- Joined
- Jun 29, 2012
- Messages
- 4,434
- Reaction score
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- Points
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- Age
- 33
Rolls and writing done by @MrHappyTinkles and @0romir
Situated on the border between Metten Teldwen and the much-feared Orcish Tribelands lay a town called Toth-Shiad, used by the Talar as an outpost to keep their eyes and ears perked in case of Orcish raiding parties. It was this very town that Cecil Empolan, Sitrius Ravenburg, Ardynn Belledin, Rerik Ulster, and Veridan Daevaar would come to and scout. The earth felt dry beneath their boots, and the wind lapped gently against the assembled faces as they trudged up to the walled town's gates, somewhat safe under the pretence that they were mere travellers seeking solace and safety away from the brutish Dark Iron tribes. The Elf posted at the wall was at first reluctant to let a Shendar, Drowdar, half-Orc, and some Ailor through the gate, especially with the rising tensions between the Elven and Orcish forces, but with some persuasion, they were successful. As the others kept an eye out, it was Veridan who set out to spy. The Drow slipped into dusty alleyways and hugged the corner of buildings as he scouted the town, and after what seemed like a toilsome hour of pointless searching, he came across a goldmine. Veridan managed to sneak into a well-guarded row of huts; the town guards' barracks no less.
Stood before him was a Talar clothed in leather and cloth, alongside fourteen shackled slaves - Ailor, the lot of them, all chained and looking famished in the middle of the yard. It was to Veridan's misfortune that a misplaced footstep in a squelchy pile of rancid muck caught the attention of this Talar officer. The officer spun and caught sight of Veridan, knowing that a Drowdar would not be permitted to enter such a private area. Frozen to the spot, Veridan turned and ran to find the others, but his actions had already put the officer on alert! A sharp shout from the Talar's mouth made the slaves' heads turn towards Veridan and each of the fourteen raced after him, clubs they'd been using to beat leather with now their weapons. The Talar mounted his horse and rode out of the gates, leaving Veridan and the rest of the group to deal with the consequences. A bunch of starved, crazed Ailor against five capable men; surely this would be child's play? At first it seemed like it'd be an easy feat to batter these unruly slaves down, their pathetic screams and wild eyes almost laughable...
However pathetic they might have seemed, the proverb "Don't judge a book by its cover" soon came to light in the mind of Cecil Empolan who, with Sitrius Ravenburg at his side, realised that he'd get in more trouble than be of assistance. Aiming to save the day and keep Cecil and Sitrius out of harm's way, Veridan rushed into the fray and was met with a savage beating from the terrified, angered Daendroqueans. One with a flaming torch burnt off some hair to the left of his head and that of his beard as well, leaving cinders, mild burns, and a temporary bald patch and baby chin. Although the plucky Drow managed to put out the flames, the sheer amount of slaves beat him to the ground, his left leg broken in several places. Veridan would be out of action for the rest of the fight. While this occurred, Rerik Ulster was tackling four of the slaves at once, but the continual assault from their clubs and the sight of Veridan falling to the ground left him no choice but to rush to the Drow's aid. Rerik dragged Veridan out of the way, likely preventing further injury and harm to the already badly hurt elf. Out of the group, it was Ardynn Belledin who excelled in combat. Shield strapped to one arm and a sword grasped tightly in his hand, the burly human rushed the panicky slaves and swiftly cut down three. With two lying dazed from Rerik's battering, and another three dead, the rest of the slaves scampered off whimpering and crying about their need for help, how they longed for mercy, and their wish for escape.
And then, the gods above laughed at the plight of the party. Seemingly out of nowhere, from behind came the rhythmic thudding of marching boots and the clatter of fine Nelfin steel. As the slaves melted away from their assault, Sitrius and Cecil spun around to behold a sight to inspire the masses. Led on by an Elven lord in shining green-and-yellow silks was a small contingent of Silverin's famed bodyguards, the Mettenian royal infantry. With a single command barked by the lord, the infantry surrounded the group with lightning-quick discipline and readied their signature glaive-and-pike formation. The party was surrounded by a palisade of sharp steel in a blink. Cecil sprung forward before the formation closed its gaps, and broke into an opportunistic sprint. Just as soon as the elf started to run, the Elven lord galloped by Cecil and sent a firm smack at the back of Cecil's head with the flat of his sword. As the Shendar fell, the lord's steed made a point to trample the prone elf before turning back to watch the carnage unfold. The last words Cecil heard as his head faded into a painful unconsciousness was the words "Take them alive." in his own tongue.
