Jackals at Our Gate
The Greater Alexandros area has been drowned in snow. In the last two weeks, it is almost simply not let up, but today is a particularly vicious example of it. The white drift is blown so hard by the wind that visibility has been robbed from you, limited barely past what your fingertips can reach. All here have binded together by chance, met upon the road, and rushing toward Alexandria in hopes of escaping the worst of the storm.
That plan was dashed as its frigid jaws snap about you. At the urging of one more experienced in the area, they spoke of the nearest human shelter they can think of. A small, independent tradepost that was ran by a former craftsmen, who retired out to the countryside: Shirleen Sunleaf, a half-elf adventurer who was most well-known for an absolutely stellar hat collection. Even more than her spells or bow. The outpost is known to take travelers in desperate need for cheap, to feed and shelter them. Which are both things desperately in demand right now lest the blizzard be the end of you all.
So, as the gusts whips your cloaks and furs, and the snow blinds you to the world around you, who takes the lead of your desperate last minute push to safety and soup?
Sjach has arrived.
Sjach has on a cloak of black raptor feathers which keeps off the worst of the snow- usually. But there's only so much it can do when the snow is driven hard against him, and he doesn't tolerate the cold well at the best of times. In the couple of years since arriving in Alexandros he's grown more accustomed to it, but he still prefers the balmy months. He's accompanied by Little Flame- An adolescent swiftclaw named for her bright orange and yellow coloration. And she even has snow shoes protecting her taloned hindclaws from the worst of the snow.
Sjach uses his glaive as a walking stick to help keep his footing against the snow and the wind, as the taciturn hunter and his companion make their way along with the rest of the group towards the tradepost- one Sjach has exchanged pelts and game at in the past.
Little Flame is not so little, anymore, her head coming up to about shoulder height for an average human, and a little below that for the lanky Sith-Makar.
Bryn doesn't mind the cold as much as some, but that doesn't mean she's immune to it. She also has enough trouble seeing everything with the one eye when there is NOT a flurry of frozen shite blasting into her face. "Kor's Colossal Cod this's cold!" she yells out over the wind, "'n I can' see shite fer nothin! This place better be close!" She trudges along towards where the place is, or should be, or at least somebody thinks it should be. Hopefully all of those match up.
Being used to the snow and cold is one thing, being trapped out in a blizzard is quite another. While not completely foreign to Jarik, it's definitely not a situation he was intending on when he decided to drag Skyler out and about for the day. Luckily the small trading post had been on the half-oruch's list of places to check out when getting accustomed to the area, anywhere he could sell pels and skins was a good place to know.
He's bundled up against the cold, a thick cloak pulled around his shoulders, though the fur is more short rough bristles than the thick fur that would be more ideal in this weather. Still it works. An occasional annoyed hoot issues from deep within his hood, where Greywing has settled on his shoulder under the garment, not daring to try to fly in this storm. "No clue." He mutters to Bryn's words. He only knows a rough location. He casts a pitying look Skyler's way, feeling a little guilty for dragging the poor fellow away from the warmth of the inn.
To be fair, Skyler doesn't look the worst for wear at being out in the cold; oh sure his cheeks are a little red, but being a natural ginger that's to be expected. He grins at Bryn when she complains about the cold. "C'mon, it's not that bad." He says cheerfully, reaching up to make sure the fur-lined cap with it's ear flaps is firmly in place.
Besides the knit cap with it's purple puff on top, he's got a pair of matching mittens with a split in the middle of the fingers for ease of use, his scimitar slung over his back and his buckler already strapped to his coat-covered arm. He grins slyly, adding, "Perfect weather for a snowball fight, isn't it, Jarik?"
GAME: Sjach rolls survival: (10)+9: 19
GAME: Jarik rolls survival: (18)+6: 24
GAME: Bryn rolls knowledge/local: (13)+3: 16
GAME: Sjach rolls 6: (13)+6: 19
GAME: Skyler rolls survival: (5)+2: 7
The first thing you notice is a distant silhouette, a thick black roofing. A good sign. Is it the haberdashery? Sjach's experience seems to have led them to safety just ahead of frostbite's deadly kiss, with Jarik calling a reminder when they almost get turned around and Little Flame's nose picking up on something. Their bones likely ache and exposed skin tingles but the cold has not robbed them of their senses. They press on and as they do, they hear the confused and alarmed neighing of pack animals. This isn't the haberdashery but it IS its livery stable for its guests, where their beasts can take shelter. With this weather, they surely must have secured its doors.
