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Lorderl

The Dead of Knight

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Hoping that they are safe for the moment, Tempest puts her dagger away and moves forward to check on the fallen tiefling, slipping past Kurith. "Thanks for finishing that one off. What happened to Eligos?" she queries the half-orc.

 

[Move equivalent: stow dagger back in the bandoleer. Move action: move next to Eligos. Free action: address Kurith]

 

~v

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"It got kinda crowded. Them things happen sometimes.", Kurith explains to Tempest. With little regard for the racket above, Kurith follows Tempest toward the seemingly unconscious form of Eligos.

 

It was true enough, even if not the entire truth. Not too long after Kurith had taken work at the Corner, a pair of men of the sort Irenda liked to call 'questing folks', showed up. Both were kitted out in matching armour, and both seemed to have every possession they owned in bulging packs which they brought in with them. One kept asking after a man called Johan or Jarvis or somesuch and even tried to bribe Irenda with a shiny gold piece to help her recall. When she could not, the other man got surly and smashed a bar stool. The old drunk who was sitting at the next stool tried to sucker-punch the man and got a mouthful of the man's fist for his efforts. The old drunk's two drinking mates jumped into the fray and a full-scale scrum ensued in a matter of seconds. Kurith dove in with drunken enthusiasm and landed a few punches, but recalled little else. She regained consciousness while laying on her back on the floor near the end of the bar furthest from the front door. The two questing gentlemen had long since fled out the back door into the alley, and the Docks Watch as usual did not make an appearance. Kurith's nose was broken and her left eye swollen almost completely shut. Traug was standing over her laughing. That's what ya get when ya put yer ugly face in my fistses way.' It had been just an accident. Kurith had not hit Eligos nearly as hard as Traug had hit her, and her elbow scarcely tingled from the collision. Still, she felt bad for the poor tiefling.

 

"We better get him up b'fore the fog gets at him.", Kurith warns Tempest as she leans her axe against one wall of the corridor. Without making any further attempts to see if Eligos is awake or even alive, Kurith tries to lift him up. First she picks him up by grasping him underneath his arms and lifting him up from the floor. Once it becomes apparent that his legs will not make any efforts of their own to support him, she tries to hoist him onto her shoulder and carry him as though he were a sack of grain. She recalls more unpleasant memories of the night before. 'Better get dis sack outtaz herez, Kurithz.'

 

"There's a bed in that room we come up through the floor in. We could put him there.", she tells Tempest, her voice somewhat uncertain.

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Having witnessed both Kurith's "combat prowess" and Eligos' spellcasting ability, Tempest finds it unlikely that a wayward glancing blow from Kurith would have been sufficient to knock out the tiefling. Then perhaps, something more sinister? she thinks, absentmindedly. "Time is of the essence, but we can ill-afford to lose the help if there is something we can do to save him," she says to herself as much to Kurith. "Yes, let's lay him down on a bed and see if there is yet anything that we can do to help him." With Kurith carrying the burden of the tiefling, Tempest keeps herself at the ready, letting the half-orc pass her to head back to the room with the secret door.

 

~v

 

[OOC: Spellcraft check to analyze what spells and how well Eligos cast them (Spellcraft check DC 17 for anything up to a 2nd level spell, 1d20+11=21)]

Edited by Shakandara

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Kurith carefully keeps Eligos balanced over her left shoulder so that she can once again free up her right hand and collect her axe. He is light, lighter than most men she had ever had to carry in such a way. Taking care not to thump his head against the doorframe, she enters the small room and lowers him onto the bed so that he is in a sitting position, his back propped up on the headstead.

 

Kurith looks toward the corner where she would bet her life the trapdoor is located. She is sure she had heard other voices coming from below earlier, but for some reason she could not find the door again.

 

"Hey Tempus! Got any magic for findin' doors hid in the fog?"

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The goblin's last couple of attacks have left Darius in a pretty bad way. This is the last time I take a job without finding out the particulars first!