Just as Rerik and Ardynn pulled up their weapons for the fight, the infantry surged forth like a wave on high tide. Steel flashed, and the glaives of the royal infantry fell upon them. Ardynn reached up and let his shield take the brunt of the blows while Rerik lowered himself and prepared a counter. As the half-orc sprung out to try and break the lines, the pikes shot out and bit at the little armor he wore, sending him back towards Ardynn. Without a moment's respite, another round of pikes jabbed at the duo. Two of the pikes struck true and pierced into the flesh of Rerik's leg and ribs. The noise of Rerik's body thudding to the floor sent Ardynn away from the collapsing half-orc, who was already being enveloped by the ever-advancing enemy. Sitrius joined Ardynn with his weapon at hand, and the two made one last display of defiance before the enemy fell upon them once more. Repeated glaive swings broke any resistance given with Ardynn's shield, and he quickly fell victim to slashes and stabs from the pikes. With all of his friends broken upon the ground and a menacing force of warriors closing in, Sitrius promptly shot his hands in the air and fell on his knees. The party was defeated.
Cecil awoke first, his head and chest pounding like temple bells. He found himself behind bars, with Rerik, Ardynn and Veridan in front of him in separate individual cages. As the rest slowly came to, they had come to realize that they were all alive, albeit broken and locked in cages swinging daintily from Toth-Shiad's towering keep. Sitrius looked relatively unscathed, though he quickly revealed that he was interrogated while his comrades were being treated for their wounds. Having deduced that the party was in fact an opportunistic gaggle of disorganized adventurers, the officers of the garrison decided that they were no threat and would serve well as entertainment to the soldiers. Nelfin soldiers filed in and out of the keep beneath the hanging cages, some stopping to jeer and mock the prisoners for their stupidity. This would be their lullaby to sleep, for the party was locked away until others could rescue them.
@Streako
@ContestedSnow
@deadfoe51
@avemechanicus
@CaptainSexyBeard
Situated on the border between Metten Teldwen and the much-feared Orcish Tribelands lay a town called Toth-Shiad, used by the Talar as an outpost to keep their eyes and ears perked in case of Orcish raiding parties. It was this very town that Cecil Empolan, Sitrius Ravenburg, Ardynn Belledin, Rerik Ulster, and Veridan Daevaar would come to and scout. The earth felt dry beneath their boots, and the wind lapped gently against the assembled faces as they trudged up to the walled town's gates, somewhat safe under the pretence that they were mere travellers seeking solace and safety away from the brutish Dark Iron tribes. The Elf posted at the wall was at first reluctant to let a Shendar, Drowdar, half-Orc, and some Ailor through the gate, especially with the rising tensions between the Elven and Orcish forces, but with some persuasion, they were successful. As the others kept an eye out, it was Veridan who set out to spy. The Drow slipped into dusty alleyways and hugged the corner of buildings as he scouted the town, and after what seemed like a toilsome hour of pointless searching, he came across a goldmine. Veridan managed to sneak into a well-guarded row of huts; the town guards' barracks no less.
Stood before him was a Talar clothed in leather and cloth, alongside fourteen shackled slaves - Ailor, the lot of them, all chained and looking famished in the middle of the yard. It was to Veridan's misfortune that a misplaced footstep in a squelchy pile of rancid muck caught the attention of this Talar officer. The officer spun and caught sight of Veridan, knowing that a Drowdar would not be permitted to enter such a private area. Frozen to the spot, Veridan turned and ran to find the others, but his actions had already put the officer on alert! A sharp shout from the Talar's mouth made the slaves' heads turn towards Veridan and each of the fourteen raced after him, clubs they'd been using to beat leather with now their weapons. The Talar mounted his horse and rode out of the gates, leaving Veridan and the rest of the group to deal with the consequences. A bunch of starved, crazed Ailor against five capable men; surely this would be child's play? At first it seemed like it'd be an easy feat to batter these unruly slaves down, their pathetic screams and wild eyes almost laughable...
