DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE13: The Ice Chamber

GM

Nestaron's eyes barely cracked open, his lashes were frosted together, much like his hair and beard.

Dried blood encrusted his face where his scalp and cheek had been gashed, but he felt no pain, thank the gods. His body had mostly iced over again, and inviting, cold numbness had reclaimed him.

The ancient white wyrm had brought the half-elf back to its lair during the night, encasing him in ice to prevent his escape. Later, it had tormented him, thawing his frozen arm with its own hot blood, causing breath-taking agony.

But Nestaron would not heal the Beast, and there was no torture that could convince him otherwise. The dragon was sickly, infirm, worn by age and hardships that no centuries long sleep could cure. Even before Nestaron and his companions had shown it their steel, the dragon had taken a terrible, gaping wound to its throat, put there by either the knight errant or the dragon rider.

The Beast was desparate and malicious, and thought it had found its salvation, whether in Weston's ring or Nestaron's magic. He couldn't speak for the ring, but Nestaron's holy magic did not serve evil.

So with a snarl and slash of its claw, the dragon had clipped off the cleric's thawed arm above the elbow. His red blood had pumped and spurted, steaming from the wound but dragon's breath refroze it, sparing his life.

The ice around Nestaron was thick and opaque, stained with gore from the half-elf and dragon. He occupied a shadowy nook in the cavern, far away from the wide shaft of sunlight that shone down from a hole in the ceiling.

The cavern was huge, its walls layered in sheets and flows of ice. It looked like it had once held water, that was now smooth and glistering floor, frozen solid. There were other signs of the dragon's occupation, bones and other scraps littering the floor, and the trail of filth that trickled downwards into one of the many dark and narrow crannies.

On an island of rock amongst the ice stood a lordly old man.

He was pale, his hair thinning and his skin hanging in dry creases. A white leather cloak he wore about his shoulders, that seemed somehow to merge with his wrinkled neck. Under it was a glimpse of white scale armour and a weapon belt, but his hands were empty, fingers feeling around his mouth.

His face was in profile, silhouetted against the sunlight from above.

"I sought a fair fight, did I not?" He whispered to the shadows, "To pit my natural strength and weaponary against theirs, one versus one. But no, they came at me with steel and magic! A gang, a rabble!! Skullduggers and knifemen!"

The old man growled, then reached into his mouth chuckling. He twisted out one of his teeth with a wet, fleshy rendering and held it up to the light. Sharp like a fang it was, and dripping.

With a jerk he flung the tooth into the trail of dragon's filth.

It sank, bubbling violently and something sprouted from it, rising up from the scum. A slime-coated form, half-man, half-dragon it seemed, pale with ugly, tumorous patches of brown and black. As it straightened, its eyes snapped open, then its jaws in a squealing roar.

Another six dragonmen stood around it and joined in roaring a challenge, a challenge that echoed around the cavern and down the tunnels.

"Well I too can play your game." The old man said with a bloody grin.

Drawing a pitted kopis from under his cloak, he turned into the light. He had only eye, and a ghastly wound in his neck leaked orange blood.

***

You'd done well getting so far undetected. You needed light to move quickly and quietly, yet the light would also reveal your approach.

It was an unsolvable problem, so you got as close as you dared by stealth and then began your attack.

You saw immediately that an attack from the other, above ground entrance would have been to your disadvantage. Shinning down a rope, one at a time, would have gone badly for you. But at least the hole did provide enough illumination to see by.

The floor of the cavern looked like a frozen underground lake, but a narrow spit of rock led out to an island in the middle where the ancient white lord stood, commanding the battle. Was he the dragon?

His dragonmen, grown from his own teeth, held the rocky bridge between him and you. A few of the creatures had found rusty old weapons to arm themselves with, whilst the others drooled a thin, watery slime that sizzled where it dripped to the floor. They wasted no words -- assuming such hideous monsters could even talk -- but their lord made his intentions clear.

"Arise my children! Bring me the Aurenaur, kill all who oppose you!"

And so the battle was joined.

