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Sanity is not statistical.

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In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
@Hekazu The Unnamable
Not much time had passed at all, and already everything was descending into madness. First someone breaks through the floor, then the loudest scream the puppeteer had had the joy of witnessing through the auditory sense screamed out... but there was something wrong in it. For something so loud, it felt flat. Must be the fact how the woman consumed by her madness could not hold a believable note in the first place. But not only was it enough that one nut-job would break through the floor, there would be more. People followed the drunk like he was some well versed guide instead of more likely doing something in his impaired state.

Despite all this, the puppeteer made honest attempts at focusing on doing a quick patch job on the rips and tears on the Vistani guide's body, only to fail as now people began to start hollering out from downstairs. Good heavens, why couldn't they just... George crossed his arms across his chest, and one could swear the expression of the doll twisted towards the pouty side, though that might simply be mirroring the expression of the handler on the non-living thing. The barefoot man approached the broken hole in the floor, face slowly contorting to that of anger.

"Why yes, it is perfectly reasonable to break through the floor of an inhabited house, be it the inhabitant is not quite sane. And you would seek to plunder everything not nailed down too? George would like to point out that your behavior is nothing short of silly!" the man's voice carried an irritated message, followed by a puff of air through the nose. "And you would do so in front of not only the watchful gaze of the mirror, but the many painted eyes just as well! Were you raised on the rooftops, or perhaps in a barrel full of salted fish?" With that, the man puffed again and began turning back, before realizing that something else of importance was spoken.

This would require a bit of thought, it would. Why would the guide be buried? Would they not rise anew? This place could not be... The man pat a few spots of his body with the free hand and shook his head. No, that was not the case. So why? Crouching back down and looking to resume with what had already been underway, those thoughts raced free. Why was a burial in order? Was it the will of the victim? Or perhaps a decision of someone else? Were the Vistani unwanted rebels?

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin
...honestly, Talran was wondering if the Lady Anala was somebody he ought to look up to when it came to good will. For starters, she'd covered Lucian's ears without a second thought for her own hearing, which Talran would generally consider noble, if unnecessary. Were that all, he'd have naught to worry about, but she went on to explain more plainly than he had exactly why heading back outside was infeasible, and further comforted the boy in a way he'd perhaps failed to.

Then again, she was now looting this basement, the same as Mhyrienne and the newest, most drunken party member - something that George's puppeteer plainly explained wasn't exactly good-hearted. What followed was not necessarily sane, but his prime point remained valid.

'I'll try to prevent as much of the theft as I can,' Talran told Egil and the nameless puppeteer, a bit of annoyance on his face at the whole scenario. He was also being specifically called down by Lady Anala, anyway, so it was a doubly-good reason. 'If you spy anything suspicious, just call for us.' With that said, he clambered his way down the rope too, landing next to the others as they engaged in their looting and passing-around of items. Oh, this wouldn't do, not at all- and right, he still had to discuss Mhyrienne's behavior earlier!

'Alright, let me make this clear to you all,' he uttered, talking to all three of the would-be thieves. 'I understand that these items might not have been in use, but they are technically still owned by somebody, presumably whoever owns this house. Things might be different if the owner had nefarious ideas in mind for them, but so far as I can tell, her only crime is a loss of sanity due to grief. And you'd steal from a poor mad woman? For shame.' Frankly, he didn't expect to get through to these people, but the effort was important in and of itself. Following through after the fact, he pondered, might be a touch more difficult, but he'd have to see how that turned out as it happened.
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
Lucian
The boy covered his ears, upon the incessant sounds of the intense strikes and howls. After the duo floated into the hole with the wooden floor, the child dropped his bandaged arms to the side.. "Dreams? Why would Grandma do that? Never mind." Another moan, matching the ferocity of Mhyrienne's minor illusion, bellowed out. "Oh no! I believe Mary's getting madder. I have heard Mom tell stories of her anger, because children hide instead of doing what they are supposed to." Remembering the zombies and Markus' expiration, the lanky seven year old began to whimper slightly with a consequent sobbing sniff. "Mister Holy Angel Man sir, please take me out of here."

@Zverda Anala Attor
Anala reflexively covered Lucian's ears rather than her own when the howl filled the room from Mhyrinne's spell, the sound causing her to wince and grit her teeth. She understood why the Warlock had done it, but the sound had been so loud that part of her wanted to hall off and punch the woman. It was aggravating and rather annoying to say the least. She was silent for awhile as she looked around, spotting a few things she could use and contemplating a few things before she was addressed by Talran. "Just the sword," she said slowly, "Something to remember my dear friend by. Maybe one other thing, but other than that he needs to be buried with what he owns, as is their custom."

