(Despite the scrap being short & very one-sided, I’ll give the two other groups of cultists a chance to hear what’s going on. Southerly group 1-3/d6; 1 – they heard. Western group: 1-2/d6; 6.)
“Direct me to the priestess,” Astra intones.
To the west, ancient hinges creak. His face pressed to the temple floor, the cult mage’s laughter is muffled and choked.
“I’ll bind your soul when you’re dead, mind witch,” he spits.
“Amicis,” Nerva says, turning on a heel and raising his shield, “we have company.”
Four robed figures bundle into the western room. Their wide eyes scan the pile of bodies and their prostrate brethren. Curses burst from twisted lips. One of the cultists stabs his blade in Astra’s direction.
“That one’s mine,” he spits.
(Spades win physical intiative 2:1)
(Astra wins Psionic initiative 118:94)
(Both psykers are 1st level and lack enough powers for defence modes so the ‘special’ attack matrix is used [neither can defend themselves]. Cross-referencing Astra’s 104 psi strength against the goon’s 94 gives a result of ‘S’. The goon is stunned for 5-20 (14!) turns)
Eyes closed, hands pressed to her temples, Astra focusses her thoughts. Her will is a lance that rips through a shadowy simulacrum of the dungeon. White hot, fierce, it punches into the cultist’s mind. Impaled, gasping, his aetherial form falls to its knees. His physical body sags at the shoulders. The blade drops from his hand, is joined by a string of saliva that dribbles from his lips.
(For convenience, I’ll reverse the marching order; Nerva at the new front, with Festoonia behind. Astra followed by Arn. Since ‘fighting space’ is only 3’ is S&W [as opposed to 5’ somewhere else], I’ll let Arn move in on his turn).
(Nerva; 3 vs AC 12, Miss)
Spine tight and electrified by Astra’s vibrating aura, Nerva marks his man. Spear ready, he lunges. An involuntary spasm ripples through his muscles, ruining his aim.
(Arn 8 vs AC 12, miss)
War fury burning through his veins, Arn charges the gap between Astra and the wall. He swings low, aiming to separate a robed attacker from his knees. His blade cuts dyed fabric and little else.
(Trapped behind her big folk companions, Festoonia can’t act and squeaks in annoyance).
(Cultist 1, 11 vs AC 11, dam 7 vs HP 5)
Raw terror etched into his swarthy features, a robed figure drives his spatha at Nerva’s shield. He twists at the last moment, angling his blade at Astra’s unprotected ribs. The sword bites deep, forcing a gasp from her lungs as the cultists pulls it clean.
The sorceress crumbles to the ground, blood pooling around her body.
(Cultist 2: 9 vs ac 15, miss)
Nerva takes a sloppy blow on edge of his shield.
[Round 2]
(Nerva: 1 vs Ac 12, fumble. Fumble die 19, roll twice & apply both; 12 & 9; suffer extra attack, fall to ground. Yowzer!)
Nerva twists, eager to turn the blade and open his opponent’s defences. His sandal glides on Atra’s life blood, robbing him of his weight and balance.
(Cultist 2 17 vs AC 13 [no shield or dex], dam 8 vs 8 HP. Dang, I liked Nerva).
Cold iron punches through the bands in Nerva’s lorica segmentata, bites deep into his flesh, his liver. Spasms wracking his body, the Republic Man is dead before he hits the floor.
(Cultist 3, 20 vs AC 16 hit, dam 7 [14] vs 14 hp, Crit roll 11, double damage. I liked Arn too).
Arn roars as Nerva falls. Shield and axe drop a fraction. The opening is impossibly small, but the cultist’s blade slides through Arn’s defences, into his open mouth and out through his skull.
“Arn!” Festoonia screams, tears choking his name into a garbled sob.
Core Competencies
Re: Core Competencies
Yikes! Dang cultists!
Digging these.
Digging these.
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JimboJimbo
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Re: Core Competencies
Many thanks Mr Adams, and I'm glad it's still tickling your fancy!
I ran a couple of quick paragraphs for part 12 last night. Things look very bad for oue poor little hobbit
My dice luck is just as bad when I play in a group. My ranger failed 5 saving throws in a row and spent a good part of that adventure paralyzed. I think I might need some new dice.
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JimboJimbo
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Re: Core Competencies
(Festoonia’s not engaged, being too short to fight from the second rank. She has 2 options; fight and die or flee into an unknown dungeon. Her wisdom is 8, so she’s not great at making decisions. )
(Time to consult the oracle!)
