|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 3, 2003 20:35:30 GMT -5
0.0.13 The sudden presence of light is enough to at least distract the zombie from his feast. He gazes into the the bright light as though it's his final release from undeath. Your flesh drips from his mouth as his hands begin to idlely slip from your leg.
The zombie loosens his grip on your leg Forland...just long enough for you to slip it out and crawl away.
Forland init roll: 16+7=23 Aeranyn init roll: 11+5=16
|
|
|
Post by aeranyn on Feb 3, 2003 20:49:08 GMT -5
0.0.14 Not quite as brash as the brave human warrior Wulfgar, Aeranin was just starting to choose a target from the undead forces in the distance when he heard Forland cry out. Noticing him beneath scrambling from beneath the cart dragging a bloodsoaked leg, Fizbar thought to himself, "Foul Orcs!!". As he nocked back an arrow, Aeranin couldn't resist the urge to start whistling an old elven battle hymn. He was reminded of the story of the courageous, but outnumbered, Yelmalian elves as they struggled against Dorastoran Deathwood's evil orcish horde. He only hoped that his party would see victory or freedom and avoid the end the Yelmalians knew. As his arrow soared towards the grizzled zombie, the ballad began.
I use my longbow to shoot the orc that made a meal of Forland's leg.
AC; 15 HP; 10 Longbow; 1d8 - x3 on crit Attack/Dmg mod +5
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 3, 2003 21:00:24 GMT -5
0.0.15 Aeranyn's arrow flies from his bow, soaring through the night and into...the wheel of the cart. The zombie orc glances at the missle and, if it had the facial muscles left to smile, you can bet it would have.
Aeranyn's hit roll: 4+5=9 MISS! (just barely)
|
|
|
Post by Neeola on Feb 3, 2003 21:54:32 GMT -5
0.0.16 As the zombies come towards them, Neeola raises her pendant with her chanting, "By the supreme god Corean, I comand you to leave our presence". While she holds the symbol between her and her targets, she turns to her companion and says with heated tone, "Wulfgar, end the depravity that is their undeath."
I want to turn undead on the three zombies that are approching.
CHA: Bonus + 1
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 3, 2003 22:02:08 GMT -5
0.0.17 Like a beacon in the darkness surrounding them, the holy might of the Cleric Neeola, shines forth in a blessed ray. It seems that even the foul stench of the zombies recoils in fear of her righteous power.
The zombies pull away from Neeola (all 3 zombies do).
According to the rules of Turn Undead, only the cleirc is not allowed to attack the undead without breaking the turning....anyone else, however may.
|
|
|
Post by Wulfgar on Feb 4, 2003 10:31:05 GMT -5
0.0.18 “Too stupid to stay dead eh?” Wulfgar rumbled. Now better lit, he could see that these creatures were dirty, unnatural monsters, to be pitied, and quickly dispatched. “Let me give you a little instruction in the ways of mortality.” He strode forward, seemingly ignorant of the searing pain in his leg. He pulled his arm back, coming from the windy plains of Kahn-Zahs with his next blow, directed at the closest of the filthy undead creatures.
I'm going hit the closest orc. 9 hp +6 attack bonus 10d+4 damage
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 4, 2003 10:48:45 GMT -5
0.0.19 Wulfgar's blade cleaves deep into what's left of the orc's flesh. It looks at the wound in confusion, then back up at Wulfgar's face. It moans a bit, and in a moment's horror, you realize it was not a moan of pain (at least not from THIS wound).
With Wulfgar's blade deep in it's belly, the orc pulls himself towards the hilt...and with a fountain of gushing green and red blood spewing from it's mouth and it's torso the orcish cadaver reaches out to Wulfgar's hands...still firm on his blade.
Gripping Wulfgar's hands with bloody fingers, the zombie attempts to free the blade of his grip by writhing and twisting himself upon it. It still glances in fear at Neeola's holy symbol, trying desperately to pull away from the warrior and the Elf.
Wulfgar rolls 13 to hit: 13+6=19 HIT! Damage is 1d10+4: 1+4=5 Zombie survives. Wulfgar's strength is too great for the zombie to pull his weapon away and flee...
|
|
Forland
Expert Ninja
Timmy! Shh...Timmy
Posts: 38
|
Post by Forland on Feb 5, 2003 13:52:20 GMT -5
0.0.20 Forland crawls out from underneath the wagon and takes a step before realizing how grievous his wound is, and that he doesn't have the strength to continue on. Feeling like a child in the dark without his spells, he gets very angry and pulls out his crossbow aimed at the undead orc coming out from under the wagon, and let's fly a bolt.