After that, she listened to Lucian ask to be taken out of there and she frowned, she didn't want the child to get hurt. "Lucian dear," she said to the boy, crouching down to his level and resting a soft hand on his cheek, "I know it is scary in here, and we can hide you if needed I am sure, but it is far too dangerous to bring you outside right now. Look what the sleet did to you in the short time you were out there, I would hate for you to get further injured or possibly killed because whichever God Grandmother was cursing decided it time to punish the land. I understand that this is a scary place for you, but you are with us and we will keep you safe the best we can. Now, why don't you help me find you a safe place to hide just incase?" She smiled at him and offered to lift the boy up if he so wished it. While she was not the strongest out of those here, a 7 year old was rarely ever too heavy for her to pick up.

Lucian seemed troubled for a moment, but eventually put his arms up to be lifted by the Sorceress, to which she did so with little difficulty before plopping him on her hip. With the child holding onto her, she went to join the other two in the lower level and rummaged around a bit, Lucian on her back now rather than her hip so she had use of her arms as she picked through things. First she took a look at a few things with mild interest before grabbing two books, a necklace, one of the potions, a handful of gold that seemed to be laying about and then stared at a lined necklace. She tapped her chin in a thoughtful manner before nodding her head and grabbing that too. After a moment, she studied the mug that she had seen, curious about it but not really having the desire to keep it as it filled with a beautifully colored red wine. Curious, she sipped at it and found the liquid to be rather delicious. "Hey Mhyrienne, you should try this, it's really good," she said.

"Also, Talran, get down here, I have a book for you that you might like," She called up, "And you should prolly try this drink too, it's surprisingly sweet actually." She held the cup out to Mhyrienne and waited for the woman to take it as she waited for the... well she thought he was a cleric but maybe he wasn't? Regardless, he needed to get down here so she could give him things.
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin
Mad Mary, hm... delusion could explain her howling, though perhaps that delusion was caused by some aspect of Morgantha's cruelty? If she'd taken Gertrude, and the madness had come about afterward... somehow, the thought of contemplating this was uncomfortable. Like another was watching them, judging them.

A drunken fist smashing into wood broke him out of his considerations, and he began to tell Lucian, 'We can leave as soon as the rain ceases,' only to be rendered unable to say more than this by an impossibly loud, piercing howl; immediately clamping his hands over his ears, trusting that Lucian would have the same reflex, he glanced around to try and figure out who in Helm's name was doing this.

His eyes ultimately landed upon Mhyrienne, the Elven woman nothing like as shocked as the others at the noise, and staring directly at the apparent source of the hollering. He wasn't sure whether this was her doing, but he could hazard a guess at the matter.

Once the Genasi's punching ceased, and the screeching noise abated, Talran removed his hands from his ears again, frowning at Mhyrienne for causing it, before returning his kinder attention to Lucian again. He reminded himself that he had to ask Lucian about a certain matter...

'Child,' he started, 'just so you know, I get the distinct impression that Morgantha isn't done with you yet. In the near future, if you have any... how can I put this, odd dreams, dreams where she or another in her stead try to convince you of anything, or dreams that seem designed to try and terrify you, and in any case are recalled perfectly afterwards, do feel free to come to me about them, if you wish to see them sorted.'

He felt his speech was less persuasive than he was hoping, but hopefully, he wouldn't need to say much to convince the child to talk about it, especially with a paladin. Once he received an answer from him, he nodded and stood, ready to move to the next item on his list.

'Lady Anala,' he called, stepping over to her, his face twisting into a bit of a frown as he considered what to say next. She had been good friends with Markus, or so he understood from how she reacted to meeting him again. So, then, she'd be grieving his loss, and a few kindly words might be of use.

'I, ah... feel I ought to say, I'm so dreadfully sorry for what happened to Markus,' he began, tone slightly sorrowful, but largely remorseful. 'I truly wish I could have done something to save him, and- well, I'm sorry for your loss, my lady. If you'd like to talk further, I'll always have a shoulder or two for others to lean on,' he offered. Naturally, he felt that it'd only be right for her to take on Markus' possessions. He imagined it'd be what he'd want in this situation, and until further notice, he'd make sure to the best of his ability that no others filched them from his body.

Not that they'd be interested for now, given the antics the Genasi and Mhyrienne were apparently up to in the hole Orhvin had punched his way into. The man's rope throw had been quite exceptional, and the Elf was consequently taking advantage of it to take a large portion of treasure. Hrm. Let her have it, then, for now at least; he had more important matters to attend to.
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
Lucian
The child looked at the kneeling knight, no longer armored with an angelic ambiance, as another motherly moan belted from the second floor. Lucian quickly covered the final patch of burned skin, now bandaged by the lead manservant of Anala. A little of the Sithican salve crept away beneath the cloth turniquet as Sebastian finished the last tie, spilling the ointment on the metallic shoe of Talran.

