The Eye of Anubis: Book One

[yalenusveler]

Andre stood at the top entrance and took in the sight of the battle that had begun raging. And then promptly muttered "What the...?!" as he saw the scene...and the earth began to shake. Through some utter miracle, he managed to remain on his feet, and began his gestures, his fingers curling into claws as he gestured towards the Anubite, praying to whatever force was listening that this would work.
OOC: 20+1 on the reflex, 18 on the button 10+8 for the concentration check for the spell. Save DC is 17, fortitude

[lostboy]

[OOC: Reflex = 21 (glad I spent those points on DEX when I bought abilities...]

The sickening slice of steel through bone and flesh, that Khalil was expecting doesnt happen, instead the creature merely grins through its hidious mask at the desert guide, before enacting some kind of arcane trickery.

All of sudden the roof shifts violently, backwards and forwards, as if the slates had become alive. Khalil plants his feet, concentrating his will to bend flexibly like grasses before the desert wind, and rides the bucking of the roof.

"Your tricks will not save you, the divine wrath of Anubis will weigh your heart!" He shouts, eyes blazing with hatred as he slashes again with the scimitar upwards towards the creatures neck.

[OOC: Attack: 18 and if that hits damage = 6]

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles falls heavily but more or less flat on his stomach; with the instincts of a knife-fighter, he keep his blades in his hands and as he begins to slide toward the edge of the roof and a long, long drop he slams both daggers into the roof. By sheer luck the steel blade in his left hand finds a weak point in the joining and bites deep, and he halts his slide and gets his feet under him. Standing and leaning forward, he sidles back up the roof, knives out, trying to approach the jackal-masked figure from a point of the compass that will allow him to attack opposite one of his companions.

[The Whistler]

OOC: Reflex save 14+6 = 20. D'oh! Glad I'm not on the roof yet, I guess.

Rounding a corner on the stairwell as the building starts to jolt, the gunsmith misjudged a step and pitched forward, his left side smacking heavily on the wall before he went down. He gasped briefly, clutching his shoulder, then looked up towards the open roof door above him, narrowing his eyes.

*Spellcaster* on the roof. Attacking friends. You're *going* to get up there.

He pushed himself to his feet and bolted the last couple of yards to the door, just in time to see the man in front of him stagger wildly and tumble down the roof to one side; Professor Theroux furiously casting a few feet to his left.

Rain in his face, trying his utmost to take in the whole of the battle at once, shouted Mordentish fraying at the edges:

"IS ANYONE HAVING A PISTOL?"

OOC: Should be a move action to get up and another to get to the roof...De Angelis did go over the edge, right? Now, time to find out if there's any chance that that gun Charles threw at the Anubite is still up there.

[NeoTiamat]

On the Roof

As the roof continued to pitch and weave, Benoit lashed out once again with his axe, only to have the jackal-headed figure duck, faster than you would have expected from its heretofore slow movements. The former militiaman overbalanced, slipping on bucking roof, and fell forward, causing de Angelis to jump back as to avoid the axe, misjudge his jump and fall.

In a tangle, the two guards went over the slippery edge of the roof.

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Climbing the Rope

The three men climbed the rope quickly, Samael ahead, Tomas below, and Carter last, the Borcan reaching the top of the rope just in time to duck as Benoit and de Angelis went over.

"Oh Hells..." Maleagant muttered, grumbling under his breath.

The two caravan guards fell slowly, almost elegantly past Tomas, to land in a pile below. They didn't seem harmed, but de Angelis could be heard cursing the jackal-figure, his clumsiness, and his comrade with equal vigor.

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On the Roof

[OOC: Last Round Results
Save vs. Kuzan's spell = Failed. Anubite is now buffetted by Binding Winds.
Lia's Scorching Ray = Hit, Anubite dealt 12 damage. Unholy Symbol dropped.
Tomas = Halfway up rope
Save vs. Andre's spell = Passed
Khalil's Attack = Missed
Nathan = In flanking postion
Otto, Alli, Ulsaon = Reached platform]

Lia's ray hit the jackal-headed figure's hand dead on, causing the entity to jerk as though stung. Distantly, you could see a part of the black glove burned away, though what lay beneath it couldn't be discerned through the darkness and rain. The defiled, ebony ankh flew from the figure's hand, shimmering briefly in the rain as it bounced off the edge of the eaves and into the night sky, quickly lost to sight.

Meanwhile, a circle of buffeting winds, the product of the Priest of Ajad, surrounded the figure. Distantly, you could hear a commotion as the Gendarmerie arrived below. For a moment, the figure went strangely quiet, the jackal mask following the disappearing unholy symbol. Slowly, the figure, in its black, tattered robes and leather Anubis-mask, turned to the platform, where Lia, Kuzan, Andre, and Otto stood, folding its hands into its black robe.

With exquisite dignity and grace, the figure bowed to the platform, a gesture of respect for an adversary. And then, as it straightened, it began to dissipate. From within the folds of its robes and the eyes of the mask, sand poured, carried away by the wind and rain. Thin streams of sand flew away into the night as the figure slowly collapsed in on itself. For an eternity within a few seconds, nothing moved, just the steady flow of sand.

