Noise Complaint
Log Info
- Title: Noise Complaint
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Bannon, Smuldur, Wu, Lysos, Lokir, Ashes, Lynn, Lyme
- Place: The Redridge Mountains
- Time: Monday, July 06, 2020, 9:22 PM
- Summary: The Explorer's Guild sends a party of adventurers to check out a strange noise in the Red Ridge Mountains. After a day of travel and an uneventful night, they explore deeply into the canyons. A giant, pale worm erupts from the ground and is identified as a baby purple worm. Battle ensues, with the party dispatching it. They aren't given much time to contemplate, as several more larval worms erupt to devour the corpse. They leave, but not without being informed by Mourner Ashlee that there was something otherworldly about that baby worm.
-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Bannon 5'9" 195 Lb Human Male A shorter man of Tsuran heritage, with a thin moustace and goatee. Smuldur 3'4" 45 Lb Goblin Male A gently used (cut, scraped, burnt, exploded) gobber. Wu 5'6" 155 Lb Human Male Elderly Xian male with a drifting eye and cataracts Lysos 5'6" 105 Lb Human/Tsuran Female Dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin, a jotun-sized chip on the shoulder. Lokir 5'4" 140 Lb Wild Elf Male Dark eyes, dark hair, and dark stubble. Pointed ears. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face Lynn 5'2" 115 Lb Half-Elf Female A small statured, tanned woman with brown hair/eyes. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= =-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Lb Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Good news, everyone!
You've been hired!
Your mission sounds fairly simple: travel out of Alexandria to the Red Ridge Mountains, the range which seperates the fertile lands of Alexandros proper from the wreckages of the lands called the Desolation, and explore a particular canyon and find out what's making the strange noises that have been reported for the last week by travellers from the area. Given the concerns over what could be making these noises, you are not necessarily to engage or try to solve the problem.
They just want some idea what's going on, and enough of you to ensure oyur own safety if things go weird. Demons, after all, have been a recent poblem in the city and in the mountains for some time now thanks to various factions such as Eclavdran and Asumit, the so-called Demon Binder who rules from the ancient seat of Skald in the Desolation itself.
And so here you are, on horseback, trotting through the countryside. You've been at it a while, and you've had a chance to introduce yourselves to each other and talk, at least a bit. The summer sun hangs low in the sky and you're going to want to think about finding a place to camp before it starts to get much darker.
It took him a minute, as he's not been on horseback for some time, but Bannon has eventually found a certain level of comfort with the beast as the beast has with him. He finds that if he doesn't get too pushy, he'll generally be taken in the right direction. This is more due to a horse's herd mentality than any particular skill the airman has. He has passed the time in a mixture of telling about his early years in the Vast, his time on the ship, his thoughts on Alexandria, and the occassional joke. Every so often, he glances towards the skyline where the sun is sinking into the horizon. Each time, shortly after, he frowns.
Back. Flank. Head. Tail. It's all part of the horse, so it all counts as riding, yes? Technically dangle, when Smuldur holds onto the tail. Trot-thump. Trot-thump.
"Skyfire burning out..." He points at the sunset, then reaches with his free hand to pull a torch out of his waist bag. Always best to be prepared!
Wu is near the end of the line of horses, riens slack as the beast under him follows those in front. The older man has a sort of care-free additude, whistling low and soft to himself as they ride. One eye looking one way the second looking the other. Should have all the area under watch then, right? "Skyfire? Sun ya mean. Welp..Spose it's time to be getting a camp going on if that's the case."
Lysos is not what one might call a quiet one. What time wasn't spent introducing herself to folks she hasn't met yet or hasn't properly conversed with she spends trying to catch up on with those she knows, at least passingly. Except maybe Ashes. Not that she dislikes the arvek, but it's possible, maybe gleaned from the way Lysos watches her sidelong sometimes, that she's not entirely sure the vardaman is not in fact partly undead. Oh, and there's singing as well. She's not shy about sharing songs from the Vast.
Lokir clomps along, one hand on his mule's reigns, the other holding a potato for munching. Clearly, he is here in his professional capacity as a connoisseur of noise. "No need for flame yet. To catch a noise, it helps if it doesn't see you coming..." Lokir holds up his potato for emphasis, it's many eyes scanning the road ahead like a dutiful sentry...at least, where it hasn't been nibbled.
Ash, the grey avec nar with the skull tattoo on her face, is surprisingly comfortable in the saddle. Or perhaps, not surprising, given her heritage. She rides comfortably and insisted on a pale one. She's been silent most of the ride, beyond the introductions, and concentrated on looking around. She's also chosen to ride close to Lysos, and the lack of conversation sent her way hasn't made an impression on her. Listening is fine.
