Meta Ruins of Myvolia

Alma - Charge!
Oh comon was there ever any doubt

Alma can’t help but be a little angry at the cleric for stealing all the glory with his big shiny holy symbol. Assessing the situation Alma knows he should return to the barricade… but doing what he should has never been Alma’s strong suit.

Excuse me gents we have a fire going just a few streets down and my friends and I thought you might want to visit it!

Alma charges the 2 wights .

Full Power Attack
Attack: Roll(1d20)8:

Damage: Roll(2d6)15:


Battle Renewed 2
Those sneaky bastards...

Veniset Town Square: 7:26 pm

The southern barricade is holding under the press of undead. Along its length the Company of the Manticore fight bravely shoulder to shoulder with the local men to repulse this second attack. They ignore a hurtling gust of wind and the sheet of snow that it drives across them, even though it narrows vision and deafens ears.


Clambering down the icy pitch of one sod roof Terrence easily hops across the narrow gap between the two houses and scurries up the far side. Above him, standing at the foot of a hastily devised bridge built from long poles, thick pine planks, iron nails and rope, stand two of the city guardsman, their backs to the village square. A skirl of snow whips about them, tossing their cloaks and stirring their shaggy hair. They are the northernmost set of eyes for the defenders.

Scrambling up the frozen sod and onto the heavy central beam of the roof, Terrence clears his throat to speak to the two men. His intentions were to pass quickly by, cross the bridge and scale down the building next to the road. He is drawn short however by the site of blood running freely from one of the guard’s hands, falling in crimson plops to the snow.

Slowly the two men turn.

Their faces are pale and slack. Their eyes milky, and unfocused. Terrence swallows hard. Oh, shit.


Drawing himself up, Talton extends his holy symbol and in a voice filled with fervour and power he bellows:


The night is momentarily lifted around the priest as a flash of silver light issues from his holy symbol. The divine rays sear the undead before him filling them with a powerful glow that seems to burst from within. Their mortified flesh cracks as the light consumes them, burning away the taint of undeath like a silent inferno. One by one they crumble to the ground, their remains nothing more than ash and bits of bone, as though they had been cremated.

For a moment, filled with the power of Pelor and the favour of Saint Lucius, Talton seems younger. The creases of his face and ruddy patches on his unshaven cheeks blend away. A look of stern calm fills him.


Undeterred by the closing undead, Alma had been unable to resist a quip.

You know if you were mortal warriors you’d be scared right now… lucky for me your too stupid to be scared!!

Turning to lash at the two stumbling figures to his flank, Alma witnesses the silver light and watches, almost disappointed as they crumble to the ground. Whirling back to the wight with a cocky grin he watches as she shudders, the light burning through her crumbling skin, chasing the darkness from her soul.

Rough couple days huh…. my mother has a skin care regime that could work wonders for you!

Or not, he thinks as she disintegrates into a pile of ash and is instantly scattered by the wind.

Looking down the road, Alma spots two more wights taking cover further down the street. They were apparently unhurt by the priests spell.

Smiling to himself, Alma spins his sword and briefly considers a course of action.


Having loaded his crossbow, T’alen was preparing to pick a fresh target when Talton used his turning to vanquish all of their opponents threatening the barricade. Resisting the urge to pump his fist in the air, T’alen instead whirls about at a startled shout from across the village square.

The men manning the western and north-western barricades are swinging their weapons at opponents emerging from the thick smoke and swarming towards them. Even worse, however, is a crashing sound as the front door of the small house standing between the two barricades is smashed open and a pair of wights, their eyes blazing with hatred, leap into the village square.


The two wights who were beyond the reach of Talton’s silver light fix their baleful eyes on Alma. Neither of the pair seem willing to move much closer, however. They cast furtive glances towards the barricade and the hated Lucidian priest that stands atop it.

To the north and west, however, the attack is fully in progress. Pouring from the blinding smoke and swirling snow, the undead flood towards the barricades. They leap towards the defenders, stunning them with the speed and ferocity of their attack.