The wood of its barriers groan, and a hyena mad laugh-howl is echoed twice(?) over, followed the splintering of wood. Something, a dark frame of something animalistic, stands at the door. It extracts its axe, with another round of chittering, as something stirs in the white shadow of the snow to its left. The pack animal's sounds of fear go more intense, an unsettling low tone for the higher pitch of the wailing of the wind.
Sjach sweeps his cloak off in one motion, throwing aside the garment to be snatched away by the wind- he'll find it later, if he can, but for now there are more urgent matters at hand. He draws his bow, a recurve design made of deep ebony wood, and hooks one limb around his lower leg so that he can bend a knee to flex it and draw the string up and hook it into place with one hand. As he does so, the grey quills that line his scalp bloom into oil-colored, iridescent feathers and his eyes grow wider- the slit pupils blooming into round inky lenses.
He issues a tch-tch sound, which seems to alert his swiftclaw companion as she comes swiftly to heel, poised to launch into a sprint at a moment's notice. "Trouble." the hunter hisses as he draws an arrow from his hip quiver and knocks it to the bow, though he doesn't draw for now.
Bryn blinks a few times at the sounds and lifts a metal hand to try and shield her eye to peer at the shapes. "What inna Hells issat? Somethin's got somethin spooked." After still not seeing much, her hand goes up higher and behind todraw the large, curved blade off her back. She might be one of those spooked somethins.
Jarik looks up at the sounds of that animalistic cackle. If his ears could quiver, they would. As it is Greywing lets out a not altogether pleased sounding hoot from where it hides. He says something, though its not in tradespeak, the wind almost whipping the words from him as he lets arcane power flow through him. Snow starts to slide off a armor like barrier around him, too bad it doesn't keep the snow out.
From within his cloak he produces a fine leather gauntlet, trimmed with black fur and adorned with wicked looking claws that project several inches past his fingers. "Big trouble or little trouble?" He asks for clarification's sake, wiggling his fingers inside his claw weapon to keep them from going numb.
GAME: Jarik casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15
Sjach sweeps his cloak off in one motion, throwing aside the garment to be snatched away by the wind- he'll find it later, if he can, but for now there are more urgent matters at hand. The glaive is brought up to bear, no longer held as a walking stick but with the business end pointed forwards as his stance lowers. As he does so, the grey quills that line his scalp bloom into oil-colored, iridescent feathers and his eyes grow wider- the slit pupils blooming into round inky lenses.
He issues a tch-tch sound, which seems to alert his swiftclaw companion as she comes swiftly to heel, poised to launch into a sprint at a moment's notice. "Trouble." the hunter hisses as he takes the first cautious steps towards the laughter on the wind.
GAME: Sjach casts Aspect of the Falcon. Caster Level: 4 DC: 13
Even as Jarik begins to slough off snow and Sjach sweeps off his cloak, Skyler's hand lifts to grasp his scimitar and draw it in one clean, smooth motion as he lets the buckler slide down his arm into a 'defend' position. "Either one is likely." He mutters in response to Jarik's question, turning to side-eye Bryn and suggest, "Snowball fight after, looks like."
He also reaches up to tie the flaps of the hat under his chin, rolling shoulders to make sure the coat (which is superior to cloaks, sorry folks, truth hurts) is settled in place as he drifts to a 'guard' position with his sword held in a firm grip and his feet perfectly spaced apart as he moves smoothly to follow.
Out from the snow, a leering grin. Standing up to its full height is a gnoll, hide wrapped in more filthy hide, with a broken shield strapped to its left arm and clutching an axe in its right hand that's missing a finger. As the two face off, they get a better idea why it 'seems' to be grinning. Rot, entropy, disease has mottled its skin; hideous boils or leprosy. Some of its jaw has even warped and simply decayed away, leaving it with permenant disfigurement that should be debilitating yet it still stands before them. Its cackle is hungry and excited, a flurry of its words lost in the wind.
