Jump to content
  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

  • Created by

    Dave ST

Everything posted by 'Dread' Delgath

  1. The gout of flames seared past Dread, his skin reddened and his teeth clenched to fight off the pain, but still he moved on to the task at hand. The pain only stiffened his resolve as he entered the fray with new found vigor. With violence in his eyes he spun about and lashed his sword downward across the back of one of the ghoulish children that seemed to have something against the sorceress. No, he and the Sorceress had some words to share, and no one was killing her until then. "This kobold is not for you, children..." The little bastard slipped swiftly beneath the arc of the swing skittering about the floor with speed and agility that was beginning to irritate the swordsman.
  2. I rolled and succeeded on the save, it was a 16 I think. I did it a few nights ago, but Max was there to verify.
  3. Stand your ground cowards! Lest I use you as meat shields so that you may die with purpose!
  4. A litany of curses spewed from Dread's mouth, 'whore', 'harlot' and several others that would have been enough to make a Celebrant of Sharess blush. In a dizzying blur he kicked at the witch, which she dodged only to end up leaping in the direction of his blade as he swung the heavy steel directly to impede her escape from him. It was a decent enough feint on Dread's part, but he knew she wouldn't fall for it a second time. "Cursed whore!" he belittled her as his blade bit deep into her flesh. "Back to the Hells with you!" Attack: Roll(1d20)+6: 17,+6 Total:23 Damage: Roll(1d10)+4: 7,+4 Total:11 I'm operating on the assumption a 23 hit, if not then some minor editing will fix the issue.
  5. "Coward." Delgath said as he walked past the 'paladin' with a stiff shoulder, and into the room like it was own, scanning the left and the right of the entrance. "Woman, are you hurt?" At the worst, this was some illusion and he'd be in a cell or the floor would collapse and he'd die on a bed of spikes. He'd heard all the dungeon tales and horror stories before. "You've obviously energy to sob, so you've energy to answer me," he glared at the three bodies, then knelt down beside them. "I've had a hell of a day, so you're going lunge and make it worse please do so. Of not, look up at your rescuers, well rescuer... and know you've no longer a reason for sadness." He reached out to touch the woman.
  6. Dread casually leaned against the wall. His blade was drawn, and he had it pointing towards the floor. He was ready enough for whatever this place threw at them next, but all the while he was unconcerned with the current search. He took another bite from his bread loaf out of his pack. One of the young women in the village had prepared it for him, a special seasoned loaf with sprinkles of various cheeses baked into it. He attested that if Arturs's whole keeper of the crypt did work out he could probably find a food future in bread baking. His people were pretty good at it. "You guys done yet," he asked. Chewing and speaking at the same time. "My goal is not to retire here, so if we could make this happen before... oh, I dunno, before I'm venerable. That would be great."
  7. "That's what I've been saying," Dread pursed his lips in absolute frustration, glaring at the Paladin with daggers in his eyes. "You know what, never mind. I'm sure because you've said it now it's much more profound and important." He rolled his eyes and moved to the door to wait for them. The barbarian warrior had a whole new series of suspicions and doubts rolling through his mind after all of what Arturs had said. He was sure he should voice them, but it wasn't worth it. He had no desire to hear Eon tear the ideas a proceed to let everyone know all of the reason why he was right and everyone else was wrong. Truth be told the half-elf was one more snide insult away from losing a tooth, or at worse, his tongue. Now they were desecrating a grave and the Paladin was all for it. He took a deep breath to focus his thoughts, lest he have a rage fueled outburst that would end up with Arturs, the only guy who could open the doors in this place, sealed in the sarcophagus along with the dead dwarf. Better to let all this play out though. The bard knew everything so surely he was one step ahead of things, not to mention he had fire and lightning on his side so anything Dread had solved at this point, surely he'd solved it hours ago. Dread was being paid nothing and his interest was swiftly dwindling. The only thing keeping him here at this point was his word to help these people. "I'm ready to be done with all of this. Let us hurry."
  8. "Like I said," he looked to Eon again. "Coward." "If the dead rises, we destroy it. Simple as that."