As the undead crumbled before him, Lornaal turned to gape once more at Father Talton. The power of the shaman always amazed him. As the men on the barricade raised their voices in cheer, Lornaal added his deep, guttural roar to the mix. When the cries rose from the other barricades, the northman turned, his blood boiling with the need to smash something.


Turning and drawing lifting her polished oaken cudgel, Kaberllee begins mumbling a string of ancient, flowing words. She sets her eyes on the wights within the square.

The village milita

The villagers hurl themselves at this new threat, using bow, axe, spear and sword to harry the assaulting enemy. Captain Gregor leaps from the southern barricade and rushes across the square, his axe held high.


Silent and unmoving, Cora watches as the flames continue for several heartbeats to burn away at the wights face. Once the alchemical concoction has finally extinguished, the undead continues to stalk through the snow, its fury reaching manic proportions.


It screeches from charred lips. Much of the left side of its face has been burnt away, leaving only charred skull and bits of hair. Even the creature’s left eye has melted away, the fluid running down the remains of its cheek like milky tears. Its remaining eye burns with a frantic and merciless hatred.


20 – Terrence
19 – Talton
15 – Alma
14 – Undead
7 – T’alen
6 – Wights
4 – Lornaal
3 – Kaberllee
3 – Village Watch

(Italicised checks are ones that I have rolled)

Terrence, Spot Check: 6 (d20) + 8 – 2 (snow) = 12

Terrence, you have used one move action, but you may still take a standard action (or a second move action if you wish). Alma, Lornaal, T’alen, Matrim and Sebastian may all have a free turn as well to make up for Dave ruining everyones fun by destroying all of the baddies in one shot. (Thanks Dave). Cora may also have a turn. To claim your turn, you simply have to post by Saturday afternoon! Please make sure to add your actions for the round after that one as well! If you have any questions, let me know. I’ve e-mailed Dave the map, so if it doesn’t get up until Saturday I may extend the deadline for the free turn.

T 'Alen - say hello to my...
man i need a repeating crossbow

T ’Alen lines up his shot at one of the advancing zombies and squeezes the trigger and reloads.

I fear the worst is yet to come, i must hold back my magics until that time is nigh

Light X-Bow d20+4+1(high ground): [d20}7 +5= 12
Damage d8: [d8]5= 5

Alma - Undead are so STUPID!
Death to the.... er redeath t..ah who cares.

You know if you were mortal warriors you’d be scared right now… lucky for me your too stupid to be scared!!

Alma swings a vicious backhand through the two Zombies menacing his flank.

(3pt Power Attack)
Attack: Roll(1d20)7:

Damage: Roll(2d6)10:

Cleave Attack: Roll(1d20)7:

Damage: Roll(2d6)10:

Turning back to the wight with his trademark cocky grim Alma quips.

Rough couple days huh…. my mother has a skin care regime that could work wonders for you!

Back to work

Finding his footing upon the barricade, Talton once again grips his holy symbol firmly in his hand. Gritting his teeth and steadying his calm he waits for the horde to get as close as possible: then bellows into the wind torn night,


With that he thrusts his hand forward toward the advancing undead and unleashes the power of Pelor upon them.

With a flash of silver light the creatures start crumpling to dust in front of him.

Turning: all within 60’ starting with closest

lvl check (d20) = 14
dmg (2d6+4 x 1.5) = 21HD worth of undead
greater turning = all destroyed
(2 of 5 turns left)

Battle Renewed

Veniset Town Square: 7:25 pm

The rush of battle renewed washes over the village defenders. Those watching the southern barricade wait, hardly daring to breathe as the plodding undead recover their feet after falling at the trip lines and surge forth against the defences.


Kaberllee’s words seem to unleash Terrence who turns without word and bolts towards the ladder. Gritting his teeth against the biting wind the young man quickly makes the ramshackle bridges. Treading cautiously across the ice encrusted planks and onto the slick roof of the church is no easy feet and requires considerable care.


As Terrence heads for the rooftops, Father Talton raises his mace and bellows into the night:


Rushing to the barricade he extends his hands towards a villager:

Help me up, damn it!

