front, and the one chained behind him. He resists the urge to speak. His last effort at conversation was halted by a furious blow across his jaw from an unseen hand. He also does not know why he is still alive, why any of them are alive. Humans are usually killed on sight by these creatures.

 

The prisoner in front of him starts to move, and Darius has two choices: march along until he is too tired to stand, then catch a beating for falling down, or, catch a beating for not marching, then march along until he can't stand. He has found that marching after the beating is quite a bit worse than the alternative, so he begins to shuffle along with the others.

 

After some hours, he sees something. "Sees? That's not right. I didn't see anything for five days until the Riders rescued us." Up ahead is a glow, very faint, but to his light-starved eyes, it shines like the full moon. He cranes his head forward as far as he can, the muscles in his neck groaning in protest at the effort, trying to catch a glimpse of what could possibly be shining a light this far beneath the earth. "An air shaft perhaps," he thinks. "Maybe we're in an old mine."

 

The light gets closer, and he begins to make out some sort of mist. They are close enough for the light to illuminate the guards at the head of the group. "Hang on a minute. Something is definitely wrong here. Those are not Drow elves. They look like....like....zombie ogres! This is not how it happened at all. I'm dreaming, that's it, I'm dreaming. Any minute now, I'll wake up. Yeah, I'll wake up any min....."

 

A voice can now be heard coming from the mist. "The Effluvium," says the voice. "Do you like it? It is our weapon of vengeance. All who live are helpless in its influence. We could have killed you, and can yet kill you, as well as all others alive in Waterdeep. "Waterdeep? is that where I am?" But that is not justice.

 

Sleep now, and the Effluvium will provide your nightmares. Sleep until we waken you in time to see your city ruined, demolished, your precious city walls a caldera. Then you will die, and we will live. That is the justice of the unliving."

 

Darius sees the Effluvium billow up stronger than ever, and fill the cavern in which he is standing. An eerie chill runs down his spine. "Wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakup..." It gets closer and closer and closer. When it reaches the zombies, they turn and notice him as if for the first time. One of them grabs the chain that is hooked to his wrists. The other captives are gone now, leaving only air and ten feet of chain between him and the claws and teeth of the hungry undead. "...wakeupwakeupwakeup..." The zombie starts to reel him in like a fish. He digs his bare heels in and tries to resist, but the cavern floor is smooth and he only accomplishes tearing the skin from the bottom of his feet. "...wakeupwakeup..." The zombie holding the chain starts to grin showing rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. His companions are slavering, great lines of drool running from their mouths to the cavern floor in anticipation of their meal. "....wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup..." He is close enough now to smell their rotten breath. Claws snatch at him greedily. The one holding the chain opens its mouth wider, too wide, it seems that its head will split open at the jaw line, and all the while Darius is being dragged closer, inch by excruciating inch, his mangled heels doing nothing more than sliding along like some sort of fleshy skis, slipping in his own blood. The thing is right in front of him now, its head is no more than an arm's length away. It starts forward, jaws opening ever wider, the gruesome lump of a tongue lolling limply, then stretching out to get a taste of its prize......

 

 

 

WAAAKEUUUUUPPPPP!!!

 

 

 

 

 

Darius awakes with a start cold and damp on the floor of the chamber. He opens his eyes, and sees a mist covering him. Panic shoots through his brain like a bolt from a crossbow, but he manages to choke off the scream rising in his lungs before it hits his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Orcbreaker, and he feels his old traveling clothes on his back, and his memory comes flooding back. I'm in Waterdeep, in the Underdark Tavern. But where is everybody else?

 

He tries to raise himself up to get a look around, and pain knifes through his head. Putting his hand to it, he feels a lump there. Must've bumped it when I fell off the chair.

 

Without raising his head, he looks in front of him, squinting to see through the mist. He cannot make out a thing, the fog is too thick. Where the hell'd this stuff come from? It can't be.....natural.

 

He sits up as gingerly as he can, pulling his bow to him on the way up, and leaning his back against the wall. He looks around, and can see something about twenty feet in front of him, over top of the table. It is a large something, with arms and legs. Now there's only one person down here who would take up that much space, he muses to himself with a grin. "Oi! Kurith!" he calls to the shape. "Where in the Nine Hells did all this fog come from? Did ya eat too much cheese?"

 

He chuckles at this, and pushes himself up the wall, until he is standing. "Seriously, where'd everybody goAAAAHHH!!!!" His next question becomes a scream as two small shapes run out of an open door to his right that he hadn't noticed. They are undead, and they are goblins. Two things that do not go well together, he thinks, horrified.

 

 

[OOC] Darius is shaken for one round, Fort save 1d20(12)+7=19. Initiative check: 1d20(14)+4=18. Move action, get up. Move action, grab bow. Free action, call to undead hobgoblin, I mean Kurith. ::P: He is in square D10. [/OOC]

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