Post by K Man on Sept 1, 2004 9:27:51 GMT -5
Hero and Garor - You are made to wait in the extravagant lobby for several minutes before the maiden returns, bowing low.
"May I present Master Magmire."
Once annouced, a dwarf steps into the room, metal boots clinking loudly on the floor. He is dressed enigmatically, in partial plate mail and fancy dress. It seems as though he fancies wearing both battle gear and the exquisite garb his position has earned him.
His beard is a solid brown with bushy eyebrows and moustache to match. He tilts the horned helm on his head back a bit to take you both in visually.
"What brings ye to my home adventurers?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Newt and Angelus - [Newt Gather Information Check] The bartender, a massive sample of a human leans down on one arm, eyeing you suspicisiously.
"He STILL works here because he's my son....clumsy or not."
Newt takes a moment to ponder how his foot so well into his mouth. Choking down the last bit of ale, Angelus decides to save the day!
The bartender looks over Angelus, his smirk fading slightly. His face eventually cracks like an old oil painting, grinning from ear to ear.
"For everyone? You are too generous."
The bartender calls over his shoulder to the kitchen, raising his voice to a yell.
"Henry! Brreak out the kegs of the 'Fire-Belly Ale', we got someone here who offered to buy for everyone!"
The crowd errupts into a cheer that is nearly deafening. Once it dies down, the bartender looks back to you with a sly grin. The door nearby bursts open and you see the young lad with the damaged hand wheeling out a large keg of ale that is layered with dust and dirt.
It appears to be nothing less than a century old and the keg itself is covered in runes that sparkle as though lit by fire. The boy drops the keg and returns to the kitchen to get another. The bartender remains grinning as the whenches break into the ale and begin to distribute the contents.
"That'll be eight gold a mug mate."
Angelus, taking a quick glance around the bar, you see that they are nearly eighty patrons in the bar...
The bartender looks back to you both.
"Will there be anything else?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caelith and Callian - The small girl responds to the wave, moving closer to you. She pauses as a muffled cheer is heard from outside, coming from the other tavern. You wonder what the other two are up to, causing such a ruckus.
She bows and offers the meats and cheeses, slicing them off with clumsy precision. You're amazed she hasn't cut herself.
"I haven't noticed anything unusual m'Lord. Morten is a small town with small happenings."
[Sense Motive Check, Caelith.] She seems genuine in her claim but you do notice something odd.
When she goes to reach for her knives, she grasps the empty space where the missing knife in her belt is, shakes her head and then grabs another.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Krysta, Girud and Galdren - Krysta rushes to help Girud, surrounded and weaponless. {Attack Roll = 26, Damage Roll = 14} The small goblin can do little to avoid the onslaught and is impaled to the hilt. Krysta stops and pulls her blade free as the goblin collapses to the ground.
{3 Goblins Dead, 10 Orcs Dead.}
She yells;
[Intimidate Check, Krysta = 9]
The goblins look to each other and pause, but for a moment, before violently shaking their heads and pressing the attack.
Galdren bum rushes the nearest goblin, brining his blade down. {Attack Roll = 28, Crit. Confirm roll, success, Damage Roll = 17} The goblins is now missing his shoulder and most of his arm that falls to the ground in a spray of blood.
{4 Goblins Dead, 10 Orcs Dead.}
Spinning around, Galdren continues the attack on the last goblin. {Cleave Attack Roll = 17, Damage Roll = 12} The blade continues to spin and buries in the mid-section of the last goblin, spilling his intestines out as though they were packed tightly in his body like sausage.
{5 Goblins Dead, 10 Orcs Dead.}
Satisified the fray is over, you look over your decimated enemies. There bodies lay...shuddering?
Upon closer inspection, the mark of 'The Master', that haunting and strange mark emblazoned in the flesh is glowing. It brightens the glade like a low fire, from the chest of each fallen enemy.
You wonder what is about to happen...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sehanine and Romar - Waiting outside the mouth of the gargantuan dwarven mouth-cave, you see the left nostril above you begin to sputter. The smoke comes in puffs...then nothing at all. Marg nods.