"I'm good. Thank you, sir. But can we get out of here? Mad Mary's screams scare me. My parents say no one can help her."

At that juncture, another wail befitting a banshee loomed into the foyer.

"My Gertrude! Wheeeeeerrrreeee arrrrrreeeeee yoooouuuuu?"

The partly mummified boy appealed to everyone else's caution.

"See what I mean. She can get really loud for hours."

@Irredeemable Orhvin Yi
Orhvin twitched a little. Not at running or the sleet, or really much of anything, but because he was paying attention. This place gave him the creeps, that was for sure. Examining the room, he dragged his eyes across each inch, and then knelt down to tap the floorboards a few times. Shuffling to one side, he continued to tap, and then raised his arm up high.

The first punch against the floorboard caused a chunk to shudder and break off. Reaching down, he flicked away the chunk of wood and shook out his hand, pulling it back. Another thundering punch, but although the wood shuddered at the impact, his first came out worst off. Another punch, and that too resulted in bruised knuckles, but the fourth punch bore fruit again, the monk feeling the wood out of sight of his fist creak and weaken.

One more punch. Ok, maybe the one after? He slammed his fist back down, and felt as the wood gave way, splintering underneath his arm and his entire forearm vanishing into the floor. Pulling his arm back, he blew on his bruised knuckles, and peered down into the hole.

The eyes of the Genasi came across stalactites and stalagmites underneath the wooden flooring and further below in a claustrophobic chamber, dimly lit by eerie glowing orbs, in all eight corners. The exitless room, twenty feet down, bore a large, decorated stone chair, as well as a fountain, dry but without dust, and a well-stocked wet bar. Treasure, books and bottles were strewn about, collecting curiosity and intrigue afore the drunk monk.

>Orhvin has muscled his way into the basement. A lot of noise has transpired.

"Well would'ya look at that?" The monk raised an eyebrow. Taking a knee, he placed a hand underneath the hole he had smashed open, and lifted the plank aside. Underneath, he indicated for the party to come over. "Someone's been doing some renovations here..."

He continued to peer down, assessing each part of the subterranean room, and then dropped down. He was glad he was slender, since it was a fairly tight fit to take him and his gear down there with him, but as soon as he began to fall down, he felt the air around him thicken.
The balls of his feet lightly touched down onto the floor, and he rocked back and forth a little bit, running a hand through his slightly rumpled hair. On the one hand there was the bar, but the only thing he could see were a few bottles of old Marrivy Red, and he had drunken that so many times that he wasn't even sure if he truly enjoyed it, or it was just familiar to him.

No, the loot on the ground was a lot more interesting to him. He used his quarterstaff like a makeshift stick, prodding at one of the necklaces there. Then, he hooked the end of his quarterstaff through the loop that formed the neck, and tossed it up into the air, catching it with his crown and letting it slide down onto his neck. Comfortable. He had seen a few of these carried by a few Genasi- especially helpful when you could hold your breath like he could.

"Seems safe enough, although no guarantees. Any of you guys got rope up there? If not uh..."

The looter fumbled around a bit in his sack, and then produced a spool of red silken rope. "I've got something for you guys hah!"

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious
She had barely had time to react from coming in from the freezing cold when she was confronted by the place... And the wailing. Sighing, she looked around, and was about to take a step forward when she heard a distinctive 'crunch'ing noise from the floor. Turning her head, she saw...

"What the fuck are you doing? You'll draw the attention of everyone here?" The elf hissed out, but the monk wasn't stopping... Fine.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU"

Another large scream, but this one didn't come from the wailing woman. No, instead the warlock was plugging her fingers in her ears, eyes directed on the room that she could hear the noises coming from. It wasn't much, but it should ad least give the idiot some covering noise so that they weren't sussed too easily.

>Mhyrienne casts Minor Illusion and ramps the volume to max to cover up Orhvin's actions.

When he was done, she had the voice trail off, looking around. Perhaps he hadn't been noticed? Small blessing in that case. Watching as the monk pulled off the plank, she hurried over and peered down, eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom.

Looked pretty safe. Just the loot and the booze. Drunkard would probably be going for that, but she had her sights on something else. Almost as soon as the Genasi had touched down, she nodded at the group and folded her arms, taking a backwards step and plummeting through the hole.

Just as she was about to crash onto the bottom, hair streaming upwards, she suddenly, and dramatically slowed down, until she was hovering just a few inches off the ground. Then, without any other motion, she let herself fall the last inch, landing neatly on her feet with just the slightest billow of her cloak.

Then, she looked around. Books and so on around here, and she hadn't seen anything that would indicate to her that there would be issues... She stooped down and picked one up, leafing through it. Almost as soon as she saw one of the pages, she scowled and hurled it down onto the ground, turning her attention to the other items littered around.

