Chapter 1: Fodder!

Tensions have been rising around the House for days. As a simple slave, you've little notion of why, but the fact is that the drow have been on edge for at least the last tenday, and Nymeria has been on an absolute rampage. Thankfully, the storm seemed to come to some sort of head last night when you were all finally called together in the Great Hall. Mistress Sha'quira herself addressed the House--drow and slaves alike--to break the news.

"Tomorrow we attack House Macjayata. Doubtless, many of you will die, perhaps horribly. But you may take heart that you give your lives in the service of your House. The enemies of our House and our Faith must pay, and we in this room shall be the sword that strikes the blow.

"Draw your weapons from the armory and get some sleep. You are like to need it."

At that, the House drow cheered. For the rest, there was merely a sense of dread. An attack means battle. And in battle, the drow send in non-drow fodder first, to soften up the enemy's defenses and use up the worst of her defensive magic.

Well. As Sha'quia said, you are like to need your sleep.

You were led that night to the Armory, along with a few other chosen slaves. There you drew weapons and equipment. Along with that, you drew a pair of massive tower shields and what can only be described as a massive tree topped with a black iron ferule. A battering ram.

Seeing you, Nymeria had laughed. "So, it's you five that drew gate duty, huh? Well, your corpses will make as good a carpet as any when I stride into House Macjyata. Like the mistress said, get some sleep, yes? I'll see you again on the morrow."

Draw whatever mundane weapons and equipment you want, and please go ahead and roll initiative.

Fortune

Fortune smiled back at Nymeria. She was aware of the half-demon's interest in causing pain, and she was obviously looking forward to this. "I will do my best not to die, mistress," she said as she bowed her head in respect at Uriel's daughter. "I am honestly looking forward to see our House Champion show Macjayata the true meaning of pain and suffering, and dead eyes see nothing." A smile spread across her face. "I believe it will be absolutely fantastic."

Once Nymeria dismissed her, she started looking through the gear stacked up in the room. 'Who will the enemies target first?' she thinks to herself, 'Drow. Next? Anyone that looks like spellcasters.' She selected a cloak and a heavy robe, a heavy crossbow and a club. The robes would conceal her lack of armor, and the crossbow and club made her look like a light infantry of some kind. While it added no physical protection, it would make her a slightly less likely target.

She also picked up three torches, flint and steel, a waterskin and two flasks of oil.

Once she felt done, she retired to the slave's quarters. 'This should work out one way or another,' she thought to herself. She did look forward to see Namyria slaughter the other side. In fact, she looked forward to any chance seeing the Drow kill each other. The less Drow around, the higher the chance of a successful escape. Eventually. She had no reason to stress. While things were not comfortable, she was fairly safe here. Except for the occasional whipping and punishment for no reason at all. The same could not be said if she got herself lost in the Feywild or the Underdark.

'What is better than a dead Drow?' she asked herself mentally. 'A Drow that owes you a favor,' the answer came instantly.

I much prefer that you roll for us, at it is much faster than each of us rolling separately. However, since you so kindly asked:

Initiative:
Dice Roll: 1d20+2
d20 Results: 12 (Total = 14)

Armor. I'm going to need lots of armor. thought the bard to himself, cursing the damned order to armor up. They must be getting desperate if they start pressing me into service. Still, Eduardo knows that the pain of the poison awaits him if he doesn't comply with the order, and gets his hands on as much stuff as he can. A longsword, chainmail, a dagger, and whatever else he finds that may be useful.

Muttering under his breath to himself about the world in general, he retired to his quarters, trying to figure out how to get his armor equipped and ready for the fight tomorrow.

Dice Roll: 1d20+2
d20 Results: 15 (Total = 17)

init

Tarner looks around at all of the armor in the room. "My steel carapace shall serve me well, I think." he says, and forgoes armor entirely. "A two-handed weapon shall be fine. This looks like it might hurt." he says, picking up a morningstar. Not that it shall do much good." he adds with a smirk. Seeing all of the other slaves that are, at least temporarily, going to be Tarner's fighting companions, he greets them. "Hello! It appears we are going to be fighting together. I am Tarner." At almost six and a half feet, he's a pretty imposing sight, especially because around him you can see what appears to be a soft red glow. However, he's not being hostile in the slightest.