From its shadow, an equally grievously disfigured hyena slinks against the bowed legs of its master, parts of its skull visible where skin has necrotized away to show muscle or even bone beneath. Its one good eye rolls madly as it eyes up easier meat of the party. Finally, a cowled figure slips to the taller beasts right, and even in the sterilizing cold?
The smell of rot tinges your nose. A pointed finger at the arriving adventurers, and then....
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ATTENTION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Carver has dropped a TIMESTOP!
Please +init, then cease all roleplay and actions immediately and wait for Carver to instruct you further. You may earn RPP by logging a scene for a GM.
For in-combat commands, type: +thelp.
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GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 22.
It is now Skyler's turn! Bryn is next!
GAME: Bryn refreshes spells.
GAME: Jarik refreshes special ability pools.
GAME: Skyler refreshes special ability pools.
GAME: Bryn refreshes special ability pools.
GAME: Sjach refreshes spells.
GAME: Sjach casts Aspect of the Falcon. Caster Level: 4 DC: 13
GAME: Skyler rolls 1: (6)+1: 7
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1: (11)+8: 19
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 21.
It is now Bryn's turn! Sjach is next!
GAME: Skyler rolls damage1: aliased to 1d6+4: (4)+4: 8
Dim as he may be, Skyler is still a skilled fighter; He reacts quickly as the foes stumble forward. "'Ware the possible caster!" He calls out, leaping forward with a wicked slash of his scimitar aimed at the center of the gnoll's mass.
GAME: Bryn spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE.
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 18.
It is now Sjach's turn! Leer is next!
GAME: Sjach rolls weapon2+2: (2)+6+2: 10
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Sjach rolls 5+2: (15)+5+2: 22
Big trouble, little trouble, Bryn's not picky; she can find all manner of trouble anywhere! Like weird grinning, mangy hairballs in a snowstorm. Right behind Skyler, she move up to get in those ugly faces, suddenly belting out in a loud contralto against the blowing storm.
"Look't da grinnin
big ugly mugs!
They ain' winnin
we turn 'em inta rugs!"
GAME: Sjach rolls 1d6+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Sjach rolls 5: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 14.
It is now Leer's turn! Hyena is next!
Sjach moves up alongside the other adventurers, offering another click of his tongue and a nod towards Little Flame who drops low and skulks around behind the Gnoll. At the last moment, Sjach rears up, bringing his glaive high over Sky's shoulder- his attack misses the mark, but it drives the rotting gnoll onto the defensive- and right into the waiting jaws of Little Flame who tears a chunk of decaying flesh away from the undead gnoll. She spits it out onto the snow, the taste foul on her tongue- but she's not hunting to eat, she's hunting to kill, and disciplined enough to bite and tear even if it tastes foul.
GAME: Sjach rolls will: (8)+3: 11
GAME: Sjach rolls 2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Skyler rolls will+3: (20)+2+3: 25 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
GAME: Bryn rolls will: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Jarik rolls will: (8)+5: 13
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 9.
It is now Hyena's turn! Rot Witch is next!
GAME: Skyler spends ONE point of PANACHE.
GAME: Skyler uses an AoO! 0 remaining.
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon2: (11)+0: 11
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1: (13)+8: 21
GAME: Skyler rolls damage1+2: aliased to 1d6+4+2: (1)+4+2: 7
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10
Blood sprays into fresh snow as Skylar's scimitar opens the chest of the leering gnoll. Its mangy head whips back and chest expands, drawing in a great deep breath, and then with its steaming exhale; a soul-rending howl that even the wind shrinks back from. In the very brief silence before the wind takes precendence once more, its axe diving for Skyler's crown...
Only for a deft twist of the swashbuckler's blade forcing it an inch wide and leaves an opening for the pirate to finish his art and complete with a second strike forming an X.
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 8.
It is now Rot Witch's turn! Jarik is next!
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 8.
It is now Jarik's turn! Skyler is next!
GAME: Skyler rolls fort+3: (14)+2+3: 19
The gnoll, in filthy rags, has kept its finger swaying back and forth as the melee breaks out. It finally chooses a victim, and a filthy ray gleens across the battlefield, brushing over Skyler and he feels the compulsion of disease, of rot, but... it does not take hold. When the former(?) pirate's gaze falls on the witch though, its missing left eye, completely consumed by a festering boil, pops... and oozes, and some mystical connection is felt.