She stooped down as she made her way towards the robe, fingers sweeping along the ground. She hadn't seen any traps here, which was good enough for her... And the robe seemed to be magical. Picking it up, she examined it. Patches, all over it.

She knew of these robes.

"Don't suppose anyone's going to mind me taking some mouldy old clothes," she muttered underneath her breath, sweeping it into her rucksack in a small bundle, and watching as the monk threw up a line for the others.

Cracking one of her fingers, she looked at another one of the books, opening it up. It was the... The same one as the other one. Little fuckers. "If you don't come down, I'm taking all the loot."
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
@Zverda Anala Attor
Anala rode up to the building and found a place to stash her horse where it would be safest before stepping inside, an almost annoyed expression on her face. No one had told her that she would have to deal with Acid Sleet in her travels. Then again, no one really knew what she was doing anyway so it wasn't like she had given them the chance to tell her what to expect from the places outside of her home. Letting out a sigh, she went over to Sebastian and Lucian to check on the child, he was badly injured but he would live and that was more than she could say for Markus. While he had been a great friend, maybe it was best that someone who truly knew her was no longer around, even if his death did hurt.

"Think there is a way to make them shut up?" she asked with a raised brow, "Maybe would should see what those crocodile tears are all about in a village that is supposedly high on Dream Pastries." She made a face, such disgusting things those were, stopping people from facing the reality in which they needed to see. There was no point in hiding from something that would never go away and it was cowardly to do so.

Then there was the fact that the strange man who had offered no name but his puppet's was dragging the corpse of their Guide. No one had been able to save Markus and by dumb luck the Paladin had been able to save Egil before he died. Maybe it wasn't dumb luck though? She shook her head, no use thinking about how things could have gone if that was not the way they had went. For now they needed to nurse wounds and figure out what exactly was happening is this strange place.

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin
Your companions have slain the dead in your stead. Why falter from your purpose?

'Why let a man die needlessly?' Talran murmured under his breath in response. The drunken monk, despite appearances, managed quite tactfully to put down both remaining zombies in a single blur of motion, and Egil was already looking more put-together for having been healed before his impending doom arrived. Equally, the others all seemed to be alive and well, their unfortunate guide excepted; yet even he was being brought into the building by the nameless owner of George the puppet, a process Talran made an effort to assist with, at least before the man in question apparently teleported a significant distance.

There were many matters to address in the near future, such as Zaerith's nature and Mhyrienne's priorities. First and foremost, though, Lucian's health. The moment Talran entered the building and espied the discarded guide, he moved into the air, swooping over the boy's head on his wings of light in a way that he hoped drew attention away from the mauled body, and landing deftly before him and the Lady Anala's manservant. The voice seemed to want to press him further, to address the boy's weakness directly, but with screwed-up eyes and a focused effort, he pressed his angelic heritage back into himself, contained and, as he generally found, unable to rise again for a while yet.

'Ah... tell me, lad, are you faring decently?' he asked the boy whilst kneeling down to match his height, again an effort to draw his mind away from the trauma of the guide's desecrated corpse. Part of his to-do list would also involve bearing his sympathies to Anala, for she seemed to have been good friends with Markus, but that ought to come later. He recalled, too, the lock of hair Morgantha had stolen from Lucian; that, he felt, might be the more important matter, if she did in fact utilize it the way he thought she would.

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious
Her companions... Were running off. No need for her to stick around then. Flicking her arm out wide, she let the black blood of the giant zombie clean itself, before watching as the blade dissipated. As it turned out, the monk seemed quite capable at what he was doing, despite the copious amounts of imbibed alcohol, and she rapidly found herself having to hurry along with the group... With the strange man who talked to his puppet managing to cross an extraordinary distance in the blink of an eye.

Perhaps he was less crazy than she thought he was. Or maybe he was just extraordinarily good at concealing his wisdom behind a veneer of insanity. Either way, she was now sprinting as fast as she could, long legs meaning that she was more than capable of matching pace with the rest of the group. They burst into the building, the elf finding herself a little rattled.

She had realized something, on that street. The connection between the mysteries of this town. Running a hand through her hair, which the accursed sleet had done nothing to help her with, she checked herself down, making sure that she hadn't been too bad. Now then.

What was this place doing as boarded up and abandoned as it was?
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
@Hekazu The Unnamable
It was over. Finally so. It was over. "Good things come to those who wait, patience is rewarded", the man mumbled to the puppet sitting on the hand concealed within it. George turned his head towards his handler and nodded, the hunched form of his handler swiping the newly blood covered cudgel on the at last unmoving corpse, removing the worst of it before placing the instrument of directed violence back under the tattered coat. Now that the immediate threat was dealt with, there was more that needed attending to. One of these things would be their guide.