Riding a horse isn't the problem, the people are the problem, but Lynn is probably not dressed for this. Seemingly here on a whim the young woman has handled herself riding so far fine, but her normally colorful outfit is getting dusty. She's been generally pleasant during the ride, talking when spoken too and exchanging pleasantries.
Now, Lynn sighs as she brushes something off her sleeve with a small wrinkle of her nose. Looking over towards Wu, Lynn nods in agreement. "Camping sound, well lovely." She intones and gazes about the area as if a camping spot will jump out of thin air. Her lips curl up in a bad attempt to hide a grin at Lokir's words as she raises an eyebrow and just has to nod again, "Catching a noise now? Something has to be making it, but your point stands."
GAME: Lokir rolls survival: (15)+1: 16 GAME: Smuldur rolls survival: (9)+6: 15 GAME: Bannon rolls survival: (8)+1: 9 GAME: Ashes rolls survival: (9)+3: 12 GAME: Wu rolls survival: (12)+7: 19 GAME: Lysos rolls survival: (16)+2: 18 GAME: Lynn rolls survival: (10)+0: 10
It isn't terribly hard to find a place to camp, that's for sure. Soon enough you've moved off to the roads to a more remote area and located a comfortable clearing in which to pitch tents or sleep under the stars as to your preference. A small fire to ward away dangers is built, and soon enough you're camped in for the evening as the dark begins to encroach. Ea's moon, Eluna, rises into the sky.
All in all, it's a good, comfortable summer night and no danger has reared its head.
Yet.
Making camp is very important! Smuldur drops from his horse to skitter about, mostly to the center. To help. "Make fire!" All it takes are some leaves. Sticks. Borrowed horsehair. Some tindertwigs. A soupcon of Alchemist's Fire. And, of course, his torch!
Wu leans back with his feet crossed and pointed towards the fire, back against a log. He looks content and happy after having eaten and rests his crossbow across his lap. "Was a decent meal for trail-stuff. Been too long fer me. Years."
"Are we going to share tents?" Ash asks, staring at Lysos, "or watches? I can see in the dark."
She seems open to doing either, or both. Staring off into space or at other people has been most of her activity today. Also, grooming her horse, she gave it a lot of attention once the group stopped. She grooms all the horses if she's allowed, which would mean stopping her as she didn't ask permission, simply starting on them once she finished with her own.
Pitching in to help make camp, many hands make for less work. Once the fire is started, all have ate, and people are settling down, Bannon nods quickly to Wu, "It wasn't bad." He gets up and moves out to the edge of the camp, just within range of the light, to practice with that rapier he carries. As he practices, he can be heard adding back to the conversation, "I'll take a watch. It doesn't matter which to me."
Lokir spears his potato with an arrow and stakes the arrow into the ground, providing the group with a dutiful, silent sentry. "I grew up in the wilds. My ancestors were of nature and the hunt. I too will be happy to take a silent, tuneless watch." Lokir casually shrugs off his composite bow and lets it comfortably hang in his left hand.
"I," Lysos announces, "cannot see in the dark." She opens her mouth to say something further, then, looking at Ashes, she closes it. Changes her mind and then nods, offering the arvek a wide smile instead. "I can use some magic to help warn us of anyone trying to ruin our sleep, though. And if we're sharing tents, do we get to pick? I pick Mourner Ashlee. I'm pretty sure she doesn't snore."
GAME: Lysos casts Alarm. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16
Not willing to stop Ashe if she is willing to groom her horse, Lynn smiles and gives a grateful, "Thank you muchly." She looks around the clearing to get her bearings and people watches as she does. Helping to cook, she then settles into watching people again before admitting, "I can be part of first watch, far to awake to sleep anyways." Her eye move to watch the rapier Bannon holds, following it closely before shrugging, "Silent, tuneless watchsounds boring but effective. Oh sharing, if we have to I promise I don't snore either."
It seems you chose a good spot, tonight, as nothing terrible happens during your rest and the guard is never needed and the alarm is never set off. The worst that happens is that yoiu're beset by the occasional mosquito which, really, is bad enough.
It's just that time of year.
Morning next rolls around and breakfast is had and then you're on your way again east, riding into the rising sun and towards the distant mountains which, by noon, are starting to loom considerably closer.
Ashlee seems quite happy and rested in the morning. She did not snore. She actually does makeup. The skull seems to be a part of her skin, making it unnaturally white, while her normal tone is a warm grey, except for her nose which is black. Her eye-sockets seem to require darkening, and the little colourful decorations such as vines, small flowers or the occasional bee are put on each day. Today, she adds a bee. And offered Lysos one if she wanted.