  9. "Because she's a coward." Dread said plainly to Eon. The warrior didn't hear any of the explanation about how the man ended up dead. Eon loved the sound of his own voice and Dread had long since learned to tune him out when his lips started moving. "And I don't know Arturs, nor do I care. You didn't ask us to solve the mystery, you asked us to destroy whatever is causing all this, and you're paying us poorly to do it. Maybe my companions are addicted to the drama of your little hamlet, but since we've got here all we've done is waste time and not move fast enough towards wrecking whatever is causing all these conveniently placed little mysteries. You'll have the rest of your life to figure all this shit out once we've dropped whatever it is that has caused all this." The apprentice's constant manipulation of his party members by weaving in all manner of questions to keep their drama thirsty, easily distracted minds off the task at hand was starting irritate the warrior. "Stop dropping all your questions and problems in our lap. Your shelter, your people, your problems." "Give it back to the dwarf, Bard, and let's give this place the laugh." Dread quietly approached the sarcophagus on the side of the lid where he could push it closed. It was likely that he and Krusk were the only two strong enough to close the lid with little effort.
  10. "That guy," Dread pointed at the charred husk. He tore off a bite of bread from his pack and chewed. "Was robbing the sarcophagus. That guy," He pointed to the dead wizard. "Was trying to stop him. He got off the spell, but not before the creature plunged the dagger into his chest. Mutually assured destruction. Trust me, Eon, I've dedicated my entire life to knowing how to kill things." He gave Eon a 'you should know better' look. "C'mon, scholar, a man doesn't stab himself in his own heart to commit suicide, we both know that. The breast bone gets in the way. You either need to go upwards and under the bone or go in at an angle around the ribs... if he was looking for the easy way, he was smart enough to slit his wrists. Very little pain, quiet way to go. He was dying swiftly and expectantly, hence the hastily written message." "Let's just clean off the blade, put it back with it's rightful owner, and be on our way. The dead deserve better than us leering over their corpses, especially a hero."
  11. "Well," Dread said with a sigh that stated his lack of concern for the apprentice and his sob story. "I'm sure the rest of you want to stand here and talk for the next several hours about the bodies, the dead dwarf, and spin a series of speculations that get us nowhere..." He pointed to a comfortable spot. "I'll be over there."
  12. "That's amazing," said Dread uncaringly. "Just like your swordsmanship: pure speculation. We've been through all this already, and once again, we can talk about it, or we go actually find out. Arturs, lead the way when you catch your breath." Dread pulled his dagger from the stone wall, wiped it clean and placed it properly in it's sheath. He and Eon didn't say much else to one another. They way they spoke to each other was like a brawl was about to erupt between them at any moment, but it stayed simply at the level of smithing words into weapons and nothing more. As everyone took a moment to compose themselves after the battle Arturs approached Dread. "You called me Arturs." He said, trying to approach from Dread's flank. It wasn't the first time he noticed that the giant warriors bicep was almost as thick as the young apprentice's head. The fighter intimidated the hell out of him. "Y-you always call me 'boy'." "You survived your first battle," he replied calmly, wiping down his sword with more love and care than he'd shown any of his companions. "You stood tall and defended yourself, as well as you could, at any rate. You're not a boy anymore, you're a man. A deserves to be addressed by his name, you've earned it today." "But, you told me not to fight. You told me to sit by and only react, to defend and not go on the offense. I disobeyed you. My weapon didn't even taste blood." A sliver of a grin formed on the gruff giant. "I'm not you're Lord Arturs, I can't command you no more than I can command them," he motioned to the others, which only mad them curious as to what was being discussed. "You did what you thought was best for yourself and you did it with courage of heart and no reservation in your mind. There is no better time to perform great deeds then when you are being true to yourself. That's how legends are written. Your dagger, let me see it." Arturs practically puffed at the compliment. The warrior Delgath who had little to nothing kind to say to anyone, offered the young apprentice a fair appraisal of his own worth as a not only a man, but a leader among his people. He slid his dagger from it's sheathe and presented it to Dread. The warrior held it, tested it's weight and thumbed the edge. "This is a tool." He said, looking him in the eyes. "You are the weapon. Whether sword or spell, don't you ever forget that." He slid his own dagger from it's sheath. It was thick bladed and might as well have been a short sword. "Here, a blade worthy of a man. The weight is more suited for you, the blade as actually sharp, and it's grip won't slip when you swing it." He presented Arturs with his 'dagger'. "Lord Delgath, I-I couldn't..." he stammered, unsure what to do. "I'm not your Lord, Arturs, take it. You're a warrior this day, as much as you are an apprentice. You need a weapon worthy of a warrior. Leave your old one to buttering bread." With shaky hands the young apprentice accepted the offer. "You shed blood with me. We're brothers." He slapped the shoulder of Arturs and knocked him down like a house of cards. Dread sighed. "...half brothers, maybe. Distant cousins... twice removed, tops."