[
D HP: 24/28; Rec: 4/8; AC 15, PD 16, MD 12; Init +10, Weakened
J HP: 27/32; Rec: 1/8; AC 15, PD 13, MD 12; Init +5*2
S HP: 42/43; Rec: 0/8; AC 16, PD 16, MD 12; Init +4*2
T HP: 24/24; Rec: 3/8; AC 12, PD 13, MD 15; Init +4
W HP: 38/44; Rec: 4/9; AC 17, PD 15, MD 12; Init +4*2
Z HP: 40/40; Rec: 3/8; AC 22, PD 14, MD 15; Init +3
Al HP: 21/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3
Be HP: 32/32; AC 18, PD 14, MD 14; Init +6

Terrain Notes: The rock bridge is wide enough for two combatants abreast. Enemies are arranged in the order shown below. Moving across the frozen lake instead of the rock bridge requires a stunt, DC 20.

Dr.Sv1 HP: 32/32; AC 17, PD 16, MD 12; Init +6
Dr.Sv2 HP: 32/32; AC 17, PD 16, MD 12; Init +6
Dr.Sv3 HP: 32/32; AC 17, PD 16, MD 12; Init +6 (Behind)
Dr.Mg1 HP: 30/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Behind)
Dr.Mg2 HP: 30/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Behind)
Dr.Mg3 HP: 30/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Behind)
Dr.Mg4 HP: 30/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Far Away, Behind)
MW HP: 28/28; AC 16, PD 12, MD 15; Init +6 (Far Away, Behind
]

D

Using stealth, he slipped along the edge of the rock spit. He would try and use his talent for Shadow walking, to make a surprise attack. They would have to move through the ranks, and he would help cut down the first one before he moved on himself.

[Shadowwalk, target one of the first rank.]

Seyja


She dropped her hand to the fire bomb, but hesitated even as her rage began to grow. The old white warrior - probably the transformed dragon - was too far away to be sure of a hit by the thrown incendiary.

Roaring her determination to kill as her rage peaked, Seyja rushed forward and attacked the first dragonman on the front left.

<Weston>

With the narrow rock bridge meant that only two could really move forward. He decided that he could be most useful with his bow for the moment. He had his bow out and considered a target ...

[[ are all the 'foes' sticking to the bridge or are they coming across the ice? If the former he will target the front rank on the bridge, if the latter, he will target ice walkers. ]]

Tindarien

A quick look does not reveal Nestaron but he concludes that the figure on the island is likely the dragon, else where could he be.

He figures that he should save his offence for the dragon but help his group get past these obstacles as quickly as they can.

He casts a chaos bolt at the first line of dragonmen.

Zoltan

He knows his role in a combat like this. He is the rock upon which the enemies will crash and break. It is his role to ensure that none can cross the bridge to reach those of his fellows who prefer to fight from a distance. And once these are dead, then it is his role to charge.

Drawing his sword and clasping his shield tightly, he rushes forward alongside Seyja, his infernal battle-cry spilling from his lips.

Jex

It was evident that the old man was the dragon in disguise. It probably thought that the disguise would work but it wouldn't really. While the dragon was the main problem, having to face it as well as it's newly summoned minions put the party at a disadvantage. So Jex decided to focus his attacks on the dragonmen. So he unleashed a Soundburst at the two front lines of attackers.

[Hopefully I did the rolling correctly. I assume you rolled initiative already....

Jex Soundburst hit,qty,dam
Neptune rolled 1d20+5,1d4,5d6+3 and got 25, 3, 17

**** Note the nat-20!]

Bearkiller

With a screaming, high-pitched war cry, the mohawked halfling charged the dragonmen head on, his long knife in his fist, his eyes wide and crazy.

Sergeant Almador

He would have faltered if not for keeping pace with his companions. The old guard wanted to pause, take stock, get a grasp on a situation that was greatly different from what he'd expected.

The Sergeant had prepared himself for a guts and glory charge against a dragon... not a tactical engagement against multiple foes. Ironically, this was more like what he was trained for, but this party were not drilled as a unit. They fought using their instincts.

So Sergeant Almador tried to do the same, raising his flanged mace and stomping across the rocky, open ground towards the dragonmen.

