Erevain turns to look at her, and Alalla feels the eyes of every orc in the camp on her once more.
Kuldahar
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Erevain turns to look at her, and Alalla feels the eyes of every orc in the camp on her once more.
Orrick steeples his fingers as he thinks. "You must mean 'geased'." He pronounces the word like 'guessed', but with a 'sh' sound. "A geas is a powerful enchantment on the mind that cripples free will. The recipient of spell is tasked with a specific behavior to fulfill or avoid, and if they do not obey they are subject to excruciating pain, or even death." He folds his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "If the killer was geased into assassinating the druid, completing the task would have been nearly impossible to resist."
After shopping around they pick up some leather armor and a burgler's pack. After that they head back to the temple and do more priesting.
In fact they priest a lot.
For several days.
Ugh, priesting is sooooo boring.
With Jermsy practicing with his new skills constantly, Fergy is left alone, with books.
With literally nothing else to do, Fergy's left with only one thing left to do. Books. Fergy sits down and reads.
Rolls
Arcana check with advantage - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (2) + 5 = 7
1d20+5 : (20) + 5 = 25
She hadn't expected a speech. Especially one that put things even more squarely on her shoulders. Still... For all it makes her anxious, orc culture has left these people expecting a leader; perhaps even requiring one. Since she certainly doesn't want to tie herself to orcs who consider her words only a suggestion when she tells them things like, 'no pillaging,' she had better make herself clear.
"Only you are responsible for your change and growth," she says to the group, "but there are a lot of things stacked against you. Im here to help take those things down and show you the way, but I risk much in doing so. I won't do it without assurance from you. I'll try not to ask things that are too hard, but when I do ask, I expect to be obeyed absolutely.
You passed your first test, but there will be others harder than this. Keggruk has pledged himself to me already. Will the rest of you follow?"
Al summons her glaive to her hand and looks about the group. Orc chiefs win their place by blood. She hopes she will not have to do that this time, but there will be challengers in the future. She can't expect change overnight.
Alalla stares them all down, letting them see her strength and determination, daring them to challenge her.
Rolls
I mean business (intimidate) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (1) + 4 = 5
1d20+4 : (1) + 4 = 5
if the author really knew anything about anything. Still, as he reads he finds himself piecing together some of the grander scope of things, his experience beyond the veil of mortality seeping through to fill in some of the blanks.
The first letter:
To our brothers and sisters in Kuldahar, we send word that a most esteemed priest of our order will be passing through. Give him whatever aid he requires, for Revered Brother Poquelin is one most blessed by Ilmater.
- Brother Perdiem
The second letter:
In answer to your concerns, I say that sometimes the greatest sacrifice is to go forward in ignorance, trusting those who know better to lead us by the hand towards greater enlightenment. Stay strong to what Revered Brother Poquelin has taught us.
- Brother Perdiem
The third letter:
Brother Gus,
As one of great wisdom yourself, Revered Brother Poquelin has decided to gift you with this statue. Keep it close by, and you will receive greater instruction when the time comes.
- Brother Perdiem
Something about the mention of that statue itches at Fergy's attention. Something heavy had been used to kill Brother Ferg. Could that have been the statue? If it had been used as a weapon, perhaps pieces of it might have come loose in the struggle.
Searching the temple again, using his magical senses to guide him, Fergy locates a small chip of stone under a pew, blood staining its edge. Though it is but a sliver, Fergy immediately feels something assault his willpower. With something as volatile as this, perhaps it would be better not to touch it.
"Hey Jermsy, do you remember a statue that Brother Gus received just before he left?"
"I've been asked to meet someone at a city." Using prestidigitation, Zenithral produces the small illusory diorama Erestor showed him in his dream, a city with five towers stretching upwards like fingers. "He says it was once known as the Hand of the Seldarine, and that it has bloodline-based defenses. Do you know anything of this city that might be useful for my companions and I to know?"
He leaps down to land in the snow before Alalla, where he rises above her height by nearly two feet. "You think you can lead them to a better way, Daughter? How can you, when you are even more lost than they?"
Alalla's mind reels as she considers this orc. He does not look exactly like the deific creature she saw briefly when she'd died, but those eyes... and that voice...
"I have let you run free for too long. It is time you learned your place. And these will all bear witness that none will escape me!"
Alalla has just a moment to see that the rest of the camp, including Keggruk and Erevain, seem to be frozen in place. And then the orc is upon her, swinging furiously with his two axes.
Rolls
Avatar initiative (adv) - (1d20, 1d20)
1d20 : (5) = 5
1d20 : (4) = 4
She ought to make some sort of quip or retort, but her throat is too dry. Besides, her opponents usually find it more unnerving when she says nothing.
Alalla charges, striking hard. It's a solid hit, and she laughs. She could be sent back to Nishrek today, devastating all those who are watching, but if she wins...
She puts all she has into her strikes, her golden glaive flashing against the giant orc more times than should be possible.
Avatar of Gruumsh takes 84 damage. He must make 1 wisdom save or be afraid of Al and 2 strength saves or be knocked prone.