  13. "Yeah, went great." The large warrior grunted at the bard. "Don't know why you're wiping off you're blade, elfling, it's not like you used it." His charm was bursting at the seams after that scuffle. "When I go to a blacksmith for a blade, I expect a blade. A weapon of quality that I can trust. When I venture with others, they are my blade and expect quality from them. Not mewling in a corner while I do all the work... a blade of poor quality holds no value to me. Use that big mind of yours to do the math." He stomped around, unable to sit still, he was edgy now, thirsty for war.
  14. The giant warrior cursed to himself as one of the zombies slipped past his guard and took a swipe at Arturs. He'd told the boy to fight defensively and, of course, what did the apprentice do? The exact opposite. His an angry sigh and a heave he kicked the zombie in it's right flank. As it staggered off balance he took a swing at it with a wide arc, hid blade digging deep into it's side, shearing it's arm off in the process. It slammed against the wall with a squishy thud, and moaned, gurgling up fluids. When it pushed itself off the wall in a lazy gait Dread rolled his eyes. He'd already had enough of these things and they just wouldn't quit. He bellowed his annoyance with a shout as he threw his dagger into the shambling corpse. It pierced its skull all the way to the hilt and when the cross guard prevented it from burying further it carried the zombies head with it all the way back to the wall, lifting the zombie with it. The dagger lodged into the stone wall and the zombie hung from it like cloak in a homes foyer. He was now in a position to guard Arturs from further attacks. He swung his about his hand, looking to the others who had finally take one down. "Should I slow down, maybe give you guys some time to catch up? There's four of you over there... quit screwing around!" "Amateurs." He shook his head then looked to Arturs. "You. Stay put."
  15. The blade of Dread's sword pierced under the zombie's jaw and penetrated the top of it's skull with a shower of gore. With feral tenacity he held the undead aloft and drew his dagger from his belt. He thrust downward several times, hollowing out it's chest until finally spearing it several times in the abdomen. With a bellow of victory (or anger, it was hard to tell with him) he lifted the zombie and flung it over his shoulder, casting it into the zombie behind him. They crashed to the floor, tumbling over the other leaking fluids and viscera. Only one of the zombie stood up... shambling towards him as he stood in a wide stance, welcoming all challengers. "Defend yourself, and do not strike back, you'll expose your weaknesses. Most of all boy, stay calm. Your wits are your greatest strength in a battle."
  16. He wasn't about to give the Paladin any more credit than was due. Seeing his opportunity, Dread grabs his zombie by the arm, flailing it around and away from Arturs. Smashing it with the pommel of his sword is staggered slightly. The two right hooks the followed that staggered it greatly. Will a might kick to the chest he slammed it against the wall. Still it let out a guttural moan and shambled forward, straight into Dread's downward stroke. He glared at Arturs. "Stay out of the way, boy!" He nudged his head in the direction Arturs should run, now that he was holding them off.
  17. "Where were fancy senses Holy Man!?" Dread said, enraged. He grunted and took a step towards where one of the zombies was already lurching towards Arturs who was quickly running out of room to back into the wall. Normally he wouldn't have struck an enemy from behind, but these were mindless and in his mind were not, to a Delgath's standards, worth a true warrior's time. He plunged his sword into the shambler's back to get its attention. It felt no pain and simply continued trying to move forward. It was obvious to him that that tactic wasn't going to work so he went with something less tactful. He withdrew his sword swiftly and chopped down hard upon the undead. The cut deep into its shoulder spraying blood and viscera in Artus direction.