GM

Nestaron heard the hue and cry and shakily lifted his chin from his chest. A voice carried to him across the frozen lake, singing, melodious yet uncouth and he recognised it. The bard!

Nestaron had buried his hope and faith deep down, so the dragon couldn't exploit it, but now it burst forth and he wailed from his dry, cold lungs.

Farvi squeaked and shifted in Tindarien's pack and the elf caught it too. A frail sound from somewhere in the shadows on the far side of the cavern. The cleric lived!?

"You curs think yourselves worthy of life!? I will show you your worth, for I am the Master of Winter and death is my gelding!" Growled the shape-shifted dragon and holding out his clawed hand, a long, vicious spear of ice grew in its grip.

This he hurled with unfaltering malice, and the spear flew over the heads of his conjured followers, over the heads of the charging heroes. The spear struck Weston as he was climbing to a vantage, splintering against his mail in an explosion of ice and winding him. The weight of it did more harm than the point, but neither took the bowman out of the fight.

Rather than venture an arrow arched at the ancient white lord, Weston found a closer target more to his liking and loosed at the dragonman engaging Bearkiller. The halfling's hand speed was fast, but his knife had only gouged the scaled hide. Weston's first arrow thunked high in the dragonman's shoulder, opening the creature for a second shot that spat it front to back.

Ahead, two forces were about to clash when suddenly, silence and blurred vision! The concussive explosion, a magical burst of sound had been amplified by the enclosed cavern. Zoltan raised his heater shield, feeling the patter of falling detritus against it. His ears started to ring, confirming he wasn't deaf but he saw immediately who had absorbed the blast.

The front ranks of the dragonmen were now a hot wet smear on the rock, victims of Jex's deadly spell.

Through the cloud of debris came the rest of the enemy. They were hunchbacked, scaled, their blunt snouts lined with rows of wickedly curved teeth. Spawned from dragon filth by dragon magic, they walked like men and fought with a pitted and rusty arsenal. The worst of their weapons preceded them, however, as thin acidic slime was sprayed at the party from the back of their throats.

Where the spray touched skin, skin burned, swelling and reddening almost instantly. Except for the halfling and Sergeant Almador, none escaped unscathed.

Ignoring the pain, Dark Elf D reached for the dragonspawns' awareness with his mind, and finding it, slipped away from it, little more than a shadow of a memory. His reminder would be an obsidian blade.

Zoltan was alongside, less subtle in his magnificent if imposing suit of armour that seemed to shed the acidic slime like so much water. He slammed into the nearest monster, cracking its skull with the pommel of his sword.

Then a bolt of moaning, screeching negative energy struck the dragonspawn, cast from somewhere over Zoltan's shoulder. Tindarien! The high elf had a remarkable talent for dark sorcery and for supporting the tiefling in the melee.

In that moment, Zoltan caught a glimpse of Almador to one side, swinging at a dragonspawn armed with a broken-tipped short sword. Beyond them, Seyja. Coils of smoke rose from the barbarian, where the acid was eating into her leathers. Screaming, she lopped off a dragonspawn's hand as it was lifting a cold iron bar. It somehow kept a one-handed grip on the weapon and looked undaunted.

The paladin's own foe also remained alive and dangerous, wielding a large dwarven pick, even though one side of its body was in spasms. Blow to the head, negative energy bolt, or both, most creatures would have turned tail and ran.

But did this remind anyone of the goblins they battled at Heilbutt's Hallow? They too had fought to the death -- uncharacteristically for their kind -- afraid or compelled by the will of their master.

It was doubtful how sapient these dragonspawn were, having been conjured by the ancient lord only minutes before. Routing them was unlikely... this battle would be a slaughter, one way or another.

