237 replies to this topic

[Gryffydd65]

Steffan at the sight of seeing everyone ran towards the hostile natives with his knife out ready to try and reach the leader.

[Dehoffren]

“Well damn and blast” berated Arty as his illusion shattered along with the fragment. For a couple of seconds he stood transfixed to the spot looking aimlessly at the hand that had held the mask chip until the corner of his eye caught a movement. “Get ready for an attack lads” he called unnecessarily as the rest of the party had already gathered that fact.

[currymaniac]

As Steffan ran forward a rather scary thing happened, everything disappeared, the walls, the ledges, the drum, everything but the natives and the group. However, it appeared that this little trick of the leader was not only disconcerting for the group but also for the natives, the fore-runners coming to a halt and then being run into by the ones behind. They seemed to lose thier balance and fall off the ledges - all of them - ending with a rather horrifying splat.

Steffan, reflex save please in order to not fall off.

[Ghost]

Eldrid closed his eyes and cursed, as things just came apart infront of him. He had allowed himself to hope there for a moment. Oh well; he had been set for dying in this place ever since they came ashore, perhaps even before; as soon as that bastard Tygo had told him Jonah was gone. "Ready for one last dance, Brutal?" he muttered with a grin, then hefted the bloodied cleaver in his hand, and sprang forward. Adrenaline sang in his ears, and up ahead he could see that damned chieftain howling something in his accursed language. Well, he'd better get ready to do something besides howling, because here came Eldrid and Brutal, ready to crack open that shell of his and see if there was a real turtle inside! He laughed as he ran, looking forward to see the colour of the chieftain's blood; maybe once that bastard was dead, they could sweep through the rest of them like wolves among the sheep, and turn this whole thing around; in fact, once they controlled that mask, that would be the end of their trouble. Depending on the power of the mask, it could very well get them home, he realized; they could simply - !


...and then everything vanished, and Eldrid and Brutal ran into the air, almost seeming to hover there for a while... before they plummeted into the darkness below.

OOC

[ November 22, 2008, 2:40 pm ] - Ghost rolled 1d20 ± 3 and obtained 9 ( 6 ). Reason : Eldrid ref.

That's as good a way to go as any, I suppose! Save me some turtle soup for the post-game party!

[currymaniac]

"Eldrid!" the old crone shrieked as she saw the man's feet flailing away and not finding any purchase. She had not wanted to do this, but she had grown to like this group, they were not like the others who had managed to survive the various shipwreckings, for one thing there was more of them. Secondly they didn't seem to be entirely resigned to their fate as she had been when she first arrived. She had watched the other groups fall prey to those whom she hid from for more than thirty years, never once being spotted, never once getting in the way of those who ruled the island, she knew that she herself was no match for all of those here, and the ones whom had washed up on the turtle's shell had practically no fight in them anyway, but this group was different, they might do it, they might be able to finally free her (and to be fair they were certainly sexier, especially Scurvy and Eldrid, perhaps even Quarion if she swung that way....).

She raised her hand and shouted something, bright purple light flying from her fingertips in vine-like tendrils. They wrapped themselves around Eldrid's legs and quite harshly threw him onto the ledge he had fallen off of. She then pulled her hand away swiftly as if she had been hurt, her arm seemed greyer, more wrinkled, older...

[quizzical]

Quarion was glad he remained still as the world around him shifted, appearing and disappearing. He kept his eyes and mind focused on the leader, nocked another arrow, and let it fly...


[ November 23, 2008, 4:11 am ] - quizzical rolled 1d8 ± 0 and obtained 6 ( 6 ). Reason : Quarion - damage.
[ November 23, 2008, 4:10 am ] - quizzical rolled 1d20 ± 7 and obtained 18 ( 11 ). Reason : Quarion - bow attack turtle leader.

[currymaniac]

The arrow flew through the invisible world, its path of progression seeming slow to all those who watched it. When it finally reached its target it was higher up than the previous arrow, and it flew in through the eye hole in the leader's mask. There was a crunching noise and everything around rematerialised just in time to see the turtle leader lose his balance and fall off of the edge. Eventually the group were greeted with a spine snapping cracking sound.