After which there was breakfast, mounting up, riding, where she returned to her silent staring at things and watching the mountains grow closer.
Wu looks about and hmms softly to himself. "We sure are traveling at a slow pace. Them hills ahead have hardly gotten any closer. We doing so sort of zig-zag path thing. Gentle type of zig-zag. Turns the road longer, ya see." uh-huh..right..
Smuldur snorted awake after snoring a good part of the night (but not as much during his watch) then is bouncing along on the horse with everyone else soon enough. All towards the loomy mountains, which makes them even more loomy.
Ever the lucky one, Bannon drew one of the late watches, and looks to be fresh in the saddle as they mount up and ride off. Thanks to a good bit of snoring done by a certain other member of the adventuring party, he's faking it. Every so often, he does look towards the mountains as well, causing him to look back when Wu mentions what he does, "They seem to be getting closer to me. It's an optical illusion, I think. It's why airships don't fly so close to mountains."
Lokir is back to clomping, fresh potato in hand. The morning involved a solemn burial of the night's guard, with the inevitable promise that future generations would soon dot the land as a result of their adventurous ancestor.
Lokir avoids singing, despite his inclination. Instead, he lets his mule tap out a rhythm in the soil, and keeps eyes peeled for a worthwhile quarry.
Having taken one of the first watches Lynn slept like the dead the rest of the night and is peppy and ready to go in the morning. She punctuates this with a bit of humming and sing-songing, "Mornin" to anyone that looks in her direction. She watches Ashlee done her makeup and offers quietly, "I like the bee, very lovely." Riding along the young woman taps her toes in her slippers and raises an eyebrow at the distance talk, offering quietly and jokingly, "Maybe the mountains are moving in the opposite direction?" She shrugs and goes back to her quiet hummed song.
Lysos does, in fact, take Ashlee up on her offer and thanks her.. so once the group is riding again, she's sporting a small flower. She tries not to keep touching it. And having gotten a full night's rest, she is quite chipper. Especially after a quick breakfast. Up on her horse, she is back to singing occasionally, telling stories to pass the time. "I thought they don't let airships fly so close because of demon attacks."
"Ships not fly to mountains because crash," Smuldur shares infinite gobber wisdom, "and explode." He looks up and around to see if there are any airships that might try anyhow. Explode isn't a bad thing.
Fionally, judging by the maps you were given, you're getting closer. First into the hills, then into the rugged mountainous terrain that follows. At this point, you're going to need to leave your horses behind. These grounds are far too treacherous for them, so you're soon on foot.
Into the afternoon, you press, climbing higher and higher into treacherous, rocky and rugged terrain.
Finally, the paths begin to narrow and you're *finally* in the right area. There's the canyon, by tne map, a vast and empty rocky expanse that you can pick your way down into carefully.
There are a lot of rocks here, alongside a couple of mountain streams. Nothing terribly unusual for this type of terrain.
"Thanks," Ashlee eventually tells Lynn, it taking a few hours for her to realize compliments should be returned, or at least acknowledged. She dismounts, patting her horse and leaning in to whisper to it, promising to be back soon. Glancing up, she squints and shades her eyes. "I should have brought my parasol."
She looks around, looking ready to follow and not about to strike out on her own. She hitches her small satchel up on her shoulder. "We aren't planning to split up, are we?"
Lokir is happy to be back on his own two feet, letting his mule get back to its own worthwhile endeavours. Bow in one hand, potato in the other, Lokir snacks as he walks, keen elvish senses on alert for any noise, mundane or magical. Occasionally, his potato hand twitches, as Lokir makes the requisite moves for the cantrip of magical detection of magical magic.
GAME: Lynn rolls perception: (20)+2: 22 GAME: Bannon rolls Perception: (17)+8: 25 GAME: Wu rolls perception: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Lokir rolls perception: (7)+7: 14 GAME: Lysos rolls perception: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Ashes rolls perception: (8)+3: 11 GAME: Smuldur rolls perception: (4)+8: 12 GAME: Lyme rolls perception: (6)+4: 10
Lyme has been very non-descript for a large oruch, walking along as quietly as possible and not talking, not sharing. He's just... there.
Lysos is supposed to be keeping an eye out for things. Or at least an ear. And maybe she thinks she is. Of course, telling stories in an animated way, waving her arms.. pointing.. even laughing at parts she thinks are funny really don't synergize well with actually looking for things. "Oh, this reminds me of that time when Borjo thought he would find an actual genie in some hills our wagons were passing by..."
You haven't been here terribly long when you hear it first.
A sound, echoing through the canyon, like rocks being ground together, a terrible, discomfiting and echoinging *grining* sound. Scratching.
