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

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

Jasmine nods back at Gil and as soon as he moves up to the rooftops, she follows suite!

[Paladin]

For a few silver pieces (say 5), Shylock procures his items and his keen halfling eyes spot the circling form of a bird of prey winging high above the city. It swoops down now and then, obviously keeping track of its master and his direction.

Corthalis is detained for several moments by the guard conducting the interview, who smoothly intercepts the elf at his attempt to follow the others. "One moment, if you please." The man smiles, though his pleasant demeanor is obviously but a thin veneer. "What precisely did you hear the merchant say? This may decide the guilt or innocence of your friend, so try your best to recall."

Moving as a unit, the barbarians and their ring of guards wind down a narrow section of residental street. Preferring to risk nightfall and the undead without their arms rather than a night in a cell, Gil and Jasmine make a silent accord and rush to one side to leap for the rooftops.

As they are surrounded by guards--who are especially alert since it's nearing nightfall--and barbarian's upward leap from a standing position is three feet, the guards on the side you choose will get a roll to disrupt your escape. On a 1-3, they miss entirely. 4 or 5, they catch your ankle as you climb. On a 6 they'll drag you down.

I roll 1, 2, and 5 for Gil. 4, 5, and 6 for Jasmine. Ouch. The dice hate Jasmine lately. Good thing she's tough!

The burly Gil leaps like a panther and grips a protruding windowsill, swinging himself quickly up. Just as his upper body leans over the roof, a strong hand clamps around his ankle. "Outlander!" A bearded guard grits his teeth and struggles to drag Gil back down to street level.

Make me a hard (4d6) strength check for Gil, please. If you roll under your strength, you break free. If you fail, the guards will get another chance to pile on next round.

Alerted by Gil's quick break, the guards behind Jasmine surge forward, one grabbing each ankle and a third leaping to grab her by the belt and wrench her back down. "Cease!" Artabanu commands, looking around them with fear in his eyes as the moon crests the row of buildings. "The dead rise! We have no time!"

Give me a very hard (5d6) strength check for Jasmine. On a success, she breaks free of her captors before they dogpile her and can make another grab at the rooftop.

[cybersavant]

Meanwhile, Corthalis overhears the robed man discussing with relish his plans to flay the barbarian alive and tan his skin to make a doormat for the servants' quarters in his city home
== == == == == == == = = = = = = = = =
Corthalis is detained for several moments by the guard conducting the interview, who smoothly intercepts the elf at his attempt to follow the others. "One moment, if you please." The man smiles, though his pleasant demeanor is obviously but a thin veneer. "What precisely did you hear the merchant say? This may decide the guilt or innocence of your friend, so try your best to recall."

Corthalis Aelvynwynne stares the guard in direct eye to eye contact. "They are no friends of mine. I've never seen them before. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time - curiosity over the commotion got the better of me. All i heard was the merchant and his guards plotting to skin the barbarian and make a rug of him."

[Bluetongue]

Shylock

The halfling pouches his newly bought pet supplies though he realises the idea of catching the bird of prey might not be such an attainable idea.

Still the hawk's master has his bag of trinkets, one a prized snow globe with a wintery blizzard. Sure to sell high in such a desert place. The halfling reviews the hours spent casing the glass blowers store. Opportunistic thieving is more of an instinctive compulsion, not that he suffers kleptomania, but 'a job' well done, planned and executed, has much more kudos among the streetwise 'artists'.

Executed ah! yes that thought retunes his focus. The barbarian may well face execution, at the very least lose a member. Right hand equals weapon hand. And what good is that to one of these northern rabid steppe warriors. No hand means holding no weapon. These barbarians, they prefer to die with a weapon in hand on some vain glorious entry to their Valhalla's. Can't enter otherwise. Shylock on the other hand, still attached, prefers to fade away clutching a couple of soft melon sized tits, cuddling into some cleavage and nuzzling on some pert nipples. Presently though, the halflings recent luck has made him a man who fell into a barrel of tits and he still gets fished out sucking his thumb.

Okay so where did the barbarian go? The answer suddenly flits across his vision as the hawk, so huddled watchful on the gable eaves, takes flight to zig zag across the night sky before disappearing from view with a dramatic dive.

Shylock hurries through various tin pan alleys to the market fringe, following the birds path and the noise from guard whistes erupting.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

Shaking off a guard's grasping hand on his ankle, Gil clambers up onto the rooftop.