[
D HP: 18/28; Rec: 4/8; AC 15, PD 16, MD 12; Init +10
J HP: 24/32; Rec: 1/8; AC 15, PD 13, MD 12; Init +5*2 (Behind)
S HP: 30/43; Rec: 0/8; AC 16, PD 16, MD 12; Init +4*2 (Engaging Dr.Mg3)
T HP: 18/24; Rec: 3/8; AC 12, PD 13, MD 15; Init +4 (Behind)
W HP: 30/44; Rec: 4/9; AC 17, PD 15, MD 12; Init +4*2 (Behind)
Z HP: 37/40; Rec: 3/8; AC 22, PD 14, MD 15; Init +3 (Engaging Dr.Mg1)
Al HP: 21/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3 (Engaging Dr.Mg2)
Be HP: 32/32; AC 18, PD 14, MD 14; Init +6

Terrain Notes: The rock bridge is wide enough for two combatants abreast. Enemies are arranged in the order shown below. Moving across the frozen lake instead of the rock bridge requires a stunt, DC 20.

Dr.Sv1 HP: 0/32; AC 17, PD 16, MD 12; Init +6; Dead
Dr.Sv2 HP: 0/32; AC 17, PD 16, MD 12; Init +6; Dead
Dr.Sv3 HP: 0/32; AC 17, PD 16, MD 12; Init +6; Dead
Dr.Mg1 HP: 9/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5; Staggered (Engaging Z)
Dr.Mg2 HP: 30/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Engaging Al)
Dr.Mg3 HP: 16/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Behind, Engaging S)
Dr.Mg4 HP: 30/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5 (Behind)
MW HP: 28/28; AC 16, PD 12, MD 15; Init +6 (Far Away, Behind)
]

Seyja


Roaring with rage which almost masked the burning pain from the slime attack, Seyja continued forward, determined to fight her way through the dragon spawn and to get close enough to the evil white wyrm to be sure of a solid hit with her fire bomb.

D

Happy that his ability to cloak himself from the distracted transformed dragon, he smiles to himself as he moves in for the kill.

<Weston>

The javelin of ice almost knocked him from his perch, but he managed to hold on. He had thought to fire at the real target, but seeing the situation, decided to give Bearkiller a hand first. That damned evil beast could wait a bit. His friends came first. He fired once ... and the second was on its way almost before the first had hit.

His smile as the dragon thing fell was short lived as his ears were so badly abused, he again had trouble maintaining his feet. The pain and ringing in his head blurred his vision and his knees buckled a bit. His concern quickly turned to relief as his eyes cleared enough to show that the front row of spawn were no more. It had to be Jex doing yeoman's service.

Then the evil spawn spit some sort of acid and he was busy again, protecting his bow before himself. He needed his bow right now. As his vision cleared and his attention returned to the 'battle' he pulled another arrow, ready to aid one most in need ... or to take out a wounded foe as seemed most appropriate.

Sergeant Almador

Battle was an onslaught of sensation. His face flushed and tingled, his heart pounded. Everything seemed more vivid, clear, colours, smells, and sounds... until the bard's spell laid waste to the enemy's front ranks, just as he was closing within arm's reach.

Trying not to slip over the slimy gore, the Sergeant went to work at Zoltan's right flank. The paladin's other flank was protected by his shield.

Sergeant Almador didn't like the look of these dragonspawn. Their scaly, crocodilian hide and rusty weapons were in some ways less intimidating than the Orc Lord's followers they'd fought yesterday. But the goblins and orcs had eyes that betrayed their emotions, rage, yes, but fear also.

These dragonspawn had eyes like sickly green marbles, with a thin slit that showed no emotion or intellect that a humble man-at-arms could understand.

Swinging his flanged mace, Almador sought to smash its head in so at least he wouldn't have to look at it any longer.

Tindarien

Before his ears are assaulted by the spell from Jex, he hears a faint cry and Farvi responds as well. Nestaron! It must be!

It changes his thinking somewhat. He needs to keep his companions alive for the main assault. If he is unable to do much against the dragon, he might be able to use their distraction to get to his friend. At least it gives him options.

He casts Breath of the White against to two at the rear, hoping his friends can finish those in front of them. Then he moves, avoiding hopefully being targeted by the dragon. There is something satisfying though in deploying the dragon's own arsenal against its minions.

Zoltan

Satisfied to see the effects of those behind him in clearing away the minions, he steps into the opening offered and continues to batter away at those blocking him from reaching the dragon.