HP: 115/115
AC: 19
Rolls
Initiative - (1d20+1)
(3) + 1 = 4
Inspiration reroll - (1d20+1)
(12) + 1 = 13
Attack 1 - (1d20+9)
(15) + 9 = 24
Damage 1 - (2d10+5)
(52) + 5 = 12
Damage reroll - (1d10+10)
(1) + 10 = 11
Attack 2 - (1d20+9)
(14) + 9 = 23
Attack 3 - (1d20+9)
(10) + 9 = 19
Damage 2 - (2d10+5)
(85) + 5 = 18
Damage 3 - (2d10+5)
(87) + 5 = 20
Attack 4 - (1d20+9)
(15) + 9 = 24
Attack 5 - (1d20+9)
(13) + 9 = 22
Attack 6 - (1d20+9)
(8) + 9 = 17
Damage 4,5,6 - (3d10+15)
(857) + 15 = 35
When Zenithral shows the image of the city, Orrick immediately leans forward with eager interest. "Where did you see that? You must tell me! I have been searching for it for decades! I know nothing of any bloodline defenses, but if indeed there is a mythal in place, it could have very intricate and powerful wards protecting it. Elven High Magic is all but a lost art, one from which I hope to learn much."
Alalla parries one axe and spins away from the other, but is unprepared for the butt of the orc's helmeted head. Reeling from the hit, she tries to get her bearings when suddenly her vision turns white.
What happened?
She stumbles away as her sight clears, and she blearily sees the orc raise his axes to the sky, one of them dripping blood. Her blood.
Then the pain hits. A searing line of agony rips across her face. She feels blood drip down her face and she sways, watching tears of red melt the snow at her feet. "Yes. You are mine, Daughter." Something is wrong with her vision. The orc steps closer to her, but she feels dizzy. "I claim you. I will never let you be free." She tries to blink the blood away, but... pain. "I mark you as mine!"
She notices then that the glow from beneath his helmet is not from his eyes, but from one single eye.
As his laughter pierces her heart and mind, she realizes the truth. Gruumsh has, indeed, left his mark on her. One of her own eyes is gone.
ranged attack rolls.
Rolls
Avatar str save (2 saves) - (1d20+9, 1d20+9)
1d20+9 : (17) + 9 = 26
1d20+9 : (12) + 9 = 21
Avatar vs Al (3 attacks) - (1d20+11, 1d20+11, 1d20+11)
1d20+11 : (1) + 11 = 12
1d20+11 : (7) + 11 = 18
1d20+11 : (20) + 11 = 31
Dmg to Al - (6d10+60)
(9610581) + 60 = 99
Avatar fumble - (1d100)
(86) = 86
Dmg to self - (1d10+5)
(9) + 5 = 14
He changes the tiny illusion to the map. "Here is the location he gave me. It may very well just be a trap. For instance, it could be a ruse to get me to talk to you for more information and lure one or both of us there only to be captured or killed. The enemy is quite cunning. I don't really have any other options, however, so my companions Alalla, and Erevain will be traveling with me there regardless. I was hoping to recruit Dok's aid as well."
HP: 31/115
Rolls
Riposte - (1d20+9)
(9) + 9 = 18
Con save - (1d20+9)
(14) + 9 = 23
Attack 1 - (1d20+9)
(6) + 9 = 15
Attack 2 - (1d20+9)
(5) + 9 = 14
Attack 3 - (1d20+9)
(14) + 9 = 23
Attack 2 inspiration reroll - (1d20+9)
(3) + 9 = 12
Strain - (1d100)
(61) = 61
Sprained ankle rounds - (1d4)
(4) = 4
Damage - (4d10+10)
(9834) + 10 = 34
Second wind - (1d10+11)
(4) + 11 = 15
He straightens his robes. "I will not say what the goblin may or may not do. It would ruin that particular study. But if he has followed you this far, he is likely to continue to do so."
Orrick moves away, stuffing scrolls and pouches into his pockets. "Now. Time to go. Best of luck to you." He snaps his fingers and Zenithral is suddenly standing outside, just in front of the tower entrance.
Rolls
Arhletics - (1d20+7)
(9) + 7 = 16
Athletics - (1d20+7)
(13) + 7 = 20
Calm, calm.
She has lost her hold on herself too often lately. She won't do it now.
Al throws her body into her attacks, but her mind is calm and cool. It has to be. She has to show these orcs that they can be better than their anger. Besides, as she faces Gruumsh, she can feel a seed of Bilewing's cowardice inside her dragon heart threatening to bloom should she release her emotions. It is better to feel nothing at all.
One hit skids off his armour but the other lands between the plates at his shoulder and Al heaves, bringing the monster to his knees.
"You won't let me?" Her anger manages to find some voice after all, though it feels as though her mouth is moving on its own. "I don't remember asking your permission."
Another strike forces the blade of her glaive beneath the massive helmet where it meets Gruumsh's throat, ending the life of his avatar.
As the giant orc bleeds into the snow, Alalla's mind scrambles to process the event. She wishes now she had kept quiet, thinking on how her words had only served to make her sound like the rebellious daughter Gruumsh claimed her to be. And her eye...
She begins to raise a gauntleted hand to her face but hesitates as a thick beginnings of a sob rise up in her throat. Al swallows and lets her hand fall.
Not here, not now.
Alalla pulls her scarf from her hair and ties it around her wounded eye. Face bandaged, she turns to look at Erevain, making sure he is alright. Satisfied, she then moves her gaze around the camp.
Calm, calm.
"Well?" Her voice is as strong as she can manage. Hopefully the others will not find weakness in it. "I remember asking a question."