The barbarian glances back at Jasmine. "Damn!"

He is torn between fighting and running. Yet with no weapons and vastly outnumbered, Gil knows his chances of freeing Jasmine. Better to recoup and free her later.

The barbarian sprints across the roof, then another, on his way to freedom.

Str. check - 18 [4d6] = 10

Depending on level of pursuit, Gil will circle back enough to hear (if not see) where the guards are and follow them to the place of Jasmine's imprisonment. Sticking to shadows, roofs, or far back on the streets/alleys staying in the shadows.

[tarlyn]

Jasmine


She nearly makes it before the guards are successful in pulling her down and dogpiling her!
Hard Strength Check [5d6] = 21

[Paladin]

The guard conducting the interview smiles very faintly and returns the direct gaze of Corthalis. "Of course, Outlander. You have been very helpful." He grabs the next passing merchant and continues his interviews. As Corthalis slips off to follow the knot of guards hustling his objects of interest away, daylight begins to wane.

He spots the figure of the halfling who caused all this commotion flitting into an alley. If he chooses, the small man would be easy enough to follow. Or to hail as he passes.

For his part, Shylock quickly reconnects with the party using his almost preternatural sense for which lane and cross street leads where. He squints in the fading light and believes he can make out the muscular form of Gil breaking free to leap and climb onto a rooftop and bolt away from the guards. Several hastily-throws javelins miss the fleeing barbarian in the dim light and clatter harmlessly to the ground.

But when Jasmine attempts the same stunt, she is quickly pulled down. Several guards pile atop her and restrain the woman. Despite their superior numbers, she comes within a hairs-breadth of breaking free. Her wild thrashing is barely subdued, and they club her hard across the back of the head to send the dazed barbarian to her knees. Bonds are quickly produced and looped around her wrists and ankles and she is snatched upright and prodded into a shuffling walk.

When others leap to chase Gil, Artabanu raises a hand. "Cease! Leave him to the dead." He grimaces. "You're a fool, Outlander!" he calls to Gil. "When the dead walk, you will pine for the comfort of a cell." He turns and hustles his men along. "We have no time. The dead will find him before ever we do, comrades. Come! We are almost there."

The guards form a defensive ring around Jasmine and half-jog forward now, bristling with weapons and eyes watchful as night falls around them. From an alley in front, a pitiful groan issues from a dry throat. The shambling gait and wide, unseeing eyes mark this poor husk as a new member of the Bone-Caller's ever-growing horde.

The corpse moves forward on unsteady feet, arms swinging jerkily and head lolling as it heads directly toward the nearest city gate. But as the group hurries past, it lurches toward them and takes a savage swing at Artabanu. "Don't touch it!" The sergeant shouts as he dances out of reach. The other men quickly pinion the corpse with spears, hacking putrid limbs from a body made spongy with plague.

"Come!" Artabanu points toward a low, flat-roofed building of hewn stone with barred windows. "There!" He dashes ahead with his men and a shambling Jasmine in tow.

"It will infect you if you touch it," he gasps as they run. "Never touch them or let their blood touch you during battle."

Provided Gil has followed at a distance, he can clearly see the battle taking place and hear any words spoken. His wilderness-honed senses miss nothing. Within seconds, they will be safely behind a locked door.

The streets are deserted now, and strange rustling sounds and death-groans issue from dark corners and hidden alleys. The dark side of Nuz Edrak rises with the moon.

[cybersavant]

Corthalis Aelvynwynne stops in the shadows behind the guards and watches them take down the undead. He mutters to himself this better be worth it, hope they have money, then chants in a whisper. sleep

sleep spell on the guards

[Darklin2]

Alec

Returns to the Inn where he met the Barbarians and part the wagon in the stables. Choosing to sleep with the new horses to keep them safe. He helps the stable boy clean things up and close up the barn for the night. Making sure everything is secured. He lights a lantern and keeps it shuttered and close by.

[Bluetongue]

Shylock Cravat

He goes to check if he can locate a thrown javelin from the floor, perhaps one ricocheted off the building and skimmed further down the alley. He searches wary of lurching undead figures and the wounded panther of an angry barbarian stalking across the rooftops about to pounce.

"Looks like the big guy got away. Hope has has my goodie bag with him." He muses on likely places the barbarian might go for succour and entertainment.