[ooc: Is MW within range of a spell? Jex can have Soundburst (+4 vs PD, 5d6+3 dam save for half) again if he uses his Symbol of Gathered Power. He would use that first against it. If he has to move closer to attack the dragon he would, even if it requires the ice-walk/slide thing to get closer. Just let me know whether I need to rethink this.

Not that if there is no way to attack it, Jex will use a chaos bolt +4 v PD, 1d8+3 against one of the lackeys.]

[OOC: How about one of the 1-3 that he can do sneak damage to. I am betting mostly undamaged, or middle damaged. Don't want the easy kill. Save that for someone else. Especially since this is D's big pop for damage.]

Bearkiller

Might as well be sawing on a damp tree. The scales and scutes of the dragonspawn's hide would need to be tackled with his knife point, not the edge.

The halfling had no time to thank Weston, but he was greatly impressed by the Axesian man's archery. Such speed and accuracy rivalled the best of the Harthorn tribe, and the arrows were much larger too.

Bearkiller was undaunted by the devastating sound burst, aware that there were still enemies standing between him and the Beast of Titan's Elbow. Dodging the sprays of acid, perhaps due to his small stature, he called upon his dire wolf to neutralise the dire threat.

Jex

The front line of dragonspawn fell to his soundblast but there were more than one line of foes to deal with before they faced the Master of Winter. The bard targeted the one battling Sejia. They needed to chip away to get through the bottleneck. A bolt of chaos streaked at it.

GM

D sprang from rock to rock along the edge of the natural bridge, deftly outflanking the fiercest fighting. He was seen yet unseen by the enemy, in a shadow or a shadow himself he did not know.

The dark elf sensed a heavy arrow shoot passed him from behind. Steel broadhead, shaft two and half feet long and fletched with goose feathers. Axesian, from Weston's longbow.

It disappeared into the fray, seeking a bloody end to its flight and D followed it in.

He saw Bearkiller point at the dragonspawn. Yelling "SICK BALLS!", there was a wet, throaty growl and suddenly a shimmering mirage, shaped like a terrible wolf appeared in amongst the other monsters, tearing at their soft nethers.

The Jester of Drakkenhall song was heard by his allies, seemingly inside their heads now, clearer than the clamour around them, driving them onwards to greater heroism.

Gesturing while he sang, Jex threw what looked like a bolt of glass at one foe and it exploded violently in another deafening clap of thunder.

A chandelier of ice split and plumetted from the roof of the cavern, crashing into the frozen lake. Where D stood near the edge, the ground under his feet shook and there was a loud, splintering crack. Glancing over his shoulder he saw a vast piece of the frozen lake fracture and unexpectedly fall away into darkness. Through the fine mist that rose from the gulf, D realised the lake was actually an icy plug, grown over the top of the same mine shaft they'd ascended.

The dragonspawn were undeterred, threshing with their rusty old weapons. There was little else they could do as He Who Sicks Balls ran amok in their midst. These attacks were fended off by Zoltan and Seyja, but Almador was stabbed in the face, a blow that might have killed him if not for the short sword's broken tip. Instead he received a cut that laid open his cheek, revealing pink bone beneath and gushing with red blood.

Feeling the skin peeling back from his cheekbone, Sergeant Almador's own attack was distracted and shrugged off by his foe. The monster, grown from a dragon's tooth, bared its own and raised its arm into a chop. Dark Elf D rolled to his feet behind the dragonspawn's back and slotted his dagger into the windgate at the base of its skull. A jiggle and twist to mince the brain should have ended it but didn't. Instead of dying, the minion snagged D's sleeve, trying to drag him around onto its broken blade. These things had to have brains the size of walnuts!

Another of the dragonspawn screeched and charged Jex, barging through the melee, fixed on braining the bard with its lump hammer. It was intecepted at full sprint by the mohawked halfling, who dove at its feet headfirst and sent the monster sprawling.

