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Thread: Blood and Ash

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    Default Blood and Ash

    Its been a few hours since the humans rode through the village, most of the fires have gone out. More than half the tents have been burned, the reindeer herd has been scattered and the dogs have been either killed or are hiding. The survivors are walking about dazed or sitting on the ground in crumbled heaps, sometimes crying over loved ones, other times just crying. Then there are those who dont cry, who just sit and stare, their eyes unseeing.

    Several of the surviving warriors seem to be gathering in the center of the village, where an ancient Wolf Gnoll is sitting, his sugliin on his lap.
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
    Tiefling Sorcerer by Linkele
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    My Spell, My Weapon, Im a God

    My Post Apocalyptic Alternate Timeline setting: Amerhikan Wasteland


    My Historical Stuff channel

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    Etok

    The tall grey Hobgoblin lopes through the wreckage, hands stained with blood, head flicking about frantically as he searches the mass of corpses. He pauses every few tents to pull a corpse aside or to sneer at the occasional dead human - far too occasional. Eventually, with a wry, bittersweet grin and the whispered word "Brother", he sits down in the mess and lifts the item he's been looking for - a simple axe of wood and metal, with thin grooves and engraved patterns running the length of its single uneven edge. He kisses the flat of the blade and wipes it with great care, holding it firmly in hand, his knuckles whitening from the grip. He surveys the devastation around him at great length, and his face contorts with unchecked emotion. He continues to move aimlessly through the devastation, aching with the echoes of pain all around him, so similar to his own. From the center of camp he hears the murmurs of hatred, the festering beginnings of acceptance, of anger. He follows the voices to the gathering in the center, filling with faces streaked with blood and filth, seeking understanding of the throbs of pain growing within. Pain so like his own, but theirs a wound still bleeding.

    Etok wordlessly joins them, meeting their gazes with tears running down his face. For the first time in years, he feels needed. Occasionally his deep breaths are wracked by sobs, but he contains the worst of his emotion out of respect of the Wolf-Gnoll before him.
    Last edited by Hypersmith; 2017-10-30 at 12:14 PM.
    The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
    And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

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    Gnur

    He dropped the deer carcass and ran. His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs burned as his legs pumped furiously toward the crest of the low rise.

    He didn't know who the riders were, they had been too far on the horizon to discern, but they had ridden away from the tribe's encampment. The horses were too big, too healthy, not at all like the steppe ponies, and there was something about their bearing that sent a shiver of dread down his spine.

    Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He needed speed and stamina, Father Stag lend me your strength and carry me home.

    It had only been a few months ago that he had trudged to the top of this very same rise, to look down upon the encampment that had become his new home...his new tribe. Life here had been a welcomed change from the prolonged misery that had been his existence in the Ashtooth clan. He had even managed to make a few new friends in recent weeks.

    Skidding to a stop, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, he looked down upon...devastation. Easily half of the encampment lay in smoldering ruins, and the muddy ground was strewn with bodies.

    Willing himself into motion, he loped down the hill, stopping periodically to kneel and check on one of his fallen tribe mates. He spotted a couple of warriors he recognized moving slowly to the center of the village and fell in with them. No one spoke, no one needed to. He knew what had happened. The same thing that always happened. Though he had never crossed blades with any of the imperial filth, he knew they were the ones responsible. Who else would murder innocents - old men, women, and children.

    Coming to a stop, he looked first at the old gnoll warrior and his ceremonial weapon, then scanned the gathering crowd....too few, far too few. Spotting the shaman that had tended to his wrenched knee a month ago...what was his name? Zhar something....he nodded sternly. He gripped his greataxe in both hands and pushed his way nearer the front to hear what would be said.
    Last edited by RolandDeschain; 2017-10-30 at 09:10 AM.

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    Zharbub

    The grey orc approaches the circle of warriors with slow shuffling steps. Zharbub was never particularly war-like, and even now is no exception. His once beautiful robes, intricately woven and dyed, are rent and tattered. They hang like rags off of the broad frame afforded him by his blood if not his temperament. His once lustrous mane of thick black hair is dulled by the trapped smoke and has been shaved away in a distinctive pattern. Zharbub's eyes stare out from a stunned, slack face. They bear no glimmer of recognition for anyone.