 

He still has the strength to finish off this one adversary, though, he thinks, as he takes a step along the wall away from the goblin. "Don't worry about me until you hear my death-rattle!" he shouts in the dwarf's direction as he fires two more arrows, hoping they won't be his last.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[OOC] Darius takes a five-foot step into square F9, and shoots to thrill. (All modifiers are as previously posted, except for the Bless). Attack: 1d20(20) +6 (total) =26; Damage: 1d8(5) +2 =7. Attack: 1d20(10) +6 =16; Damage: 1d8(3) +2 =5. [/OOC]

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"Don't worry about me until you hear my death-rattle!" he shouts in the dwarf's direction as he fires two more arrows, hoping they won't be his last.

 

The skeletal goblin takes the opportunity the bowman presented to try and slash him again with it's filty talons just as Rothgar thunders into the room.

 

Rothgar snaps at the bowman as he crosses the threshhold, "Don't get yer knickers in a twist! If you can still call for help, you're not so bad off! You were probably a little too occupied dancing with these critters to notice I was a little busy in the taproom myself."

 

The sight of a 200+ pound, heavily armed and armored dwarf bearing down on it must have distracted the goblin as its claws harmlessly scrape against the bowman's leathers. Rothgar lowers his shoulder as he rounds the table and an ancient dwarven battle cry escapes his lips. Rothgar's intent to run down the goblin to get to the bowman's aid is clear. There must be some small shred of intelligence still lurking in the undead skull as it wisely steps aside.

 

At the last second, Rothgar manages to check his momentum before he crashes helplessly into the wall. Bracing a leg against the wall he pushes off and springs back at the skeleton. Hearthfire swings in a vicious overhead arc the ancient blade bursting into violet flames as it impacts the Goblin's skull. Once again the ring of hammer striking anvil echoes through The Underdark as the skull of the undead goblin shatters in a cloud of dust.

 

Rothgar looks at the bowman. "No wonder you had such a tough time in here. Don't you know a bow's almost useless against one of these?" Rothgar kicks the bones of the goblin, scattering the remains. "Do you not carry a backup weapon?" Rothgar pauses and realizes the bowman has taken a number of wounds. "Sorry lad, where's my manners?"

 

Rothgar extends his hand. "Name's Rothgar. I've been friends with the Irongullets for years. I reckon you're probably one of their new hires. They're a good bunch to work for under normal circumstances, and this ain't one of them. We need to get you patched up some, and I could use a quick fix as well. I've worked with the Irongullets before. They have a secure office right around the corner from here. If there's any other survivors, they're likely in there. Even if there ain't no more survivors, we might be able to find something to fix us up. If not there, I know a bolt hole down here that has a cache of supplies and a means to get us up to ground level without heading outside just yet."

 

[standard Action: Overrun (avoided by Goblin), New Standard Action: Power Attack +3 to goblin - Damn Undead being immune to Crits!!! Move Action: Move to F10. Free Action: Introductions w/ Darius.]

Edited by Qwyksilver

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Kurith…, Tempest…

As Kurith lays the Tiefling on the bed something from the corner of her left eye catches her attention. Glancing over toward the window she sees that its snowing. With the threat of danger subsiding for the moment, this gives both women a bit of a reprieve. A mild chill becomes more noticeable now that the exhilaration of combat has faded, nothing to worry about except that everyone had thought the winter season was now behind them. The sounds coming from the upper floor have diminished, with only an occasional noticeable disturbance to remind you that there may be other dangers still within the inn. Unfortunately, neither one of you have frequently the Underdark till today. Kurith having been to Thor office earlier has a better idea of your position since its quite evident where the front of the building is. Tempest’s attention is drawn to the door of the room or what’s left of it, not much in the way of barring it from any other undead that might want to make a call on you two.

 

Then a loud outcry is heard from somewhere down below. Without knowing whom or from what the outcry is coming from you can only speculate on whether your situation has gone from the frying pan and into the fire.