[quizzical]

Quarion gives a shriek of pride and victory and performs a brief yet highly energetic victory dance! ... careful to not get too close to any edges!

Then he makes his way down towards the bottom of the cavern. Although it seems unlikely that any of the natives survived the fall, Quarion wants to find out if the mask did...

Edited by quizzical, 23 November 2008 - 03:40 PM.

[Ghost]

"OOUFFF!" Eldrid exclaimed, as he slammed onto the invisble ledge, feeling his face cut open on a jutting stone. He blinked several times in order to clear his mind and stay conscious, and felt his grip around the handle of the gruesome cleaver in his hand slip for a moment. Luckily, the stickiness of the congealed blood made it so he could grab it tightly again, stopping it from vanishing out of his grasp and potentially back over the invisible ledge.

Taking in his surroundings, he slowly realized that here he was, laying in thin air, over an invisble chasm, blood running from a cut in his head, and someone having saved him from falling to his doom. Turning his heading to see who or what had pulled him up by his legs, he could only see his companions. Then the Elf let loose another arrow over his head, and the world returned to normal.

Well, maybe not normal, but at least it could be seen as wel as felt. Eldrid staggered to his feet, unstable, his head still spinning from the hit it took in his near-death experience. Then he began moving, slowly, towards the drum; maybe this was just another illusion; the ground not actually where it looked like it was. Still, he couldn't see the witch-doctor anywhere. Oh, right; the Elf...

Not willing to trust the ground entirely, Eldrid continued to move towards the drum ever so slowly, testing the ground as he walked.

[currymaniac]

The cavern stretched down for nearly one hundred feet, and the ledge was miniscule by the time that Quarion managed to reach the bottom of the cavern. The floor at the bottom seemed to be slightly slimy, small little crevasses ran along the floor like the lines on the palm of someone's hands and it was littered with the bodies of the natives. The leader lay in the centre, his mask lying beside him.

[quizzical]

Quarion approached the leader cautiously not wanting to think too much about what was making the floor sticky. Blood most likely... Prodding the leader with her foot she made sure he was dead or at least unconscious... then she examined the mask briefly, carefully put the mask into her pack and checked his body for other items...

[ November 23, 2008, 3:39 pm ] - quizzical rolled 1d20 ± 5 and obtained 16 ( 11 ). Reason : Quarion - search.

Edited by quizzical, 23 November 2008 - 03:42 PM.

[currymaniac]

The leader was dead alright, either that or a really good actor. The mask had another notch out of it where Quarion's arrow had skiffed it making its way into the leader's eye, but other than that it was fine. The body had no other items in the shell, which seemed to be made of wood rather than actually being from a real turtle, it was probably sacriliege for these people to take a turtle's shell.

Edited by currymaniac, 23 November 2008 - 11:02 PM.

[quizzical]

*It is good the cannibals are dead...* thought Quarion with satusfaction. *... but how can we learn the secrets of the drums if all the drummers are dead?*
Quarion looks around the chasm for the easiest way up to the drumming platform, circling it slowly to see it from all angles. A ledge is always preferable to a straight rock climb, especially when carrying both a life saving bow and a highly magical mask!

[Tyrion]

A winded Scurvy picked himself slowly off the floor. That sodding old crone! he thought as he touched his cheek and felt it slick with blood. The whole of one side of his face stang where the cave floor had gouged it as he fell. He wasn't a happy bunny. He turned to remonstrate but stood mouth open as he saw what had occurred in the meantime. The old crone, in fact, was an old witch. No surprise there, but she saved Eldrid. Eldrid! Of all people. Flabberghasted Scurvy shook his head and made his way back to where Arty stood.

[currymaniac]

Thankfully for Quarion there were plenty of ledges making their way around the cavern and several led to the jutting piece of rock which reached out of the drum. On that piece of rock there lay a large drumstick - seemingly made out of bones and skin - just waiting to be used. Of course, the main problem would be hitting the drum in the right manner.