Zoltan probably considered it one of the most reckless moves he'd ever witnessed. Good for him? The paladin blocked with his shield, the head of his opponent's pick putting a hefty dent in the metal. With a flick of his wrist Zoltan looped his sword and cut the dragonspawn from shoulder to opposite hip, springing open its rib cage and spilling its entrails. He was just in time to watch Seyja loft a draconic head twenty or so feet into the air with her axe, and in the same move turn on Bearkiller's opponent.

The barbarian was still smoking and burning, unlike the tiefling. Acid ate at some of the others too, Weston, Jex, D and Tindarien, but not as badly it seemed. At least the dragonspawn had been hampered enough that they hadn't sprayed any more of their acidic poison. Why was Zoltan having such abstract thoughts in the middle of battle!? Where was the Master of Winter?

"Slay my kin and I slay yours, vermin!" Promised the one-eyed ancient, leaping from his perch and gliding, leather cloak outstretched towards Nestaron.

This allowed Tindarien to locate the half-elf cleric amongst the shadows. The sorcerer picked up his pace, racing into the fray whilst sucking air in through flared nostrils.

His pupils slitted, eyes becoming reptilian and Tindarien breathed out a torrent, a gout of hissing water that froze almost instantly into icy lances. The dragonspawn grappling D was torn to shreds, splattering the dark elf and Almador with orange goo. The one between Seyja and Bearkiller was struck in the waist and hurled off of the bridge, wailing into the dark void.

For a moment his companions might have thought they were under attack from another white dragon. Tindarien's only thought was likely for his friend, whose doom was rapidly approaching.

Weston trusted his skill with a bow all right, and he could manoeuvre for a shot, but the rune glowing on his sword caught his eye. His sword was a potent weapon and now charged with destructive magic. He was faced with a tough decision....

[
D HP: 15/28; Rec: 4/8; AC 15, PD 16, MD 12; Init +10
J HP: 21/32; Rec: 1/8; AC 15, PD 13, MD 12; Init +5*2 (Behind)
S HP: 24/43; Rec: 0/8; AC 16, PD 16, MD 12; Init +4*2
T HP: 15/24; Rec: 3/8; AC 12, PD 13, MD 15; Init +4 (Behind)
W HP: 27/44; Rec: 4/9; AC 17, PD 15, MD 12; Init +4*2 (Behind)
Z HP: 37/40; Rec: 3/8; AC 22, PD 14, MD 15; Init +3
Al HP: 17/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3
Be HP: 32/32; AC 18, PD 14, MD 14; Init +6

Terrain Notes: The rock bridge is wide enough for two combatants abreast. Enemies are arranged in the order shown below. Moving across the frozen lake instead of the rock bridge requires a stunt, DC 20.

Dr.Mg1 HP: 0/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5; Dead
Dr.Mg2 HP: 0/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5; Dead
Dr.Mg3 HP: 0/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5; Dead
Dr.Mg4 HP: 0/30; AC 15, PD 11, MD 15; Init +5; Dead
MW HP: 28/28; AC 16, PD 12, MD 15; Init +6 (Far Away, Behind)
]

[[ Oooohhhh KKkaayyyyy ... so what is a 'wrecker'? I assume that it does some really cool stuff in this situation ... more than would be possible with the bow. So then the question becomes, what chance is there for him to get into melee in time to do any good ... compared to the liklihood that he =could= hit with the bow but do less dammage? ]]

[See OOC post for more details, MikeD. But by 'wrecker' I simply mean, 'bad ass', 'gnarly', 'death dealer', 'big chopper', etc. I've changed it to be more transparent. Weston does a lot of damage with his sword, and you powered it up with a magic rune before battle. You still owe us a flashback for that, btw. ]

[[ OK ... gimme a bit of time. I am buried by Winter Fantasy until Sun and I will need to do a bit of thinking on the FB. In the mean time, does Weston have a path to the MW?? It seems like the sword is the way ta go <g> ]]

Zoltan

Now with the minions dead, Zoltan looks to close with the Master of Winter. He moves after it, intending to intercept it before it can attack any of the others.

(OOC - Neal - Zoltan is saving his last Lay on Hands to use on someone who drops below zero, so if that happens he will use it as a Quick Action)