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Post by zeferin on Sept 14, 2012 14:23:56 GMT -4
(OOC: ok, I hope this is the last attack)
Trazish ran up next to the little witch after using her strange rod. Reaching behind her, Trazish pulled her crossbow out, feeling the new, awkward grip she now had on it with her claws, and steadied herself to aim at the last druid. As she lined the undead in sight, she poured her Lady's divine fury into the crossbow. With a deep breath, she fired and prayed. Move -c3 bane on crossbow Attack: [dice=20] +2(bane) + 1(dex) + 1(trait) +2 (Deekin) + 1(guidance)
Damage: [dice=10] + [dice=6][dice=6] +1 (trait)[rand=71735750930383864501849794760350963637076783925304632674716413021]
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Post by Naerwen on Sept 14, 2012 19:29:39 GMT -4
OOC: Thanks for fixing my goof-ups Sean. I couldn't remember what you said after we got done talking yesterday. Sorry.
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Post by irishmagician on Sept 14, 2012 23:33:54 GMT -4
The druid takes the bolt in the shoulder, but still remains standing.
(OOC: Almost there!)
Initiative:
Ayame Grumple Deekin Purple Monster Druids x 1 Sacred Tree Naerwen/Tiriel Vulgrim Trazish
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Post by myinsanemind on Sept 16, 2012 14:20:04 GMT -4
Ayame head swirled with the sound. In an attempt to kill the Druid to end the sound of pain, she aimed her rod again and fired.
Uses rod: [dice=100]
[dice=6][dice=6][dice=6][dice=6][dice=6][dice=6][rand=439145006937906152034783249255269875528069073334344304153823759407]
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Post by irishmagician on Sept 16, 2012 16:03:35 GMT -4
Reflex Save: [dice=20] + 4
With the harsh sound of a cracking whip, lightning lashes out of the Rod; lancing directly through the druid's chest. After convulsing briefly, it collapses to the ground, the last remaining link to the barrier vanishing into nothingness. Like shattering glass, the barrier breaks apart into millions of tiny shards that hang momentarily in the air; glittering with the color of the chaotic energy contained within. The still tableau is broken as the shards start shooting around in all directions, constricting in a quickly tightening circle; until they create a veritable whirlwind of energy that surrounds monster, now roaring in fury as it finally recognizes the heroes around it as a threat. A tearing sound fills the air as the whirling shards rip open what appears to be a hole of coruscating energy, a virtual miniature replica of the rift that appeared back in Oakdale. Air rushes wildly into this rift, as the difference in pressure on whatever exists on the other side begins to inexorably pull the monster through. The monster roars out its fury one last time, with a look in its face of vengeance already being plotted, it is sucked through the rift and disappears. Immediately afterwards, the rift slowly heals itself; the fabric of reality 'knitting' itself back together to leave the space whole once again, as the shards of whirling energy finally disappear into nothingness.
The Tree, after being completely motionless while this occurred, gives out a loud creaking noise; what could only be interpreted as a verdant version of an exhausted sigh. The groaning of stretching and relaxing branches fills the air as the Tree slowly settles back into the earth around it, its roots digging and kneading gently back into the ground. In a short while, the Tree stands as it was before, with the addition of several deep gouges and marks in the trunk. At this point, the High Druid Giloren has come to; the wizened elf getting to his feet as he leans heavily on the staff he had clutched in his fingers previously. He makes his way slowly over to the tree near where the half-orc lies, and bends down to examine him.
End Initiative.
(Thank-The-Gods-OOC: Official start time of combat: June 2nd. Official end time of combat September 16th. 3-MONTH-LONG-COMBAT-FTW!!!!)
Everyone receives 1,200 XP EACH for defeating the druids, and a Story Bonus of 2,000 XP EACH for finishing the encounter prior to the destruction of the Tree. Hence, everyone receives 3,200 XP in total.[rand=1325165249133887218639406774135958167591338680484928281644310489041]
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Post by blackhawk on Sept 16, 2012 18:33:46 GMT -4
AS the barrier falls, Vulgrim watches the tree settle. As the elf rises and goes to the Orc, Vulgrim clanks over and takes a bow.
