Game: Great minds think alike (Part II)

OOC: roll = 4 + 14 = 18

Oblivious or heedless of the sounds above, the titanic impacts resume their foreboding intonations; however, the now-fragile stone can barely contain the mysterious source of devastation. Like the hand of the unliving breaking fresh grave-soil, a massive wedge of black steel come crashing through the floor, only to draw back and return again in another furious assault -each stroke disintegrating the once-solid stone into dust. Through the dust-clouds, only a dim-emerald light diffuses, blazing from a line of strange alchemical seals on the giant's span of ebon steel.

(OOC: 97 more points of damage to the "ceiling" -and once again, all of it negating hardness [this time because the stone has no hardness anymore]. I could be wrong, but by this time, I hope that 232 points of damage bypassing all hardness is enough to destroy the 10' section of "ceiling" -especially with the skill check of 26.)

"Breath has long since turned to stone -one cannot choke the man who has already been suffocated -one cannot choke the man who is no longer." -muses the Praetorian silently to himself.

Willing the alchemical seals on the Brahmastra to become transmutive paradigms, the nine foot blade of Baatorian Greensteel warps and solidifies into a wide span of Cold-forged Iron -the Bane of Chaos.

And with the newly transmuted blade, the remnant of the scattered Praetorians wills the Aphana's Aegis to hover above, the transparent image of the medusa acting as both a warding and a lense. Silently, immune to the fatigue of flesh or blood, Sejanus patiently waits for the dust and debris to settle, scanning the recently forged cavity and beyond.

(OOC: Spot check 15)

Ian, having heard Saath say... whatever he just said, looks up.
"Rope. Let down a rope, and pull me up. Then we can work together to pull our Masked companion to safety."
Ian looks back down at the hole. "And be quick about it. This tower is someplace I have decided not to be."

Ian grabs ahold of the rope, and begins to climb it.
"Fly!" Ian yells as he climbs.

Saath, indeed, flies upward as soon as Ian grabs hold and attempts to deposit him safely on top of one of the more stable sections of roof, or on the wall. All the while praying to whatever power will hear him that the lightning will wait a bit and the flying creatures don't immediately spot him.

OOC: Ian maintains concentration on his ring the entire trip up the rope, activating it as soon as he clears the antimagic field. He should be able to tell as soon at it becomes active, since he is trying to use it to float.

Sejanus observes the withdrawal of the motley band, and considers the wisdom of their path. The seals on his golden eyes scan the crimson-storm-wraked sky, attempting to discern the danger of the storm as well as the threat of the demonic denziens above.

(OOC: Spot check on number and type)

*Blackthornes will look for a door, wothout finding one, then he will look up towards the top of the tower. When he sees the others, he'll yell up to them.*
"What are you guys playing around in the wreckage for? We are on a mission, don't forget."

"We'll get you out of here! Just grab the rope!" Saath yells over the sound of the storm to MG while lowering the rope.

"Ian, I'm guessing the gnoll is a lot heavier than you are, so lend me a hand with that ring of yours, will ya?"

[OOC: Perhaps, MG could have seen Sejanus -he was hiding as he watched, using the wreckage as cover -but due to his next actions, such an observation is at this point moot. Next time, I will roll the hide check though -sorry.]

Sejanus' unblinking eyes take in the chaotic maelstrom and menace of the sky -both from the storm as well as its demonic inhabitants.

Calling upon his magic, he steps out into the open hole, revealing himself to the beings above. His approach is heralded by a momentary flash of jade light, contrasting with the darkness of the chasm and the crimson sky.

And though the light fades as quickly as it appears, it is perhaps enough to draw the attention of those otherwise engaged.

Those who look down will see, standing in the stony wreckage, a figure of giant porportions, towering nearly twice the size of mortal men. And though, the details of this mysterious figure are obscured by the sheets of rain, it is clear that the entity is a soldier, revealed by his stance and movements, as well as by his armaments of violence.