  18. Yeah, 25x20 is 5 squares by 4 squares and we each take up one square ourselves (so were already in ranks of 2 or wrapping around the walls). Thankfully the rules consider our weapon swinging to be 'part of your square' but it's gonna be cramped when it comes to spells and missile weapons. We pretty much have room to spit safely... that's about it.
  19. Roll(1d20)+3: 15,+3 Total:18 Hopefully your sword swinging is better than your coordinated running.
  20. Too many cooks spoil the broth. If everyone runs for the door at the same time, we'll all be dead because we'll all be tripping all over each other. Dread will let everyone do their thing and if anyone get's crushed and killed he calls dibs on their stuff.
  21. Dread was impressed by the bard's observations. He was thinking, and the warrior respected thinkers, even if Dread could not claim to be as sharp as the bard. "Then possibly the corpse outside the door could have sealed them in? Sacrificing himself, or just was running to make it before the door closed, and wasn't fast enough." He pointed to the sheared corpse with his sword. "Like that one." He looked around the room, shaking his head. "They deserved better than," he searched for the words but lacked the bard's flair of synonyms. He gestured around, sweeping his arm to the entire tomb. "This." He traced three finders down his chest across his heart and spat at the ground, an ancient and superstitious gesture to ward off evil and spell casters. "Perhaps a prayer to send them on their way? To see that their souls do not suffer any more than they already have?" Arturs asked no one in particular. "They didn't die in battle," Dread replied, dryly and without tact. "Tempus has no use for their souls. This creature's suffering will be legendary. It's all I can offer to them."
  22. "My hero," Dread said with all the sarcastic joy the gruff warrior as known for. "Yeah, let's let the boy go first, in case anything in there is hungry it'll get him instead of us." He walked forward, stepping past the charred corpse like it wasn't an issue worth his time. He looked to Artus. "Listen, boy, you open that door and then you move, understand? Let us do what we're being paid to do and stay as far out of any battles as you can. Do that, and you'll be back home with your people tonight, living a long and full life." The boy was still young and eager to prove himself to his people and possibly himself. The advice may fall short of hitting it's mark, but Dread had done what he could. If the boy refused and chose to fight, it wasn't Dread's life he was throwing away, but his own. He turned his gaze to the kobold sorcerer. Dread may be a mean, gruff, and with a perpetual chip on his shoulder, but there was a life's worth of expensive education under the barbarian attitude. "It's a corpse. Yes, it's normal. That's exactly what happens to a body when you burn it. They're crawling towards the door, which means whatever did this attacked the person from behind. They were retreating to the door for sanctuary, and didn't make it. Mystery solved." He shrugged. "Or the door was trapped and the guy just got screwed." You two," He motioned to the Paladin and the Sorcerer. "Read the walls and sniff the floor. I'm gonna do what we were paid to do." He nudged his head towards Artus, giving him the signal to open the door, less so to rush and be done with it and more so to accept the warning the body on the floor had given them. The party was at a dead end with a solidly sealed door barring their path... he wanted that dead end removed before whatever did in that corpse returned and did the same to them. Until they had room to maneuver in the hallway, they were all bunched together in a close grouping, which put them at serious tactical disadvantage.
  23. The Paladin spoke up first, so let's hit the tomb. I'd prefer not to have to sit and wait for everyone to chime in with their ideas every time there is a new room... it'd prolly be best of we designate a party leader and they just tell the GM where to take us next and we go from there. Turning this into a question/answer session every time there is a decision to be made will get tedious. The Pally spoke up, so I say for now let's just follow his lead.
  24. Dread has torches and an assorted other useful adventuring supplies. He has ten. Assume he ignites one if it's needed. If you have darkvision, you should still have torches. It's handy, but it doesn't allow you to make out fine detail, like read. Does the Sorcerer have any way to make light as a cantrip in 5e? If so we should make use of that, so we can save the torches.
  • Create New...