DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE12: The Fork

D

"I am willing to wear it. But if you," he looks to Tindarien, "would rather wear it. That is fine by me." If he is chosen he slips it on.

[OOC I am open. What does the group want two Cruel damage chances or ?]

[Stick with D for now. Zeim's right in that two stacking Cruel effects would be very useful against a high hp monster.]

[OOC OK. Easy about it, just thought Tindarien wouls say something as his main thing is Relic Hunter +5, it gives him that extra teleport out of damger to cast more spells and he has the lowest HPs of the group. We can move on but he might argue the point after the dragon is dead.. assuming it dies & he survives which is a stretch ]

Tindarien

"Keep it for now."

He says graciously with a smile.

"But I might want to discuss it later.."

D

The pale dark elf nodded and put on the torc.

[It's a pretty cool magic item actually. It would give Tindarien a huge mobility boost in battle, which is key for a sorcerer. But yeah, as long as someone's wearing it, that's the important thing. As you say, the PCs can always decide on ownership later.]

GM

Bearkiller led with a mining lamp held high (for a halfling), and one hand resting on the antler handle of his sheath knife. Sergeant Almador followed behind the party, smacking at his crotch where it seemed some furry rodent-like, possibly mustalid creature had invaded his underwear. If the elf sorcerer wondered where his familiar was, he made no show of it, but there were some things an arcanist was better off not knowing.

Again your party had leapt to each other's aid. Weston had caught Tindarien, Zoltan had caught Weston. Jex had rushed to defend Seyja. Selfless actions. Was it camaraderie? Duty? Maybe just good morals?

Was it the skeins of fate, and were they then woven with every footstep, or did your footsteps inextricably follow them, like a mine cart on a track?

A teller of your tale might be tempted to say, you started that day faced with a choice, a fork in the road. Did you tackle the dragon's lair from above or below?

But a person, walking in your shoes, about to confront an ancient white wyrm, far surpassing a hundred feet in length? They might tell it different. Regardless of how old, decrepit, of how maimed it appeared to be, it was a dragon, not a carrion crawler, not undead or goblins. A dragon, and it might seem as though you were always destined for this fight. Had it been waiting for you a day? Weeks? All your life? Or perhaps for every age since the first? After all, hadn't the fork in this road led to the same place?

Maybe you had realised the truth.

There is no fork

There was a hollow moan in the darkness around you as you rose into what felt like a larger cavern. It was the same air currents, rushing like a whirlpool as they were drawn into the shaft. There were droplets of icy cold water carried on the wind.

Your caged light reflected off of a massive ice formation overhead, dripping, fang-like icicles hanging everywhere. The rough-hewn stone steps led you into an ice cave, every rocky surface glazed and gleaming, and often so overgrown that they looked white, like they were tunneled through a glacier. You stepped warily around the disgusting trickle of dragon's blood.

Bearkiller hesitated on the landing, shivering. Had he lost his nerve? He hissed over his shoulder to the rest of the party, pointing to the floor.

Once more light was directed across the landing, you saw a palm-sized stone tablet on the floor, engraved with a dwarven cartouche, the ice had encased it and a curious seam led away from either side to the wall.

Bearkiller wrinkled his nose.

"He Who Sicks Balls smell trap."

And now I remember why Zoltan didn't want to use his Lay on Hands on Jex earlier. Zoltan can use it to heal as a bonus action during melee. It made more sense while we were resting for Jex to use his own Recovery than for Zoltan to use the Lay on Hands since for a pc to normally use a Recovery during combat takes up his action.

Nep - Let me know if Jex is willing to have used one of his own recoveries last night in order to let Zoltan have one back to use to heal during melee.

Seyja was a different thing as she has no Recoveries left.

[If you think about it, even though you can use Lay on Hands as a quick action, you still have to be alongside the recipient to use it. So the main benefit is that it uses one of Zoltan's recoveries, not Jex's. The net result in this case, is more even spread of recoveries across the party, which is no bad thing. It's either Jex 1:3 Zoltan, or Jex 2:2 Zoltan. Probably much of a muchness.]

True, but the main difference is if Jex dies during the combat he can't use a recovery on himself. Zoltan could heal him, presuming he still had his LoH left.

[Also true. I'll leave it with you. ]

D

The dark elf looked where Bearkiller was looking. He knelt partially to make a smaller profile but mostly to help him be stable. He was still woozy from nearly drowning in the horrid muck earlier. He knew from past experience that the bust of energy that came with danger would clear his grogginess out. But for now he just had to be careful.

He looked at the tablet with its runic forms and wondered if in any of his lives he had ever read that language. For now though his mind was coming up blank.

Tindarien

He follows the others heading for the cave, paying just a little more attention to the path under his feet and the wall to his side.

His thoughts though are mainly focused on Nestaron and he hopes that his friend is still alive and not in too bad a state.

As they approach their destination, he hears the low moan and figures that may indeed be his friend. Once he reaches the area, he will let the sound guide him.

