Michael Haart was making his way through the busy and bustling streets of Rainese, as he had done many days before. Keeping his paladin duties in mind, he ventured into the slums of the third wall to tend to those suffering from the poverty plaguing the once profitable city.
It wasn't long before he saw something that turned his stomach. A young boy, no older than a few years, was running through the streets holding onto a bright blue banner with the six-eyed crest of Neridia embroidered upon it. (Picture St. Cuthbert's Holy symbol with eyes where the rubies used to be)
Within seconds, a man dressed in black armor, wearing a red cape with Raydros's symbol, (A black silhouette of a sword) stepped forward and ripped the banner from the child's fingers. Instantly, the soldier backhanded the child so hard that he fell to the ground. The spikes on his gauntlet's cut deep gashes into his cheeks, and he began to cry from the pain.
"This little bastard is supporting the Rebels!" The man yelled. A second figure, like the first, joined him, and looked over the banner for a few moments. "He can't be trusted," the second soldier spat. "He's probably some sorcerer using magic to disguise himself. Cut him down and find out"
As the second soldier turned to leave, the original called, "Aye, sir!" He then drew his sword, and the little boy's mouth opened wide. he didn't look like he could breath, he was so pretrified with fear.
Criva entered the tavern, ready to take a load off for the day. She couldn't even relax for a few moments, however, when a Raydrosian sentry, obviously inebriated beyond repair, slumped into the seat next to her.
"Hey, tuts...hic...you sure look...hic...purty." was all he managed to blurt out between sips from his mug. he moved to put his arm around her shoulders.
Michael moves forward, a serene look on his face. His sliver and black hair flashes in the sunlight, and his crusader-style sword rests on his left hip. He steps in front of the young boy, and holds out his hand in a calming gesture. With his broad chest and muscled arms, he looks like a calm brick wall.
"What seems to be the problem here?" Michael asks in a deep voice. "This young boy has done no harm to you or yours. What can hurting him accomplish other than causing sorrow? Wouldn't it be best to let him go, just this once? I'll talk to him and make sure he doesn't do anything of this sort again."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Tired of this whole thing Criva's fist just snakes towards the mans temple
im asuming being drunk allows me to have SA
Attack:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled
20
Damage:
Dice Roller1 D6 rolled
6
Sneak Attack:
If not evil:
Dice Roller1 D6 rolled
5
if evil:
Dice Roller1 D8 rolled
8
All this damage is non leathal, im just aiming to knock him out, not kill, its too early for gore
edit: great! (and by that i mean crap!)... yukora any chance you will allow me to enchant my fists with the Brutal 1-2 Property from 4e?
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Quote from »
Call me old fashioned, but an evil ascension to power just isn't the same without someone chanting faux Latin in the background.
Oreo, Glazing people better than Dunkin' Donuts since 2009
That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange eons even death may die.
Michael's voice turns stern. "This is your last chance to stand down. I do not wish to harm you, but if you attack myself or the child, I will be forced to respond in kind."
He places his right hand on his sword, but doesn't draw.
Intimidate
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +3 modifier
17 + 3
Forgot to mention: Readying action. If the guard tries to attack Michael or the boy, Michael draws his sword and attacks.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
The man looked rather shaken by the paladin's visage, but the second soldier wasn't fazed one bit. He walked over with defiance, and pointed his blade at Michael.
"You are interfering with the workings of Law. Stand aside, and do so at this very instant."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Kyran Kelarion had been through his fair share of trials. Life had never been, and probably never would be easy for him. Today was just as any other day in Rainese. Boring, pointless, and overrun with oppressive Raydrosian sentries.
Today, however, there was a new flyer stuck to the six disctrict's notice board.
It read: ARCHERY COMPETITION!
Come try your skills against the city's best. First place gets the grand prize of 500 gold!
This is just not my day, she quickly tries to tumble through the group of men, they deserve a whooping but fighting serves no purpose here, theres no reason to it other than wanton violence and thats not who she is.
She tries to twist and turn, hopefully fast enough to make them loose sight of her for the moment required for her to blend with the shadows.
Can i like Tumble to move away and use the crowd for a Hide check? if so
Tumble:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +7 modifier
10 + 7
Hide:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +7 modifier
4 + 7
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Quote from »
Call me old fashioned, but an evil ascension to power just isn't the same without someone chanting faux Latin in the background.
