save eh. how about an 18. now for my attack. an 8 ok.
for my next round a 20 with my polearm on the spell caster should do it hrm or not. I do 10 points of damage. ah but the bonus of the polearm should be added then doubled. that should help. any of that make sense to you people? sorry no capital letters in me today. Well I guess 1 or 2 even.
Saving Throws A-Go-Go
Renwick, okay, you stumble around in the darkness. Seems like Broggroll, excuse me, Blogroll is rolling awfully high these days. Except for Mark to hit I guess, so maybe it's okay.
Huge shadow attack! On Marivhon again, hitting for 8. Please make a save vs. paralyzation Marivhon.
Cinder, okay, poison applied and you whiff. Dave FoO, nice idea, you cast Dispel Magic, and both the darkness and the tentacles are gone. Brogg, you're free to move around again if you please.
Dave FoO, this gives you a big apple. Make a save vs. spell again, and the huge shadow attacks you. Whomped for... one hit for 7 hp, and make a save vs. paralyzation!
Next round, Renwick miss, Dave FoO and Cinder hit, and the shadow mage stumbles back. Still not dead though. Dave FoO's hit is contingent on both saves being made. Dave FoO, somewhere you get the feeling that a crazy bobcat has met his maker.
Cinder, either the shadow made his save or he's immune to poison.
Well I Br int 16 and wis 18. I guess I dont really know what Is going on.
Next round I'll plunge into the darkness. If I find any of my friends down I'll try and bandage them otherwise I'll attack. Br. 9 to hit.
Dave, Fist of Odin
That's right - dave vs. poison.
BR 17 for that - makes it easily. Then I dispel whatever Fear shit Brogg's going through. Then a bit of clobbering - BR 19, hits AC -2 (or AC2 with the darkness penalty) for 7 points damage.
Then, we'll see how things are.
Cinder reaches into his Roos of Holding and produces his Silence Poison, wiping it on his blades. Bet you forgot he had that, huh?
First a save vs spell, BR:14 makes it.
Two attacks on the spellcaster. BR:10 and 3. Maybe next round.
Next Round: BR:14 and 20!! That 14 hits AC 6, and the 20 surely hits. The 20 does, uh, 4 points of damage. Hmm. If the AC 6 hits, that does another 4.
Either way, dave vs. poison at least once or be silenced foul mage!
I attack the tentacle! BR:2. Aaarrgh! My powers are failing me... so weak...
Well, if I survive, I give Marivhon the t-shirt I bought him for his birthday. Sorry it's late, buddy.
A Dark And Stormy Combat
Hmm, Renwick. The trouble is that you move out of the darkness... into more darkness. It's overcast and black outside and you have no light. But, make IQ and WI checks at -6 to judge.
Marivhon and Renwick avoid the spell. Brogg, you feel a thick tentacle wrap around you! You take 8 hp damage, and are -1 to all physical stats! And you miss the caster.
Marivhon, you are rolling insanely well. Please stop cheating if you are cheating. You heal to full and hit the caster again, but have no idea how good or bad he's doing now. He's still up and preparing to cast again.
Waiting on Dave FoO, Cinder, and a crazy shadow giant. Paging crazy shadow giant...
Save vs. Spell, BR:10. Negative.
I stand squarely in front of this shadowy caster and accept his magicks in full. Bring it on
If, the opportunity still exists, 2 attacks on this MoFo. BRs:5,11. That 11 hits AC:6 with my -4 penalty. 11 points, contingency.
Save vs. Spell Br 15.
I get out of range of the darkness, hoping that it's got a small radius, and call out which direction the center seems to be moving realitive to my voice.
I drink a potion to get back 11 putting me at 16. I roll my save vs spells. I get a 20. I try to attack with my halberd. I get a 17 plus any magic bonus to hit ac 1 or better before the minus 4 for not seeing so well. So lets assume I do hit and do 9 pts to the spell caster.
Save Vs Storyline
Yes, it turns out that you need magic weapons to hit, so don't bother rolling for damage if you're attacking with a nonmagical weapon. I think the party is loaded with magic though, especially after the arena.
Saving vs. getting dragged through the city is a subset of save vs storyline
, which Ed's characters tend to fail with alarming regularity. Let's see, Slath
got it pretty bad a number of times. Cinder's been storylined before. Morgannon was storylined via Power Word Stun.