I don't know if that's okay or not; I was just kinda putting his +10 Intimidate into words :P

Initiative:
Dice Roll: 1d20+1
d20 Results: 19 (Total = 20)

Updated character sheet:

Gruunk Bloodfist Half-orc Barbarian (Berserker) Current HP: 33/33 Bloodied: 17 Healing Surges Used: 0/9 (8)

Resources Used: Conditions:

Gruunk is unphased by the dark mistress' proclaim of doom; he is used to death threats by now. He is respectfully quiet as the drow speaks and then examines the storehouse before him. He looks around and finds a greataxe in the back, slightly rusted and covered in dust. He furrows his brow at the condition of the weapon, but shrugs. He grabs a handful of handaxes (3) and an backpack full of supplies (adventurer's kit).

He looks down at the ground as he sneaks peeks at the other four people in the room. He listens to Fortune talk and grimaces on her behalf fully expecting her to be beaten for opening her mouth at all. As the big machine introduced himself, it was exactly the opening Gruunk was looking for and instantly came out of his shell.

A big grin cracks his face and says, "I..am...Gruunk. I will try not to die and splatter you with my blood."

Tarner smiles. "Do not worry, I clean easily. There's not much that can stain me, and I will do my best to kill anyone before they get close." He slams a fist against his chest, as if he was making a promise. He leans in towards Gruunk, and says quietly "I've got a hidden trick up my sleeve, if you understand." He lightly taps the arm where his Rod of Corruption is embedded.

Shuffling forward in the throng, Nurse looks as though she will be the first of the fodder to find death on the morrow. Back hunched beneath her cowl, and one leg obviously lame, the only word that can describe the old orc woman is "crone". Smiling up at Nymeria and revealing her sole tooth, Nurse cackles softly as she dips her head low, "Yes yes, my Mistress Nymeria is wise. This one knows we shall die for the House, just as Mistress Sha'quira has said it would be. Groth'ak is not worthy of the gifts you give her now, please Mistress, look for this one tomorrow to reclaim the House's gifts from this one's body."

Shuffling forward on her one good leg, the crone reaches out and loads up her feeble arms with a suit of leather armor, a pack full of gear, and then adds gear for scaling walls. Under the weight of the few items she picked up, it looks like Nurse is likely to collapse from the strain of bearing it, but her single toothed smile never fades as she lowers her eyes to the ground and shuffles out.

Initiative:
Dice Roll: 1d20+6
d20 Results: 6 (Total = 12)

Bluff:
Dice Roll: 1d20+16
d20 Results: 20 (Total = 36)

Gruunk Bloodfist Half-orc Barbarian (Berserker) Current HP: 33/33 Bloodied: 17 Healing Surges Used: 0/9 (8)

Resources Used: Conditions:

Gruunk whispers loudly back to Tarner, "I have a secret too." He covertly points to his greataxe that he just picked out of the armory.

He looks at the old orc woman strangely.

Unable to find the game forum
Edit: Adding a perception check
Unable to find the game forum

Noting the obviously mentally deficient half-orc and the lame nurse in the line after him for equipment, the handsome human bard shakes his head as he finishes packing his gear. A suit of chainmail, a bunch of rations and supplies, a longsword, some daggers, and a climbing kit. He looks at the last bit with some disdain, but packs it up regardless. I know how much a pain to your ears it would be if my music did not fill the entryhall every day, and will try to make sure that the enemy doesn't rob of you of that pleasure, miss.

Smiling, Eduardo stands up, bows respectfully to the daughter overseeing the slaves' equipment, and moves past.

Damn manticore-tailed bitch. One day I'll make her swallow her own poison to see what happens.

Seeing that Gruunk obviously doesn't understand and that nobody is interesting in talking, Tarner takes two Sunrods and retreats to his chamber, where he powers himself down and begins to rest.