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As the two harpies turn towards him, Bürd hangs his axe over his shoulder and whips out a stone, carved in runes which begin to glow with intense orange light...

Flames spring from the stone, singeing the harpies!
Burning Hands damage: [1d3+2] = 1+2 = 3

Just realised I rolled that wrong. It should be +4 (2 per caster level), so sticking with the roll of 1, it's 5 damage, or half if they save vs spells.

Mournath sends an arrow flying towards a nearby harpy (#5) [1d20+2] = 10+2 = 12
and if he hits : does [1d8] = 3 damage

mb. wrote:As the two harpies turn towards him, Bürd hangs his axe over his shoulder and whips out a stone, carved in runes which begin to glow with intense orange light...

Flames spring from the stone, singeing the harpies!
Burning Hands damage: [1d3+2] = 1+2 = 3

Just realised I rolled that wrong. It should be +4 (2 per caster level), so sticking with the roll of 1, it's 5 damage, or half if they save vs spells.

Harpy save: [1d20] = 6 Failed.

Fire washes over the two bird-creatures, sending them staggering backwards, sputtering curses and batting at their feathers.

bislab wrote:Mournath sends an arrow flying towards a nearby harpy (#5) [1d20+2] = 10+2 = 12
and if he hits : does [1d8] = 3 damage

Mournath's arrow sinks into the harpy's shoulder.

Guard 3 attacks with his flaming branch: [1d20] = 17 Damage: [1d6] = 1
Harpy 11's neck snaps under the blow, and she falls, burning, into the pyre.

The harpies are taken aback by the sudden show of force from the remains of the party.
Morale check: [2d6] = 7
With a cry of command from Harpy 20, they fly up into the air, circling the party, considering their options.



Meanwhile:
The rest of their harpies, gripping their captives, bet their wings hard for several minutes, rising higher and higher until the fighters below are reduced to the size of dots. Once they have achieved their desired altitude, they fall into a V-formation, and begin flying to the northwest, over icy mountains and shadowed valleys.

The wind is cold to the point of burning, and the height is terrifying, completely out of scale with anything you have ever experienced, or imagined. Rug bleats pitifully. Silde, Maximer, and Guard 4 scream until they are hoarse—wild, tearing screams of unconstrained panic. When their lungs are depleted and they no longer have it in them to scream, they shake with deep sobs.

Simon holds tightly onto the harpy that is holding him, now realizing his captor is his only chance of survival. He held his eyes closed at first, praying to his gods for safety. But once up in the air, it seemed there is little to do but enjoy the view.

He tries to yell over the wind to the harpy holding him, "Where are we going?"

Marcus looks out over the wide area, giving the bear cub a reassuring look, before answering Simon. He yells over the wind, still holding his speak up to the harpy in case things take a turn for the worse, "Probably their nest, they'll probably try to eat us or something." With a thought he looks up at his captor, "Hey, you understand common? Able to tell us what you have planned out for us?"

The harpies seem to have changed direction by a considerable angle. They are mostly coasting now, only occasionally beating their wings to adjust altitude. WIS check to see if you can keep track of the direction they're headed in.

Simon's questions is not acknowledged, but Marcus' harpy, after a second of considering ignoring him, turns her harsh face down towards him and sneers "You will be tried for your crimes."

Another harpy shrieks, her voice carrying with clarity over the rush of air, "SILENCE!" after which all the harpies steadfastly ignore their captives.

Marcus looks over to Simon as they coast, "Seems like were criminals or something. Maybe they won't eat us after all" Marcus scans the area as much as he can, hoping to tell which way they came from and which direction they're headed in.

Marcus Wisdom Check(WIS:10): [1d20] = 17
Marcus never was good at navigation...

WIS Navigation Check (16): [1d20] = 20

Simon completely missed the change in direction, must have closed his eyes again.

WIS check to keep his mouth shut: [1d20] = 9

He is otherwise silent.

Wisdom 11 +2 for Pathfinding skill =13 d20: [1d20] = 10

Desmond clings to legs of the harpy carrying him while scanning the ground below for landmarks to keep track of where they are going. Letting himself be carried away seems less like a good idea with every passing moment. Being put on trial for his crimes is definitely not what he had in mind. He isn't even sure what crimes he is supposed to have committed. The man was dead and burried in the snow when they found him and the harpies attacked first.

At least the bird-women are capable of speech, so there is still a chance to talk his way out of this alive. Failing that, he still has his dagger and hopefully his companions have managed to hold on to weapons as well.

Desmond:

Mournath scans the sky, arrow knocked and ready for trouble. Being an experienced woodsman and tracker, he tries to determine the travel direction the harpies are taking with their prisoners.

Bürd hefts his axe and looks about, "Mournath, an' you there, Maximer's man, gather round 'ere! We've a right better chance t'gether than spread out."

Bürd keeps his back to the wagon and his eye on the circling harpies. "How are ye fer wounds lads? Have either of ye aught fer healin'?"

The wagon is some distance down the road, where it tipped over after the horses bolted. Guard 3 begins running towards the wagon, having dropped his burning branch. He begins rummaging through the spilled cargo.

The harpies circle overhead. WIS+2 check to have noticed the direction the other harpies departed in while you were fighting (+2 because you were probably already looking up).

Bürd keeps a wary eye on the circling harpies as he follows the guard towards the wagon. "Send 'em an arrow or two if'n y'kin Mournath! We kinnae let 'em ag'in think we're easy prey!"

Bürd scans the skies for the other harpies and his lost friends...
Bürd rolls [1d20] = 2 on his WIS of 15.

Bürd:

Tonkioso 'Gizzy' Gizmoebius [Male Clockwork Child Warrior AC 12 : HP 5/ 5]:

Wisdom Check [15]= [1d20] = 19

Poor Gizzy can't figure where the harpy is heading.

Bürd joins the guard, keeping a wary eye on the skies, and his back to the wagon, "what're ye searchin' fer so desperate, man?"

The guard says, "Aha! This!" Creaking open a chest, he pulls out:

He digs up a fistful of bolts, and begins cranking back the crossbow. "There should be some shields and spear around here, too. Enough for four."

I guess it's time to split the thread. If you aren't currently wearing a pair of talons on your shoulders and looking at mountaintops between your toes, see you over on the new thread.

Don't you mean that if you are under a harpie? Those of us who were too graceful to be snapped up stay here, right?

Bürd reaches up to clap the guard on the back, "yer head's on straight, man! Show 'em what we're thinkin' a wings an' talons!" Bürd rummages around until he finds a sizable shield and a few spears, and leans them on the wagon.

Bürd's not much of a spear thrower, but how's the distance? Would a thrown spear have any chance of reaching the harpies?

Right. Ground party stays here. Aerial party heads to the next thread. Thanks for catching that.

The Guard fires his crossbow: [1d20] = 8

"Damned wind," he curses as the bolt sails in a graceful arc away from the harpies. He begins to crank the crossbow again.

Let's give Mournath a chance to fire a shot, as well.