(Does Festoonia run? 1, No, and …)
“Okay,” Festoonia sobs, throwing up her hands and falling to her knees. Her blades his the ground before she does, the metal ringing like cemetery bells in the enclosed space.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, dropping a hand to reach for Arn’s lifeless body, “we just wanted to help the priestess. Please, you can have our things. Let me just take my friends.”
(Reaction roll comes up snake eyes!)
“Or we could kill you and take your gear anyway,”
(Cultist: 17 [+4 prone target] vs AC 15. Hit. 8 vs 15 HP. Ouch!).
Festi hears the cultist’s sword cut the air. She darts aside a fraction too late. Agonising fires erupt in her shoulder. Hot blood leaks from the savage wound. Her pained shriek echoes in the confined passage. Tears stain her eyes.
(Even though she wasn’t incapacitated, part of me feels I should have just killed her. Ruling’s been made now, so I guess it’s Festi’s lucky day).
(Festi loses initiative 4:6)
(Cultists: 6,8,11 vs AC 15 [no prone bonus as she’s actively defending herself now).
Grinding her teeth, Festoonia scampers across the tiles. Blades sing, strike sparks from stone on ill-timed strikes. The young halfling dodges back, clambering to her feet among the stack of bodies felled by her companions. Trembling fingers snatch up a cult blade. She rises on shaky legs.
(Cultists 1: 18 vs AC 15, hit. 1 vs 7hp)
(Cultist 2: 12 vs AC 15, miss)
(Cultist 3: [nat] 20 vs AC 15, hit 4 vs 6HP, Crit Roll: 19, force morale roll [?])
(Festi, save vs fear: 4 vs 13, fail).
Even beneath his heavy robes, Festi sees the flex of hip and wrist. Wounded, she turns from his lunge a fraction too late. The blade merely nibbles, rather than bites. A second longsword whistles at her face. She ducks low, raising her blade in a parry that opens her ribs to the excruciating touch of hacking steel.
Head swimming, mouth filled with the copper tang of her impending death, Festi turns on a heel and sprints.
(Cultists 15, 8, 13 vs AC 15 [+2 opportunity attack] 1 hit. Dam 1 vs 2hp!).
Hammered steel bites through her ring mail coat. She sags mid stride. Mind reeling, she focusses on the pain, sprints for nearby door…
(is it locked? 1 no, and…)
… she rips it open, slides over the threshold and slams it shut behind her. Miniscule weight braced against the wooden portal, she sags to her knees and listens to the drumbeat fury of fists and pommels ringing on the barrier.
(Time to consult the oracle!)
(Does Festoonia run? 1, No, and …)
“Okay,” Festoonia sobs, throwing up her hands and falling to her knees. Her blades his the ground before she does, the metal ringing like cemetery bells in the enclosed space.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, dropping a hand to reach for Arn’s lifeless body, “we just wanted to help the priestess. Please, you can have our things. Let me just take my friends.”
(Reaction roll comes up snake eyes!)
“Or we could kill you and take your gear anyway,”
(Cultist: 17 [+4 prone target] vs AC 15. Hit. 8 vs 15 HP. Ouch!).
Festi hears the cultist’s sword cut the air. She darts aside a fraction too late. Agonising fires erupt in her shoulder. Hot blood leaks from the savage wound. Her pained shriek echoes in the confined passage. Tears stain her eyes.
(Even though she wasn’t incapacitated, part of me feels I should have just killed her. Ruling’s been made now, so I guess it’s Festi’s lucky day).
(Festi loses initiative 4:6)
(Cultists: 6,8,11 vs AC 15 [no prone bonus as she’s actively defending herself now).
Grinding her teeth, Festoonia scampers across the tiles. Blades sing, strike sparks from stone on ill-timed strikes. The young halfling dodges back, clambering to her feet among the stack of bodies felled by her companions. Trembling fingers snatch up a cult blade. She rises on shaky legs.
(Cultists 1: 18 vs AC 15, hit. 1 vs 7hp)
(Cultist 2: 12 vs AC 15, miss)
(Cultist 3: [nat] 20 vs AC 15, hit 4 vs 6HP, Crit Roll: 19, force morale roll [?])
(Festi, save vs fear: 4 vs 13, fail).
Even beneath his heavy robes, Festi sees the flex of hip and wrist. Wounded, she turns from his lunge a fraction too late. The blade merely nibbles, rather than bites. A second longsword whistles at her face. She ducks low, raising her blade in a parry that opens her ribs to the excruciating touch of hacking steel.