And then it was gone, and upon the wet, rain-slick roof nothing remained but a pair of black gloves, one burned badly, a much cut-up black desert robe, a leather jackal-mask with dark pits for eyes, and a small pile of sodden sand.

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[OOC: Combat is over.
Final Spellcraft check
The shaking continues for a further three rounds, with a Reflex DC 21 each round for those who aren't already prone/holding on to something, which at the moment means Andre, Otto, Alli, Ulsaon, Charles, and Khalil.

Good job on your first combat, I am impressed.]

[Nathan of the FoS]

As the figure disappears Charles lunges forward, his knives passing through the falling rush of sand. "Dammit!" he yells as he slips slightly, almost falling prone again. Realizing that their quarry is gone, he does his best to lower himself to the roof, drive his knives into the tiles and wait out the quake.

Unfortunately, this strategy is nowhere near as effective as his previous success led him to expect; the continuing roll of the roof pitches him to the edge of the eaves, and he is too slow to let go of his daggers now that they are of no use. Letting go at the last moment, he clutches at the eave for a long count of two, then falls, hitting with feet first and then landing on his back, where he lies for several seconds wondering if he will drown before he gets the strength to sit up and move out of the rain.



Reflex save 21

I'm not quite sure what kind of rolls I need to a) lie down in a somewhat controlled fashion, b) try to spread out and use the daggers as pitons again. Assuming it's a Reflex save and two attacks with damage rolls, I get

8 for the reflex save, 16 and 15 for the attacks, 2 and 1 for damage.

I have to think that fails, so Charles slides to the eaves. His roll there is a 6, so over the side he goes. Jump check is a 13, so I guess that's 2d6 damage for a total of 10.

Which is a long way of saying, he falls off the roof and takes 10 damage.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

(OOC: Natural 20 on Spellcraft makes 32.)

Lia breathes a sigh of relief and grimly hangs on to the bucking, heaving roof. "I wonder who it bowed to?" she thinks in passing. "Or did it salute all of us? Hmmm ..." She regards the last traces of the Anubite's presence with narrowed eyes. "Someone is going to have to take a look at those, and check for magic," she muses. "Not I. Hope not too many people saw me casting that Scorching Ray spell. Heh ..." Beneath the mask, Lia grins. "All in all, that did not go too badly. ... Except ..."
Lia's eyes narrow behind the mask and she calls out to Kuzan again: "Priest! Someone must find that ankh and safeguard it before some poor unfortunate picks it up! It could cause all kinds of trouble!"
She winces when she sees Charles take a tumble. "Also, the people who fell off might need your attention," she calls to Kuzan.

[steveflam]

Allikhain scowls as she realises that she arrived too late. "Dammit" she mutters under her breath "I should learn to climb ropes a bit better."

Reflex 18 fail. Suddenly losing her footing , Allikhain yells out in dismay, "He-e-ellppp!!" then accepts her her fate and tries to land on her feet, but lands on her side. Out of breath she looks at the mask and sand and back up at Ulsaon, hoping her acquaintance kept her footing.

2d6 damage, rolled 9 for Allikhain's damage.


Ulsaon tries to grab onto Allikhain as she slides down the roof and lands on her side. I hope she's ok. Oh damn this shaking!

Reflex 21 save

She gets her footing and goes flat, holding on the the roof for dear life. She sees Allikhain look up at her and she nods back to her.

"Are you ok?" she calls down to Allikhain. She takes a moment to look around the roof and see if anyone needs any assistance.

"I've been better. Make it down safely and I'll wait for you here" Allikhain yells back. She looks around the area then stands uneasily, side throbbing and still out of breath. She uses her quarterstaff to keep steady.

[DocBeard]

"Look ou-" Tomas's hand swipes past, trying to grab one of the falling men. His ears perk a little...

...but he shakes his head, looking at his position halfway between the roof and the ground. "Verdamnit los..." Tomas mutters, and calls up, "Is everyone allright up there?"

[The Whistler]

OOC: Reflex Save 7+6 = 13; Climb Check 3+2 = 5; Falling damage 3+2+6 = 11

...And just like that, the marauding spellcaster vanished.

Too late...

Whatever switch had flipped inside the gunsmith's mind, upon the hanged man's spectacular entrance into the ballroom... Now, it had flipped back. The steely-eyed marksman that had bounded to the roof seconds earlier was gone; in his place stood a sagging provincial bumpkin in a rented suit, playing at being a fighter.

The knife slipped from his fingers; he didn't even try to catch the edge of the roof as he went over. Lying on his back in the rain, chest heaving; not even trying to get up:

So tell me, Herr Schultheiss...exactly what *are* you good for?

[NeoTiamat]

On the Roof

Maleagant crawled up to the roof, holding lightly onto the eaves as the building continued to twist and weave. He gazed over the edge of the roof at Benoit and de Angelis, who were getting up and dusting themselves off.