"Vulgrim Forgwynd, cleric of Torag. Let me help him... I'll admit ahead of time its my fault, as when you, sir, changed places with me the proximity to the purple other-world thing made me panic and I lashed out at the closet thing." Vulgrim kneels and places a hand on the Orc's forehead. Torag forgive me, and help this one whom I, in my stupidity, beat with your hammer. Stone Shape => Cure Serious Wounds: [dice=8][dice=8][dice=8]+7
Vulgrim takes a bow, clenching his fist over his heart. "Forgive me for my lack of control. I hope this helps you."
Vulgrim rises. "Now that I have attempted to right my wrong, do you yourself need assistance?"
Vulgrim waits for an answer, and carries on accordingly. If he says yes, Blindness/Deafness => Cure serious wounds. 3D8+7 heal.
"Could you relate what happened here to us after we get regrouped? I think some mischief befell some of my party... We only came here with one Kobold, for instance."
(OOC: Someone say something if you need heals before we end up resting. Or anything else. )[rand=37929432047531012086114471312612390665375418029732547715427353978]
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mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
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Post by mith on Sept 16, 2012 23:29:55 GMT -4
Grumplestiltskin flinches as the druid collapses in his direction, then nearly stumbles over the corpse as the barrier shimmers and shatters. Keeping a wary eye on the fallen druid for any sign of icky purple energy, he slowly backs away as the massive monster in the center roars and is dragged into the second rift.
"Holy hells, I never want to see that purple stuff again!"
He glances around at Naerwin and Deekin, and slowly approaches the living druid(s) in the center in their company.
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Post by irishmagician on Sept 17, 2012 11:33:20 GMT -4
As Vulgrim utters his prayer to Torag, the healing magic slowly knits the half-orc's face back together; until it appears completely normal, though with a multitude of additional scars now covering his face. His eyes flutter open and he immediately locks his gaze onto the dwarf. The half-orc stares wildly at the smith and stumbles quickly to his feet. He glares at him for a short, but eternal, moment filled with anger; hands clenching angrily, jaw tight, and rather sizable arm muscles taught in what can only be interpreted as beginning signs of unleashed rage. Just before this escalates into physical violence, the frail hand of the elf comes to rest on the half-orc's shoulder. A glance passes between the two of them, without a word. The half-orc then relaxes, only slightly, though now a faint growl of irritation can be heard coming from him. He then walks away out of the clearing silently, unnecessarily bumping very solidly into Vulgrim on the way. The elf sighs and shakes his head with mild amusement as he leaves.
"You must forgive my friend," he says, "he is not one of many words. But allow me to introduce myself, for those of you I have yet to meet," the elf says with a smiling nod towards Naerwen as the rest of the group approaches. "I am Giloren, the High Druid of what used to be the Druid's Circle for both the Silverleaf and Oakdale. As you can see, our number is greatly diminished," he says with a sad wave of his hand to the fallen figures around the cairn circle.
"The one who just left is Klog, who has been training with me for quite some time in the ways of forestry and defense of this forest." Giloren passes an amused gaze over to Deekin, who is now coughing hoarsely and is spritzing his throat with some water from his pack. He turns back to Vulgrim with a more serious mien. "Though the young ward you have with you would not realize it, Klog is the younger brother of the innkeeper Flog in town; they were both abandoned here at the orphanage in the Temple of Mysteries many years ago. I would tread carefully, in your situation, should you return to town. In the tradition of his ancestors, he now has a blood debt to you in two ways. To serve you unconditionally for saving his life twice, for both defeating the monster and bring him back from death; but also to personally end your life, for thoroughly dishonoring him by virtually caving in his face with your hammer." The elf shakes his head sadly as he looks at the retreating back of the half-orc.