Head swimming, mouth filled with the copper tang of her impending death, Festi turns on a heel and sprints.
(Cultists 15, 8, 13 vs AC 15 [+2 opportunity attack] 1 hit. Dam 1 vs 2hp!).
Hammered steel bites through her ring mail coat. She sags mid stride. Mind reeling, she focusses on the pain, sprints for nearby door…
(is it locked? 1 no, and…)
… she rips it open, slides over the threshold and slams it shut behind her. Miniscule weight braced against the wooden portal, she sags to her knees and listens to the drumbeat fury of fists and pommels ringing on the barrier.
Re: Core Competencies
Lol ... the sole survivor with 1hp left! Good stuff.
I think I would have done the same as far as the attack with +4 on a prone target, and reserve an auto-kill for targets truly incapacitated. Also I may have missed it, what are you using for psionics rules?
I think I would have done the same as far as the attack with +4 on a prone target, and reserve an auto-kill for targets truly incapacitated. Also I may have missed it, what are you using for psionics rules?
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JimboJimbo
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Re: Core Competencies
Yup. Poor Festoonia is really taking a beating!
I'm definitely a lenient DM, but when I'm soloing things like the execution vs prone attack bonus feel a bit dishones, so it's nice to have a bit of backup on my judgement call
For Psionics I'm trying to use Eldritch Wizardry. Even after converting it to .doc format & stripping out all the non-psionic stuff for ease of reading, I'm still not sure I'm doing it right. I was hoping to get Astra to 2nd level so she could (potentially) get a psionic defence before getting down to a mind vs mind combat, but the dice have been particularly wild on this one.
I love psionics, so I'll keep using the various subsystems and hopefully I'll get to a point where I can have a full-blown psychic battle!
I'm definitely a lenient DM, but when I'm soloing things like the execution vs prone attack bonus feel a bit dishones, so it's nice to have a bit of backup on my judgement call
For Psionics I'm trying to use Eldritch Wizardry. Even after converting it to .doc format & stripping out all the non-psionic stuff for ease of reading, I'm still not sure I'm doing it right. I was hoping to get Astra to 2nd level so she could (potentially) get a psionic defence before getting down to a mind vs mind combat, but the dice have been particularly wild on this one.
I love psionics, so I'll keep using the various subsystems and hopefully I'll get to a point where I can have a full-blown psychic battle!
Re: Core Competencies
A bloodbath! Will she make it?
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JimboJimbo
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JimboJimbo
- Posts: 467
- Joined: Sat Jun 18, 2022 10:59 am
Re: Core Competencies
(In an effort to save Festoonia, I switched back to Osirc tables as ‘Into the Delve & Dangerous’ is pretty lethal. This morning I reversed that decision. Festi will have to escape the temple’s cult-infested catacombs or die trying).
Shoulders pressed against the door’s leading edge, heels digging into rough stone floor, Festoonia shrugs off her pack. Hammering blows and raised voices rattle the door. Her hand shakes as she pulls a quartet of iron spikes from her bag.
Hinges shriek. The door lurches open. A slender blade slides between the jam
(Force door. 1-2/d8 [+1 for high strength]. Roll 1).
“Not today,” Festoonia grunts, thrusting with her powerful legs until the blade rasps clear and the door slams shut.
Squirrel quick, she wedges a trio of spikes between the door and frame. Fast hands produce a mallet from her bag and she slams the wedges into place. She waits the barest moment before stripping off her heavy, scaled leather coat. She reaches into the bag again, retrieves bitter-scented bandages. Slipping off her simple woollen chemise, she grits her teeth and binds her wounds.
(Bandages: 1d4-1. Healed for 2 points).
Wounds stinging from the sticky poultices, Festoonia pulls on her equipment and secures her pack.
(Did she manage to keep hold of her stolen sword? 3 no, but…)
Unarmed, she takes up the small mallet and slides her unused piton into her belt. Forcing down the wave of terror that twists her gut, she pauses to light a torch and heads deeper into the unknown.
Incense lingers in the cool air. The halfing follows simple flagstones, wide eyes scanning for loose stones or indentations in the walls. A door appears at the torchlight’s edge, solidified into a slab of seasoned oak and banded iron. Festi gasps as her orange glow glistens on the golden edges of sun-bleached bone.