It takes a while, but with some searching, Bannon and Lynn are able to begin leading the way to its source. The echo makes it hard to track, and thus, you're travelling deeper into the canyon and closer to that loud, loud noise.
Moving with a dancer's grace, Lynn might have the wrong footwear but she doesn't show it as she tip toes over rocks and avoids stepping on anything too painful. She smiles to Ashe and nods her head at the hours later acknowledged compliment. Lynn's humming has stopped now and she clears her throat before practically whispering, "Well that sounds scary...anyways." Nodding to Bannon she helps to take the lead. Lynn is trying to keep her footsteps quieter as she strains to listen, cupping her ear with her hand like that will help to filter out the echo somehow.
Lokir places his potato back into his sack, to give it more substantial protection in the event of battle. The fact that it frees his eating hand for notching arrows is a secondary concern to spud safety. As they hunt the source of the sound, Lokir does his best to memorize the contours of the noise, so that he might reproduce it in the future for contractual purposes and for the eventual dramatic retelling of the "Heroic Rock Hunt of Glory" for paying audiences...
Lokir shrugs, and puts a finger over his lips, old hunters instincts coming to the fore despite decades of irregular use.
Bannon nods in return to Lynn and does in fact help lead the party out into the canyon, closing his eyes every so often to concentrate on listening to the grinding noises and distinguish and echo from the real thing. As they close in, he reaches down and takes the hilt of his rapier in hand, drawing it and holding it at the ready.
Wu walks near the back of the group with his crossbow in the crook of an arm. He sighs and dips a pinky into his ear, trying to clear it out as folks talk about a noise. Only as they truely get closer does he hear it fully. "Ah! Sounds like my dearly beloved and departed wife's snoring. No wonder I didn't hear it. I'm used to ignoring it."
Smuldur spies something as they're all looking and listening about and points. "Rock!" It's not towards the sound, but at a rock he stops at.
The ashen arvec follows, also seeking the sound, and having difficulty hearing anything unusual. She is looking around. Her faded grey clothes aren't the worse thing to be wearing, that would be black, but she's getting warm and she ends up looking for shade more than listening for unusual things. If someone drops dead though, she'll know what to do! Despite her stares, she's not hoping for that.
Leading deeper into the canyon, Bannon does take a moment to mention, "I haven't ruled out it's mating season for something with a rock hard..." He pauses, taking a moment to carefully tread around a particularly difficult rock formation, "...skin texture." He then frowns, "Remember, we don't have to solve whatever this is. We can always opt to report back on it."
At least Lysos has enough sense to stop talking once that horrible, terrifying sound echoes up their way. Wu's description of the sound has her look rather askance at him. "Your.. uh.. wife. Sounds like she was a... um... remarkable woman." She can't look at him too long, perhaps because of the eyes. She doesn't meet his gaze, anyways, should he look her way. "I really don't think it's mating rocks.
Lyme follows in the pack, picking his way as carefully as he can. "Report, or solve -- either way, we ought to find out what is doing this," he adds reasonably in his bass rumble.
Lynn smirks first at Wu and a giggle escapes her, before she quiets herself again and mutters, "Not helping the listening, but that is a real talent you have there Sir." She raises an eyebrow to Wu and nods her head in agreement, "Yes a rock...texture. We could just report it and walk back, all in favor maybe a show of hands?" She asks and then grins to Lysos and shrugs, "It could be some rocks just having good clean fun too..."
Lyme opines from the back. "If there's this much grinding, I don't know how clean it is..." he trails off into subsonics. ...the ground trembles beneath your feet. Once.
...and then something happens. The ground near to you *erupts* in a shower of dirt and stone as something emerges! It looks like some... sort of... giant... worm?! A palid, almost maggot-like thing in its texture and appearance, but enormous! Easily the size of a horse!
GAME: Lysos casts Shield. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16
Lysos goes white. Just when she thinks she's starting to know what to expect, this happens. "So... gross...." she mumbles, then throws her hand out forward. "Defendarius!" Focussing on her hand and her voice, she summons a shield force into existance.. briefly flaring blue before it fades to invisibility. Then she scampers sideways to make sure she's not in anyone's way in case they want to sally forth. Also, to make sure she's not in the way of the worm should it choose to do so.
GAME: Lokir spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE.
Lokir moves to put a little distance between himself and the giant worm, bow in hand and ready to send a greeting in the direction of the beast. "Steel yourselves, folks. Remember the tale of Ser Jimothy the Earthen, whose grit and determination allowed to triumph against the Slugword Scourge. Do not falter, for the worm has no legs on which to stand...!"