"That be the signal lads, come, let us go home."
Marg takes point, climbing into the nose of the dwarf, folding his warhammer behind his back. The other two dwarves follow, leaving just you two to enter.
You crawl into the large hole, imagining the comical sight from the outside to someone that does not understand what you are doing.
The tunnel goes for quite some time, feeling cramped and hot from the constant fires that blaze below. You finally begin to taste air other than that of the chimney as you near the exit. You fall down into a forge fit for a king.
Nearly bubmling into Marg Rockhammer from behind, you pause and take in the sight before you.
A grand hall, deeper than you can see immediately stretches forty feet to either side of you. It's ceiling is well over forty feet above you and carved directly from stone as well. Truly carven by dwarven masters.
However, it is what's in the hall that grabs your attention.
Hundreds of wounded and dying litter the floor like refugees.
There are countless dwarves, stretching along the floor with wrapped wounds and bandaged battle scars. Some cough violently, stricken with a poison that has turned their skin and unhealthy blue-green. It reminds you of the fields outside Ravenshead with the way these refugees line the walls and floor.
About fifty feet from you, a large light source shines and extends light into the grand hall all around. It is a crystal shard, like one in Ravenshead, but a shimmering blue color rather than the pearl white you remember.
The shrill voice of the dwarven 'doorman' comes back to your ears.
"I'm afraid your return is ill-fated Marg Rockhammer..."
"There has been a revolt."
As if to add emphasis to the words the doorman mutters, the forges are fired up again, blocking your immediate exit from this place.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yuri - Looking over the dwarves, you see no sign that would lead you to believe they are important...just simple refugees looking for a way home.
[I'm not gonna roll for this attack...they are drunk dwarves, you're a vampire. End of story.]
As you finish the last one off, draning his blood into bottles for later, a familiar voice haunts the forest around you.
It is your master...your sire...Hirsuthe, the vampire that made you.
"Enjoying the powers of the night are we?"
A horse, clearly undead and rotting stands motionless nearby.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
"May I present Master Magmire."
Once annouced, a dwarf steps into the room, metal boots clinking loudly on the floor. He is dressed enigmatically, in partial plate mail and fancy dress. It seems as though he fancies wearing both battle gear and the exquisite garb his position has earned him.
His beard is a solid brown with bushy eyebrows and moustache to match. He tilts the horned helm on his head back a bit to take you both in visually.
"What brings ye to my home adventurers?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Newt and Angelus - [Newt Gather Information Check] The bartender, a massive sample of a human leans down on one arm, eyeing you suspicisiously.
"He STILL works here because he's my son....clumsy or not."
Newt takes a moment to ponder how his foot so well into his mouth. Choking down the last bit of ale, Angelus decides to save the day!
"Give me another and one for everyone in this tavern."
The bartender looks over Angelus, his smirk fading slightly. His face eventually cracks like an old oil painting, grinning from ear to ear.
"For everyone? You are too generous."
The bartender calls over his shoulder to the kitchen, raising his voice to a yell.
"Henry! Brreak out the kegs of the 'Fire-Belly Ale', we got someone here who offered to buy for everyone!"
The crowd errupts into a cheer that is nearly deafening. Once it dies down, the bartender looks back to you with a sly grin. The door nearby bursts open and you see the young lad with the damaged hand wheeling out a large keg of ale that is layered with dust and dirt.
It appears to be nothing less than a century old and the keg itself is covered in runes that sparkle as though lit by fire. The boy drops the keg and returns to the kitchen to get another. The bartender remains grinning as the whenches break into the ale and begin to distribute the contents.
"That'll be eight gold a mug mate."
Angelus, taking a quick glance around the bar, you see that they are nearly eighty patrons in the bar...
The bartender looks back to you both.
"Will there be anything else?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caelith and Callian - The small girl responds to the wave, moving closer to you. She pauses as a muffled cheer is heard from outside, coming from the other tavern. You wonder what the other two are up to, causing such a ruckus.
She bows and offers the meats and cheeses, slicing them off with clumsy precision. You're amazed she hasn't cut herself.
"I haven't noticed anything unusual m'Lord. Morten is a small town with small happenings."
