[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

Rats. Choose the rats. I can step on a godsforsaken rat, thought Motsognir, though he had no intention of sharing that preference with the other dwarf. He exhaled heavily with a grunt, doing his best to create the appearance of serious consideration. Roughly running his left hand through his beard, the Subgenius stared carefully at the south door, hoping something would influence the group's decision before he had to declare a propensity either way. He settled on a compromise.

"I'll go through any door so long as I don't go through first."

How ya doing, buddy?

Gabriel grinned at his kinsman. No Paladin, this one. Too logical. He thought too much. Still, a dwarf is a dwarf. "Do not worry, friend. I lead with shield and hammer. The man-child leads with fists and head. Your place need not be walking into blood and steel."

He glanced back at the room opposite, waiting for the elf to weigh in. Then he considered that for a long moment and glanced at the Rogue a few feet away from them. "Well, friend. Seems the decision is yours. Call it one for the way of silence and one for the way of battle. Decide."

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

I came too with a start. How long had I been lost in my thoughts? The remakably lively zombies had all moved through the door and were having some sort of discussion in the next room. They had all ignored the sign hanging from the slab at the top of the stairs. From the looks of them it seemed unlikely that any of them could read when they were alive, let alone in their newly reincarnated state.

Being careful not to touch anything, I leaned forward and read the note. Then, satisfied that I had interpreted it correctly, I joined the undead in the newly discovered room.

The place had the look of a barracks, exactly the kind of place I'd have expected the ugly dwarf to wake up after a night out but hardly my usual kind of haunt.

"Right then, you with the hammer, yes, you, the ugly one. Me Scary Bob, big powerful magic man. You zombie minion."

I spoke clearly and slowly, as was the recommended practice when speaking to strangers, especially those of a dwarven nature. The dwarf ignored me, seeming intent on rubbing his ear against the northern door. Perhaps this was some form of dwarven custom or maybe a side effect of the reanimation process was itchy ears? My grandsire had always told me "There's nowt queer as folk" and this particular folk was one of the queerest I had ever laid eyes on.

The other zombies were lumbering around the room, apparently looking for food. Not sure what zombies ate or indeed why they would need to eat at all, I ignored them and considered my options.

Clearly someone needed to take charge of the situation and given my position as the only living member of the party, logic would dictate that it should be me.

"You there, hammer boy, what are you doing to that door?"

Clearly a door had to be opened and equally clearly, I was not going to be the one to do it. The zombies had been making quite a racket in my absence and it occured to me that should this be an occupied barracks, the chances were that somebody would sooner, rather than later come looking for the source of all this commotion. Then suddenly I remembered, the note, of course, I supposed I had better tell the horde what it had said, so in my best loud and slow voice I proclaimed

"Zombie horde. Hearken unto your master. I have read the missive attached unto the slab of rock atop the stairs in the previous room and it read thusly..."

Reads out contents of note, assuming I understood it and it was readable.

I was speaking idiomatically.

The Dwarf's eyes thinned as he growled under his breath. He looked over at the mage and sighed, hefting his hammer off his shoulder and glancing over at the other dwarf.

"What of it? I say we feed the daft bastard to the hungry one." He smirked a little and then frowned when the mage started yelling. Right, well, there goes the element of surprise. But surprise be damned. Kord didn't need surprise. Kord was the righteous hammer of vengeance to temper the world firm.

He looked over at the mage and frowned. "No doubt unfriendly company to the south. So I'm voting we go that way. There are rats to the north, and I don't like vermin." He was speaking in hushed tones and keeping his eyes peeled on the southern door, just in case the damned woman's screeching brought anyone through it. In point of fact, he moved to stand beside the door, on the side opposite where it would slam if swung open, and hefted his hammer in his hand.

If something was coming through that door, he was going to be ready to launch his hammer into space and crush something's chest in orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

I want to pet the puppies. Argumentus loves to pet puppies.

FELIPE NO

The ugly dwarf stopped his ear rubbing and muttered something to his compatriot in a weird, gutteral tongue.

"Hello, sorry, me no speako Dwarfo. You speekee people speak?"

I asked the hideous demihuman. He ignored me and took up station next to the southern door, as if expecting something to burst through it at any moment. Realising that these bumbling fools would more than likely go crashing through the door with no heed for what might lie beyond, I stationed myself behind a table, facing the door and drew my trusty bow, ready to send a deadly missile into the face of whatever might be about to join us.

