The old shaman sucks in his breath as a heavily armored figure steps into their path. "That is Jerrod!"
Easthaven
This is a king.
The clink of metal rings through the air and cuts through the din as Jerrod settles a gauntleted hand on the pommel of the sword hanging from his waist. The visor turns from side to side as he searches the crowd, and then the cold gaze settles on Reòthadh. The hand tightens on the sword’s hilt, and Reòthadh feels his own weapon, Aihonen’s enchanted blade, tug against grip as though attempting to fly away of its own accord.
Rolls
Jerrod’s check - (1d20+9)
(17) + 9 = 26
Strength of Ostoria - (1d20+4)
(13) + 4 = 17
Advantage - (1d20+4)
(8) + 4 = 12
"Sorry, but this sword is still needed."
The dwarf runs to grab the sword and prepares to run for his life.
Rolls
Wisdom Save - (1d20+7)
(7) + 7 = 14
Disadvantage - (1d20+7)
(12) + 7 = 19
Indeed, as Reòthadh snatches the sword up, Jerrod’s helmeted head begins to track his movements once more. This close to the armored figure, Reòthadh can see icy blue light shining fiercely between the slits of the visor.
Rolls
Wisdom save - (1d20+7)
(18) + 7 = 25
The nearest tribesmen begin to mutter and heft their weapons, eyeing Reòthadh and Hjollsted.
Reòthadh uses the dash action and runs his full movement if possible. As a bonus action he quickens hold monster on Jerrod as he runs.
"Tell this dwerf, friend, should we teleport away?"
Reòthadh’s spell takes hold once more and Jerrod freezes in place. The other tribesmen, however, charge after Reòthadh with bloodthirsty cries.
Rolls
Jerrod opportunity attack vs Reo - (1d20+14)
(4) + 14 = 18
Dmg to Reo (if no Shield) - (1d10+8, 4d8)
1d10+8 : (5) + 8 = 13
4d8 : (6667) = 25
Jerrod wis save DC 17 - (1d20+7)
(4) + 7 = 11
Javelins vs Reo (5 attacks) - (5d20+5)
(234173) + 5 = 34
Javelins vs Hjollsted (5 attacks) - (5d20+5)
(4124418) + 5 = 47
Dmg to Reo - (1d6+3)
(5) + 3 = 8
Dmg to Hjollsted - (2d6+6)
(43) + 6 = 13
"We are going together, a dwerf will spare Tempus the trouble of bringing yeh back."
As the warriors approach circling round the elderly heroes, Reòthadh holding a small winter flower in hand, the temperature in the air drops as frost covers the grass. With the sound of cracking ice, Reòthadh and those that chose to go with him find themselves back at their own camp, beaten and bruised, but living.
Reòthadh casts teleport and targets his allies.
Cryshal-Tirith rises before them.
He puffs out his chest in challenge. "Halt! Lay down your weapons!"
Rolls
Intimidate (I super don't have time for you) - (1d20+8)
(18) + 8 = 26
The three step aside.