    Hanging from a cord wrapped around the orc's waist is the tribe's ancient medicine stick, a short shaft of weathered wood carved with the designs of the great spirits, its handle worn smooth by generations of use. The decorative feathers and rattles tied around its end are still sticky with Mahk the Gentle's blood. In his hands Zharbub holds the greatest fruit of his former life's labors, a beautiful and deadly spear that he had planned to present to the winner of the next great hunt. He is unconsciously wringing the shaft with this hands as though it is the neck of one of the raiders.

    Still staring blankly through all of those present Zharbub's lips begin to move as he struggles to form one single word. Finally he gets the motions right and begins to add wind to the effort. "Why?" he asks in a tiny voice. "Why?" the word gets louder and his voice breaks as he allows every bit of heartache that he feels to fill the articulation. "WHY?!"

    "WHY!?" Zharbub bellows at the world and the spirits that he can feel all around him, the spirits that sat and watched and did nothing when the attack came. I did nothing! The thought ricochets around inside the orc's skull driving him mad. He hammers the butt of his spear against the ground and roars at the sky as tears of shame stream down his face

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    Thar Silverblood

    Thar kneels on the ground by Krestak's lifeless body. Years of enduring Krestak's talk about 'The Spark' or 'The Fire Within'... but now he could actually understand the sensations Krestak was describing, that Krestak was trying to share with him, and Krestak missed it.

    No, it was taken from him. The thought enrages Thar, and as he raises his head to bellow his anger towards the heavens, he feels the spark begin to flow outwards. surprised, Thar cuts off the flow, and his shout in the process. Can't even yell as an outlet without throwing around magic he doesn't yet understand and nobody can explain to him.

    Thar shuts Krestak's eyes and turns toward the center of the village. Sorting out his magic will take time, and the tribe, what remains of it, needs things now. Approaching the gathered Warriors, unnaturally blue eyes focused on the ancient gnoll, Thar answers one question with a more important one. "No. Why can't change any of this. What next?"

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    "Thar is right Zharbub, save your rage for when we can use it. Right now we have people to tend to, animals to find, supplies to take stock of. If we are fortunate we will have enough food to last us through winter yet. If we are not fortunate..." the old, mostly blind, Gnoll trails off. You all remember that he is named Dreamwalker, and he is a seer. He turns his rheumy eyes to you lot.

    "You four, you should go see if you can gather the herd, a few of the dogs whould still be around to help. The rest of us will try to sort this mess out."
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
    Tiefling Sorcerer by Linkele
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    My Spell, My Weapon, Im a God

    My Post Apocalyptic Alternate Timeline setting: Amerhikan Wasteland


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    Zharbub nods as the cold wind dries his tears. Eyes glassy once more he looks at Thar and Gnur. "If they have not splintered, they should not be hard to find." Taking his spear in one hand, Zharbub turns to leave and his gaze falls upon Etok. Gone is Zharbub's customary pity and gentleness when dealing with the half mad hobgoblin, instead there is acknowledgement. "Follow me, and keep up."

    With long, loping strides Zharbub pounds through the wreckage of the campsite and out into the fields, casting about for signs of the herd's passage. He allows himself the release of physical exertion, pumping his muscular legs and holding his spear with a ready hand. Never particularly mindful of his surrounding at the best of times, now the orc shaman-in-training allows everything except the tracks and the rhythm of his steps to fade away.

    Spoiler: Survival Check
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    Operating under the assumption that the ground is Firm (DC 15) or less and that the herd is fairly large (consisting of at least 12 animals)
    who are themselves Large, Zharbub will move at his normal speed (40 ft.) incurring a -5 to his check.

    (1d20+5)[21]

    Basically heading out immediately but the party will be able to double move to catch up so if you guys want to do something else don't feel like I'm trying to move us all off at once.
    Last edited by PallentisLunam; 2017-10-30 at 06:12 PM.

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    Etok

    The flow of tears has steadily stemmed since he arrived, and Etok takes in the pure anger Zharbub exhibits with an openly sympathetic gaze, a strange reversal of position, but he makes no move to stop him. There would be time to adapt to what had just transpired, years of it. In this moment anger was warranted.

    As Dreamwalker speaks, Etok intently. The orange eyes dart quickly to the other three indicated, filled with confusion at his inclusion. A strong young Gnoll, Zharbub, and Thar.