It had been awfully inconvenient of the man to die, that much had to be said. "Very well George, if you say a closer look is in order", the puppeteer would confirm with the raven haired doll and walk onward, checking the extent of the wounds on the man laying in the dirt and stinging sleet. "Not too good, but not too bad. You are correct George, you are correct indeed", the man resumed rambling and grabbed the deceased by the collar, starting to drag them towards their haven of safety.

The act of dragging was slow, and with the ever looming threat of falling to the acidic rain alternative means for this act were called for. With the broken rows of teeth bit together, the mind behind those purple eyes focused on a matter it had not bothered with for quite some time now. And the pathways of this reality were open to it, to both traverse and alter as seen fit. A foot was brought forward, and a piece of the road from several feet away rushed under the man's foot to carry them onwards, thrusting them to the hands of another piece. To those watching, the sudden burst in speed would be difficult to even follow, but what little could be made out was a blurry figure of both the puppeteer and the man being dragged, only with the slight sensation of something being wrong. But it was over soon, and the man would open the door and enter the building Sebastian had already brought the kid in.

Ignoring any adverse reactions of the child, the corpse of the guide would be dragged away from the door to make space and flopped off to the side. There had been no suspicious flashes in the mirror. There was a quick look around, but with no imminent threats remaining, the puppeteer would allow George another look at the corpse. "Yes George, all in due time. Good things come to those who wait", the puppeteer would confirm, before turning to face the spiral staircase. "But you are right, those crocodile tears are most infuriating."

>The Unnamable uses three (3) psi to use the Nomad's Step discipline, teleporting for 60 feet after dragging the corpse of the guide for 30 feet. With his focus having been shifted to said discipline, he gains an additional 10 feet of speed which is used to enter the safety of the building walls. Bonus action goes to mystic recovery once more. The Unnamable and the corpse of the Vistani guide Markus are now inside, near the door.
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
Egil
He gasped for life. Once more.

The champion's filthy fingers clenched a groundful of burning powder as he rose to his aching feet, savoring the same abandoned world.

Again. But now with an angel?

It had been a hellish eternity since Egil had awakened from that butcher's block, eartagged and covered in stained rags. He traced the incisions on his face that this nightmare, mystically disecting from Old Svalich Woods to Barovian Village.

Remained veracious. Just as clear as the heavenly command.

"Seek shelter. Now!"

His body heeded this beckon, following the connaissant movements of a previous villainous occupation. That ever familiarity of streets and their imputrid kind burdened him with the title of Vine of Vaasa, a gradual vigilantism that bore no fruit amongst the forsaken nation of his birth. The bestowed moniker became a mockery to the famous noose he had knotted for the many that refused to devoutly bend the knee to the corrupt theocracy, his lips swore to protect. Egil betrayed the office of state executioner, sensing the cumulative turmoil of innocent blood on his unclean hands. However, no amount of righteousness would rid the sands of sin that blinded his soul's eye.

Until now.

The fighter accepted the unwelcomed redemption, dashing furiously to the moaning house, where Sebastian and Lucian curiously entered. The relinquished pony whinnied, urging him also unto inner safety.

>Each player gains their next level's max HP before suffering acid sleet x 1, in the assumed lieu of reaching the destined canopy. The Tavern likely appears to be across the road from where they are, about another 120 feet away. Anala's manservant has taken the child inside to tend to his wounds and to escape from any possible further threats in the streets of the village of Barovia.

As each party member enters, there is a foyer with a spiral staircase. Many rooms are boarded and barricaded except a second story where an incessant wail of melancholy ignores the below barge of all.
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
@Zverda Anala Attor
She was tired of the troll managing to get up and shrug off attack after attack, it was infuriating and frankly? She was ready for these things to be done. Ignoring the monstrosity for now, she struck out at the two Zombies that had come with it, her firebolt smacking them both squarely, which was a relief all on it's own and she was pleased to see that some further damage was being done to the slightly less worrisome creatures that the rain was beating down. It wasn't as wonderful as taking out a Troll, but it was something, even if she didn't kill these things.

>Anala hits the normal zombies with firebolt, 2nd Zombie takes 6 damage while the 3rd takes a piddly 1.

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious
Clack... The blades reformed themselves around the central whip.

Clack... She spun the scourge around slowly, but building up more and more speed.

Clack... The blades themselves stiffened in their position as the weapon swung around
towards the undead titan that the group had been battling.

Clack clack clack clack... The first blades bit deep into the flesh of the creature's neck, but then they began... Locking themselves into its putrid hide. The scourge curled around the throat of the creature, and even in its undead form, it realised that something was badly wrong. Fingers came up to tear the weapon away, but as soon as they made contact with the blades attached to the whip, it let out a howl, fingers spattering black fluid down onto the ground.