In any case, Dave FoO puts Cinder up and brings a bobcat, who promptly runs into the city in fear. Looks like Dave FoO's forest friends aren't so bitchin' today. Brogg with a miss and Marivhon with a hit on the caster. Spell goes off and all goes dark, giving y'all a -4 penalty to hit. Marivhon, since you hit, you've got the giant's apple. He grabs you and dislocates your shoulder for 12 hp, putting you at 5 hp.
Next round, another spell, so everyone make a save vs. spell. Cinder sneaks and Dave FoO gets in a hit on the shadowy spellcasting cockmonger
ok with my new halberd which is magic, I guess I drop the old one on the floor, BR hit ac 3 for 11 points of shadow splooshing damage on the spell caster.
Cinder moves away from the party
and hides in shadows:BR 18%
Next round someone gets it.
Dave, Fist of Odin
I bust a CLW on Cinder - BR 6, for 7 hp back. There you go - now make sure to drink a lot of water today, and don't forget to breathe into it.
If the spellcaster's doing something heinous that looks like a good idea to do back, I'm going to mime his ass. Otherwise, in comes a bobcat.
Then BR19, which hits AC -1, for 8 points damage. I'm sorry - that's not quite right.
8 points of damage, cockmonger
Is there a save vs. Dragged into the Spider City by your torso?
BR:6 will fail it anyway.
Get Cinder a cure, and you get two magic swords up and swingin!
How long does PFE last?
Ok, this time with the broadsword, I take a meaty
chop into this heinous Wizard! BR:3. Woooosh!
Deeper Into The City
Everyone fails to connect, except Cinder. Your blade seems to cut into the large humanoid, although the skin is thicker than you expected; like cutting into a block of clay.
Dave FoO lights a torch, which provides dim lighting in the room. It's enough to see that the enormous shadow had grabbed Mike the zombie, but throws him to one side like a doll. Cinder slices the creature again, only to be grabbed around the torso. In a smooth motion, the shadow man turns and stalks out of the room and down the street, its long legs making giant strides deeper into the city.
The shadow woman lowers her head.
You race out of the room into the rain and the dark. Looking back, you see that the woman has moved to the doorway, where she stands pointing down the street, but upwards. A momentary break in the cloud cover sends a bit of moonlight across the city, and in the gloom you see where she is pointing- a tall steeple, draped in webs, several blocks away. The direction the giant has taken Cinder.
Down the street you go, throwing caution to the wind. The giant has outpaced you, but you manage to get to the building the woman showed you. The massive front door is partially open, and devoid of webbing, but the rest of the building is covered in thick wet silk.
In you go.
It's not long before you find Cinder. He lies off to one side, apparently cast aside for whatever reason. (Cinder is at 0 hp.) The shadow giant stands motionless about ten yards away, perhaps staring at you. Out of the darkness, into your light, glides another human-sized figure much like the woman you saw earlier, although this one is more masculine and seems to be wearing thick robes, but the amorphous, ill-defined nature of the shadows makes it hard to tell. In any case, this figure is clearly more malicious, and begins to croak out the sounds of spellcasting, as the shadow giant stalks back towards you.
(The badgers are all gone by this point.)
Dave, Fist of Odin
I light a torch.
Then I swing! BR2. That hits AC15. BR1 for 4 pts damage, if it hits.
Ah, well. Go, my 2 brave badgers!
Another swing with the chainsaw in the darkness! BR:11. I bet that is a miss. I turn it off.
for what it's worth I get a 19 to hit with my halberd before any mods that's a ac -1 hit. For 11 hit points of damage.
Ha! Maybe that shade should have though about Cinder's Blind Fighting NWP
before he doused the lights, huh? Sucker.
But how bout that save vs. fear first...BR:18!
Two attacks on inky! BR:7 and 19. The shortsword hits for 3 deadly points.
Here is round II:
BR:20 and 17, no shit! That's a total of 12 points of damage, which is kind of like a regular swing from Brog or Dave, FoO.Fear the thief.
Save Br 20!
I cast mage armor.
Bunch Of Spellcasters
Nice saving throws so far reported. A flurry of spells go off, and Marivhon gets a clean miss. Not surprising, given that no one can see anything now. Understand: it's pitch black. Blindfighting, alertness, that kind of stuff comes in handy here.