He finds one lost shaft for his troubles.

On the periphery of the action, the halfling is about to lose interest in the guards especially as the dusk brings out the infected dead from hovels and homes to join in the nightly parade of grisly Bone-callers walking out of the not so pearly city gates.

But then he sees a couple of guards suddenly shuffle forward slowly, slump to knees and curl up in fetal positions on the ground like sleeping babies. It appears he is not the only figure skulking in the wake of the guards. He creeps closer, hugging the sides of the alley by the low roof to view any developing shenanigans ...

Shylock tries to Move Silently vs 47% [1d100] = 77

... stepping on the tail of a black cat which shrieks a hissing meow before bolting, thereby exposing his attempted shadowing of the guards.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

As Gil realizes the city guards are not pursuing him, the barbarian swings about and pads along roofs parallel to the moving group. These “civilized” city folk move about like clattering elephants, thinks Gil as he stays within earshot but out of sight.

The barbarian skald is intrigued to overhear about the walking dead and the warning to not touch them or their blood. He hopes these undead don’t traipse about rooftops.

Gil hears some yells and the clash of weapons. He slinks to the roof edge and peeks over to behold the altercation. Guards with weapons drawn around slain undead, more guards around Jasmine, Artibanu near the door into a prison building. A cat screeches nearby. Some guards slump to the ground.

Gil tensely watches. He is still weaponless and out-numbered, but he knows where Jasmine will be for the night.

[cybersavant]

From what you see, there are six guards in front of Jasmine in two ranks of three abreast, a line of three on either side of her, and three across the back. Artabanu is out in front another ten feet headed for the jail.
Obviously, Jasmine is directly in the center of the mass of guards.

ok, now that i know their configuration- center it on the guard directly in front of Jasmine; most likely won't even get 1/2 of them, but oh well - i did state he was standing in the shadows, so as not to be seen (hopefully), or it'll be a short career - with the undead coming, i'm hoping they try to get their own to safety first, giving J a chance to flee

[Paladin]

A suffocating lethargy overcomes Artabanu and he stumbles to the ground, the confiscated weapons tumbling from his suddenly nerveless fingers. Two of the rear-most guards also drop into magically-induced slumber, along with poor Jasmine who is caught in the spell's area of effect. The shackled barbarian clatters to the ground.

There are roughly a dozen men left standing. Once the shock of their companions falling wears off, half a dozen face outward with weapons drawn and the other half dive toward their fallen comrades, struggling to wake them or drag them toward safety.

"Demons!" one cries as an unearthly shriek shatters the night air. "There!"Another man stabs an accusing finger at the shadowed figure of a bemused Shylock. A hail of javelins peppers the spot, but most fly wide of the agile halfling. One barely skims his arm to leave a fine, bright red line seeping blood. (1 damage)

But they don't pursue. In fact, the guards begin a tactical retreat the moment their javelins are loosed. They close formation and back toward the jail. Just as one bends to grab Jasmine's chains, the door to a lowly hovel bursts open and out stumbles the fresh corpse of a young woman riddled with sickness. She screams soundlessly and advances with a jerky gait.

"Leave her!" another guard shouts. "Get the others inside!" They swiftly move their comrades back toward the jail door, leaving only Jasmine and a small pile of weaponry lying in the street amid the growing swarm of undead rising to flood the streets.

So you have three guards out of action, another six occupied carrying them. And half a dozen bearing arms beating a tactical retreat. Jasmine is lying about twenty feet from them at this point. Your weapons are at the feet of the guards, but they are making no attempt to retrieve them. Gil is on a rooftop watching, Shylock and Corthalis are close by, Alec is (wisely) back at the inn. One undead woman is thirty feet from Jasmine coming from a door beneath where Gil crouches on the roof.

If you ever have questions about specifics like guard configuration, just hit me with them. Otherwise I just go off my best guess or roll a die to determine random placing and outcomes.

[Bluetongue]

Shylock Cravat

Skimmed by a javelin. He for once gets blessed fir his shortness, another couple of feet in height and he gets pinned against the wall.

Seeing the guards ditch their prisoner and retreat, the halfling pushes his luck. He runs from the shadows, hurling the javelin as he goes at the undead. The shaft clatter harmlessly wide.