Holding much of the abyssal rain at bay is a shield the size of a man, made from what appears to be glass, shaped and forged to resemble a medusa's visage, complete with coils of golden-scaled serpents. Eerily, the shield hovers in place, by some unseen phantasmal force.

But underneath the strange-glass-like shield is a massively built figure, armored in crimson-red plate mail, ornamented in ebon and golden figures, the most common being a massive scorpion sigil flanked by moons and stars. Somewhat concealing the soldier's frame is a half-cloak of black, detailing a severed eagle, radiating bolts of golden lightning, whose pattern whips furiously in the abyssal gale.

Encased in the blood-red armor, the warrior holds a massive sword, whose naked blade shimmers with alchemical runes, contrasted by an aura of shadowy darkness. Though the titanic blade must be of incredible wieght, the mysterious figure holds the giant-sized greatsword in one hand, downward in a defensive gesture, yet poised to strike if necessary.

The entity's face is shrouded by a similarily crimson helm, though those with keen enough sight might periceve the stony skin that lurks underneath. Adding to the menace of the warrior's visage is a crown that is worn over the helm, made it seems of solidified blood. Without ornamentation or gemstone, its grim nature is made even moreso as the pouring rain makes it appear to be weeping tears of blood.

Yet piercing through the concealing helm are a set of unblinking eyes, seemingly made of pure gold, lacking any iris or pupil save two coin-like seals.

These foreboding eyes are keenly focused upon the band above, and then, issuing from the crimson-depths of armor, the warrior yells out in a booming voice, as if one well versed in shouting above the din of war:

"Skyward holds no refuge -that way is madness. Below here is a tunnel that is sheltered from the storm. In the open, you are too exposed to the demons that surround you. Down below, the tactical advantages of their numbers and flight are nullifed."

And as if to prove his point, he swing the massive blade in an arc, to the path of the lightning, as well as to the swarms of tanar'ri, and then down to the tunnel below.

"Niether you nor I know one another -except that I proclaim we may indeed share a common destination. I am no demon -my word is true. For the moment, we are allies -an alliance that portends to be mutually beneficial".

And then swinging his blade into a two-handed grip, readied to strike the sky-itself, the being cries out once more:

"Come, I will bar the demons passage till all of you have safely entered below."

And at that, the figure stands completely still, as motionless as the dead, yet alive with a waiting tension expressed in its seeking eyes -watching for some reaction from those above.

[OOC: Sejanus, casts prestidigitation to create a small burst of light to attract the group's attention. Then, while keeping the demons in sight, Sejanus makes a diplomacy to garner the compliance of the group: check result 26.]

OCC: I rolled 11+15(listen)=26

The Masked Gnoll grabs the rope, looks up and starts to climb when hears the sound of thunder. He remebers what that sound meant last time. He glances down at the creature below, then looks up and shouts...

"I CAN TAKE HIM! I'VE FOUGHT BIGGER, AND I DON'T WANT MS. DAISY TO GET ZAPPED AGAIN! I'M GOING DOWN!"

The gnoll cradles the bag with Ms. daisy and Ophilia in one arm, then lets go of the rope...

OCC: I would tumble to negate falling damage, but alas, I don't have it as a class skill! Here's hoping for the best...

OOC: listen: 3+7=10

Seeing the giant man in red armour and MG letting go of the rope, Saath stands there, slack-jawed, stunned, baffled, still holding the rope.

"Two questions: What kind of Tanar'ri is that, and what did it say to make Gnoll let go?!" He yells to Ian over the storm.

Offer of alliance or not, Sejanus prepares himself for possible retaliation.

Although, he stands in the same stance, he wills the alchemical seals to shift, causing the cold-iron blade to transmute to the dark, husky hue of adamantine. Eying the dropping gnoll, Sejanus prepares, his mind shifting through various strategems. Settling upon one quickly, the crimson-armoured figure slightly switches his grip -and then waits.

[OOC: readied action/strike if MG comes within less than 10']