 

 

Rothgar…, Darius…

Upon closer inspection of Thor messenger boy, Rothgar reassess his initial assessment of the human. He can see that though crouched over, he must stand roughly a foot taller than himself. He has a wiry build which makes the greatsword strapped across his back seem a bit oversized for him. The experience in his gray eyes is what tells you the most about him, though his shadow of a beard doesn’t give away much, you know he’s no young green recruit. His brown hair is about shoulder length, and is pulled back in a short ponytail, though at present he is looking a bit bedraggled.

 

As Darius catches his breath he takes a moment to himself to look over his new companion, even if it is one of circumstance. Your first impression of the dwarf is that he’s a blooming bloody paladin, judging from the silvery glistening shield. armor and weapon. The weapon obviously being magical as he watches the violet flames dance along its mirror like gleaming surface. Rothgar is lean by dwarven standards, there is little spare flesh on his bones but he does not appear unhealthy, rather as someone in the prime of his youth. His thick brown beard is full and bound into two braids, his hair long, but tied back in a warriors knot. His blue eyes sparkle inquisitively.

 

You shake you head slightly as you recall the last paladin you’ve known and hope that this dwarf has more sense to him than the other paladin. Paladins, how many of the lot will cross your path in your lifetime you wonder!

 

Even as Rothgar mentions to you about the bolt hole down here your eyes set upon the open hidden room from which the undead goblins initially attacked you from.

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Having seen more than her share of snow in her past, and not inclined to take more than a passive glance at the snow that is falling now, Kurith sits upon the foot of the bed, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out the small metal flask. She takes a long sniff of the contents of the flask. It smells sweet still, but kind of a flast sweet like wine that has been watered down. The stuff was quite expensive, but in Kurith's line of work it was almost as necessary as her sap or her fists.

 

She takes a pull. Her lip turns up slightly and she pauses a moment before swallowing. It tastes as flat as it smells. Kurith swirls it round her mouth and wonders if by chance if in a drunken stupor she had refilled her potion flask with rum or whiskey. When she finally swallows, it goes down hot rather than warm and soothing.

 

Never the less, she takes a second swig. She sees and feels the stuff is working, but now she has begun to itch. Still she keeps her complaints to herself. Healing is healing, even if it tastes a bit off..and up until now, Madame Ruth has never ever cheated her.

 

Just then, a loud outcry comes from somewhere below. Kurith wishes she had more of the potion, but offers the last swallow to the blue mage who she thinks might need it more than herself.

 

"Want some?", Kurith asks Tempest, holding out the uncapped flask. "It'll make you feel better... and ya won't turn into a hafforc for drinkin' after me."

 

___

 

{OOC}

Kurith drinks two doses of CLW - health restored >

13 (2d8)

 

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Rothgar starts, "Well me..."

 

Rothgar follows the bowman's gaze to the secret door, standing wide open.

"Sh..!" Rothgar exclaims. "That's not good."

 

Rothgar nods towards the door, which he had not realized was already open upon entering the conference room.

 

"So much for the bolt hole if that's been opened. We might get lucky since these things," Rothgar pauses and scatters the remains of the other skeleton with a kick, "are pretty mindless, they may not have looted the cache. Thor and Bell often keep some emergency supplies and whatnot stored in there. We should check it out, might be able to find something to patch us up. If the room's been compromised, I don't know if it's a good idea to go upstairs by that route. We can take the stairs over there." Rothgar jerks his hand, thumb extended behind him in a general west facing direction. "We'll be able to check out the office down here as well if we head that way. There's probably some useful stuff in there too, if these beasts haven't gotten to them already."

 

Rothgar approaches the secret room cautiously. His axe ready to strike.

 

[Move Action: Move Silently to C10. Standard Action (Readied): Attack any threat coming through secret door. Free Action: Talking to Darius]

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Tempest glances at the offered flask, then at her own wounds, before shaking her head, "no, I am fine for the moment. Save it for yourself, or perhaps Eligos." With that, she turns back to the recumbent tiefling and begins checking over him, trying to determine both his current state and the cause thereof. Seeing no evidence of any wounds whatsoever, nor even any bruising from his 'encounter' with Kurith's elbow, she becomes more concerned. Remembering her own encounter with mist while she slept under the influence of the poison, Tempest attempts to wake Eligos up, shaking him, slapping his face, and even splashing water on him.