"But this is a matter for another time. You wish to know what befell here, you ask?" Giloren replies, his gaze now turning to the Sacred Tree before him. "Having sensed that the trouble that has now befallen Oakdale coming, I came to this Grove to confer with the other members of the Circle and to commune with the Tree about our options. We were caught completely by surprise when that creature appeared, being in deep meditation at the time." A sad look passes over his face as Giloren leans heavily on his staff for a moment. "If you all arrived a moment later, I do not doubt neither myself nor the Sacred Tree would be standing as we are now. For this, I am eternally grateful to you all." A breeze seems to pass through the clearing, as the rustling of leaves and branches from the Tree fills the air for a brief moment. Giloren tilts his head, as if listening to the sound, with an amused smile alighting on his face.
"And it seems that the Tree is also appreciative of the assistance as well," he says as Giloren continues to listen to the sounds of rustling and branches creaking. His eyebrows lift high on his face, surprise showing briefly on his visage. "In fact, it has a request for one of your number." The elf turns to look at Naerwen, surprise still evident on his face. "Little one, it is time for your final lesson. Approach the Tree, it has something to share with you."
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Post by blackhawk on Sept 17, 2012 12:58:25 GMT -4
Vulgrim doesn't really move when the Orc brushes past him, as Dwarves are rather stable. He nods at the Elder druid's explanation of the conflicting debts owed by the Orc.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Vulgrim steps aside as the druid begins to address Naerwen, and waits.
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Post by myinsanemind on Sept 17, 2012 17:00:52 GMT -4
Ayame shook her head as the cries faded. She watched as the purple force disappeared before calling over Dumbledore. With a swift hop, she rod on his back into the circle where Vulgrim and the old Druid stood.
"I swear, if we encounter more of these undead and my command over them fails that quickly again, someone's head is going to roll. Or at least be kissed profusely..." she grumbled to the drawf.
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Post by zeferin on Sept 17, 2012 20:48:19 GMT -4
As the Monster stepped back into the void and the danger finally over, Trazish walked over to the group, took her sword from her back and stuck it firmly into the ground. Turning back, Trazish slide down, resting on the flat part of the blade and took a big sigh. She was almost at her wits ends. She had woke up this morning, just becoming use to that fact that he was now a she, and now she wasn't even a half-elf anymore.
It was that fact, alone, that made her feel most empty. She had grown up with the knowledge that because she was half-elf, it made her unique, as her mother had put it. It made her something that defined her from how people treated her to the reason why her mother and father were dead. Nothing was left to remind her who she was. Even her curse mark was gone.
As the weight of that sunk, her feeling of emptiness soon began filling with another emotion. A dark, burning emotion that pulsed in the pit of her stomach (or at least were she thought her stomach should be). It felt like sludge in her veins, but the feeling kept growing with each thought of what these creatures had done to the town, to the druids and most of all, though it felt wrong for some reason, what these creatures had done to her. It was that last thought that fed her hatred the most.
As the half-orc stomped off and the high druid spoke, Trazish listened half heartedly as she stormed over what she wanted to do to the next undead she saw. As she breathed out, little sparks could be seen zapping. When the Druid finished speaking, Trazish began, "Forgive me, if I seem short and agitated, but I've had just about enough of this day," Trazish said with venom. "I have seen undead storm a town, a beast from another plane fight a tree, I have changed genders and species, and I have never been more angry in my life!" Trazish had just realized that she had stood up, glaring, and were baring her her claws and teeth. Taking a deep breath and repressing her new animal instincts, she continued. "All I want right now is to go back to being a half-elf. I don't even care if you fix my gender, but in the name of Pharasma, I want to be my heritage back."
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Post by Naerwen on Sept 18, 2012 0:01:26 GMT -4
When the purple being was sucked into the rift Naerwen’s body sort of shrank as the muscles of her body slightly released some of the built up tension created from the chaos of the day. Tiriel flew over and rested on Naerwen’s shoulder once more. While gently stroking the bird’s feathers she looked around at the others and then turned her attention to the center of the circle.
