Into the Heart of the Storm (IC - Streets of Nuz Edrak)

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

With the door lock holding, Gil leaps back. Concerned the dying man may turn into a poisonous zombie and pursue them, the barbarian hacks the man's head off.

He then vaults up the ladder and onto the roof.

[Bluetongue]

Shylock Cravat

Asesses the surrounds. He creeps low, past any rooftop furnishings and water cistern to view the alleyways behind and to the side of the hovel.

He is looking to plan 'a next move'. From his viewpoint, staying where we are is like the seal stranded upon a little floe of ice as the orca circle. It is possible to just wait out the zombie dusk-til-dawn risings but the roof is not so secure. Less so with more people to attract attention.

Taking a compass point, one key building to the north, south, east and west. What can he see.

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

Sadly, Jasmine says nothing but agrees with Gil's action and follows him up, looking back one last time at the man.

[cybersavant]

It's empty up here, and relatively safe--for the moment. Looking around, you see no undead on the adjacent rooftops. Those below keep up their loud clamoring and banging. The front door shudders and groans, though magic and muscle conspire to hold it for a moment longer.

Corthalis Aelvynwynne looks around the barren rooftop(s) for anything that can be used to bar or weight down the trapdoor they just came through.

[Paladin]

Gil ignores the poor man's gurgling pleas--and his offer of gold--to instead hack his head from his shoulders and leap onto the roof. Jasmine looks on in grim silence, pangs of regret sharp in her gut. But it seems like the logical thing to do, so she clambers up the ladder after the others.

In all directions, you see squat earthen buildings. Most are single-story, though some cunningly-designed multi-story dwellings, such as the jail, crop up among them. To the south a great ziggurat rises in broad steps and a citadel perches atop the colossal edifice. The darkness is alive with the sounds of shuffling feet, clumsy limbs thumping walls and doors. Every so often a blood-chilling cry echoes off the walls of the closely-packed homes.

The sheer number of dead is frightening. If the slums are emptying so quickly beneath the burden of this plague, then it can only be a matter of time until the wealthy folk in their vaulted halls face the same fate.

From looking around you, you imagine you could potentially navigate back to the north and find the mercantile district, the temples, and Kazak's tavern. To the west is a thick rammed-earth wall that thrusts high against the rising moon and eastward you see still more hovels. You may have to make a leap at some points or climb down to flit across a side street and climb the walls on the opposite side, but navigating the rooftops will be a safer route than accompanying the mass of undead which traverses the main thoroughfare.

The moment the trapdoor closes, you hear the front door burst off the final hinge and the walking dead swarm the house. Corthalis finds a large iron pot that he is able to scoot across the flat roof to fit neatly over the hatch leading below. It might help in a pinch.

The surrounding rooftops immediately adjacent to your hideout are easily accessible.

What will you do?

[cybersavant]

Corthalis Aelvynwynne looks at the three others, "Looks like we're in this together. I'm Corthalis Aelvynwynne. Any votes for the best route out of here?"

[Bluetongue]

Shylock Cravat

The halfling looks over his trio of unlikely companions.

"Well whichever way we go, it won't be quietly. Not while the big man lugs his lute around with him. Is there any way you can dampen the strings. Cut them off even?"

North to higher buildings seem the most logical choice. I suspect those in the ziggurat citadel will assault anyone assailing their heights.

"Okay. Three streets north then another moment to assess."

He will jump to the next building if practical and keep going until those streets are reached. Not sure how big a distance he could assume to automatically jump over. So stop me at any point where a roll or decision is needed.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

Gil wipes his blade clean of blood while introducing himself.

"I am Gilbert O'Sullivan, my elf friend,
a barbarian from far north.
Thanks for aid you did lend,
Let us over rooftops go forth?"

The look of the rough warrior is counter to his rhyming voice.

"In case you wonder about my verse
I am forced to poor poetry by curse
Only when head with drink is blighted
Do my words flow in order righted."

Gil peers at the roofscape before him. He points to a sequence of roofs that lead in the general direction of the Vulgar Unicorn.

"Fear not my little man," the barbarian says to the hobbit.
"I am quieter than you think.
Now what shall be our plan?
Roof hop, or camp and drink?"

The fighting man from the north looks Shylock up and down, than at rooftops across the narrow street. An easy leap for the barbarian, but...

"The question does beg
for one short of leg
can rooftops you cross
or shall I give you a toss?"