 

 

[Move action: follow Kurith into the room. Free action: address Kurith. Standard action: Heal skill check to assess the severity of Eligos' condition (Heal unknown DC, 1d20+2=18).]

 

~v

Edited by Shakandara

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Kurith refastens the cap on the flask and shoves it back deep down into her front pocket. Once again she contemplates the corner of the room where she is sure the trapdoor is located. There had been a loud outcry from below just moments earlier, and she doubts such a noise had come from any undead.

 

"What if we was just the first to wake up?", Kurith says to Tempest with urgency in her voice. At first, she tries by going on hands-and-knees groping around through the fog with her fingertips, but quickly realizes that it is a waste of time.

 

"Danm dwarfs...", Kurith mutters, punching the floor with her fist. It was the sort of thing that never actually solved any problems, but made Kurith at least feel better, but in this instance, it gave her an idea.

 

"Maybe it only opens from down there... so we gotta knock til somebody opens it... or somethin'.."

 

She bangs the floor three times, then shouts. "Anybody else down there?"

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Seeing no immediate threat, Rothgar enters the secret room and begins to rummage through the scattered items looking for anything of potential value that may aid him and the bowman survive this house of the dead.

 

Rothgar calls to the bowman. "Maybe you will have some luck finding something helpful in here, otherwise, can you keep an eye on the door to make sure nothing comes in on us?"

 

Rothgar resumes his search through the various items in the room when he hears an initial slam against the floor, followed by three more blows striking the floor near the trapdoor leading to Thor's bedchamber. Initially hopeful that his friend has survived this assault he immediately grows cautious at the voice calling to him from above as it is not Thor's voice.

 

"Hsssst!" Rothgar hisses to get the bowman's attention. Whispering, he motions to the trap door in the ceiling. "Did you hear that? This room leads to Thor's private bedchambers, and that was most certainly not the old man. Trouble may be coming if they figure out how to spring that hatch from outside. Best be wary."

 

Rothgar sets aside his search and readies his axe to defend himself against more danger, his nerves already ajangle from waking up from the horrific nightmares and finding himself in a room full of undead hobgoblins.

Edited by Qwyksilver

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Darius breathes a sigh of relief when the last skeleton drops. Then he immediately retrieves a potion vial from his belt and quaffs a curative. he turns his attention to the dwarf before him and looks him over. "Rothgar, huh? Name's Darius, good to meet you. And yes, I know a bow isn't the best weapon against skeletons, but it's what I had handy at the time."

 

When Rothgar walks into the secret alcove, Darius joins him, and his jaw drops at the sight of all the swag to be had. Holy elf! They don't guard this stuff? He resists the temptation to grab it all and run, and begins looking through it to find something that might be useful to him.

 

The noises from above don't faze him in his search, he just shouts, "Oi! Keep it down, I'm shopping here!"

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Kurith hears a voice or voices from below, but does not readily recognize them. But she knows they belong to the living, and that is good enough for her now.

 

She bangs three times again, then pauses, then bangs thrice more.

 

"That you, Toldin?", Kurith calls to whoever is below. "...Vargus? .... Thor?...Darius?.."

 

She takes a quick glance behind her at Eligos as if she expected him to have turned into an unliving Tiefling or something worse.

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As Kurith shouts, Tempest winces slightly, hoping that the noise doesn't draw further attackers before they are ready to deal with them. With Eligos unresponsive to her efforts to revive him, Tempest gathers the cloak up that Eligos was carrying. When she goes to put it in her pack for the time being, she suddenly realizes that she has had no opportunity to inspect the backpack that she grabbed from the room. She sets it down on the bed next to Eligos and, while keeping an eye on the still-open doorway of the room, begins to check the bag for anything useful.

 

~v

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