Mike the zombie lets out of a moan of surprise. Against the tonic background of rainfall, you hear a scraping kind of sound towards where the door should be.
Second round, Brogg and Dave FoO miss with their weapons. Dave FoO, you sense that your badgers are blind and somewhat confused. Two of them fail their saves and cower in the corner.
Save, BR:16. Grisbane gives me strength!
I cast a Protection from Evil
I then fire up my Chainsaw. Next round, BR:5. That's a wild swing.
(Marivhon, your Saves are on the Reference Page. Yeah, you made it. -Unless it is a breath weapon fear.)
I'm with dave. No parlay. BR 15 to make my save should make it, if you want to check dm's guide buy one. BR to hit is a 4 with my halberd. Done. Hey it's my birthday, let's just say I hit and kill the thing.
Dave, Fist of Odin
BR 16 vs. fear. No problem - as a Fist of Odin, we're good with the scary things.
I cast a third circle summons to bring in a pack of badgers. That's right - as a third circle spell, bringing in the first circle buddies, I think I get 2d6+4 badgers, right?
Well, maybe a d4+1. So BR says 4 badgers.
Like I said, Fists of Odin know about scary things - when things are all 'make a save, there, pal' we reply with BADGERS.
Then next round I parlay. Ha! No no - I BR a 12, which hits AC 5. If so, I do 6 points damage, and the head thing has to save or lose some AC.
Mrivhon, your eyes open and peer into the dark night. You remain motionless. The dim light from the smouldering embers provides only the most feeble illumination. But it is enough for you to watch the shadow creep into the room.
Less a shadow than a heavy curtain, undulating and oozing with volume as it drips horizontally across the back wall, coming in through the door. Pools of darkness spiral and run down the plane, momentarily forming images or pieces of humanoid bodies. Flickering into substance, and suddenly dripping away, a woman in a long dress walks into the room. Or perhaps floats, or glides. She clutches a featureless, inky parasol. Her face is equally featureless, except for thin cruel lips, as she turns to your lot her lips curl, and she speaks."You who come here, you seek to be devoured. They will find you. One of them is coming now. This was once mine, now theirs, may the gods have more mercy on your souls than they had for us."
Cinder, you come awake as you see an enormous, impossibly large hand attached to a thin arm, too thin to support it. The hand reaches in through the doorway, easily the size of a child. The woman turns back towards it, her mouth opening to say more voiceless words, and she dissolves into the darkness of the shadow curtain.
The hand and arm is attached to a huge, gaunt, black humanoid. Arms, legs, collosal, disproportionate round head, but just as plain and oozing black as the woman and the thick shadow pulled across the back wall, now beginning to surround your room here. What light you had is snuffed away.
(Everyone make a save vs. fear.)
Cinder concentrates for a moment but does not move. Alertness check, BR:2! Totally makes it.
As Cinder is getting a feel for what might be around us, he tries to disappear into shadows. BR:23% for the hide.
A hand on each hilt, he waits...
Huh. I kind of look at everyone really carefully. I take a good look about with my Infravision, and then ask Dave, Fist of Odin to light up a torch.
As long as we aren’t in any immediate danger, I pull out some Carl Ffleudenssen for the guys. Here’s one called “Thoughteater”:We are at the gate; the gate is my mouth.
His flippers are twitching, we look about.
Something makes us laugh.
His toothy bill smells like strawberries.
It is so very very funny.
He’s telling me that his second cousin is a Mind Flayer.
What a goofball!
I ask him to stop tugging on the cortex.
Wait, I remember that hotdog stand.
Didn’t I ask for mustard?!
Hey man, didn’t we have a deal?
Not the brainste…
Ok, that didn’t make me feel better.
What is around us?
I am a fool. I was taught to embrace who I am, to know it and be it. Sure I understand the theory of things but the application, yes the application is another thing. I have found people I trust, the Champion of Grisbane, the Fist of Odin, and Cinder, well he's a thief. I am still watching out little mage.
I close my eyes and meditate on my dream. The most disturbing thing about it was the panic. A fools way to die, especially when they know that it is destined some day. When that day comes, it does and I have been trained.
I picked my friends to help me find that day. To make that day the best day it could be.