GAME: Jarik rolls weapon1+2: (10)+5+2: 17
GAME: Jarik rolls damage1+2: aliased to 1d6+3+2: (6)+3+2: 11
GAME: NEW ROUND!
Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 22.
It is now Skyler's turn! Bryn is next!
While the others rush in, Jarik seems to linger for a moment, perhaps not as used to combat as the others, or just a little shocked by the rotted appearance of the gnoll and hyena. But it's on the caster he focuses his attention. Kicking up snow, he rushes in, swiping upwards with his claws and rending a bloody furrow across the witch's body.
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1+4: (2)+8+4: 14
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 21.
It is now Bryn's turn! Sjach is next!
GAME: Bryn spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE.
GAME: Bryn rolls weapon1+2+2: (20)+7+2+2: 31 (THREAT)
GAME: Bryn rolls weapon1+2+2: (20)+7+2+2: 31 (THREAT)
GAME: Bryn rolls damage1+2+2+damage+2+2: aliased to 2d4+4+2+2++3+2+2: (4)+4+2+2++3+2+2: 19
GAME: Bryn rolls damage2: aliased to +3: (13)++3: 16
GAME: Bryn rolls damage1: aliased to 2d4+4: (4)+4: 8
GAME: Bryn rolls fortitude: (10)+4: 14
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 18.
It is now Sjach's turn! Leer is next!
As the battle rages on, Skyler's lips thin into a line. He's quick and nimble, dodging blows and rolling them off his blade, but perhaps it's the witch's exploding eye or the *smell* (god damn the smell!) but his attempt at an underhanded return blow to evicerate the gnoll's belly doesn't exactly have the same panache as the other attacks. "The witch is trying something!" He warns, "Steady on, mates!"
GAME: Sjach rolls weapon2+2+2: (7)+6+2+2: 17
GAME: Sjach rolls 5+2+2-2: (11)+5+2+2+-2: 18
GAME: Sjach rolls 0+2+2-2: (13)+0+2+2+-2: 15
GAME: Sjach rolls 0+2+2-2: (10)+0+2+2+-2: 12
GAME: Sjach rolls damage2+2: aliased to 1d10+3+2: (7)+3+2: 12
GAME: Sjach rolls 1d6+2+2-2: (2)+2+2+-2: 4
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 14.
It is now Leer's turn! Hyena is next!
Bryn moved up to harass the gnoll, but it seems Sky Guy and Sjach are handling it pretty good. Then the hyena tries to bite her. "Ey! Nobody bites me!" She steps over to harry it betwen her and the swiftclaw's swift claws. "No without askin... 'n gettin me a drink first!"
She picks back up the chorus after that comment with "Ugly mug! Makin ye a rug!" She also brings her falchion up high, blade resonating with her words as it comes crashing down atop the creature. It splits into two portions of about 0.4 hyena each, with the rest spattering across Bryn. That'll teach 'em.
GAME: Skyler spends ONE point of PANACHE.
Sjach moves with grace and brutal efficiency, ducking out of the way of Skyler's attacks, before bringing his glaive up high above his head, whirling it around and bringing it down in a slashing motion across the leering, rotting gnolls throat- it may no longer need to breathe, but the slice of the blade does sever enough connective tissue to leave the head hanging limply, and Little FLame tries to finish the job, leaping up to latch onto what is left of the creature's neck as she tries to tear it apart, huffing and gagging at the smell but gnawing at its throat all the same.
GAME: Skyler uses an AoO! 0 remaining.
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1+4: (20)+8+4: 32 (THREAT)
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+10: (13)+10: 23
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1+4: (13)+8+4: 25
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 9.
It is now Hyena's turn! Rot Witch is next!
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 8.
It is now Rot Witch's turn! Jarik is next!
GAME: Skyler rolls damage1+2: aliased to 1d6+4+2: (5)+4+2: 11
GAME: Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 8.
It is now Jarik's turn! Skyler is next!
The (reformed) pirate is a rather bouncy sort of combatant, moving with the grace of someone use to avoiding blows. Perhaps embarassed by his whiff, despite the fact it happens to all men and isn't anything to be ashamed of, he lets out a huff of air and shifts his grip slightly, rolling his wrist to flick the length across the gnoll's stomach where the soft tissue lies.