Walking up to the tree she tentatively placed a hand on one of the gouges. A slight frown of sorrow came across her face and she gave a quick glance to the High Druid almost as if to ask ‘can we heal it?’ after which she returned her gaze to the tree. Her attention shifted when the others began speaking. She returned the High Druid’s acknowledgement with a slight nod and a small, shy smile. The shy smile was quickly replaced with a sorrowful frown as she glanced around the circle at the fallen druids. At the mention of the Orc’s name Naerwen thought it to be strangely familiar, but she couldn’t remember why. She followed the High Druid’s gaze as he glanced at the half-orc, his words slowly being processed.
Surprised, Naerwen slightly cocked her head to the side in both curiosity and confusion. When Trazish lashed out she looked at him and back to the High Druid wondering if there actually was anything they could do to help. After the exchange of glances she did as she was instructed and waited for whatever was to come hoping that she would be able to understand the lesson.
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Post by Naerwen on Sept 20, 2012 0:31:56 GMT -4
Naerwen approached the tree once more. After a moment she reaches out to lay her hand on the tree again as she moves closer. Her ears are perked up and alert as if she is listening for something. While she is close to the tree root tendrils surround her until she is no longer visible. She remains in the cocoon of roots for approximately ten minutes. Eventually the tendrils unfurl and recede while nudging her forward and catching her off guard enough to make her slightly stumble. After regaining her balance she looks down at the item in her hands and a small smile passes across her face. Finally she looks up and looks around the forest for a few minutes almost as if she’s lost in a moment or two of nostalgia. As she returns her focus to the party she gives a bashful smile to the High Druid and approaches the group. Tiriel calls out to Naerwen and returns to her shoulder having had lunch while she was away.
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Post by irishmagician on Sept 20, 2012 14:19:03 GMT -4
Giloren greets Naerwen with a knowing smile when she returns, as he casts his gaze another time back to the Tree; the scratches and damage inflicted upon it from the battle having mysteriously vanished almost imperceptibly. His attention returns after the brief moment back to the group now gathered around.
"I am afraid that I have little insight into your situation, transformed one," Giloren says to Trazish, uncertain how to address him. "You may wish to consult with the Abbot of the Temple in town, for among my fellow colleagues in Oakdale he is one of the most knowledgeable. If you have already met him, I am surprised that he did not give you something already to assist you with your plight!"Giloren says, slightly concealing a small amused smile on his face with a wizened hand. "Though I must ask of you all, has Erfryn survived this catastrophe? If so, I am afraid that I must call upon you all for a request of great importance; though not difficult by any means."
(OOC: Making assumption here that one of you says "Yes, he survived.")
"I see, that is most fortunate then; though one can most thoroughly say that this entire situation is completely his fault." Giloren ponders for a moment, twirling the short, white beard on his chin contemplatively. "Simply, I would request that you return to wherever he is currently, and show him this." He points to the object now resting in Naerwen's hands, a curved branch similar to the one given to her by the forest nymph encountered previously. Its appearance has changed, however, with the surface of the wood covered in almost imperceptibly shifting symbols and shapes that glow with an incredibly faint purple light. "I am certain that if he sees this, many things will become clear to him; perhaps even a way to resolve our current....situation."
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Post by Naerwen on Sept 20, 2012 15:39:32 GMT -4
Naerwen follows Giloren's gaze as he looks at the tree. Seeing that the gashes were gone she smiled to herself.
When he mentions the events being Erfryn's fault her smile faded and she slightly raised an eyebrow as she nodded in agreement. She looked down at the item in her hands and watched the shifting symbols for a moment trying to better understand the item's purpose.
After this she turns to Giloren. Almost hesitantly she asks, "Are we to leave this with him, or simply allow him to see it?" She looked as if she had other questions, but she decided to wait until she had a moment to speak with Giloren in private.
Spellcraft Check [dice=20] +9[rand=6024126535846065678651237637751465230417753989315935378314315454]
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