Then she whipped her arm back. At first, the pressure strained against her, but she persevered. The troll itself was spun around, its back facing her, and she planted a leg onto it. Pulling harder, the pressure mounted... Mounted... Mounted... Then like a broken dam, unable to hold back any longer, it was released. The head of the creature came spinning off like a hurled discus, and the weapon she was carrying made a bullwhip like crack.

She wanted to make sure the creature was dead however. The blades of the scourge twisted themselves around, the glasslike substance reforming itself into a blade almost as long as the woman wielding it was formed. Placing a foot over the gurgling stump that had been the head of the creature, the elf plunged the blade down into it's chest, and twisted hard.

The undead abomination let out one last great twitch, and then its arms fell still once more, the bindings of her hex were released, the energy that the creature once had flowed into her, and she felt the bubbling of her skin that had been brought on by the accursed sleet here fade from her.

Now. Who was next to fall?

>Mhyrienne finally gets to actually kill something using her warlock powers. The Undead Troll takes 14 damage, failing its Undead Fortitude roll and dying for good. Her Hexblade's Curse activates, and grants her six life, and her longsword changes forms into a longsword.

Zaerith Dustborn
Perpetual insomnia plagued these silhouettes of false life. Zaerith could smell that now, as the other elvish caster decapitated and impaled the mutilator of Markus. The severed head rolled, due to a mystical momentum still from the warlock's malleable weapon. Its pupils still possessed no fear nor apprehension.

Just ravenous hunger.

The trickster's sword pirouetted, slashing the next victim, with its lethal pitch. Yet, the frayed flesh of the zombie withstood the resurrected rogue's bladesong, deaf to mortal wounds and Death's subpoenas. The verdict was delivered with the wizard's razor sharp gavel, but the defendant seemed only to be shackled by its starving undeath.

>Zaerith 'kills' Zombie 3, but it makes its Undead Fortitude CON save, keeping it at 1 HP.

@Hekazu The Unnamable
It would have been a lie to say that the pace of things one had never seen before appearing right there in the field of view of the puppeteer would have slowed down. No, there was more and more one did not quite understand, but amidst all of it a few realities reminded everyone of their existence. The biggest monster was down, even if the means it had been handled by eluded the understanding of both George and their human. A weapon that shifted so freely in the hands of its wielder? One would have thought they'd seen it all with the outlandish approaches back... no, this was no time to fall upon memories and wonder. There were still two lesser threats to quash.

Having once retreated, close combat could not be avoided any longer. The man rushed down the street for those few steps that needed to be taken. A cudgel was raised, and then lowered onto what was left of the head of the opponent already sporting an open skull. Just like back on the docks, with the notable exceptions of brains already running wild and none of the strikebreakers having been quite this ugly. Not to mention the nauseating puff of fumes that thanked the assailant for this effort. And despite the fact this... creature was now missing more than half of its head, its eyes seemingly ready to drop out of their sockets at any given moment, it refused to go. "These are quite worrisome George, not that you would not have said so by now..." the cudgel wielder would mutter to their companion.

>The Unnamable moves to flank Zombie #3 with Zaerith, hits his attack with a total of 20 and deals 4 damage is foiled by Undead Fortitude.

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin
Hells. What was he doing? He'd let his anger get the better of him, his desire to see the undead brought low; and for that, one he'd thought was safe enough found himself nearly dead, nearly a repeat of the loss of their guide. And who noticed? He alone, it seemed; the rest remained absorbed in the destruction of the dead, those he'd thought to end with his outburst of power, even as the prime danger was brought low by Mhyrienne - right next to Egil, no less! Was she so concerned with the glory of the kill that an ally dying right next to her was of no concern?

Follow her lead. You alone can destroy these undead with certainty.

'Silence,' he bade under his breath, to himself rather than to any others. Markus' end had come swiftly, with no warning and no means of prevention without foresight; by contrast, if he allowed Egil to perish in this heinous rain, or worse to the undead that sought his end, his blood would be on his hands forever more. Knowing full-well that it'd draw attention, he broke free of the battle against the undead the drunken monk dueled, its foul claws scraping off of his mail, and he rushing on swift wings to Egil's aid and applying a dose of healing to him, enough to cure his wounds and bring him back to consciousness. Though if the rain had any say in the matter...

'Seek shelter, now!' he implored, pointing Egil toward the cover Sebastian and Lucian had taken. He would not allow Egil to risk his life further against the undead, nor to perish himself in this acidic rain when he could hardly bear the wounds to begin with. The dead could wait, especially when others could take them down in their time.