<OOC> Ashes says, "Evil Eye hex it, for -2 AC. Will Save DC13, 1 round/save, 6 rounds/failed save" GAME: Ashes rolls knowledge/arcana: (16)+8: 24
Worms! Ashlee leaps into action, making a mental note that a worm would be a great addition to her skull makeup options. Perhaps even a piercing. Yes, one coming out of her lip would be fine. There's a giant one right here to take inspiration from. She moves a little closer to peer at it. Stare actually. That intense, creepy stare of hers.
Hm, A giant, disguting worm burrowing creature. What could that be, the only one she can think of is the purple worm, which is obviously massive and not pale and... oh wait a sec. It's a baby purple worn! Hard to know for sure if momma is around. But... the noises are *likely* larva in the ground! WHAT GOOD NEWS!
Then, after a moment of staring the ashen arvec speaks. Her words are even, monotone, without hurry or excitement. "Oh. It's a Larval Purple Worm. Purple Worms are known to give birth to swarms of larva. The parenting habits of a Purple Worm are not known. The mother might not be around, but the noises we're hearing are likely the result of a WHOLE BUNCH of larva beneath us."
Bannon readies himself in case it does attack.
Lyme draws his curved sword, holding the great falchion in a high guard, ready for the worm to strike.
GAME: Wu rolls ranged: (17)+5: 22 GAME: Wu rolls 1d10: (10): 10
Wu startles violently. "Goodness gracious! Look at the size of that snake!" He then bring up his crossbow and aims at it. At least the crossbow is pointed at the thing. He himself seems to be look over at Lysos for some reason. *Twang* the crossbow fires and he's already in motion to load it again as the bolt hits it square and true. "Damn. Right in the belly button. Was aiming for it's eyes."
GAME: Lynn rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Lynn rolls 1d8+1d6: (4)+(5): 9
"Clean fun toooh heck no!" Lynn yells the last part as the worm appears and her crossbow is drawn just after Wu's. She aims and hits it neat Wu's own bolt, "Aiming there, I swear, ewww that is nasty, I don't like things without legs. Did I mention that?" She shudders and reaches for another bolt, not willing to get close unless she must.
The giant worm thing rears up, is hit with crossbows, and then turns and lunges right at Wu and Lynn.
GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+8: (12)+8: 20 GAME: Lyme rolls 2d4+6: (4)+6: 10 GAME: Bannon rolls 1d20+: (15)+: 15 GAME: Bannon rolls 1d6+12: (6)+12: 18
Lyme just cuts downwards as the worm lunges, stepping back to account for its bulk. The blade turns in his hands a little as he cuts, so he opens it up but doesn't cleave it.
With his sword drawn, and standing not too far away, Bannon seems to be waiting for something to occur before he attacks, his eyes on the larval worm with curiousity. He blinks as two crossbow bolts sink into the side of the worm, and Bannon shoots a quick glare towards the two who fired, "Quit yelling. You'll attract the others." He looks back towards the worm, shakes his head, and proceeds forward in a hunch, picking up speed and waiting until the absolutely last second to dart forward into a lunge and sink his rapier into the side of the worm. Like lightning, the airman has stepped back out of his lunge and taken a step to the side, already lining up the next in his sequence of attacks.
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+9: (4)+9: 13
The worm creature rears up when it's struck by the twin crossbow bolts, it's soft and pallid flesh oozing ichor from the wounds inflicted. It lashes out with its tail towads Bannon, but it misses narrowly and in turn draws strikes from the readied forms of Lyme and Bannon himself.
It's definitely soft-skinned given the amount of ooze flowing freely out of it now.
GAME: Lysos casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+2+3+1-4: (7)+2+3+1+-4: 9 GAME: Lysos rolls 4d6: (15): 15
"Wait.. Wu! Wait don't sho...." Lysos's eyes go wide, then she ducks, fully expecting the crossbow to fire her way. A second pass, then too, and then she's looking at herself, patting herself down. "Oh thank the stars." That said she edges around sideways... trying to get out of Wu's field of vision before she looks at the worm. "Okay. Lysos. You've got this."
The Tsuran woman takes a deep breath, then says, "Flambo!" As the word lends her focus, she conjyures up a tiny point of glowing heat, then flicks her finger at the purple worm. The bead immediately stretches out, nearly connecting her hand with the worm with a beam of fire bright enough to leave a second or two of an after image.. a beam of fire that leaves a small, smoking hole in the hide of the worm.
<pre>GAME: Lokir spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE. GAME: Lokir casts Grease. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+3: (17)+3: 20
Lokir keeps up the encouraging speech. "That's right! Show the worm that we have teeth. We aren't food. We bite!" Wiggling his potato hand, the worm suddenly appears coated in black goo-it slips a little but seems to remain in balance. It'll need to take its time when slithering to not fall over, though.