I close my eyes and meditate. I prepare myself. One must always be ready. I stand and open my eyes. BR for alertness. No shit a 4, I make it. I try to sense where this disturbance, this familiarity, comes from.
Sometimes it pays off to type a while, to employ the rules of grammer for your own advantage. Is now that time?
The Long Night
You kept watch, as usual, as you should. You tried to stay awake. When you noticed the others in fits, dreaming, or lost in nightmares, you wondered whether you should wake them. But the heaviness of lethargy claimed you too. Before you know it, you too fall into sleep, and dreams, while the fire smoulders and the rain continues to come.
Later, it is still night, it is still wet. You are jolted awake. There is something here. Something else. Here, watching you. There's a deep sense of horror and familiarity. And as before, there is no light, and the sounds of the rain are muted as if covered by a heavy cloth.
(Your dreams are described below.)
A REBUSS FOR ALL AEGIS!
reads the sign. You pull the tent flap open, seeking some peace from the carnival outside. The smells and sounds seem specifically designed to offend every sense you own.
An enormous statue of your father stands in the corner of the tent. It stretches the fabric taut against its head, and you wonder if you stare at it long enough, will the canvas rip? A noise attracts your attention, and you silently curse as you reflexively turn your head. “Am I such a slave to distraction as the rabble outside?” you wonder. Leering at you with a toothy grin, you’re sure that the minotaur, coughing again, knows your thoughts.
The head is disproportionate with the body. The giant bull’s head also seems to fill the entire tent space. The saucer-sized brown eyes look right at you, and a long, skinny arm points towards the flap in the back with a striped barker’s cane. “Rebussh,” it lisps. “Rebusssh passht the flappsh.” You nod and step through a heavier canvas tent flap than the first one you entered.
The stale smell of mothballs. At least the smell of burnt meat and offal from the streets outside is gone. It’s dark here, oppressively so, and you strain your eyes to see a small square of yellowed glass, lit from below, far ahead of you. You walk towards it, extending your hand so as to better judge distances.
You stand before the rebus, behind the pane of glass. It’s made of postage stamps, an eight by eight grid of paper squares. You squint at it, trying to puzzle it out, when the blow to your head comes and fills your eyes with blood.
That’s a nice looking fireplace and so warm to the touch but oh yes oh right I forgot stepping outside and watching the clouds as I head on out and damn I forgot again I go back in and grab my pack so that I have the things I need so that I’m prepared because ha ha not again I won’t forget again not like last time so this time I’m ready so I step outside again and walk down the path again and there’s a cool breeze I’m glad for this thick scarf that I have wrapped around my neck hmm feels a bit tight a bit warm a bit hot under the collar as they say ha ha but no time to loosen for there’s no time to lose so I go down the path and my the trees are nice this time of year I mean the leaves the colors so rich brown and yellow and orange and there’s not a bit of green in sight so I continue down the trail whoops watch out for that low branch ha ha it was coming right at me good thing I saw that it might make a nice walking stick wouldn’t you say so let’s take it down and keep walking now with our nice new walking stick what a great day and the path winds up and up around the hill soon we’ll be at the top it’s getting a bit late so I’m glad I packed some food I won’t be caught without food again not like last time just a bit farther to the top of the hill as the sun is setting what a nice view hey look I can see my house from here no not really ha ha but I bet I got you there and I’m pretty hungry so what have we here it’s a campsite has someone else been here recently I’m no good with tracks just following this trail up here to the top of the hill not too much farther to go but hey look there’s a stool by the campsite how thoughtful like it was meant to be I’ll just stop here for a second for a quick bite to eat and hmm the sun sure sets fast in the sky on the hill on a cool autumn day just open my pack and take out the food that I wrapped and prepared and placed in my pack because I knew I’d get hungry and wanted to eat and wanted to know that I could make it to the top of the hill this time I’ll just make a fire to heat up my hands and my food and it’s so warm to the touch and I guess I’ll just take a few bites here and there’s a sound in the woods that’s too far away and a shadow and shape and the sound is closer so I’ll stand and salute and maybe it’s someone who’d like to share a bite to eat and it’s closer and closer but I can’t see a thing and maybe it’s someone no oh dear it’s not and
Dave FoO's Dream
Open door. Leave cottage. Enter forest. Look at snow. Look at frost. Look at ice. Touch ice. Remove gloves. Touch ice. Drop gloves. South. South. Examine darkness. Examine trees. Examine horned figure. North. North. Examine horned figure. Attack horned figure. Again. Run to cottage. Close door. Bar door. Push chair against door. Close shutter. Examine crack. Examine horned figure. Remove chair. Open door. Stand up. Open door. Stand up. Rip cloak. Tie cloak around arm stump. Leave cottage. Stand up. Examine horned figure. Scream.