    Thar was... odd. There was something off about his appearance - Etok couldn't put a finger on it. He did not see the apprentice often, as he had actively avoided Krestak and his strange attempts to "help him" as the sorcerer put it. Etok feared he would erase the memory of his brother Barok, irrational as it seemed. He knew little about the Gnoll, but he seemed unscathed for all his armor, and panted lightly - a hunter? Zharbub was quickly straightening up and as their gazes meet, no longer filled with that strange pity, Etok trots up to the shaman and begins to follow, casting a quick glance back at Dreamwalker, wondering what drove his choice.

    Etok lays eyes on the medicine stick and mumbles as he catches up."He was taken." Despite being ever so slightly taller, Etok speaks as though looking up at the Orc. He jogs a little to keep pace with his stride, but seems unbothered by the weight of the armor and shield on his back. He gestures at the medicine stick at Zharbub's waist. "You can speak with the herd?"

    He looks about for the other two indicated, gaze resting a long moment on Thar as he tries to discern what bothers him. He stares at the Gnoll too, taking in his excellent physicality, and his lack of ranged weaponry. He unstraps five of his own shortspears and stretches them handle first to him, a slight frown crossing his face. "Bad and unprepared Gnoll. Could be more. Could have horses."
    The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
    And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

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    Without making eye contact or breaking stride Zharbub grunts in the affirmative. "By the cold embrace of the earth-father. When the sun rises tomorrow morning we will anoint his body with the sacred waters and fire shall free him to roam the heavens. As it should be," he intones using the old words that he is not sure he even believes anymore.

    The question causes Zharbub to pause, not in stride but in his mind. The swirling presence of the spirits is there just as it always has been, he can feel them, but they are faint, muted by the chaos in his own soul. Nature itself feels distant to him, as though it too has left his side. Glancing down at the bloody medicine stick the orc shakes his head, "I don't know anymore, but I will try."

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    Gnur

    He came to a stop a few feet from the elder gnoll, the one named Dreamwalker. He silently seethed as the looked about at the others, but the somber tones and the many faces streaked with tears reminded him that he had few friends here. His connection to his new tribe was still...thin, a tenuous thing. He hadn't lost anyone close. He hadn't lost...family, and he was hit with a crushing wave of guilt. If only he had been here, perhaps he could have done something...anything.

    He swallowed hard...struggled to meet the tearful gaze of those around him. Before he could fade to the back of the assembling group, however, the seer spoke to him and those immediately near him. What had he said? Something about the herd?

    The shaman, Zhar, spoke to him and he responded with a firm, silent nod. The orc set a quick pace, and Gnur followed. The four of them quickly cleared the ruined campsite, Gnur refusing to see the bodies of young and old alike scattered about like so much refuse.

    The trail was easy to find, and Gnur thought about the seer's wisdom....Set a task before us. Get everyone focused on moving forward - doing a job. Smart.

    He turned to the hobgoblin as he accepted the proffered shortspears, "Horses? They were mounted, yes." Indicating the westward horizon, "Rode off that way."

    Motioning to his ruined left eye, "Not unprepared....not good with distances. I am called Gnur."
    Last edited by RolandDeschain; 2017-10-30 at 10:14 PM.

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    Thar Silverblood

    Herding isn't his thing, but if Dreamwalker says he should be doing this, this is what he should be doing. The one divination Thar doubted has just been proven completely true, so the Seer will be taken at his word.

    Zharbub can handle finding the animals, so as Thar follows along he begins attempting to feel out his magic, quickly realizing that the fire within him can easily ward away the cold. Perhaps an obvious use, but a useful one. Feeling the spark gently suffusing his skin, a thought occurs to him. "Someone come over here. I need to try something magic. Should be good."

    Spoiler: ooc
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    Any volunteers for magic testing?

    New job, timings kinda bad right now, should normalize soon.

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    Etok
    After listening to Zharbubs reply, he nods gravely. "The remains are with us. That's good, good for us. Not frozen. Can be cleaned and cared for." There is a slightly faraway look to his eyes, and they take a moment to refocus. When they do, his attention has moved on to Gnur.