(No surprise. Fesi loses intiative 6:5)
(Skeleton – 19 vs AC 15, dam 2 vs 3hp)
Calcified bones echo in the narrow hall. Dry, dead fingers snatch a short blade from the floor. Limbs still drawing together, the insult to life lunges. Pulled on in haste, Festoonia’s scaled leather coat sags open at the neck. The skeleton’s blade bites into her already wounded shoulder.
(Festi: 11 vs AC 11. Dam: 3 (d4-1 for piton hammer, +1 strength) vs 6hp)
Festi yelps, turning from the blade to reduce its impact. She swings wild with the tiny hammer, knocks chips of bone from the skeleton’s empty hand.
[round 2]
(Skele: 14 vs AC 15, miss)
(Festoonia: 18 vs AC 11, hit. 4 vs 3hp)
Grave-claimed claws slash at the halfling’s face. Her torch sputters as she swings it to intercept the blow. Desperation pounding in her skull, she leaps forward, slams her tiny iron mallet into the abomination’s pelvis. Bone splinters before clattering to cold stone.
Festoonia stows the mallet in her belt, scrambles to snatch up the fallen warrior’s blade. For a long moment she stands, bleeding, with her new-found weapon pointed at the pile of bones.
“I could really use you about now, Arn,” she whispers, tears glimmering in her eyeslashes.
She wipes her eyes on her sleeve, notices the shine of silver among shattered bones. A small amulet, expertly wrought and carved with flying birds, in the shattered remains. She scoops it up and drops it into her belt pouch.
Shoulders pressed against the door’s leading edge, heels digging into rough stone floor, Festoonia shrugs off her pack. Hammering blows and raised voices rattle the door. Her hand shakes as she pulls a quartet of iron spikes from her bag.
Hinges shriek. The door lurches open. A slender blade slides between the jam
(Force door. 1-2/d8 [+1 for high strength]. Roll 1).
“Not today,” Festoonia grunts, thrusting with her powerful legs until the blade rasps clear and the door slams shut.
Squirrel quick, she wedges a trio of spikes between the door and frame. Fast hands produce a mallet from her bag and she slams the wedges into place. She waits the barest moment before stripping off her heavy, scaled leather coat. She reaches into the bag again, retrieves bitter-scented bandages. Slipping off her simple woollen chemise, she grits her teeth and binds her wounds.
(Bandages: 1d4-1. Healed for 2 points).
Wounds stinging from the sticky poultices, Festoonia pulls on her equipment and secures her pack.
(Did she manage to keep hold of her stolen sword? 3 no, but…)
Unarmed, she takes up the small mallet and slides her unused piton into her belt. Forcing down the wave of terror that twists her gut, she pauses to light a torch and heads deeper into the unknown.
Incense lingers in the cool air. The halfing follows simple flagstones, wide eyes scanning for loose stones or indentations in the walls. A door appears at the torchlight’s edge, solidified into a slab of seasoned oak and banded iron. Festi gasps as her orange glow glistens on the golden edges of sun-bleached bone.
(No surprise. Fesi loses intiative 6:5)
(Skeleton – 19 vs AC 15, dam 2 vs 3hp)
Calcified bones echo in the narrow hall. Dry, dead fingers snatch a short blade from the floor. Limbs still drawing together, the insult to life lunges. Pulled on in haste, Festoonia’s scaled leather coat sags open at the neck. The skeleton’s blade bites into her already wounded shoulder.
(Festi: 11 vs AC 11. Dam: 3 (d4-1 for piton hammer, +1 strength) vs 6hp)
Festi yelps, turning from the blade to reduce its impact. She swings wild with the tiny hammer, knocks chips of bone from the skeleton’s empty hand.
[round 2]
(Skele: 14 vs AC 15, miss)
(Festoonia: 18 vs AC 11, hit. 4 vs 3hp)
Grave-claimed claws slash at the halfling’s face. Her torch sputters as she swings it to intercept the blow. Desperation pounding in her skull, she leaps forward, slams her tiny iron mallet into the abomination’s pelvis. Bone splinters before clattering to cold stone.
Festoonia stows the mallet in her belt, scrambles to snatch up the fallen warrior’s blade. For a long moment she stands, bleeding, with her new-found weapon pointed at the pile of bones.
“I could really use you about now, Arn,” she whispers, tears glimmering in her eyeslashes.
She wipes her eyes on her sleeve, notices the shine of silver among shattered bones. A small amulet, expertly wrought and carved with flying birds, in the shattered remains. She scoops it up and drops it into her belt pouch.
Re: Core Competencies
She lives! Go Festoonia!