"They'll be alright" he said, in that special tone of voice that added 'until I get my hands on them.' Suddenly the roof tried to throw the Borcan off again, he dropped to his knees and held on, then extended a hand to Tomas. "Come on, get up here kiddo."

Samael side-stepped briefly as Otto came rushing past, then nearly joined the Lamordian as the roof bucked again. Surveying the scene of the moving, lightning-scarred roof, the Borcan whistled.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say someone didn't like us." Samael pitched his voice so as to carry through the rain and wind. "Any casualties?"

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On the Ground

Loup had bounded over to Benoit when the latter had fallen. heedless of injuries, but seeing his master unhurt, walked over to Otto. Considering the fallen Lamordian a soul in need, and perhaps reminded of his countryman's sausage-in-a-croissants, the big Alsatian leaned over to lick Schultheiss's face a few times thouroughly, then sat back on his haunches waiting for him to rise. Loup's tongue lolled out and he limped slightly, but the big dog's cheerful attitude towards life was irrepressible.

Carter meanwhile, had dropped from rope and ran over to Charles. He kneeled by the oddly-combat-skilled mathematician and helped prop him up. "Are you breathing well?"

Allikhain's rescuer, however, was the eternal Prof. Charles Devereux. He rushed out into the rain, book and pen lost somewhere in the scuffle, and tried to help her up. "Oh Miss Allikhain, are you quite alright? You must've had the most dreadful fall. It was the ghost, I knew it, I knew it! You're still yourself, yes, your soul in place?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

Carter meanwhile, had dropped from rope and ran over to Charles. He kneeled by the oddly-combat-skilled mathematician and helped prop him up. "Are you breathing well?"

Charles shakes his head as he begins the process of getting up with the professor's assistance. "Unless," he wheezes out, "by well...mean, at all. Ribs...not broken...I think."

Looking up at the roof with a sour expression, he tries a deeper breath. "He got away," he says bitterly. "I...should've...grabbed him, kept him from...casting spells."

Seeing de Angelis approaching, he waves weakly. "Should practice falling...off roofs," he says, trying to smile. "Give me lessons? I owe you...pistol, too, maybe."

[The Whistler]

Considering the fallen Lamordian a soul in need, and perhaps reminded of his countryman's sausage-in-a-croissants, the big Alsatian leaned over to lick Schultheiss's face a few times thouroughly, then sat back on his haunches waiting for him to rise. Loup's tongue lolled out and he limped slightly, but the big dog's cheerful attitude towards life was irrepressible.

For several seconds, the gunsmith simply continued to lie motionless on his back, not even acknowledging the attentions of his new companion...

Until he realized that he was repressing a smile. Letting the resigned grin spread across his face, Otto rolled over onto his side and reached out a hand, softly mussing the fur on the dog's head.

...Well, you're good for petting adorable puppies, at the very least. Let's see if you can build from there.

He levered himself up onto one elbow, grimacing a little, but definitely feeling a bit better.

Just think of the last few minutes as a practice run... The others did drive him away before he could hurt anyone else, so nobody was worse off for you showing up late. And besides, if the expedition keeps up at this rate, you're going to have plenty more evil spellcasters to shoot at in the future...

"Should practice falling...off roofs," he says, trying to smile. "Give me lessons? I owe you...pistol, too, maybe."

"No--allow me." Otto managed to get to his feet, though he wasn't exactly clear on how it happened. "I promise to you--" (unsteady gesture encompassing both the student and the guard, leading straight into a stagger) "--half price on all Schultheiss firearms, in perpetuity. Provided that one of you has immediate access to morphine."

He attempted to proffer a hand to shake--before wincing again and clutching at his side. Smiling raggedly as he recovered:

"Otto Schultheiss, Arcane Sciences student. Gravity is hating me as well."

[DocBeard]

"Danke." Tomas smiles at Samael, having the special kind of ears that lets a man percieve even the most terrifing drill sergeant as a big old softie on the inside.

His eyes widen at the sight of the roof, and the condition of some of his fellows. A sharp pang of guilt stabs into his chest, but Tomas shakes his head and bites his lower lip, refusing to let the emotion control him. There's some good he can do, after all.

Stepping towards the others, he gives the group a nod before squatting down to Lia's level. "If you are not minding, I can take a look at that. Make the walk down a little less painful at least, no?"

(OOC: Edited because I'm a moron and misread where Charles and Otto where. My bad.)

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Otto Schultheiss, Arcane Sciences student. Gravity is hating me as well."

Getting to his feet with a little help from Carter, Charles takes the proffered hand and gives a decent approximation of a firm handshake. "Charles Martel, M'sieur Schultheiss. For my part, I wish..." Charles coughs and winces before continuing. "That gravity loved me a little less. She has rather damaged my ribs with her embraces. I would settle for a stiff brandy, myself; morphine...is another mistress whose embrace is a bit...too...tight."

Idiot, Charles thinks, even he speaks. People who have fallen off roofs are not obligated to make light and frothy conversation, even at the conclusion of elegant dinner parties. The thought makes him chuckle, which brings a sobering shock of pain. And yet...the show must go on.