The chain wraps around your ankle and pulls you under. You were talking, saying something, an explanation perhaps? It happens too quick. The air is forced out of your lungs with the force of the blow. You begin to choke. The taste of salt, the oppressive weight of the water, the awful, horrible coldness of the water- these are all you know.
It is a slow death you die. You feel like a victim of Procrustes, pulled too long, stretching towards the surface with your upraised arms, while the chains pull your legs down, towards hell, towards the sand, towards the bottom of the earth. You see yourself, although you know it is too dark to see. You watch yourself struggle, like a dog, dying without grace or pride, struggling against the inevitable. You know it is hopeless, you know it is a demeaning, humiliating way to die. Still, you pull and stretch and flail, and eventually you go still. It is only a matter of time, perhaps minutes you guess, before the fish and crabs begin to devour your corpse.
You see this from where you stand at the window, looking out across the sky and sea. You see the small boat, still bobbing in the waves, from which you were pulled. You are somewhat taken aback by the speed and thoughtlessness by which you met death. You turn away from the window before the feast of worms begins, and head into the hallway. Your feet drip, the seaweed trails behind your legs, your hands are cut and raw. “All men die the same,” she says. “They care too much.” You wipe your feet on the mat and nod, not sure if you truly agree or not. As she moves away towards the door, you enter the chamber, slump into a seat, and pull the algae from your legs.
Scene 1. A well-adorned office.
MASTER STEVE: (Seated at desk.) Hmm. (Speaking with a different, older and familiar voice.) Well, this is a pretty pickle, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you say? A pretty… pickle. Indeed. (Puts hands together, fingers form a bridge, leans his chin into it.)
(Cinder remains silent, arms crossed, glaring at the guildmaster.)
MASTER STEVE: So, you think you can do it? Heh heh, I’m sure for a man of your… talents, these things are easy. Just like riding a bicycle. Not a problem. Am I right?
MASTER STEVE: Of course I am. Well, here you go. (Hands five parchments to Cinder. Cinder casually regards them, folds them up, places them in a pouch. Gets up to go.)
MASTER STEVE: Oh! Good luck!
Scene 2. Cottage interior. Simple. A fire is in the fireplace.
RENWICK: (Warming hands by the fire.) Hoo! What a nigt! I’ll be glad to memorize some spells after that on!
(Marivhon, seated, glares at him. Uncomfortable, changes his seating.)
RENWICK: (Looks at the sleeve of his robe.) Yup, that was some good times. I think I got some dirt on this rob though.
(Marivhon glares again. Pause. Suddenly, Marivhon turns and looks out the window. Stands and moves quickly over to it.)
RENWICK: (Somewhat alarmed.) Hey did you here something? (Stands up, faces window.)
(Cinder becomes visible directly behind Renwick. Pulls out two swords, cuts Renwick’s throat. Renwick crumples to the ground, and Marivhon spins, facing the assassin. Marivhon does a flip in the air, but Cinder turns around, sticks out his swords, and Marivhon lands on them. Falls to the ground. Cinder places a boot on Marivhon’s chest, turns the sword in its place, then slowly, maliciously, pulls out the blade. Looks at audience. Beat. Cinder then pulls out the parchments from his pouch, ruffles through them, and throws two into the fire. Steps outside and closes the door.)
Scene 3. Cottage exterior. It is winter.
BROGG: (Entering with Mike the zombie.) Hey Mike, what do you know? The guys got a fire going. Ha ha, all by themselves! (Cue laugh track. Close-up, Mike the zombie’s face, mouth open distorted look of amazement. More laughs.)
BROGG: (Pausing, concerned.) It’s awfully quiet though, wouldn’t you say? (Looks at Mike.) Oh, no wait, sorry, you wouldn’t say… because you’re a zombie! (Laughter.)