<OOC> Ashes says, "evil eye hex it to have -2 to hit." GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20: (2): 2 <OOC> Ashes says, "-2 AC and -2 to hit now."
It's becoming an interesting fight! Ashlee appreciates these, and watches as the baby purple worm is stabbed, and shot, then greased up. Harsh first lessons. She continues to stand there, quietly staring, her eyes burning intensely in her dark sockets. It would be nice if it didn't bite her friends, very nice, and even without eyes it somehow becomes aware of her unsettling presence and perhaps that throws its aim off.
GAME: Wu rolls ranged +1: (10)+5+1+1: 17 GAME: Wu rolls 1d10: (2): 2
Wu aims again, taking care he lines up the shot. Staring at Lysos, no.. yes? Maybe. His wandering eyes continues to wander back and forth so it's difficult to tell.
The shot rockets out and kisses the edge of it's form and Wu crows softly as he reloads. "Right in the fanged mouth. Ooo.. I've still got it!"
GAME: Lynn rolls 1d20+4+1: (5)+4+1: 10
Lynn swings and misses, well as best as a crossbow can swing. She isn't as careful with her second shot and the bolt flies wide as she grumbles to herself. "Well frig" She curses under her breath and loads her crossbow again in attempt to still keep distance between the legless foe and herself.
GAME: Bannon rolls 1d20+9: (17)+9: 26 GAME: Bannon rolls 1d6+13: (3)+13: 16
Bannon continues to move and thrust, keeping the Giant Worm at bay and guessing. He takes another step, turning and driving the rapier deep into the body of the worm, and pulling it out a moment later. He stands on the defensive for only a moment before he launches back to the offensive, lining up his next attack.
<OOC> Lyme will swing again, this time with power attack GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+8+1-1: (9)+8+1+-1: 17 GAME: Lyme rolls 2d4+6+3+1: (5)+6+3+1: 15
Lyme cuts again, this time taking a little more space -- and he doesn't want to get all greased up, too! The cut lays it open, though!
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+8: (10)+8-2: 16
The worm rears up and snaps its teeth, missing the bite. Somehow, Ash's evil stare threw it off at the last second.
GAME: Lysos casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+2+3+1-4: (18)+2+3+1+-4: 20 GAME: Lysos rolls 4d6: (16): 16
"Stars, Wu! The worm is that way!" Lysos frantically waves at the man with one hand, pointing in an exaggerated way at the worm... then she scurries further out of his way before shouting "Flambo!" again, and striking the worm with another tight beam of fire.
GAME: Lokir rolls ranged +1 -4: (8)+5+1+-4: 10 GAME: Lokir spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE.
Lokir quickly notches and fires an arrow at the beast--only to see it bounce off the greasey layer he added to the worm's skin. Shaking his head at his own folly, Lokir exhorts his fellows to keep up the good fight. "Poke it! Prod it. Cook it! Sod it! Show that earthworm that it poked its head in the wrong tunnel, and is making far too much noise for its own good."
<OOC> Ashes says, "Evil Eye hex it for a -2 on saves" GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20: (10): 10
Ashlee continues to stare at the baby purple worm, and ponder its tragic susceptibility to magic. The first time on the surface, and all these spells. There's a little bit of wind, rippling her clothing, otherwise she stands shock still and glares at it, contemplating fate.
GAME: Wu rolls ranged +1: (20)+5+1: 26 (THREAT) GAME: Wu rolls ranged +1: (9)+5+1: 15 (confirmed) GAME: Wu rolls 2d10: (17): 17
"Everyone keeps talking about a worm. All I see is a snake! There something out there I don't see?" Wu asks as he lines up his next shot and fires. And wouldn't it look so nice if he was looking in the right direction? But no. Now that Lysos has moved he's staring at a tree. Still, the shot smack home with devistating force. Enough to pierce through it all together. "Damn it! Missed!"
GAME: Lynn rolls 1d20+4+1: (14)+4+1: 19 GAME: Lynn rolls 1d8+1d6: (3)+(1): 4
Hitting this time, Lynn manages to hit the worm and it goes down, falling to it side is a great gust of rocky dust (fitting for the rocky grinding before). Lynn look around at her companions and a frown crosses her lips as she asks, "Shall we get out of her before the kids wake up? I think it might be a solid plan" Her voice trails off as she listens again for movement, not trusting it's over.
Lokir nods. "Aye, lets bug out and get back to our contractual obligor." Lokir wiggles his fingers again, prepared to grease their exit and keep the larvae slipping and sliding as much as necessary.