Oreo, Glazing people better than Dunkin' Donuts since 2009
That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange eons even death may die.
With a quick customary search of the panel she sees if it can be opened, if so she slides it open and if the space is big enough steps silently inside.
Search:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +7 modifier
1 + 7
Spot:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +8 modifier
9 + 8
Move Silently:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +7 modifier
4 + 7
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Quote from »
Call me old fashioned, but an evil ascension to power just isn't the same without someone chanting faux Latin in the background.
Oreo, Glazing people better than Dunkin' Donuts since 2009
That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange eons even death may die.
The smell of smoke filled Laucian's lungs. Curiosity befalling him, he traveled to the area where a long line of smoke coming from a burning pile of bright blue banners. Each and every single banner held Neridia's national symbol on the small flag. Hundreds of flags were in the pile, and the brutes that were burning them had dundreds more ready to toss on the flames.
Raydrosian soldiers. Five of them, and each laughing like a hyena as they burned the symbol of Laucian's fallen nation.
Criva barely fits into the small space, but she is able to hunker down into the hole. Just as she replaces the panel, she can hear the soldiers searching the cupboard.
She rests against a stone wall momentarily, for it moved under her weight. it seemed to be on large hinges. A secret wall under a secret door, and it seemed to be the only avenue that didn't involve fighting.
Laucian's eyes flashed with murder for a brief moment before he ran through a quick mental calming exercise that his grandmother taught him. He approached the soldiers calmly, moving in a non-threatening manner. "Gentlemen," he called out when he would not be actually shouting, but merely speaking loudly and clearly, "is that truly necessary? You are already occupying this nation. Do you wish to engender more ill will by trampling what remains of our national pride beneath your boots?"
As he moves closer he attempts to identify the commander of the force, and he prepares for a potentially long, drawn-out conflict.
Looking for who might be bearing a crest or other command stripe. Also, am prepared to fight defensively.
Never forget: there's always someone bigger, better and stronger than you.
Someone once asked me why, when I talk about House Dimir, I don't put the word "the" in front of it.
At the time, I had no answer, but it just came to me.
Do we put the word "the" in front of God?
Quote from Me »
Stupidity cannot be tolerated. Idiots thrive on the indulgence of society's "understanding."
Quote from Fenris »
PUPPIES AND BUNNIES!!
A Storyteller is not a GM. A GM is God. God is one of the Storyteller's little minions.
Quote from Me »
Everything I say is fully substantiated by my own opinion.
"Well no point in questioning my luck, now lets see where these leads" Criva says, so softly that had she simply thought it it would have made as much noise. Slowly opening this secret door she begins to inch her way, always weary for traps, after all secret floors and walls HAVE to have a trap or two somewhere.
Search:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +7 modifier
11 + 7
Spot:
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +8 modifier
15 + 8
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Quote from »
Call me old fashioned, but an evil ascension to power just isn't the same without someone chanting faux Latin in the background.
Oreo, Glazing people better than Dunkin' Donuts since 2009
That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange eons even death may die.
Laucian's attempt at calm reconciliation was only met with more roaring laughter.
"Nationial pride!? What national pride!? It was your nation that cried, begged, and pleaded for Raydros's mercy!" One of the soldiers called out.
The next joined him, "Some nation. It's more like a rag-tag group of homeless, skanks, and imbeciles, if you ask me. This ****-hole is good for nothing except holding Raydros's trash and pleasuring its men."
A third called out, "Why do you care, peasant? Your mouth gets fed either way. Just go back to pretending Neridia was worth anything while the big boys do their job."
The fourth soldier seemed to be nothing more than a tower of laughter, as that's all he did since Laucian saw the group.
The fifth soldier, however, remained silent and never once laughed. He kept trying to talk, but he was drowned out by the other four.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
It wasn't long before he saw something that turned his stomach. A young boy, no older than a few years, was running through the streets holding onto a bright blue banner with the six-eyed crest of Neridia embroidered upon it. (Picture St. Cuthbert's Holy symbol with eyes where the rubies used to be)
Within seconds, a man dressed in black armor, wearing a red cape with Raydros's symbol, (A black silhouette of a sword) stepped forward and ripped the banner from the child's fingers. Instantly, the soldier backhanded the child so hard that he fell to the ground. The spikes on his gauntlet's cut deep gashes into his cheeks, and he began to cry from the pain.