(Mike the zombie opens his tote bag and pulls out a spyglass. Looks through the window. Drops spyglass in horror. Points to window frantically, trying to communicate with Brogg.)
BROGG: What is it boy? (Mocking.) Timmy’s in the well? (Laffs.) What? What’s that you say? (Trying to follow Mike’s gestures.) The guys… the guys are… they’re dead… lying in… a pool of blood? (Beat. Zoom-in Brogg. Look of shock.) Wait a sec… (loudly) THE GUYS ARE DEAD?!
(Cinder steps out from behind a tree, slowly. Looks down at his bloody sword. Brogg is stupefied by Mike’s gestures. Mike spots Cinder, and begins gesturing again wildly.)
BROGG: Uh, this isn’t good! What is it this time? Wait, you’re saying, behind me… a man… bad man… (Cinder stalks up slowly, going on tiptoes in an exaggerated manner. Laugh-track.) There’s a bad man behind me who’s going to kill me?
(Brogg turns around, his neck turning along Cinder’s sword. Brogg clutches his throat and recoils, stumbling backwards. Watches the rest of the scene while he sinks to his knees gurgling. Mike the zombie begins to back away. Cinder feints left, feints right, toying with the zombie like a cat with a mouse. Finally, Mike turns and runs, but Cinder trips him. Mike gets to his kness and begins to crawl away, but falls, and turns over onto his back. Cinder pulls out a crossbow and shoots Mike in the leg. Mike clutches his leg in pain. Cinder reloads, walks up, stands over Mike. Mike looks up, close-up of his face, pleading. Pan out, Cinder shoots Mike in the arm. Cinder tosses crossbow aside. Pulls out small hunting knife. Brogg falls over dead in the snow, as red blood forms halo around his body. Cinder kneels over Mike, knife gleaming in the moonlight, zoom out as the skinning begins…)
Scene 4. A forest.
DAVE, FIST OF ODIN: (Standing over four grave markers. Blesses them.) Praise be, and may their souls battle eternally in the glorious halls of Valhalla. Except for Brogg, who should probably go hang out with Grisbane.
(Cinder suddenly materializes and stabs him through the chest with both blades.)
DAVE, FIST OF ODIN: (Screaming as he dies.) Oh shit! Odin help me… (Dies.)
(Cinder turns, pulls out parchment out of pouch. Doesn’t notice giant gate opening on stage right, until there’s a clap of thunder and Odin materializes.)
CINDER: Oh shi… (Odin crushes him with a giant hammer.)
(Odin tosses hammer aside, glances around the stage. Nonchalantly, lightly taps Dave Fist of Odin’s body with toe of boot. Shrugs. Looks back at glowing gate, still open. Looks into camera. Begins to smile, adjusts tie.)
ODIN: Huh huh. Hey, did you hear the one about…
I follow in what is my best meditative trance.
The Night Begins
You head across the street into the open doorway.
The oddness of Nyuss resonates with your memories of the mirror world. You escape from the rain, which is now pouring in torrents, into the darkness of the building.
It's hard to tell what sort of building this once was. Now, like Vrill's warehouse, it is completely empty. A slight drip fills one corner with wetness. You pick the other corner, make a small campfire, and prepare to wait out the night...
Brogg, all the items you acquired are magical. Mike takes the tooth, nods, and puts it in his tote bag.
I say that we make a dash for the door across the street. Yes, I make the dash.
That's after I give Mike the Zombie the Molar
thats been in my pocket for a few months.
Dave, Fist of Odin:
I roll a 2 on a d6.
Oops - I guess I missed the last bit of fighting. I was talking to MTZ1K about mathematics again, I suppose.
Ah, well. Everyone healthy and happy?
And I kinda like what's going down in Rupert's life - but then again, I AM a Fist of Odin, and while a life of eternal torture isn't, you know, what we're ADVOCATING here, we've got no particular problem with it.
That's right, Loki, I'm talking about you. Eat it, bitch!
Nyuss At Night
Okay, you take your leave of the Arena. By the way, the Arena *is* the place to acquire Monk treasure, in case you weren't noticing. It's just that a bunch of non-monks showed up (namely, you lot) with a monk, and took a lot of treasure for yourselves.