With the help of the militiaman pulling from above and another pushing from below Talton manages to haul himself onto the defensive works, puffing and red-faced as the line of attackers draws near.


Meanwhile Alma hastily casts a spell that greatly augments his speed. Putting the effect to use he turns and barrels headlong over the barricade, leaping past the first line of attackers, easily avoiding their grasping hands and nearly running into a wight that is taking cover beside a nearby building. Levelling his sword, Alma prepares for battle.


The first line of the lumbering undead arrive at the barricade, stumbling up the logs and reaching for the defenders. Their eyes are empty, their faces slack but for their gnashing teeth. Lornaal and one of the loggers are both bit by the hideous, blackened mouths of the attackers and one of the militiamen is dragged screaming right off the barricade to the ground. Two of the others, seeing Alma in their midst, turn on him, but the Cyonian is too quick, darting away from their clumsy assaults.


T’alen, clambering onto the barricade, keeps a sharp eye peeled for further signs of attackers as he winds the windlass of his crossbow and fits a bolt in place. The keen mind of the sorcerer senses a graver threat, but evidence of it has yet to appear.


A look of pleasant surprise crosses the withered face of the menacing wight as Alma rushes before it. In life the creature was a young woman, pleasantly shaped and filled with vigour. In death she has become a wretched and hate-filled abomination, with leathery flesh drawn tight across her bones. Reaching out with baleful claws she lashes at the dark-haired southerner, seeking to draw his life force as water from a tap.

Alma is too fast, however, and with a cocky smile he side-steps the attack.


Watching in disbelief as Alma leaps amidst their enemies, Lornaal steadies himself against the coming onslaught. The undead close quickly and their hungry assault is not in vain. As the vile creature before him sinks its teeth into his thigh, Lornaal swings his mighty axe, severing its grasping arm and staggering it back a shuttering step. The second slice of his axe relieves the creature of its head, sending it tumbling to the ground amongst the jumble of logs and lumber.


The druidess stands calmly in the village square, turning her eyes slowly about, searching for weaknesses or signs of further assault.


Laying perfectly still, buried in snow, Cora can barely hear the crunching of the wight’s footsteps over the pounding of her own heart. The undead is stalking about, plunging its cold hands into snow banks and searching amongst the piles of stone. Waiting for a moment when the creature is far enough away so as not to immediately discern the location of her voice, Cora offers a taunt:

Wait so you want me to surrender to you. So I can be turned into an undead being. I like being a halfling, wight and will fight to stay one for as long as I still draw breath.

Wild, frantic eyes scan the rock garden as the wight stamps its feet in growing frustration.

Cora slowly and carefully reaches into her pack, drawing out a pair of vials before she continues:

So unfortunately I’m going to have to decline your offer. Be a good lad and let you leader know I’ll be see her very soon.

Bursting from the snow Cora throws both vials at the wight. The first vial smashes across the creatures face, covering it in a sticky goo that quickly ignites with contact to the air. As the undead’s hands thrash at the flames the second vial smashes against its chest, the acid within eating quickly into its flesh, drawing a sickly black smoke from the injured area.

With the creature distracted, Cora slips behind another pile of stones, cloaking herself in the darkness.


20 – Terrence
19 – Talton
15 – Alma
14 – Undead
7 – T’alen
6 – Wights
4 – Lornaal
3 – Kaberllee

Undead attack of opportunity against Alma: 11, unsuccessful

Undead attack against guardsman: 6, unsuccessful

Undead attack against logger: 20, hit
Damage: 7

Undead attack against Lornaal: 21, hit
Damage: 6

Undead attack against militiaman: 22 (crit), hit
Damage: 7

Undead attack against Alma: 15, miss

Undead attack against Alma: 13, miss

Wight attack against Alma: 16, miss

Wight spot against Cora: 10

Wight listen against Cora: 15

Lornaal - I didn't know we were allowed to do that!