Ashlee, goes over to the worm and touches it. Possibly to ensure it's dead. Afterwards she wipes the grease from the spell away on her clothes and silently returns to the group. "There's still noises."
Bannon takes a step back as the worm falls to the last of the crossbow bolts. He takes a moment to wipe the ichor off his sword before returning it to its sheath. He nods his head to Ashlee, "I'm honestly shocked they haven't burrowed up to see what all the fuss is about. I can't help but half wonder if this one broke through because it heard us." He nods, "I'd be happy with getting back to the horses!"
Lysos closes her fist and shakes it once as the worm falls still, finally. "Okay. Yes. I agree. Let's get out of here. But first..." Moving as quickly as she can, Lysos runs over beside the dead creature, knife in hand. Starting with one of the areas opened up by Lyme's wicked sword, she manages to saw out a chunk of the creature's flesh.. then stuffs it in a sack. "Okay! Let's go!"
Lyme cleans his sword on his cloak and sheathes it. "Yes, let's go." He looks askance atLysos, though. There are indeed still noises.
As Ashes touches the corpse, another larval worm springs from the earth, it's ragged maw open and biting down on the corpse of the fallen larwval.
And then another.
... and then another...
...and another...
It's at this point it is, perhaps forcibly decided, that it is time to go. A quick retreat out of the canyon seems like the best option, doesn't it? Yes, yes it does.
Because there's more.
Lyme looks around, eyes a little wide. "Well, we got dinner for them -- let's go!" Then, he makes to follow his own advice.
Wu blinks wide-eyed. "Holy...Look at all them snakes! Time ta go it is!" And turning about he makes for the hills and far away from here. "Hope our horses are still there!"
When Lysos realizes what's happening... Well, mass worm swarmings have a way of making a person second guess certain life choices. In this case, if she dies thanks to being delayed at the worm's side... that would be a regret. So, clucthing her sack she runs. She even yells it. "Run!" And she's gotten so much better at running, lately.
"We should go." Ashlee states the obvious, stepping quickly towards where the horses were left. Not a run exactly, but there's a little more urgency than she usually shows, perhaps to encourage others. When she catches up with Lysos at the horses she looks her way as she mounts up, "I'm jealous. Don't eat that piece. That wasn't a normal larval purple worm. It's been touched by something not of this world."
And Ash, she touched it too. That doesn't count. She snaps her reins expertly, and her pale horse moves off.
Lynn sighs as they move back towards the horses, her feet saved from certain disaster again. She grins now that they are heading off to report and intones, "Nasty worms...just ugh." She shivers again obviously not a fan as she chambers off.
Dramatis Personae
Bannon
The human man you espy is a colorful figure. He stands a few inches below six feet tall, with a lithe and athletic build. He is dusky skinned and brown eyed, with wild black hair that is kept to a length just below his neck and otherwise not styled in any particular fashion. He has a thin moustache extending in a graceful arch beyond the edge of his lips, and a strip of a beard that travels from the center of his lower lip to the center of his chin.
He is dressed in his working best, with the main bit of kit being a sleeveless leather jerkin that laces up the front. Beneath this is a bright blue shirt, with thin yellow stripes radiating down from the shoulders and disappearing into the gloves on his hands. Buckled to his left forarm is a buckler of a fine quality, angled in such a way as to provide protection from attacks directed at that side of his body while not interfering with his ability to move his hand and wrist. His pants are dark grey in color, tight fitting, and tuck into a pair of boots that come just above his knee. The boots seem to have additional padding or light armor at the knees. Holding the jerkin in place is a woven leather swordbelt that rests on the man's waist, carrying an intricately hilted rapier. A rectangular leather piece with several sheaths is strapped to his left thigh, with a another piece of leather running up to his swordbelt in a drop-holster configuration for carrying a few daggers.
Smuldur
Forty inches and forty-five pounds of pure, unadulterated gobber! Because adulting is hard! That's not to say that this one hasn't seen some hard days. One gray-green ear is extra floppy and missing what looks like a bite. The other one is singed almost entirely black, gnurled from scarring. The rest of him doesn't really get any better. One brow is bushy, the other hasn't grown back from the last time it was burnt off. His nose looks like it's been broken more than once, and even the warts left on it look singed. All of his exposed skin (and the tattered hides leave a fair bit of it), looks to have some sort of mark from the past: cuts, scrapes, burns, explosions.
None of this stops him from showing off his remaining teeth with a wide grin most of the time. It doesn't quiet the jangling of glass vials overflowing a partly-charred belt-sack that also serves as a loincloth. In addition to the overpowering might of normal gobber smells, he reeks of smoke and oils.