I am shooting for the abomination's head, if that is visible, since he's getting out from under the wagon and all.
AC: 13 HP: 5 Ranged ATK Mod: 3 Light Crossbow Damage: 1d8
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 5, 2003 15:09:43 GMT -5
0.0.21 Whether it's fear, horror, or simply disgust in your heart, you find it hard to steady your hand and the bolt digs deep into the marshland beneath the cart...inches away from the orc's head. It looks at the bolt idlely for a second or two then raises it's eyes to meet yours. Slurping of the last strands of your flesh in it's mouth, it begins to rise from beneath the cart.
Forland rolls to hit: 8+3=13 (Miss. The orc has 3/4 cover (+7 AC) underneath the cart, only his head and shoulders were visible for your shot.)
The orc spends his turn rising to his feet.
|
|
|
Post by aeranyn on Feb 5, 2003 15:36:34 GMT -5
0.0.22 The dance had begun somewhat slowly. Aeranin silently thanked Corellon that Forland had freed himself from the undead's grasp and cursed his vial orc captives for not allowing him to oil his bowstring. The quivering arrow still protruding from the cart wheel laughed at him mockingly all but ruining the song that he had begun. Seeing the Orcish zombie rise to his feet, Aeranin once again took aim and let fly another note from his overly eager instrument.
I shoot another arrow at the now-standing orc.
AC; 15 HP; 10 Longbow; 1d8 - x3 on Crit Dmg Mod; +5
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 5, 2003 16:00:29 GMT -5
0.0.23 The elven arrow flies straight and true...
It is rumored that the undead know no pain, or perhaps so MUCH pain that all things physical drown out in comparison. Whatever the case, the force of Aeranyn's arrow alone would have been enough to bring any creature of this world to it's knees.
But these creatures are not OF this world. The stamina of the undead proves to be greater than any LIVING orc, and the arrow digs into the orc's flesh with a sound like an axe in the trunk of a tree. The orc pays no attention to his new orafice, however and shambles forward.
Aeranyn's roll: 13+5=18 HIT! Damage: 5(on the die)=5 (The zombie "lives.")
|
|
|
Post by Neeola on Feb 5, 2003 17:09:47 GMT -5
0.0.24 As Neeola continues to hold the symbol infront of her, she slowly walks toward Wulfgar who appears to be in anguish. Placing her hand upon his wound, she mutters a few ornate words, "I consecreate this wound with the power of Corean...may he relieve your pain."
Trade magic stone for cure light wounds: cures 1d8 +1/lvl
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 5, 2003 17:32:58 GMT -5
0.0.25 A soft glow of blue light envelops Wulfgars wounds at Neeola's gentle touch, washing away blood and pain from his body and mind.
The undead dangling and writhing on the end of Wulfgar's blade, gazes upon the light in utter terror, shrieking and spewing bits of blood and flesh in every direction. There is an audible CRUNCH heard and the shrieking ends...the poor creature having broken it's own back on his blade.
The other two living corpses pull away from the holy power of the cleric, turning to escape...
Wulfgar heals: 8 hit points
The Zombie orc on the end of his blade "dies."
|
|
|
Post by Wulfgar on Feb 6, 2003 14:16:02 GMT -5
0.0.26 Some kind of dark force has cursed these creatures, better dead than in their current state with some kind of horrible animation. Wulfgar felt the hard, sharp edge of his rage dull slightly as the healing power coursed through his body. “Many thanks, friend elf.” He said to the cleric, even as he strode toward the next closest undead orc. He knew that, were the pitiful mass before them able to communicate, it would thank him for what he was about to do…
I'm going to speed this thing on its way to oblivion. +6 bonus w/ bastage sword. 1d10+4 dam. 2x 19-20 crit.
|
|
|
Post by DungeonMaster on Feb 6, 2003 14:36:47 GMT -5
0.0.27 The undead before you makes no effort to defend himself or even retaliate against you. As you begin the gruesome process of ending it's aparent torture in this living-without-living state, the second zombie shuffles away into the mist, putting as much distance between it and the cleric as it can. By the time your work is finished, and no more than a bloody husk remains of your prey, the other zombie is long gone...
As you stop to catch your breath, you realize something else...the battle beyond has ended. No more orcish cries, no more dragon roars or boiling sounds of acid on flesh...it's all over...though, no corpses remain.
Wulfgar, you easily slay the zombie...all is quiet. Too much mist and smoke remains between you and the equipment cart to see Aeranyn or Forland's struggle.
|
|