The time of the #SpinachInquisition is upon us!
This is our forth session for the all-out battle of Salvation. We've been in combat for a month (irl), which is definitely a record.
Saal Dreadstroke and his team of elite assassins rode in to Salvation to take the artifact we found in Cyre: the Oracle of War.
We are not being particularly cooperative.
We just scored our first kill on one of the assassins, and have a second in a 4v1 that's about to turn into a 6v1.
Several of the other assassins have been bloodied through hit-and-run actions.
A merchant freed the prisoners in Sheriff's (RIP) Sheriff Station, who engaged the metal snakeboi. They traded their lives to take about half his health bar off.
We are pretty much out of spell slots, wildshapes, and everything else.
I'm about to dodge into the NPC's office to use his bodyguards as meat shields, cuz I've only got 9 HP left.
I'm in the market, so once we get rid of this hellgnoll lass, I should be able to raid the empty stalls.
Belaluur was selling potions of healing, so there should be at least a few in her stall.
Our cleric's actual player is not here this week
So the DM looked up all kinds of ridiculous russian cliches to use as one-liners and I AM LIVING FOR IT
Bard to Sorc: Look, if we let him kill everyone, then there is nobody left to run the town. Who will make your alcohol?
Sorc: aghhh, that, makes sense? but that child he's killing right now doesn't seem very useful
Bard: Yes the paperboy is a waste of space, but imagine if it were Bob [the barkeep]?
Sorc: there's always the gastropub. one dwarf survived.
Syndicate is Strong