Wu
Standing tall despite his advancing age, this man reaches roughly five and a half feet in height. The years tell true on the Xian man's face and hair. His face lined with crows feet and the start of more serrious wrinkles while his once black hair is more salt then pepper. His eyes are dark in color, black or brown but it is difficult to tell which as the surface of his eyes are blocked by cataracts and one eye drifts out of center down and to the side.
He wears a old but servicable chain shirt that falls over rugged black pants tucked into black leather boots. Kitted out as if off to adventure or to war he has a wide weapons belt with two daggers and a long blade on his side. A buckler is strapped to his left arm and over his shoulders are both his pack and a heavy crossbow that's seen lots of love and attention. A quiver hangs from the right side of his belt.
Lysos
A Tsuran of average height and the typical olive skin of her people. Dark, wavy hair is mostly tamed by a leather thong binding it behind the base of her neck, though a few locks remain free to frame her face. A mouth that seems to want to smile, but doesn't dare. Dark eyes both wary and tired, not quite haunted but far from care-free. Overall an expression that suggests she expects the worst.
Clothes are what would be expected on a traveler. A brown leather vest worn over a dust-stained cotton blouse. Brown woolen skirts, divided for riding and walking, and soft traveler's boots. The clothes don't quite fit, like if someone were expecting to grow in to them. Or didn't have much of a chance to adjust them.
Lokir
Lokir's eyes are deep brown pools, while his hair is the same shade of aged bark. A perpetual scruff coats his cheeks and jawline. Standing 5'4", his compact and lithe frame suggest the coiled energy of a hunter. Yet his smile and eyes sparkle with a playful eagerness, as though the chain mail he wears and artful composite bow he carries are necessary but unwanted burdens in a perpetual quest to find a legendary good time.
Ashes
She has a skull for a face.
On second glance it is a tattoo, white on her warm grey skin. Her nose is a coal black patch while her hair is a lighter, cooler grey. The hair has wavy, thick strands that clump together. Piercings and other decorations enhance her markings, creating a sugar skull, a festive death. Ashlee Ciaradh is not festive. She is a quiet, somber Arvec Nar. A little creepy. It's the way the hollows around her eyes are emphasized, her stare. The heavy jaw with all the teeth tattoos.
There's a chill around her, one unlike that caused by cold weather. A quietness of the tomb. Her clothes are dark, a short half-jacket over a shirt with dark slacks. She has a very battered bag slung over her shoulder, one that seems older than she is.
Ashes looks at you.
Lynn
A dark brown-haired woman with equally chocolate colored eyes. She has a rounded face and a slightly pointed chin with full lips coupled with a tiny, straight nose. Her dark brown locks streaked with lighter brown are normally braided, falling to her mid back. Dark lashes surround her large brown eyes. The petite woman stands around five foot two inches and is willowy in nature with longer limbs despite her short stature. Her dark coloring is complimented by tanned skin.
She is wrapped in a fabric dyed in various colors of purple, an empire waist dress that then falls in layers of different silks fashioned to resemble a flower. The bodice of the dress is cut high and proper, tightly bounding the woman's chest so it has no chance of slipping as she moves and stops below her arms leaving her shoulders bare. Sheer bell sleeves start halfway down her upper arm and stop just covering her hands when her arms are down. Dark purple slippers can just be seen under the skirt when she moves.
Lyme
This is undoubtedly an oruch -- his skin is black as night and glossy, his ears are large, swept slightly and pointed. More importantly, at least in oruch circles, his hair is thick, black and lustrous -- if nothing else, he cares for his hair. It hangs to his shoulders, pushed back from his face carefully. Matching the mane is a thick, black beard -- again, it looks like he oils it and trims it away from his mouth and very oruch pointy teeth. Admist this monochrome presentation, his eyes are grey and piercing. Also, he's broad for an oruch and tall, thickly muscled, even if it's hidden most of the time.
In the city, he wears a well-tailored jacket, over pants and well-worn boots. On a job, he wears a combination of leather, quilted cotton, and a breastplate, armoured skirt, greaves, elbow guard and vambraces. It's not fully articulated plate armour in the Myrrish style, but it's close. Accompanying this is a beatifully-made two-handed falchion, with leather over cord on the grip. Along with the falchion, he carries a bundle of javelins slung across his back. Generally, over all of this until it's needed, he wears a blue-grey cloak.
Combat Stuff
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
>> 25 Lysos 1 <<
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18 Lokir 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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18 Ashes 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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10 Bannon 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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9 Lyme 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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8 Wu 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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7 Lynn 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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5 Smuldur 1
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4 Giant Worm Thin
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