    ~He starts wrapping his shortspears to his pack again within easy reach as he replies to Gnur. "I'm Etok. Need to stay prepared, they could come again. How you gonna see if they come from the left?" Etok vaguely raises a hand towards the eyepatch and his frown deepens - he continues, not waiting for a reply. "Range is domination. No matter your skill with a weapon, you don't reach them, they will kill -" He twists his head to look at Thar, who just proposed "something magic." He does not stop in his stride, but he seems to shrink away from him slightly.
    Last edited by Hypersmith; 2017-10-31 at 09:06 AM.
    The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
    And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

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    Gnur

    He grimaces when Etok mentions his vulnerability to attacks from his left side; it was indeed something that concerned him. He holds up his greataxe, running his fingers over the ring of bear claws that adorn the shoulder of the handle, then responds matter-of-factly, "I'm confident that Old Bear's spirit will watch over me."

    The gnoll nods his head as the hobgoblin continues, "Fighting from range is good...except for when it isn't. Your confidence will serve you well. I'm glad to have you with us Etok."

    Gnur also looks at the other hobgoblin askance when he asks for volunteers before slowing his stride, "A tribe borrows its strength from the skills of all of its members. It is good that you can use magics. I am named Gnur, formerly of the Ashtooth. What do you mean when you say 'should be good'?"

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    The trail is quite easy to follow and in just under a half an hour the group catches sight of the herd. Nearly two dozen reindeer are in a circle trying to ward off a pack of wolves that are circling them.

    Spoiler: OOC
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    Theres half a dozen wolves and they are just over 200 feet away. They havent seen you yet.
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
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    My Spell, My Weapon, Im a God

    My Post Apocalyptic Alternate Timeline setting: Amerhikan Wasteland


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    "Protect the herd!" Zharbub shouts closing the distance. Taking the medicine stick from his belt, the orc druid closes his eyes and reaches out to the great hunter spirits. The carvings on the stick glow and writhe and, even in their defiled state, the feathers whistle and the rattles chatter as a spirit answers the call. When it does Zharbub feels his rage bubble up and overwhelm his mind. The spirit he has called remains but he feels the others flee from him. "Come, you mongrels! You will make no kills from that herd this day!"

    Spoiler: Mechanics
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    Actions while closing to 60 ft:
    Move (40 ft. - Distance 160)
    Move (Draw weapon)



    Move (40 ft. - Distance 120)
    Standard (Cast Shillelagh 10/10 rounds)



    Free (Frenzy 5/5 rounds)
    Move (40 ft. - Distance 80)
    Move (20 ft. - Distance 60)
    Shillelagh Duration 9/10 rounds



    Initiative Check (1d20+1)[10]
    Zharbub
    Male Orc Druid, Level 1, Init 1, HP 10/10, Speed 40 ft
    AC 17, Touch 17, Flat-footed 14, Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +6, Base Attack Bonus +0
    Spear Melee +6 (1d8+7, x3)/ Thrown +2 (1d8+5, x3, 20 ft.)
    Sling (20 bullets) +1 (1d6+5, x2, 50 ft.)
    Sickle +5 (1d6+5, x2)
    Shillelagh'd Club Melee +6 (2d6+8, x2)/ Thrown +2 (2d6+6, x2, 10 ft)
    Abilities Str 20, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 18, Cha 6
    Condition Shillelagh 9/10 rounds, Frenzy (+4 STR, +2 AC, +2 Ref, Extra Attack) 5/5 rounds
    Last edited by PallentisLunam; 2017-10-31 at 08:16 PM.

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    Thar Silverblood

    Quickly introducing himself in kind, he answers "Thar, was apprenticed to Krestak."

    He then continues "Just discovered my new magic can keep me warm despite the cold. If I can share this warmth, it could be useful." before offering his hand to Gnur, his fingers glowing gently with a warm golden light.

    (If Gnur accepts, he feels a tingle spread across his body as the warm light envelops it, before the light and tingle fade away leaving a gentle warmth in it's wake.)

    Then, with the herd and a threat to it in sight,

    Spoiler: Mechanics
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    After casting endure exposure on Gnur (or Gnur declines the buff), Thar will rush forward with Zharbub (and probably the rest of the group).

    Initiative (1d20)[19]

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    Etok
    With utmost calm, Etok watches Zharbub charge ahead - with the fluidity of a practiced movement he pulls two shortspears from their resting place and begins to pick up pace, following the shaman. He stands tall and scans the wolves, picking out the one closest to him even as he moves forward. Once his eyes lock on his target he dashes forward to catch up.