>Talran moves below Egil, provoking an attack of opportunity from Zombie 1. He uses Lay on Hands upon Egil to heal him for 5 HP, bringing Egil out of unconsciousness, and leaving himself with six points of healing until after his next long rest. He will use his reaction to guard Egil or Mhyrienne from the first attack made toward either of them, if Egil does not move toward Sebastian/Lucian's shelter.

@Irredeemable Orhvin Yi
He felt woozy all of a sudden. Very, very sudden. That wasn't the alcohol hitting him- passing out thanks to booze was an old familiar friend, no, this was something else. He had barely time to react to the claws of the zombie raking into him before he fell down to the ground, head hitting the cobbles with a nasty sounding thump.

When he awoke, it was because his face was burning. The freezing cold acidic weather had shocked him into awakening... And that zombie was reaching down to claw him in the face again. Oh no. He didn't scramble so much as he did lurch forwards, placing a foot on the undead creature's knee. Then, using his quarterstaff to spring himself upwards, he placed another foot on the creature's stomach, and finished the maneuver with a kick upside the creature's jaw, snapping its head back with a spray of gelatinous black fluid.

It wasn't down yet, but he didn't care. Using the momentum that he had gained from running up the creature, he pushed down hard on the top of his quarterstaff, launching himself upwards into the sky. He had to time this perfectly, and whilst he would have liked to have done something fancy in its stead... He didn't trust his injured body to work for him like that.

So instead, he did what he was good at. Which, in this case, was coming down, knee-first, on the head of the creature below him now. Having sailed over the head of the sorry individual that had magically knocked him out, he felt the skull of the second zombie cave in beneath his knee, the magic and matter that held it together falling apart at the concussive force. With a shudder that ran through the Genasi's teeth, he looked at the zombie that had succeeded in mauling him.

That kick hadn't taken him out of the fight. This would. Darting past his ally, seemingly swerving around them, he used the momentum from his circular motion to spin, extending his foot as he did so. The creature, hit again in the chest by his foot, was sent backwards into the wall of the house letting out a foul screech as it did so.

It was finished, he knew it. Snatching his quarterstaff, which hadn't even finished falling from where he had powered himself off from it, he turned to his opponent and bowed down in mock-respect, just as the creature fell forwards in a pile of rotten limbs.

>Orhvin finishes things. End of Combat.
In Ravenloft. Revisited. → 6 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Roleplay
@Zverda Anala Attor
Anala let out a muffled noise, wrinkling her nose as the troll roared at them and causing the putrid smell of death and decay wash over those who stood near it. The undead had no finesse to them, they were disgusting and stank far worse than any chamber pot the noble woman had ever come across. Taking advantage of the roar, she sent a bolt of fire down it's throat, ceasing the action almost immediately. At first, the Troll staggered, looking as if it may fall as the fire took it's toll on the insides, but it seemed that the moisture of such a disgusting thing stopped the fire from taking alight and burning the thing from the inside out. Instead, an attack that was meant to kill the beast, was barely beaten by the creatures fortitude alone. What a sad thing indeed when it should have perished where it should, alas, those who have mastered the Arcane do not always win the victory of the last blow at every turn.

>Anala casts firebolt for 8 dmg, Troll barely passes its save with a 14 (DC 13) leaving him standing with 1 health.

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious
She lashed out with her scourge, the blades themselves singing as they swung through the air. The blades dug deep into the troll's chest, and she laughed in satisfaction as she ripped it out. There was a spray of foul black blood, and the troll stumbled a little... But there was no rush. No return of her vitality, and she could feel her curse still focusing the individual down. It hadn't... It hadn't died?

"WHAT?" She looked at the creature, furious. Cracking her weapon, the blood spattering down onto the sleet-covered stones, she began spinning it idly around. They had to finish this creature before it overwhelmed them.

>Mhyrienne barely scratches the troll, and once again it passes the save and fails to go down for good.

Zaerith Dustborn
Thunder thrice asunder belted and swept over the rogue, gurgling time as the afternoon beamed and the sleet burned. The usual tragedy of a restless slumber, without rotten lily nor pushing daisy, in the resilient mold of those that were never satiated, prompted a sneer across Zaerith's cheeks. He too was hazily familiar with the enterprise of an undead fortitude all too well, never encountering a graceful planar stairwell into the afterlife.

Oh! To adjourn from the mortal cares of one’s existence, to be ruled by grace and justice in the next.

No...

His lips were soon adorned with a lurid blue, as the curdling ocean of color washed from his smile, throned on the overthrown setting of Mhyrienne's laughter. His remnant exhalations were mild cemeteries, full of bones which jostled when the tomb of his face, resurrected a wind, every now and again, that howled in and out, between the teeth of his living corpse. The foul fragrance of death which filled his final inhalation coerced hungry feet to become limp, as the rapier pierced the penetrating white dampness. The commerce of constitution amongst the zombies retaliated as the absence of their ids briskly fought off sleep, imparting a neglected tranquility of souls obscene.

