V. Going Underground

[GreyWolfVT]

Dagg replies back to Sasha while fighting the two bats "Yah yer tellin me."
Sword attack (Lvl 1): [1d20+1] = 12+1 = 13 to hit [1d6] = 5 dmg

[Zhym]

Pendleton's curiosity finally gets the better of him. He climbs down and tries to get a good look at the bats...from a distance.

[dmw71]

Round 7
The bats continue to wage the seemingly unending battle as the circle and dive. The pair against Dagg continue to struggle against his plate armor, and one misses so badly, it creates an opportunity for Dagg to slice at it with his sword, which he does so, slicing the winged beast in half, leaving only a single of the night creatures remaining.

"These got to be the toughest frickin bats I've ever seen!" Sasha grumbles as she hastily crosses the rope bridge and stabs at a bat, but is moments too late as Dagg ran it through just ahead of him. The dwarf, however, is unable to connect against his other winged foe. "Yer tellin me," he replies, acknowledging Sasha's observation.

Bingus runs over to the prone elf. "This sharp-eared fella spends more time on his ass than on his feet!" he exclaims, pulling out his healing kit and tends this his comrades injuries. While the elf seems to be stabilized by his efforts, he does not regain consciousness.

Morgan yells up to their two topside companions that there's room for them down below, then moves forward on the bridge. Pendleton, hearing Morgan's call, allows his curiosity to get the better of him and he climbs down into the lower cavern and attempts to get a good look at the bats...from a distance.

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Actions?

Note: LtTibbles last logged in on 'Sun Aug 23, 2015 4:44 pm' so is likely going to be missing in action. I will continue to string Elias along, but only as a passive NPC unless the situation dictates otherwise.


Rolls:
Initiative: Monsters [1d6] = 5, Players [1d6] = 3

[OGRE MAGE]

Sasha runs up to help the dwarf, swinging over his head if room permits.

[GreyWolfVT]

Dagg stabs and slashes at the one remaining bat "Die screeching winged rat!" he taunts the bat while attacking it dropping his sword at it. Sword attack (Lvl 1): [1d20+1] = 1+1 = 2 to hit [1d6] = 2 dmg

[Zhym]

Pendleton, unable to see the remaining bat, steps forward a couple of feet and peers down into the chasm, trying to estimate its depth.

[AleBelly]

Bingus seems to forget about the bat as he continues to tend to the delicate elf.

Healing kit [1d2] = 2

"Come on y'old whistledick, get on yer feet!" curses the mage.

[dmw71]

Round 8
Dagg and Sasha have the only opportunities to strike at the last remaining bat. "Die screeching winged rat!" Dagg hollers as he swings wildly with his sword, creating an opportunity for the winged beast to counter-strike, which is does so unsuccessfully. Sasha is able to slash at the bat as it dives, and does manage to clip the flying creature, but the blow merely wounds it. The bat wheels around at Dagg again and continues to find the metal armor impenetrable.

Bingus seems to forget about the bat as he continues to tend to the delicate elf. "Come on y'old whistledick, get on yer feet!" curses the mage as he continues to tend to the wounds of his fallen companion. This most recent application restores Siirist to consciousness.

Pendleton, unable to see the remaining bat, steps forward a couple of feet and peers down into the chasm, trying to estimate its depth. After noting it to be at least 50-deep, the wizard takes a step back from the chasm and swears he hears an unrecognized voice come from above, through the opening into the small building they entered from.

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Actions?



Rolls:
Initiative: Monsters [1d6] = 1, Players [1d6] = 3

[OGRE MAGE]

Sasha swings again, hoping that the dwarf can end this fight with his attack.

[Alethan]

Groggy and weak, Siirist carefully reaches into his pack and pulls out a vial of blue liquid. He puts the vial to his lips and drinks the liquid.

[Zhym]

"I believe we're about to have company," says Pendleton in a low voice. To anyone not in his immediate vicinity, he points up the ladder and taps the thumb and fingers of one hand together in what he hopes is the universal sign for talking.

Realizing with alarm that his position in the back is about the become the front, he tries to find a place to hide off to the side, but there is nowhere to go. He looks to Morgan to see if there's any way he could swap positions with her.

[GreyWolfVT]

Dagg tries to strike the elusive bat once more after getting his bearings once more but fails to do so. Sword attack (Lvl 1): [1d20+1] = 2+1 = 3 to hit [1d6] = 3 dmg

[ToniXX]

Realizing with alarm that his position in the back is about the become the front, he tries to find a place to hide off to the side, but there is nowhere to go. He looks to Morgan to see if there's any way he could swap positions with her.

Morgan silently motions for them to switch places. She readies her bow and looks up the ladder, and will fire if she sees an enemy.

[AleBelly]

Bingus stands with dagger ready if the last bat flutters towards him. He announces to the others. "I reckon that armored fella done called the bats with a high pitched whistle. What else did he call?