Stands behind the table nearest the door, draws bow and notches an arrow, considers using Mage Hand cantrip to open the door then Cloud of Daggers cantrip on doorway and allowing any would-be attackers to rush through and get brutally murdered from behind by Manrammer, just the way he likes it.

How ya doing, buddy?

The dwarf nodded Argumentus towards the door he was stationed at. If the human came close enough to catch a whispered word, he'd tell him they could pet whatever was on the other side of the door. With all of them in the room, finally, he would wait for Argumentus to become set before he looked to Steely Dan and glowered sharply once again. What people. This daft bastard was an elf.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"What you guys doing? Puppies other way."

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The dwarf blinked at Argumentus, confused. And then it dawned on him that he was talking about rats. Well now, that's delightfully disturbing, that is. He considered telling the lumbering oaf a story about farms and rabbits to make him feel better. He had a cousin that was a bit slow. And that story always calmed him right down.

He did, however, not have the time for the farm and the rabbits.

"We're going into this room first, and as soon as we're done looking around here, you can go play in the puppy room, friend. I'll even go with you, all right?" He kept his voice as level and as quiet as he could as he continued to listen into the next room, trying to discern whether their disgusting racket had been noticed yet.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

The crockery-smashing ruckus from the southern room continues (albeit at a slower pace) drowning out any sounds of conversation which would otherwise be overheard by the occupants.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

I wondered if anyone had heard me when I read out the contents of the note on the slab...

Most amazing jew boots

Ooooooh. Short man need hep open door. I open door the best of all. Hep short man.

Argumentus raises his mighty fists and bashes on the Southern Door

"ANYBODEE HOOOOOOOME!?"

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

I reflected on the fact that the big fellow was clearly here for a good time, not for a long time.

FELIPE NO

Argumentus delivers a two-fisted blow to the rotting door and again it flies free of its moorings. It hurtles into the next room, and the sudden silence is broken by a yelp of pain — which quickly evolves into a chorus of belligerent shouts. Three small greenish individuals (one somewhat bulkier than the others) are clustered around a stewpot in a room ankle-deep in broken dishes and burst floursacks; a pair of massive beetles are heating the pot with their fiery emissions.

All 5 turn toward the doorway. It's combat time.

blah de blah:

Argumentus rolls a natural 20 against the 16-durability door, killing not only said door but also all its hopes and dreams, and dealing 2 damage to the goblin directly in front of it.

Because you've burst in on them in the middle of supper, you gain a surprise round; initiative order is as follows: Argumentus, Bob, Gabriel, Fescue, Motsognir.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

"NOT PUPPIES!"

Argumentus moves once to the west, then faces the east

Argumentus equips shield

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Scary Bob fires an arrow through the doorway. It flies true, and the young goblin must live the rest of his short and brutal life with an unfortunate new navel piercing.

Bob then resumes his default behavior of cowering behind a table.

KOMBAT TIME:

Shin gave his go-ahead to have his character run in his absence for the day. Successful ranged attack for 6 damage, and successful Nature check to identify the enemies as goblins. Priority passes to Gabriel.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The big fellow smashed the door off it's hinges, startling three small, green creatures who were enthusiastically preparing a meal in the next room. One of the beasts looked up at me as I loosed the arrow from my bow in a gracefull cast, sending the missile streaking towards the creature's head.

Shoots an arrow from short bow at the front goblin, the one who just got nailed by the door. I'm pretty sure Deni said he was standing by the southern door, not the northern one.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Rummaging through my bag, I was lucky enough to find some food. Whoever threw us in here must've been in an awful hurry, or maybe not. Strange to throw me into a cellar ALONG with my bag and weapons....

The dwarf with the hammer asks me my opinion about which door to go through. "Whichever one you like," I muttered, seeing as how he wouldn't have taken my opinion either way, considering the first door situation.

I quickly chewed my jerky and noticed the jolly retarded giant about to smash through the south (was it really south?) door. A crash and the door withered away, and nothing but a bustle quickly afterwards. There were goblins on the other side. I'd only encountered them once before in my life, but it wasn't good, and they don't carry a damn thing worth stealing.

Seeing the lady-elf fire an arrow through the doorway, and hearing one of the goblins squeel horrifically, I made my way next to her to take cover with the dining table. I quickly draw my hand cross-bow from my belt, load it, and aim...