"Avaste!" He snarls at the witch, flicking his sword through the steam thrown off by the spilled guts of the gnoll as it tumbles down. "You're next, rotter."
GAME: Skyler gains TWO point of PANACHE.
GAME: NEW ROUND!
Carver advances the initiative order.
Round Three - Init 22.
It is now Skyler's turn! Bryn is next!
"Poor pelt, crappy rug." Jarik says in response to Bryn's song. He seems ready to drive his claws at the witch once more his mouth breaking into a wide grin as he seems the undead monstrosities falling. And then the witch is fleeing and Jarik let's out a dismissive "Tchk," keeping his feet where they are instead of running off carelessly into the storm.
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1+2: (19)+8+2: 29 (THREAT)
GAME: Skyler rolls weapon1+2: (20)+8+2: 30 (THREAT)
GAME: Skyler rolls damage1+2: aliased to 1d6+4+2: (4)+4+2: 10
GAME: Carver removes the timestop.
Timestop by Carver has left.
"NO!" Skyler snarls as the witch turns tail and tries to run away. Quick as lightning, the former pirate is on her heels, positively bouncing across the terrain with such speed and passion that his little knit hat with it's fur lining comes undone, falling behind him to lay on the snow with just the purple poof on top visible.
It's a poetic match for the splash of red as he strikes at the fleeing foe, blade slicing across her spine from hip tto neck.
Sjach was just giving pursuit as Skyler beats him off the mark, and he comes to a stop just as the other adventurer finishes the witch off and he nods once in satisfaction. "We should take refuge inside, until the storm passes!" he shouts over the noise of the blizzard. "These creatures are unnatrual! We should arrange watches, incase more come." he adds, as he begins heading back towards the building- leaving the corpses where they lay for now. They should be burned, but this is hardly the weather for it.
"Don't go to far!" Jarik shouts as Skyler gives chase, only to shake his head as the man cuts down the witch in the snow not that far out of view. "Well, then." He looks over to the other rotting corspses and sniffs in annoyance. At least the cold keeps the smell down. "Useless pelt." He iterates again, before nodding his agreement to take shelter here for the storm. "Watches sound good."
When he's called back, Skyler turns with eyes bright and
"Wanted another bath, anyhow..." Bryn shrugs after closing oout her song. Two are done and the last little piggy went all the way h-Well, TRIED to. didn't work out, care of Skyler. "So, we gettin under some cover 'r what? Ye, we can get rid of 'em when can see'em a li'l better. Fire sounds great, but don' wanna smell that tryina get warm."
A slim, bowed figure holding a fancy hat to her head is pushing hard against the wind. Her armor is half on and a sword gleams in her left fist, but Miss Sunleaf came late to the rescue that was barely needed; this raiding 'party' was handled easily. She takes in the crumpled hideous forms and makes sense of it very quickly.
"Good folk! We seem to be drowning in snow, so what say all a you's come right this way and take a seat at my counters! Warm soup, roof over your heads, and a bath for you, good miss!" The last is for poor Bryn, so deluged with filth from her heavy blow. "Come, come, please!" She will wave them forward to the safety of her home, but she does grab Sjach's arm as he gets close. "Oh, you I know." She leans in, the heterochromia of her eyes more obvious despite the mask of snow already falling on her cheeks and brow. "I need you to get word to the guild... something's out there. Something mean and rotting and cruel. This isn't the first attack!" She has to yell to be heard as she walks them toward the warm glow of her open door. "Not here, and not elsewhere in the countryside. With the snow comes trouble, and this trouble stinks."
Elsewhere, somewhere the snow does not touch a cowled figure with matted fur sits on a hollowed tree stump.
Rotting teeth grind against a metal jaw that has replaced the lower half of its face, breaking and splintering. Clawed fingers turn over a rotting grape of an eye, plucked from a certain witch, shortly before the 'grape' rots away into scarpa, running down a furred arm fettered with boils and opened wounds. The exhaling breath steams, from the warm fetid maw and a howl erupts. Three, skinless giant red hounds pick their heads up and echo this hideous sound. A legion of hyena laughs answer in time from a host of gnolls, blood rising in the dark.