However pathetic they might have seemed, the proverb "Don't judge a book by its cover" soon came to light in the mind of Cecil Empolan who, with Sitrius Ravenburg at his side, realised that he'd get in more trouble than be of assistance. Aiming to save the day and keep Cecil and Sitrius out of harm's way, Veridan rushed into the fray and was met with a savage beating from the terrified, angered Daendroqueans. One with a flaming torch burnt off some hair to the left of his head and that of his beard as well, leaving cinders, mild burns, and a temporary bald patch and baby chin. Although the plucky Drow managed to put out the flames, the sheer amount of slaves beat him to the ground, his left leg broken in several places. Veridan would be out of action for the rest of the fight. While this occurred, Rerik Ulster was tackling four of the slaves at once, but the continual assault from their clubs and the sight of Veridan falling to the ground left him no choice but to rush to the Drow's aid. Rerik dragged Veridan out of the way, likely preventing further injury and harm to the already badly hurt elf. Out of the group, it was Ardynn Belledin who excelled in combat. Shield strapped to one arm and a sword grasped tightly in his hand, the burly human rushed the panicky slaves and swiftly cut down three. With two lying dazed from Rerik's battering, and another three dead, the rest of the slaves scampered off whimpering and crying about their need for help, how they longed for mercy, and their wish for escape.
And then, the gods above laughed at the plight of the party. Seemingly out of nowhere, from behind came the rhythmic thudding of marching boots and the clatter of fine Nelfin steel. As the slaves melted away from their assault, Sitrius and Cecil spun around to behold a sight to inspire the masses. Led on by an Elven lord in shining green-and-yellow silks was a small contingent of Silverin's famed bodyguards, the Mettenian royal infantry. With a single command barked by the lord, the infantry surrounded the group with lightning-quick discipline and readied their signature glaive-and-pike formation. The party was surrounded by a palisade of sharp steel in a blink. Cecil sprung forward before the formation closed its gaps, and broke into an opportunistic sprint. Just as soon as the elf started to run, the Elven lord galloped by Cecil and sent a firm smack at the back of Cecil's head with the flat of his sword. As the Shendar fell, the lord's steed made a point to trample the prone elf before turning back to watch the carnage unfold. The last words Cecil heard as his head faded into a painful unconsciousness was the words "Take them alive." in his own tongue.
Just as Rerik and Ardynn pulled up their weapons for the fight, the infantry surged forth like a wave on high tide. Steel flashed, and the glaives of the royal infantry fell upon them. Ardynn reached up and let his shield take the brunt of the blows while Rerik lowered himself and prepared a counter. As the half-orc sprung out to try and break the lines, the pikes shot out and bit at the little armor he wore, sending him back towards Ardynn. Without a moment's respite, another round of pikes jabbed at the duo. Two of the pikes struck true and pierced into the flesh of Rerik's leg and ribs. The noise of Rerik's body thudding to the floor sent Ardynn away from the collapsing half-orc, who was already being enveloped by the ever-advancing enemy. Sitrius joined Ardynn with his weapon at hand, and the two made one last display of defiance before the enemy fell upon them once more. Repeated glaive swings broke any resistance given with Ardynn's shield, and he quickly fell victim to slashes and stabs from the pikes. With all of his friends broken upon the ground and a menacing force of warriors closing in, Sitrius promptly shot his hands in the air and fell on his knees. The party was defeated.
Cecil awoke first, his head and chest pounding like temple bells. He found himself behind bars, with Rerik, Ardynn and Veridan in front of him in separate individual cages. As the rest slowly came to, they had come to realize that they were all alive, albeit broken and locked in cages swinging daintily from Toth-Shiad's towering keep. Sitrius looked relatively unscathed, though he quickly revealed that he was interrogated while his comrades were being treated for their wounds. Having deduced that the party was in fact an opportunistic gaggle of disorganized adventurers, the officers of the garrison decided that they were no threat and would serve well as entertainment to the soldiers. Nelfin soldiers filed in and out of the keep beneath the hanging cages, some stopping to jeer and mock the prisoners for their stupidity. This would be their lullaby to sleep, for the party was locked away until others could rescue them.