[Gypsy, the moaning is the wind in the cave. Though a good idea to listen out for Nestaron.]

GM

The dark elf might have felt the eyes of his companions on him.

Hooded cloak, leather armour, clearly he was a trap expert. Zoltan wore a hood, but plate armour? It obviously exempted him.

But if real, their expectations were not misplaced, D would have to admit.

Especially since the cartouche started to resonate with him, a memory, like a feather carried on the wind. Could he pluck it from the air?

Searching left and right, he would find similar tablets in the walls. Force Foe Grinder. The tablets formed a trianglular lattice of magic force. The victim would step through it, breaking the latticework. This caused the panes of force held at each point to clash together in midair... Well, it was like being hit by three spinning sawmill blades simultaneously. It made a terrible screeching, grinding noise, not that it would bother the victim.

The dwarves developed the trap about a thousand years ago to kill drow invaders, who at the time had immense innate magical talent but practically no formalised magical training.

The question was, what was this drow going to do about it? Could D remember how to disarm it? Did he even know?

D

The flicker of recognition was present on his visage, though none of his companions could see that as he was looking away from them.

He shifted carefully staying out of the lines of the trap. He spoke softly "Dwarven trap. The design is quite old maybe a millenia. The three stones focus force magic to grind and cut apart the unfortunate victim that sets it off."

He slipped a dark blade under the stone and worked the earth loose. The stone didn't have an easy disarm yet disrupting the angle of force would help.

"A small piece of the history for this particular design is that it was designed to combat drowning incursions. It was effective. Let us see just how effective."

The line disrupted he triggered the trap in a safe manner, the plan for the planes of force to stop each other and render it safe.

[OOC 22 for disarm
Pandemonium rolled d20+9 and got 22]

<Weston>

He was =quite= happy to let D work on the trap. But he was also aware that the presence of traps might also mean the presence of foes willing to take advantage when folks were working to get past the trap. He had his weapon at the ready in case that was also the situation here.

Tindarien

He knows something of traps having encountered a number in his explorations. He listens to D. It sounds like he has this sorted and knows something about this one

"If you need help D, I could assist" he offers quietly, but doesn't push the issue.

D

"An extra pair of eyes to look over things isn't a bad idea. Feel free."

Sergeant Almador

The squirrelling in his breaches had died down and Almador felt he was still intact. As much as he wanted to unfasten them and have a rumage around for whatever small furry animal had invaded them, he had to be ready for battle. If they were attacked while he literally had his trousers down...

So the man-at-arms stood and sweated even in the cold, holding onto the handle of his heavy mace as if it were a lifeline.

Bearkiller

He could sense the rest of the party's watchfulness, and he himself gnawed his lip, breath baited as D worked on the trap. If could kill a dark elf, it could kill a halfling, yes, but Bearkiller was more concerned about the noise it would make, wasting their advantage and bringing the white wyrm down on their heads.

The last time that happened in these mines, it evidently had not gone well for the miners.

"No pressure." He assured D, "You fail you get ripped, we all get rushed by dragon."

Tindarien

With the invitation he moves forward to use his sharp eyes to see if he could spot anything that D might miss. And it is interesting to watch another work and learn a little about this sort of trap. In the end his help is not needed.

"Good job."

He murmurs quietly as he returns to his previous position.

He does spot the Sergeant wriggling again.. and Farvi's absence triggers a thought. As the Sergeant is obviously uncomfortable and likely to join the frontal assault, he recalls the ferret.

OOC: Zeim, Yes.

OK, Neal. Please reduce Jex's recoveries by one and give Zoltan back one of his Lay on Hands.

[Ghosted for Neptune]

Jex

The bard was still wrestling with putting their white pudding drama to verse. As treacherous, near calamitous as it had been, the balladeer in him felt it might work better relegated to a passing mention.

Jex stayed well back from the dark elf while the trap was dealt with. If his expertise was needed, it was available, but crowding around a lethal magic trap was neither prudent or daring.

He was surprised to see the ferret scurrying between their feet back to Tindarien. He couldn't help but envy its furcoat, as they stood with chilling draughts howling around them.

[Ghosted for Zeim]

Zoltan

As before, his eyes were not on the front of the party but on the darkness around them, searching for any signs of movement. White dragons were not renowned for their cunning, but the Beast was far from a typical example of its kind. It had used the terrain to conceal its approach and snatch Nestaron last night.

Zoltan was determined not to let it catch them unawares a second time. However, with the party entering an ice cave, they lost one of their early warning signs. Snow and ice.

Seyja


Trusting D and Tindarien to deal with the magical traps, Seyja stood to the side, near Weston, and checked her gear while waiting for the others to get everything ready for their pending attack upon the great white wyrm.

The fire bomb was there hanging from her belt and her greataxe was slung across her back. She was as ready as she could get for the moment. Except perhaps... She turned to Weston and spoke quietly.

"I will need a lit torch, will I not, to light the bomb before launching it?"