You step out of the Arena circle. M1K rejoins the party, and you walk back down the dark, fresco-covered hall towards the huge stone door. As you leave the arena proper, the Fightmaster says:"Return no earlier than a moon from now to fight once more, oh gladiators."
Operating a large wheel allows you to open the stone door from this side. It is dark outside. You step back into the city streets and the arena door slams shut. You notice that it has begun to rain, and the rain hangs on the spiderwebs in thick bulbous globs.
That's odd. You check the map. You should have been on the outskirts of the city, but you look around you, and see streets sprawling in all different directions. It is too dark and overcast to see much else to orient yourselves. A light fog begins to settle in, further obscuring your view.
You try the door to the Arena to wait out the storm, but it is sealed. You recall the Fightmaster's words to you as you were leaving. Hmm.
As you look around, the rain and fog begin to pick up. With what remains of your visibility, even with a torch or light spell, you see an open doorway across the lane about half a block away. You can run to the building for shelter, or try to make your way through the web-covered, drenched city streets of Nyuss, Lost City of Spiders. Up to you.
Next poster, please give me a 1d6.
(And as for the interlude, heh heh. Just wait til you see where it's going.)
Hoorayy Marivhon! Savior of dying mages....
These fights are pretty tough. I say we just leave it for now, a kinda treasure depository.
>>Watching the torturer stitch his genitals back on,
Ok. Here it is again:
>>Watching the torturer stitch his genitals back on,
What the fuck is that?! Oh god no. Guess that's what happens to paladins who take the Left Hand Path.
And as for the arena, Cinder realllllly wants that silver longsword, but feels it might be a little beyond our abilities right now. Cinder asks the fightmaster if we can come back and kick some ass in the future. That spellbook might be an option in a couple of levels too. The thought of a assload of mages at once right now is too much though.
Besides. What's next? Monk treasure you say? Cinder's down with snatchin more loot.
Holy crap, what kind of sick interlude is that?!
Ok, so we take the Trident
. Did you know that Monks can use Tridents according to Oriental Adventures? I give it to Marivhon.
I hate to say it, but I am getting a little tired of fighting in the arena. It is sort of an ATM for xps, but I miss the flavor text.
Does anyone else want a go at another statue, or should we try to find this Monk treasure?
Hey, Rob, during our healing up, I drop a Detect Magic on our new loot.
INTERLUDE: A Paladin In Hell
Rupert screamed. ‘Sir Rupert, to you,’ he thought, mocking himself in a rare moment of lucidity before the tortures resumed. The spikes went deep, shattering his eardrums and piercing his skull. His screams were muffled by the tongue-clamp as his jawbone cracked in the vise. The pain blotted out the rest of his thoughts.
Sometime later, his body somehow, impossibly, began to repair itself, so that the tortures could begin anew. Watching the torturer stitch his genitals back on, Rupert considered why he was here. Not for forgiveness. Not to repent. Only to suffer. Rupert was in hell until the end of time itself. The stitching complete, the tortures would begin anew. He watched as the ear bars were brought back in place, and watched in agony until his eyes oozed out of their sockets around the rusted spikes.
You Stop Him Before He Harpoons Againn
Good work Marivhon. Huh, you're really kicking ass here in the arena. Nice recovery from your previous work as a 2nd level monk. Anyway, you kill the last Kuo-Toan. He disappears, and you guys get your pick of one item from the altar: trident, mancatcher, or harpoon gun.Pick the mancatcher.
Had enough of the Arena for now? Let's say it takes two days and you're all at full with spells. Cross off those rations.
You can fight again if you want, the Fightmaster ain't going anywhere. Or venture out into the big world and see what it has in store.
It apppears we are on round four maybe five.
As my post stated on round 4 I hit for 9 points of damage. On round 5 I I hit ac 4 for 8 hit points. On round 6 I will hit ac 7, which is a miss I bet. I'm done.
Now He's All Like, Who Wants A Harpoon? Who Wants It? Do You? Huh? Do You?
Now Who's Laughing?
Okay Brogg and Marivhon, you guys polish off the Kuo-Toa and save the unconscious mage, but there's one Kuo-Toa left! He throws his mancatcher on the ground in disgust and pulls out a harpoon gun. Brogg, he harpoons the hell out of you for 16 hp. That puts you at -1 and counting, bro.