>Zaerith casts Sleep. Zombies 1, 2 and 3 have the lowest HP in the 20 foot zone and altogether are cumulatively exactly 30. Zombie 1 - 16 HP. Troll - 1 HP. Zombie 3 - 13. However, Zaerith was not aware the Undead are in fact immune to Sleep. Since Orhvin has 17 HP and Zaerith is of elvish heritage, the monk becomes a little too tipsy.

@Hekazu The Unnamable
Something right peculiar took place just now. Despite the heavy beating aimed towards the giant among the enemy, it refused to go down. And the last of it all, as another spell was launched, it only managed to fell an ally... or perhaps the drunkard was simply too drunk to stay on his feet even at a time as stressful as this. Indeed, seeing hunters drunk on gin falling asleep mid trigger pull had been the source of great amusement for the puppet wielding man once upon a time, but right now? Things were a fair bit too rotten to draw fun out of such matter.

No, it would be better to simply see this to an end. With all the battering the largest opponent had already taken, it was only a matter of time before it would truly succumb. And where there was a will, there was a way. "You are right George, as always. It must be done", the man mumbled as the purple eyes flared ever brighter. But there was nothing to be seen flying. Only once the creature's head burst open and a few stray globules of their brain burst out of the shell was any actual effect seen.

But alas, no such luck as to succeed. "It will be broken next time George, it will...", the puppeteer nearly drew blood as their sparse teeth dug into their lip. It was only a matter of time. It could not endure an endless onslaught.

>The Unnamable uses three (3) psi on the Psionic Assault discipline once more, now invoking forth the Psionic Blast. It hits automatically for 15 damage, but regrettably the target saves exactly against the damage with their Undead Fortitude. His Bonus Action is expended on Mystical Recovery once again, recovering him to full HP.

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin
Blow after blow the troll was struck by, be it physical or no; and yet, the damnable thing simply wouldn't perish! Yet a glance told him Sebastian was moving quickly enough that he and Lucian would escape the acidic downpour, just before the boy fell afoul of it, with time enough for Talran to head to them and secure their safety after the fact. Which left the imperishable undead to the tender mercies of the group...

He knew what he had to do.

'My god is not merciful to your kind, fiends!' he cried, feeling his strength welling within him, a power he'd known lurked ever since he could remember, just waiting to come forth. 'I bring Helm's word with me - and that word is "Begone"!'

And with that, Talran's angelic heritage burst forth, light pouring from his eyes as two wings flared out of his shoulderblades, propelling him about the troll's mass to match the threat - specifically, that which concerned the downed drunkard's safety, for Egil now proved himself more than fit to protect himself.

And that familiar voice, normally only heard in his dreams, spoke: Bring low that which ought to die yet.

>Divine power wells forth within Talran, and he has used his action to activate his Radiant Soul racial ability. For the next minute (ten turns), he has a flying speed of thirty feet, and can deal extra Radiant damage equal to his level once per turn when dealing damage. He has also flown around the troll to just below the zombie targeting Orhvin, an effort to safeguard him from both the regular zombies and the troll, and will use his reaction to inflict Disadvantage on the next attack targeting Orhvin.

Egil
The sudden luminance of an angel blinded the champion, erring a misplaced strike. Such a radiance belonged to Talran, the Aasimar knight of Helm, revealing its brilliant radiance as he beckoned his deity's promise. To rid of the profane facsimiles of life and virtue.

Then, the paladin ascended impressively.

Only to land near the napping roof lounger. The glowing wings guaranteed protection and fury against any that would lay a wicked hand upon the now powdered monk, the acid settling now on his breezy skin. The caustic snow threatened to increase its increment, whilst the boy and his chaperone bolted to the owner of the moans.

“My Geeeeeeertrude! Whyyyyyy? Ohhhhhhhhh.”

The enunciation of the dwelled consonance chilled the child’s spine, as the pony and its saddled duo hurdled beneath the frosty awning.

>Egil misses. Sebastian and Lucian arrive at their destination.

The lessers of the trio swiped against the paladin and the trickster to no avail. The sleet did not deter the famished threesome, however, as the largest amongst them tore into the thorny vine of Vaasa, felling the fighter onto stones cobbled with snowy silt. Just as in the expired Vistani, the troll followed in kind and mounted a licked bite upon Egil, hoping to garner two meals in this stormy battle.

>The Troll saves against the Acid Sleet and is again at 1 HP. The other zombies take their damage, but miss their targets. The Troll then downs another NPC. As a consequence, Egil has 2 failed Death Saves.

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