"This little bastard is supporting the Rebels!" The man yelled. A second figure, like the first, joined him, and looked over the banner for a few moments. "He can't be trusted," the second soldier spat. "He's probably some sorcerer using magic to disguise himself. Cut him down and find out"
As the second soldier turned to leave, the original called, "Aye, sir!" He then drew his sword, and the little boy's mouth opened wide. he didn't look like he could breath, he was so pretrified with fear.
"Hey, tuts...hic...you sure look...hic...purty." was all he managed to blurt out between sips from his mug. he moved to put his arm around her shoulders.
"What seems to be the problem here?" Michael asks in a deep voice. "This young boy has done no harm to you or yours. What can hurting him accomplish other than causing sorrow? Wouldn't it be best to let him go, just this once? I'll talk to him and make sure he doesn't do anything of this sort again."
Also: Diplomacy
{Magic: The RPG}
Due to the soldier's yells, the second one stopped and turned. He too drew his sword, and his was much like Michael's own bastard sword.
He drew the blade at his side, and nearly fell off of the stool while trying to do so.
Attack:
Damage:
Sneak Attack:
If not evil:
edit: great! (and by that i mean crap!)... yukora any chance you will allow me to enchant my fists with the Brutal 1-2 Property from 4e?
He places his right hand on his sword, but doesn't draw.
Forgot to mention: Readying action. If the guard tries to attack Michael or the boy, Michael draws his sword and attacks.
{Magic: The RPG}
"Hey...guys! Hic...this ***** just tried...hic..to kill me."
That was enough for four men, dressed in the same armor as the drunken soldier, to stand and start heading strait for Criva.
"You are interfering with the workings of Law. Stand aside, and do so at this very instant."
"Do not force this. Please. I don't want to hurt you, but I cannot allow you to harm this child." His voice is quiet, but resolved.
Stupid Michael, not wanting to initiate violence. Any other character and I would have just sliced his arms off.
{Magic: The RPG}
Today, however, there was a new flyer stuck to the six disctrict's notice board.
It read:
ARCHERY COMPETITION!
Come try your skills against the city's best. First place gets the grand prize of 500 gold!
She tries to twist and turn, hopefully fast enough to make them loose sight of her for the moment required for her to blend with the shadows.
Tumble:
Hide:
Once in there, she found an odd looking panel on the floor of the cupboard. It looked like it could move.
Spot:
Move Silently:
Raydrosian soldiers. Five of them, and each laughing like a hyena as they burned the symbol of Laucian's fallen nation.
She rests against a stone wall momentarily, for it moved under her weight. it seemed to be on large hinges. A secret wall under a secret door, and it seemed to be the only avenue that didn't involve fighting.
As he moves closer he attempts to identify the commander of the force, and he prepares for a potentially long, drawn-out conflict.
Reynard
Someone once asked me why, when I talk about House Dimir, I don't put the word "the" in front of it.
At the time, I had no answer, but it just came to me.
Do we put the word "the" in front of God? A Storyteller is not a GM. A GM is God. God is one of the Storyteller's little minions.
Spot:
"Nationial pride!? What national pride!? It was your nation that cried, begged, and pleaded for Raydros's mercy!" One of the soldiers called out.
The next joined him, "Some nation. It's more like a rag-tag group of homeless, skanks, and imbeciles, if you ask me. This ****-hole is good for nothing except holding Raydros's trash and pleasuring its men."
A third called out, "Why do you care, peasant? Your mouth gets fed either way. Just go back to pretending Neridia was worth anything while the big boys do their job."
The fourth soldier seemed to be nothing more than a tower of laughter, as that's all he did since Laucian saw the group.
The fifth soldier, however, remained silent and never once laughed. He kept trying to talk, but he was drowned out by the other four.
Halfway down the tunnel, Criva can see some writing in red on the wall.
Michael acts quickly, swinging his sword straight at the senior soldier. As he swings, his blade seem to glow with pure power.
Attack
Damage
{Magic: The RPG}