Shylock throw javelin at undead [1d20-5] = 4-5 = -1 [1d6] = 5 his dex bonus cancelled out by non-proficiency penalty

He aims looks to grab his swag-bag, dropped in the pile of weapons as Artabanu fell.

I am presuming that I was within javelin range and if 40-60ft away from the guards you included the -5 long range to hit penalty.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

Kord has seen fit to twist Fate to Gil’s advantage. After the undead shambles out the door of his building, the barbarian leaps down and scoops up the javelin just thrown to the ground by the boy.

Like a mountain lion attacking prey, Gil lunges the javelin at the back of the zombie. The point drives through the neck as Gil leaps back, heeding the danger of the undead’s blood.

Javelin, rear +2 [1d20+3] = 15+3 = 18, dam [1d6+3] = 6+3 = 9

[cybersavant]

Corthalis Aelvynwynne stays his hand for now, but watches for more threats as he observes what the barbarian and halfling do.

[Bluetongue]

Shylock Cravat

The halfling could have sworn he missed the lurching leprous undead yet the guttural spluttering of gagging on her own blood is heard as the zombie collapses with an impaled neck. Arterial blood sprinkling the sand.

Amid the discarded weaponry he whisks back his trove of trinkets. About to run he had a thought for the sleeping and snoring barbarian lady. Shouldn't really leave her in the dust like that, chained and bound like an offering to the night gods.

He kneels beside her then gets taken away to hus previous thoughts of barbarians and his own wish of passing away softly. Certainly the girl has those big soft cuddly wuddly melons to snuggle into and he does feel a bit sleepy right now. the remnants of the enchantment lingering in the air no doubt. They look such inviting pert pillows to dream away on. The shakes his head vigorously. Certainly a deathwish would happen should she awake to his wandering in the land of the nod on her chest.

He reaches into a rear pouch pulling out an intricate small pick and some copper wire. He manipulates the manacles and shackles and after a few twists here and there is able to get a satisfactory 'click' of success.

Shylock tries to Open Locks vs 53% [1d100] = 45

Pulling the shackles away the woman stirs from her enchanted sleep to look into his smiling face.

"Hey. I'm Prince Charming and you is ... well we is ... in deep shit." he says and points to another set of alleys echoing with the sound of shuffling footsteps and groans.

[Paladin]

We'll say Shylock was able to get her legs free, but he hasn't the time to pick two locks with undead crowding in.

Speaking of, now is a good time to explain how these undead work. If they roll a natural 20 to attack, they have touched your skin. You then make a save vs. poison. On a success, your body will fight off the plague. On a failure, you will sicken and die over the course of a week. There is no known cure.

If you make a close-range (melee) attack and hit, roll a Hard(4d6) dex check to avoid catching blood splatter and risking another chance at contracting plague. If blood touches you, make another save vs. Poison. Same outcomes.


The emergence of the first undead heralds the coming of many, many more. The poor, the destitute, those who have no safe harbor to hide within each night, these are the first to heed the necromancer's call.

Beggars, pickpockets, and urchins creep from the shadows, attracted by the scent and warmth of the living. Several pairs of dark eyes gleam from shadowed alleys before they stumble into the moonlight, still unsure of their stiff, ungainly limbs.

Shylock risks much in remaining beside Jasmine so long, his focus consumed alternately by her generous chest and the shackles at her ankles. He hears a soft shuffle from behind just as the shackles click and fall free. He whips around to spot the ragged form of a young urchin approaching. The hollow-eyed boy is several feet away, but closing as fast as his awkward feet will allow.

Jasmine comes to with a start, her senses snapping to full alert.

Corthalis hears a similar gentle scrape behind him, and a shadow blocks the moonlight as a ghostly pale hand reaches from the darkness to swipe feebly at him. It catches his robe and tugs, but nerveless fingers slip free.

Gil lands like an avenging angel, pinioning the undead and surveying the scene to decide his next move. The poor soulless creature with a javelin through the neck crumples and bleeds out in the street.

The guards file into the jail and slam the door, locking out the terrors of the night and leaving you to face your doom alone. Alleys offer no refuge and streets are a highway for the plague-ridden.

[Grognardsw]

The door to the building roof Gil was on, from which the zombie came out, is that still open?

That may provide quick escape, from which we can get to the roof and make our way elsewhere.

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

She looks around for her weapons, keeping away from any Undead for the time being.

"I not have a wish to die yet at young age. We flee?" she tells anyone with her.