Disgusted with his errant spear throw, Lornaal drew his axe and prepared to meet the plodding enemy at the barricade. His shock at seeing Alma leap over the obstacle and rush headlong at the enemy filled the northman’s heart with the raw thrill of battle. Raising his axe like a reaper amongst the bearded barley, Lornaal awaited the first of his enemy.

Attack 1: 10 (d20) + 12+ 1 (barricade) = 23
Damage: 4 (d12) + 7 = 11

Attack 2: 7 (d20) + 7 + 1 (barricade) = 15
Damage: 3 (d12) + 7 = 10
AC: 19 + 2 (barricade) = 21
HP: 59

T 'Alen - Is this the storm

T ’Alen takes in the scene around him. Funeral pyre to the north north west, billowing clouds of oily black smoke clogging the air to the west as the fires of Pelor cleanse the fallen, attack from the south, upset barbarian and the Bravo Alma taking care of business, all quiet so far from the east and the north.

So what are the odds the attack in the south is it, the final push from this evil horde? Why don’t they rush us from multiple fronts, make us divide out forces and then pick us off one small scattered group at a time? Why the push from the south when there is cover from the smoke to the west?

T ’Alen climbs the barricade off to the side out of range from the barbarians wicked looking axe.

I fear we will be attacked soon when our focus is south.

T ’Alen loads his crossbow and looks for an opportunity for a shot

Initiate: d20+2 = [d20]5+2 = 7

Cora - stalls

Wait so you want me to surrender to you. So I can be turned into an undead being. I like being a halfling, wight and will fight to stay one for as long as I still draw breath.

Cora say as she reaches inside her pack for her vial of acid and a alchemist fire. She is careful to speak in the opposite direct of the wight in hopes of not giving him a better chance to pin point her hiding spot.

So unfortunately I’m going to have to decline your off. Be a good lad and Let you leader know I’ll be see her very soon.

As Cora fires both the Alchemist fire and Acid at the Wight’s head and disappears into the night.

Attack= 1d20+10
30=20 (1d20)=10 Crit Chance
20=10 (1d20)+10 Crit?? Ranged touch attack

Alchemist fire= 1d6 I dont know if i get crit damage on that throw but if i do please just roll it im not going too

Rapid shot= 1d20=10 I don’t know if i can rapid shot potions so if i can’t I’m fine with the Alchemist Fire.


I don’t know if can call shot head I’m trying to blind him though To make my get away that much easier.

Move Silently: 1d20+11

Hide + 1d20+12

Terrence-Out of the fire, into the Cold.
neaky neaky

Terrence stands quietly in anticipation after his speech while looking into the faces of his comrades and allies. Alma steps up and volunteers himself and Lornaal to leave once again. Is he mad? Why would the two most powerful melee specialists be sent off when when an attack is eminent.? Terrence shakes his head. Alma winks and chuckles and rubs the top of Terrences’ head. Alma smiles at his attempt to get a few laughs from the young warrior in front of the group. The group then again smiles and laughs when a light double tap of a dagger next to Almas prized family jewels takes him by surprise and causes him to jump slightly. He looks down to see the crafty rogue was positioned quite well. Terrence winks at Alma and smiles followed by a smile once again from Alma and group is amused.

Perphaps this task requires more stealth than you can possess my large friend. But do not judge me suddenly by my age or size when many trials have we been in together, and from against great odds we triumphed, and we will once again.

Kaberllee starts to speak and with an authority that silences the room, bringing us back to the serious task at hand. In the end it is decided by Kaberllee that the young rogue is more fitted for the task. Terrence soaks in her advice and memorizes the map.

The discussion is broken by news of a fire and the mayor rushes outside. Kaberllee verifies with Terrence that he is willing to go and he ensures her that he is before the group heads outside. The village is buzzing with action as something approaches from the south. The captain turns to Terrence and gives him the directions to the Old lady. He quickly prepares and takes to the rooftops and disappears from sight.

Move silently=d20+13=18+13=31
Search=d20+9=20+9=29 natural 20
Listen=d20+8=20+8=28 natural 20


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