    Spoiler: Actions
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    Move action - draw & move 30ft (170ft left)
    Move action - draw & move 30ft (140ft left)
    Full round action - Run 80ft (60ft left)
    Initiative: (1d20+4)[7]
    The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
    And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

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    Gnur

    Gnur reaches out and takes Thar's hand without hesitation. The golden light and warmth wash over him, blunting the sharp edge of the ever present cold. "There have been many cold night hunts when this would have been a blessed relief Thar. I thank....." His words break off at Zharbub's shout. Releasing the hobgoblin's hand, "Let's go!"

    Spotting the wolves threatening the herd, Gnur moves off from the others, sweeping wide to come upon the wolves from behind. He knew that if they turned the tables on the pack by making them feel threatened, they would leave the herd alone.

    Sensing he had run far enough out, he made a wide arcing turn and ran up behind the nearest wolf threatening the herd, making loud yipping sounds to draw their attention.

    Spoiler: Actions
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    Gnur is going to have to move considerably further than the others as he's not taking a direct path toward the wolves/herd, but rather circling around behind the nearest wolves.
    Run(30x4) = 120'
    Run(30x4) = 120'
    Initiative (1d20+3)[18]

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    The two fastest wolves see the charging warriors and bolt, straight for Gnur. The two leap at him, trying to take him down

    Spoiler: Mechanical bits
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    2 Bites
    (1d20+3)[9]
    (1d20+3)[13]

    Damage (if hits)
    (1d6+1)[7]
    (1d6+1)[6]

    Trip attempt (if successful hit)
    (1d20+1)[18]
    (1d20+1)[16]
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
    Tiefling Sorcerer by Linkele
    Spoiler: Homebrew stuff
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    My Spell, My Weapon, Im a God

    My Post Apocalyptic Alternate Timeline setting: Amerhikan Wasteland


    My Historical Stuff channel

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    Gnur

    As the wolves broke from the herd and charged toward him the gnoll skiddedto a halt....well, you wanted to make yourself a target, now what are you going to do you big, hairy idiot?

    The beasts both closed on him with alarming speed and dove in low, slashing at his calves... attacking purely on instinct. Trying to keep the slavering jaws at bay he glanced up at the other wolves...I wonder if I can use their instincts against them?

    Suppressing his blood instincts to attack, he instead, yiped the distinctly high-pitch sound of a wounded canine, and dramatically limped away...

    Spoiler: OC
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    Resisting the urge to blindly rage and attack. Withdraw action 30' away from the herd and toward the rest of the party; trying to make the other wolves think he's wounded and draw them away from the herd.

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    Thar Silverblood

    Thar only really knows the basics of dealing with animals, but hopefully it'll be enough. He moves to place himself between the herd and the wolves, and readies himself to try and scare off any wolves that get close to him.


    Spoiler: Mechanics
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    Not sure where I'd be moving too, but if the wolves are ~ 60 ft away, should work out.

    Readying an action to accidentally breathe fire on the first wolf to get within range of my 30 ft line of fire. (1d6)[5] fire damage, DC 15 reflex save for half.



    Spoiler: Readied Action
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    As the wolf nears, Thar draws in a deep breath a goes to bellow at the wolf, but he feels his magic beginning to rush out again. Rather than cutting it off, he lets it flow, a gout of flame leaping from his mouth towards the wolf.

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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    The remaining four wolves move in between Gnur and the rest of the party, encircling him, but not approaching. Yet.
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
    Tiefling Sorcerer by Linkele
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    My Spell, My Weapon, Im a God

    My Post Apocalyptic Alternate Timeline setting: Amerhikan Wasteland


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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    "Your pack is overmatched, hunters!" Zharbub howls racing forward and chucking his spear with all the force he can muster.

    Spoiler: Specifics
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    Move to within 20 ft of a wolf and make a ranged attack with the spear.

    Attack: (1d20+2)[16] Critical: [/roll]1d20+2[/roll] Flubbed but irrelevant Damage: (1d8+5)[11] Critical Damage: (2d8+10)[17]



    Zharbub
    Male Orc Druid, Level 1, Init 1, HP 10/10, Speed 40 ft
    AC 17, Touch 17, Flat-footed 14, Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +6, Base Attack Bonus +0
    Spear Melee +6 (1d8+7, x3)/ Thrown +2 (1d8+5, x3, 20 ft.) Expended
    Sling (20 bullets) +1 (1d6+5, x2, 50 ft.)
    Sickle +5 (1d6+5, x2)
    Shillelagh'd Club Melee +6 (2d6+8, x2)/ Thrown +2 (2d6+6, x2, 10 ft)
    Abilities Str 20, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 18, Cha 6
    Conditions: Shillelagh 8/10 rounds, Frenzy (+4 STR, +2 AC, +2 Ref, Extra Attack) 4/5 rounds
    Last edited by PallentisLunam; 2017-11-02 at 11:07 PM.