[Sense Motive Check, Caelith.] She seems genuine in her claim but you do notice something odd.
When she goes to reach for her knives, she grasps the empty space where the missing knife in her belt is, shakes her head and then grabs another.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Krysta, Girud and Galdren - Krysta rushes to help Girud, surrounded and weaponless. {Attack Roll = 26, Damage Roll = 14} The small goblin can do little to avoid the onslaught and is impaled to the hilt. Krysta stops and pulls her blade free as the goblin collapses to the ground.
{3 Goblins Dead, 10 Orcs Dead.}
She yells;
"Put down your weapons or die!"
[Intimidate Check, Krysta = 9]
The goblins look to each other and pause, but for a moment, before violently shaking their heads and pressing the attack.
Galdren bum rushes the nearest goblin, brining his blade down. {Attack Roll = 28, Crit. Confirm roll, success, Damage Roll = 17} The goblins is now missing his shoulder and most of his arm that falls to the ground in a spray of blood.
{4 Goblins Dead, 10 Orcs Dead.}
Spinning around, Galdren continues the attack on the last goblin. {Cleave Attack Roll = 17, Damage Roll = 12} The blade continues to spin and buries in the mid-section of the last goblin, spilling his intestines out as though they were packed tightly in his body like sausage.
{5 Goblins Dead, 10 Orcs Dead.}
Satisified the fray is over, you look over your decimated enemies. There bodies lay...shuddering?
Upon closer inspection, the mark of 'The Master', that haunting and strange mark emblazoned in the flesh is glowing. It brightens the glade like a low fire, from the chest of each fallen enemy.
You wonder what is about to happen...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sehanine and Romar - Waiting outside the mouth of the gargantuan dwarven mouth-cave, you see the left nostril above you begin to sputter. The smoke comes in puffs...then nothing at all. Marg nods.
"That be the signal lads, come, let us go home."
Marg takes point, climbing into the nose of the dwarf, folding his warhammer behind his back. The other two dwarves follow, leaving just you two to enter.
You crawl into the large hole, imagining the comical sight from the outside to someone that does not understand what you are doing.
The tunnel goes for quite some time, feeling cramped and hot from the constant fires that blaze below. You finally begin to taste air other than that of the chimney as you near the exit. You fall down into a forge fit for a king.
Nearly bubmling into Marg Rockhammer from behind, you pause and take in the sight before you.
A grand hall, deeper than you can see immediately stretches forty feet to either side of you. It's ceiling is well over forty feet above you and carved directly from stone as well. Truly carven by dwarven masters.
However, it is what's in the hall that grabs your attention.
Hundreds of wounded and dying litter the floor like refugees.
There are countless dwarves, stretching along the floor with wrapped wounds and bandaged battle scars. Some cough violently, stricken with a poison that has turned their skin and unhealthy blue-green. It reminds you of the fields outside Ravenshead with the way these refugees line the walls and floor.
About fifty feet from you, a large light source shines and extends light into the grand hall all around. It is a crystal shard, like one in Ravenshead, but a shimmering blue color rather than the pearl white you remember.
The shrill voice of the dwarven 'doorman' comes back to your ears.
"I'm afraid your return is ill-fated Marg Rockhammer..."
"There has been a revolt."
As if to add emphasis to the words the doorman mutters, the forges are fired up again, blocking your immediate exit from this place.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yuri - Looking over the dwarves, you see no sign that would lead you to believe they are important...just simple refugees looking for a way home.
[I'm not gonna roll for this attack...they are drunk dwarves, you're a vampire. End of story.]
As you finish the last one off, draning his blood into bottles for later, a familiar voice haunts the forest around you.
It is your master...your sire...Hirsuthe, the vampire that made you.
"Enjoying the powers of the night are we?"
A horse, clearly undead and rotting stands motionless nearby.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Just wanted to say if Romar should fail to grab the dwarve, he'll still do all the rest. And he doesn't lift Marg, rather he pulls at the things he wears, so he'll probably be pulled a bit too. Oh, and if he wears armor or something like that, he'll just grab his throath. Just a clarification. 