Hit AC 4 with dagger, melee (+1,0,-1,0,+4), [1d20+4] = 7+4 = 11, damage [1d4-1] = 3-1 = 2

[dmw71]

Round 9
Groggy and weak, Siirist carefully reaches into his pack and pulls out a vial of blue liquid. He puts the vial to his lips and drinks the liquid. Nearby, Bingus stands with dagger ready. "I reckon that armored fella done called the bats with a high pitched whistle. What else did he call?" he wonders aloud. No sooner does Bingus get his words out that Pendleton quietly cautions the group. "I believe we're about to have company," he says in a low voice.

While he and Morgan begin to swap positions, what appears to be a brightly festooned halfling begins rapidly descending the ladder from the opening above. The mustachioed "halfling" reaches the ground and, spotting Morgan's bow drawn at him, raises his tiny hands, open palms towards the female archer.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Be not trepidatious! I am not possessed of any untoward intentions! Only toward ones!” he says, mopping his little brow with a polka-dot hanky, “Allow me to introduce myself! Phineas T. Codswallop, impresario of the incogitable, at yer service!" he says, bowing theatrically. Then, still bowing, he jerks his head up, "...Um… You kids have a boat, right?!”

Meanwhile, to the north, the bat, Sasha, and Dagg all continue their flirtation, with no one able to land a blow successfully and the battle continues.

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Actions?



Rolls:
Initiative: Monsters [1d6] = 4, Players [1d6] = 1

[GreyWolfVT]

Dagg tries some more to strike the evasive bat. though the roller appears to not want him to do so Sword attack (Lvl 1): [1d20+1] = 3+1 = 4 to hit [1d6] = 3 dmg

[Zhym]

"This is certainly quite a busy island!" marvels Pendleton. "You never know who might drop in to meet you!" He chuckles at his (very) little joke.

"Greetings, Mr. Codswallop," he says from behind Morgan. "I am Pendleton Kettlebottom, currently of the Arcaneum of Absalom. These are my companions. Morgan is the lovely lady pointing a bow at you. That's Bingus and Siirist on the bridge over there—Siirist is the elf. The elven woman behind me attempting to skewer an unusually large chiroptera is Sasha. The dwarf Dagg is doing likewise, I believe; he's just around the corner."

"You have the vocabulary and air of a gentleman about you, if I might make so bold an observation—though I must confess that I do not fully comprehend why one would profess to specialize in things that cannot be thought about! Myself, I prefer cogitation! But I digress. From where do you hail? How came you to be on this island?"

[OGRE MAGE]

Sasha hears the introductions coming from the opening and shakes her head in disbelief as she swipes at the bat again.

Well hello there stranger! Don't mind us, we're just trying to stay alive over here! Do carry on with our noncombatant friends while I dispatch this nasty creature. Her reply drips with her usual sarcastic tone.

[Inferno]

Phineas T. Codswallop, impresario of the incogitable:

Wearing clothes that might best be described as formal attire for circus clowns, and sporting a mustache worthy of the name, Phineas nods, “A gentleman?! Yeah! Sure! That’s me!" He licked his diminutive palm, wiped down his cowlick, and held his hand out to shake with any and all comers, "Pleased to make your esteemed acquaintances, I'm sure!"
He looks down the shaft of the arrow pointed at him and smiles, "Madam."

"—though I must confess that I do not fully comprehend why one would profess to specialize in things that cannot be thought about! Myself, I prefer cogitation! But I digress."

"No worries, Mr. Bottom. Digression is good for the soul!"
“And, Yes! Incogitable!” Phineas says, holding his little hands in the air as if in the grip of a violent emotion or religion. “The astonishing! The stupefying! The wondrous! Marvelous! Miraculous! Bewildering! Incomprehensible! Mind-boggling! Unthinkable!"
His little hands return to his little sides. "I ask you... What is mere cogitation compared to that?!"

"From where do you hail? How came you to be on this island?"

"Between engagements and conveying my person across yonder crests, my schooner was shipwrecked by a brobdingnagian sea leviathan!
"Imagine the pronounced mitigation to my discomposure and consternation to discover I’m not unaccompanied upon this uncharted island primeval!
"So. How’d you get here? And have you got a boat? I'm a perspicacious self-starter who's always happy to lend a hand, currently in the market for a supplementary venture!"

Then, as if in response to Sasha, Codswallop will loose an arrow at a chiropteran of unusual size in an attempt to illustrate only his most recent point if, and only if, he can get off a clear shot without endangering anyone. "As the human catapult once said, 'Safety first!'"

Here's a roll, just in case:
Bow at short range: +2, +1, +1, +4: [1d20+8] = 5+8 = 13, damage: [1d6] = 3

"Hmm, my temporary immersion beneath the briny waves must have warped yon miniature arbalest!" he muttered.

[Alethan]

OOC: ranged attacks into melee always have a chance of hitting a friendly target.

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