  24. - Top - End - #24
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    Etok leaps forward, silently letting his shortspear fly at the wolf Zharbub just struck.

    Spoiler: OOC
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    That's moving within 30 feet of target and attacking with a shortspear. Attack (1d20+6)[11] Crit (1d20+6)[14] Damage (1d6+5)[9] and Crit damage(2d6+10)[15]
    The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
    And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

  25. - Top - End - #25
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Blackhawk748's Avatar

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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    The Wolf goes down to two spears into its side. The two wolves that attacked Gnur yip loudly and race off, away from the herd.
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
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  26. - Top - End - #26
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    RolandDeschain's Avatar

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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    Gnur

    The gnoll grins as the first wolf breaks and runs. Pulling himself up to his full height, Gnur roars in fury; cords of muscles rippling along his chest, arms and legs. It almost appears as if his jaw elongates and his fangs seem much more pronounced and menacing. Snarling and snapping like a vicious beast he steps over the fallen wolf, and stands over top it like a predator claiming its kill. He slowly turns to glare at each of the remaining wolves one at a time.

    Spoiler: OC
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    Free Action: Rage
    Purely a display of ferocity at this point to 'encourage' the remaining wolves to follow their companion's lead.
    Last edited by RolandDeschain; 2017-11-03 at 04:57 PM.

  27. - Top - End - #27
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    jojolagger's Avatar

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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    Thar Silverblood

    Seeing the wolves starting to lose their nerve, Thar rushes towards one and moves to bellow some threat at it. Instead, a gout of flame erupts from his mouth towards the wolf.

    Spoiler: Mechanics
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    Assuming there's a wolf within 70', Move up to 40 ft to get closer (but at least 20 ft away), breathe 30 ft line at it. (1d6)[1] fire damage, DC 15 reflex save for half.

  28. - Top - End - #28
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    Blackhawk748's Avatar

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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    The wolf gets singed and leaps back with a yelp before the rest of them turn to their heels and make a run for it.

    The reindeer herd is still a bit spooked and is keeping its distance from you.
    Spoiler: OOC
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    Not gonna make a Ref save cuz its only one damage. Also, combat over and everyone gets 450 xp each.
    Quote Originally Posted by Guigarci View Post
    "Mr. Aochev, tear down this wall!" Ro'n Ad-Ri'Gan, Bard
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  29. - Top - End - #29
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    Etok
    He twists his eyebrows high onto his brow, glancing oddly at the howling Gnur, and almost leaping back in surprise when Thar unleashes a gout of flame. Once the wolves begin to back away he lowers his arm ready to throw and looks back to make sure the herd still remains. Seeing it does, he grins excitedly.
    He carefully re-bundles his spears as he makes sure the wolves aren't returning. He turns to face Zharbub immediately afterwords, eyes flicking back and forth between the herd and the shaman. "Gonna do it? I wanna go back fast, see what's happening..."
    The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
    And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

  30. - Top - End - #30
    Troll in the Playground
     
    PallentisLunam's Avatar

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    Default Re: Blood and Ash

    Zharbub's eyes go wide at Thar's display of his new found talent. Etok's words snap him back to the task at hand. Turning his eyes sweep over the body of the slain foebeast and he feels strength leave his limbs. To Zharbub, his body seems to grow heavy with sadness itself. "Yes, we should hurry," he says as he moves slowly towards the herd.

    Zharbub loops the still glowing medicine stick back around his belt and holds his hands out to either side. Moving slowly he approaches the lead stag, the one with the largest, most beautiful rack. The orc lets out a grunt that sounds like the bray of one of the beasts.

    Spoiler: OoC
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    So I guess this could be seen as either a Wild Empathy Check (1d20-5)[8] or just a handle animal check (1d20-2)[8] DC 10 if the herd knows the come command or 25 if they don't.

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