@Streako
@ContestedSnow
@deadfoe51
@avemechanicus
@CaptainSexyBeard
Quest Structure:
---STAGE ONE---
Acrobatic Rolls
Acrobatic Rolls always start at 20 and go up and down based on modifiers. Acrobatic Rolls often only require a single character and as such, pick whichever character is most likely to succeed with assets and then apply their assets alone.
Static 20 - 80
Veridan +10 = 30 - 70
Result: 57 = Fail
---STAGE TWO---
Combat Rolls
Combat rolls are the most complicated rule set of all the Rolls. By standard, every combat roll starts at 50 vs 50. Many modifiers are applied to alter the sum however.
Quantity roll = 64 = 14 enemies
Quality roll = 3 = starved, crazed slaves
Quantity calc = 5-14 = -9x2 = -18%
Cecil -40
Sitrius -10
Rerik -10
Veridan +20
Ardynn +30
Total -10
56 vs 44
RESULT: 23 - Failure
Wound Rolls:
Cecil - >25 - 33 (Does below average)
Sitrius - >25 - 36 (Does below average)
Rerik - >25 - 58 (Does average)
Veridan - >25 - 4 (Crushing wound)
Ardynn - >25 - 95 (Does extremely well)
Escape:
Static 50
-40 due to character assets
10 vs 90
Roll: 63
FAIL: Another Combat Roll
Quantity Roll: 97 -> 26 enemies
Quality Roll: 91
Nelethar Silverin's bodyguards have entered town.
5-26 = 21
21 * 2 = 42
-42%
42 + 26 = 68
-68% out of 50
No chance to win
Wound Rolls:
Cecil - 17 Debilitating Wound
Sitrius - 64 Did above average
Rerik - 16 Debilitating Wound
Veridan - /nada/
Ardynn - 13 Debilitating Wound
- STAGE ONE Agility Rolls for additional combat bonuses on scouting
- STAGE TWO Combat rolls.
- If fail, combat rolls.
- STAGE THREE Combat Rolls.
- If fail, roll escape rolls.
---STAGE ONE---
Acrobatic Rolls
Acrobatic Rolls always start at 20 and go up and down based on modifiers. Acrobatic Rolls often only require a single character and as such, pick whichever character is most likely to succeed with assets and then apply their assets alone.
Static 20 - 80
Veridan +10 = 30 - 70
Result: 57 = Fail
---STAGE TWO---
Combat Rolls
Combat rolls are the most complicated rule set of all the Rolls. By standard, every combat roll starts at 50 vs 50. Many modifiers are applied to alter the sum however.
Quantity roll = 64 = 14 enemies
Quality roll = 3 = starved, crazed slaves
Quantity calc = 5-14 = -9x2 = -18%
Cecil -40
Sitrius -10
Rerik -10
Veridan +20
Ardynn +30
Total -10
56 vs 44
RESULT: 23 - Failure
Wound Rolls:
Cecil - >25 - 33 (Does below average)
Sitrius - >25 - 36 (Does below average)
Rerik - >25 - 58 (Does average)
Veridan - >25 - 4 (Crushing wound)
Ardynn - >25 - 95 (Does extremely well)
Escape:
Static 50
-40 due to character assets
10 vs 90
Roll: 63
FAIL: Another Combat Roll
Quantity Roll: 97 -> 26 enemies
Quality Roll: 91
Nelethar Silverin's bodyguards have entered town.
5-26 = 21
21 * 2 = 42
-42%
42 + 26 = 68
-68% out of 50
No chance to win
Wound Rolls:
Cecil - 17 Debilitating Wound
Sitrius - 64 Did above average
Rerik - 16 Debilitating Wound
Veridan - /nada/
Ardynn - 13 Debilitating Wound