[Paladin]

The hatch separating you from the seething mass of undead below rattles hard. The heavy iron pot rocks up and down, but it holds--for the moment.

Gil waxes poetic at the prospect of tossing Shylock--who is arguably half the reason they're in this mess, after all--prompting the halfling to take a running leap and land nimbly upon the next rooftop. He continues his flight and beckons to the others from three houses northward.

A hand smashes through the wooden hatch, the fingers torn and bleeding from the effort, and claws at your ankles. The undead are alternately clumsy and tremendously strong. It's a puzzling aspect of their unholy life.

[cybersavant]

Corthalis Aelvynwynne attempts to leap to the next roof.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

Gil laughs and marvels at the jumping power of legs well under two feet long. Does the man-boy have magic? Were it not for the zombies at the trapdoor, the skald may be tempted to compose a bardic stanza about it.

Instead, with pantherish grace the barbarian leaps over to the next roof to join his companions.

If a roof path is possible to the Vulgar Unicorn, Gil suggests they take it. If wider avenues prevent jumping, he’ll offer to cross the street, climb, throw rope over, secure it and have the party shimmy over.

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

Jasmine waits until everyone has fled their rooftop and follows suite, flexing her strong leg muscles as she runs and jumps from rooftop to rooftop.


Silently cursing the undead, she bides her time patiently for now until she has the opportunity to repay them in kind for the death of her tribe.

[Paladin]

After many leaps, climbs, and crawls across various makeshift bridges, the party nears The Vulgar Unicorn. (The dice were kind to you this time. )

As you progress, the undead become fewer in number as they flee the city on answer to their new master's call. Rather than groups on the street, you see one or two limping after their fellows.

Perhaps two streets and a small alley separate you from your destination when you spot a curious thing. A masked figure walks among the undead, dark-robed and hooded. In the dim moonlight, the mask shines like bleached bone.

The figure passes without incident between the shambling dead, even placing a hand upon some as it passes. The odd scene plays out in the street directly before you, some fifty feet to the east of your position.

[Bluetongue]

Shylock

"Behold a necromancer. He blesses his minions and brings death among us."

Outraged the halfling takes aim from his rooftop vantage point and releases two shafts at the figure.

Shylock shortbow at short range: [1d20+4] = 16+4 = 20 damage [1d6] = 5 [1d20+4] = 13+4 = 17 damage [1d6] = 6

[cybersavant]

Corthalis Aelvynwynne mutters in a whisper, Out of the fire into the ... .

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

Gil admires the hobbit’s impulsiveness as the man-boy fires two arrows down upon the man on the street. The barbarian figures he must be a wizard, and Gil is always up for killing wizards, so he lets fly two arrows of his own.

Gil short bow +2 Dex mod : [1d20+2] = 6+2 = 8 damage [1d6] = 1, [1d20+2] = 3+2 = 5 damage [1d6] = 4

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

The big lady Barbarian waits until Gil has fired off arrows and taps him on the shoulder, an eager gleam in her eye.

"Gil, we shoot arrows? Or we go kill evil mage and undead with our weapons? "

[cybersavant]

Corthalis Aelvynwynne listens to the other and shakes his head. He looks for a good spot on the roof to observe without being seen by those below.

[Paladin]

A hail of arrows hisses down on either side of the robed figure. It's hard to see what effect your shots are having in the dim light, but it seems that at least one of you managed to land a shot. The figure stumbles, clutches his side, and shoots a venemous glance through skeletal eye-sockets in your general direction as he turns in a swirl of robes to shield himself amid the shambling undead.

He stabs an accusing finger into the air and you hear the profane intonations of an evil spell curling like black smoke into the night air. Suddenly, it's raining. Warm drops fall upon your skin from a cloudless sky as the chanting continues.

Several of the undead begin a slow, ponderous approach.

Everyone make a save vs. poison with your next action, please.

[Bluetongue]

Shylock Cravat

Breathes in some of the foul air which seems to momentarily affect his aim. Spitting out some phlegm he clears his throat and aims at the spellcaster.

It should be a critical hit and an arrow pierces the man's throat.

Shylock. Saves vs poison 13 [1d20+4] = 19+4 = 23

Shylock shortbow at short range: [1d20+4] = 3+4 = 7 damage [1d6] = 5 [1d20+4] = 20+4 = 24 damage [1d6] = 6