Preemptive turn, for when Gabriel has attacked.

Move next to Scary Bob behind table
Draw Crossbow
Sky Flourish, at most oppurtune target

How ya doing, buddy?

Draw Battleaxe
Move next to Argumentus

I was speaking idiomatically.

The dwarf glanced over his shoulder as the door splintered and broke off at a run towards the southern door and the fighter's position. He could smell the filth in the next room. Goblin. Good. Gooooooood. His hammer raised as he clutched Kord's holy symbol in his hand and raced towards the coming conflict.

Straight movement, to Gabriel's right and around the outside of the tables moving south.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Argumentus takes strategic position, while the dwarves sprint toward the fracas as quickly as they can. Fescue takes cover for a sneak attack, and the bolt thuds deeply into goblin flesh, and the foe visible through the doorway is bloodied.

(new round)

The goblin camp begins its counterattack.

The burly, black-clad goblin rushes out to confront Argumentus, and his shortsword rings harmlessly off the fighter's armor.

The bloodied goblin fires back at Scary Bob, and his weak and shaking arms propel a across the room — and well over Bob's head. The javelin clatters harmlessly to the floor against the north door. The luckless goblin then backpedals, to cower behind the stewpot.

The third goblin, also holding a javelin, steps forward to take the firing position. He takes careful aim and his javelin rips into Fescue's shoulder, producing a serious wound.

The beetles as yet seem in no hurry to help.



Gabriel and Motsognir move south at their maximum speed (As Dwarves, remember, their speed is only 5). Fescue scores a sneak-attack on Goblin A for 11 damage and bloodies him (I'll be red-tinting bloodied PCs/enemies for quick reference). Goblin leader swings and misses Argumentus, Goblin A misses a ranged attack on Bob, and Goblin B scores a critical hit on Fescue for 8 damage, reducing him to 18 health.

Sorry this took so long, Photoshop decided to fuck with me.

Initiative order for the remainder of the round: Fescue, Gabriel, Motsognir, Bob & Argumentus [tied], Beetles

FELIPE NO

"OUCH!"

"That bloody hurt!" The pain stinging in my shoulder made my head spin, but there was apparently no time for crying about it, especially to the company I had...

My left arm being injured, I merely let it drop to my side. I remembered having a stack of shurikens in my back pouch, and quickly grabbed one with my remaining good arm. I heaved it at the head of the fat goblin standing in the doorway, because I couldn't see anything behind him, unfortunately.

Afterwards I backed up once more behind Scary Bob, leaving the wench to cover me from being struck by any flying objects....and also noting that up close, her features weren't all the effeminate after all.

Draw shuriken with right hand (assuming it is the uninjured one).
Attack fat goblin.
Retreat behind Scary Bob

Most amazing jew boots

The shuriken goes wild, ricocheting off the far wall and embedding itself into an ale keg. The refreshing, mountain-brewed beverage begins to trickle out onto the floor.

How ya doing, buddy?

The dwarf hefts his hammer and charges forward, for a moment he closes his eyes, focusing his will on the fury of Kord. Gritting his teeth he launches himself towards the Goblin, finding his footing near the door and in striking range of the vile creature. The warhammer sang as it flew through the air, a grim smile on the dwarf's face. He could feel the strength of the war god coursing through his strong limbs, guiding his strike and fueling the power behind it. He was one with the glory of his deity, a vessel for his righteous blows of vengeance.

The man-child had splintered the door, and now it was his turn to do the same to this lowly monster's spine. He was a Paladin of Kord, and his god craved the violence of battle.

Channel Divinity: Divine Strength
Move adjacent to Goblin, preferably not in LOS of door.
Swing for the fences with the warhammer.

Most amazing jew boots

Gabriel flanks the goblin, and his hammer smashes brutally into its face, shattering the jaw and leaving the monster bloodied.

14 damage, zing. knk gave the go-ahead to autoplay him, so:


As Motsognir passes the wounded Fescue, he is startled by the human's grievous wound. A few words of encouragement make the thief feel ready to fight again.

Fescue spends a healing surge, and in combination with Soggy's Inspiring Word, returns to his full HP

Not wanting to endanger himself unduly, the warlord takes a few paces forward and hurls a throwing hammer at the beefy goblin — and misses completely.

How ya doing, buddy?