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[Wilderlands] Chapter One: Hunters and the Hunted

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Siren no Orakio:
As the charnal horror began to separate from him, the foreign sell-sword roared with the effort of pulling his missed swing with the bound end of his spear. A dexterous roll of his hands, and his grip reversed, allowing him to thrust once more, this time with all of his might, towards that gravestone pelvis... a thrust doomed to miss by inches, as the thing's next step carried the stone beyond his reach, drawing a word in what must be his native tongue, clearly a fairly vile curse from the tone and the spitting of it towards the beast.

Power Attack: (23:03:38) Minion: Siren_no_Orakio rolls 1d20 and gets 3+3=6.

valadaar:
The dwarf was the key to the monster it seemed, so Therdamin once again launched his staff to strike at the dwarf.

(20:58:23) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d20 and gets 19 (+3 for wis) so 22 total.  1d6 damage - (20:59:16) Minion: valadaar rolls 1d6 and gets 4.

Chaosmark:
Ren

Shaking off the last of the stars dancing in front of her eyes, Ren rolled to her feet, eyes searching for the literally-stinking rogue. His absence was frustrating, since that meant her chosen prey had escaped. Annoyed at this turn of events, she slid closer to the remaining cockatrice with a gliding step, lashing out in a sweeping strike with her blade.

(22:15:45) Minion: Chaosmark rolls 1d20 and gets 9. 9+2 = 11. Reasonably certain that's a miss. To the GameScience dice I go!

Wulfhere:
Seeing the cockatrice turn its attention toward the catfolk swordmaster, Tall Hakanis leapt forward, hoping to intercept it before it could strike.  With a mighty swing, his tulwar clove the foul beast in twain! 

A critical hit!

Limping over to the fallen chalicar, the demon-blooded rogue lifted his magic-veiled blade.  The palace doctor’s poison was nearly as potent as the man had threatened, forcing the assassin to struggle with even the slightest task.  Shooting pain and cruel cramps filled the assassin’s shuddering frame as he staggered back toward the fight, barely able to focus.  If it weren’t for his body’s hell-spawned resistance to earthly threats, the assassin would doubtlessly have already fallen in a contorted heap of agonized flesh.

In the party’s midst, the monstrous grave thing continued its rampage, heedless of the blows raining upon it.  Chunks of soil and bone flew off as the party’s weapons tore at it. Swinging one ponderous limb like a huge club of bone and soil, the hideous beast batted Vaqqas aside, still battling to reach the doctor.  Despite Vaqqas’ attempt to shield him, a second blow from the monster’s massive limbs slammed into the slender scholar with bone-crushing force, knocking him several feet sideways.  Pain and terror filled the doctor’s voice as he cried out incoherently, trying to get clear of the juggernaut as it bore down for the kill. 

Vaqqas suffered 8 points of damage and the (already wounded) doctor took 13!  Another such blow would certainly finish him…

With a heap of piled debris at his back, the assassins’ dwarven leader could not retreat further from Therdamin’s whirling staff.  “Priest of Thoth, you have chosen your allegiances poorly!  In the end, all shall bow before dread Armadad Bog!”  With a swift gesture of power, the vile dwarf sought to reverse his fortunes.  Calling forth a glowing orb of crackling power, he lunged at Therdamin, striking at him with a blast of electricity!  The eldritch strike knocked the priest to his knees as the electrical force locked his muscles.

Therdamin suffered 8 points electrical damage from the enemy’s shocking grasp!

As the stricken priest staggered back, Peregrina saw an opportunity and loosed her arrow.  The fell shaft flew true and straight, piercing the wicked dwarf’s throat and sending him to the ground, thrashing and choking on his own blood.  Dodging past the furious battle in the midst of the street, she made her way to her stricken dog’s side.

Wulfhere:
After a PM about Exeta’s plans, a bit more detail…

Doctor Dreimond's face wore a rictus of fear.  "Exeta, please stay by me!  The darkness... the formula can help!" he cried incoherently.  The doctor fumbled in a hidden pocket of his robes as he fell back before the horror’s onslaught.  Finding what he sought, his hand suddenly darted out, flinging an egg-like sphere down at the monster’s feet.  Stinking smoke billowed forth, surrounding Dreimond and Exeta in shadow and mist. 

As the frightened scholar retreated through the obscuring cloud, Exeta remained beside him, trying to think of some way to protect him from the grave-thing’s devastating blows without getting himself crushed in the process.  Dreimond’s trembling hand clutched at Exeta’s sleeve, fumbling to find his hand.  Hidden within the smoke, he passed a tiny vial to the heroic alchemist.  “Take this!” whispered the doctor.

Suddenly, one of the monster’s limbs swung out at the doctor, narrowly missing his head! The thing had capitalized on their distraction to press its attack! The doctor staggered clear, almost falling as he fled.  “Ye gods-cursed sending!  Instead of sight, it tastes… souls!” he babbled in his panic.

An attack of opportunity, not the monster's turn...

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