Dima just barely stops himself from scowling. Manages to hold his expression unwavered - thanks you, years of practice in diplomatic negotiations - and even arches an eyebrow, cants his head and keeps his eyes fixed on the hooded figure, watching Wythall from his periphery.
"It isn't, and it is. As I conjured the name first, I believe it is more in my claim than your own.
"Still. If you insist—
"Tell me, Altair: Have I interrupted something."
<.>
Wythall falls still, clearly watching both of the men before him, head turning with each comment as though following a tennis ball. Awkwardly, he motions towards a stack of wood nearby and makes noises about feeding the fire.
There's a sound from 'Altair' that might be a huffed laugh, as thought Dima's reply caught him off-guard.
"What could you possibly be interrupting?" He raises his head just enough that firelight briefly illuminates his face: young, ought-to-be-joyful, smiling. The light catches his eyes oddly, the way it would an animal's, but only for a split second.
<.>
Oddly, Dima's first clear thought is that he'd like a longer, better look at this pseudo-Altair's face.
(And he'd like to hear that laugh again. Strange, it's... Very strange, that he should entertain this thought at all.)
He hasn't lost track of Wythall's movements. Or in any case, Dima attempts to keep an ear and eye half-toward the man's motions while his eyes hold fixed on (Wythall's 'friend') ('the boy') ('Altair,' whose eyes seems briefly set aglow) the seated stranger.
He flexes his fingers against the air idly, a habitual gesture of contemplation and pitches his voice just a little more arch, a little eased in velvet: "I might spend the night in guessing; I find it far more expeditious to ask."
And, cocking a finger toward 'Altair': "Or do you find this overbold?"
There's something else.
As he cocks his finger, as he points at the seated stranger and finishes the question, Dima casts message, whispers soft, soft, lips near motionless: ’Do you know this man.’
[PERC: 13]
<.>
Both Dima and 'Altair' have failed the perception check and no longer are keeping track of Wythall.
For 'Altair's' part, his attention is wholly fixed on this newcomer and the sensation of a voice whispering in his ear. When he cocks his head again, his eyes are visible and focused entirely on Dima - and slowly, he shakes his head.
No, not overbold.
No, he doesn't know this man.
It takes him a moment to tear his gaze from the 'other Altair' under the pretense of giving some attention to Wythall --
Who is no longer visible in the clearing.
Rollllll for initiative.
[ Faolan: 4 Wythall: 13 Dima: 6 The Awakened Shrubs encircling your campfire: 19 ]
In the brief time during which Dima and the hooded figure have been interacting and Wythall has disappeared from the clearing, seven ambulatory shrubs have left their motionless positions on the periphery of the clearing and begin to move in. Two reach the men quickly, though the others are closing in.
The shrub closest to Faolan makes its first attack with advantage and hits for 3 points of slashing damage.
The shrub closest to Dima rolls a total of 18 on its attack without advantage, which I believe is a hit. Dima also takes 3 points of slashing damage.
Wythall is still nowhere to be seen, and so next up is Dima.
<.>
That's not fucking good.
The shooting pain, the... entirely too many shrubs (it's the FUCKING bushes again), the disappearance of the shoeless fuck, and—
And he doesn't love that the hooded figure was struck. It shouldn't matter, it shouldn't register because he doesn't know this person, but Dima feels his anger sear brighter regardless, and scarcely considers his own pain as he whirls around to catch three godsfucked moving bushes as he casts Burning Hands.
He's angry. And he'll burn down half the forest if he has to.
Dima casts Burning Hands, hits three bushes. All three bushes are instantly incinerated. Watching the bushes burn, Dima steps takes a few steps back to align with the stranger's shoulder, his eyes still fixed toward the remaining bush behind, watching the area at the stranger's back.
He is, of course, watching for signs of Mr. Fucksaken 'Buggery' and any further shrubs. >:c But his turn thus ends!
<.>
At the top of Faolan's turn: he staggers up and back from the swipe taken at him, his hands immediately closing together in preparation for a spell -
He can't do that. The stranger, the one who seems to be an ally in the moment, just drew up protectively alongside him, and no matter how sensible Thunderwave might be, he doesn't think it would be polite. Or grateful. Not if it happened to kill the man.
Plan B, then: he produces a flame in his palm and throws it at the nearest shrub.
Hits for 6 points of damage; the shrub seems to shrink from the fire, but it's still up; with his movement, Faolan is going to make a dash away from Dima into the space left behind by Burning Hands.
And that ends the round, we're back up to the shrubs.
The shrubs divide up, two on each of of the men, and begin to close in once more; they seems to be moving a little more hesitantly towards Dima now that they've seen what he did to their companions.
The one that reaches Dima first makes its attack - 19 (Hit).
No damage; its attack is pretty halfhearted.
The one that reaches Faolan first misses.
<.>
Dima might, might have grinned - just a little flash of teeth - when 'Altair' produced a flame of his own. He felt the heat, heard the magic's crackle, and though he couldn't turn to view the flame, he could enjoy its presence. Briefly.
Just now, he eyes the nearest shrubs. Turns focus to the one beside him - the little shit that took a swing at him - and levels his hand, readying Chill Touch—
But. Before he casts, Dima reaches his open hand into his pocket and draws out a small vial, filled with cindered dust, and sways it between two fingers, staring daggers at the bush as he speaks, voice pitched with a hiss: "Is this what you want?
"I've done it before; I'll do it again."
[INTIM: 21, w/ adv bc the shrubs are already scared of him]
The two shrubs nearest Dima stop - and immediately begin to retreat.
Dima scowls. “That's right.” He attempts to dagger-stab as an opportunity attack, but whiffs it fully, and moves into his combat phase.
Though there's a moment in which Dima is very, very near to giving the retreating bushes a second round of Burning Hands (how dare the shrub duck from his dagger?), he reminds himself that there are more bushes, there's a smiling dickhead somewhere, and—
He turns, the better to see how the stranger is faring, notes the two shrubs.
And Dima casts Control Flame on the campfire, intending to expand it to engulf the nearby shrub that's already taken a hit. This takes out the shrub.
After, Dima will move fifteen feet in the opposite direction of the retreating shrubs.
<.>
Faolan hears something going on between the stranger and his attackers, but he's too preoccupied with the business of avoiding the attacks sent his way by an increasingly hostile shrub.
One of the two on him vanishes in a roar of flame - something he doesn't quite have time to process beyond a note of irritation that his own attack hardly made a dent.
Seeing Dima retreat, he's going to take a run back towards his original position, placing himself in range of the three remaining shrubs.
And now, with Dima just outside range, he'll cast Thunderwave.
A thunderous blast radiates out from Faolan in a fifteen foot radius, blasting the remaining three shrubs with 16 points of damage and hurtling them 10 feet from him; along with them, his pack, embers from the fire, and anything else loose is shoved ten feet in the blast; an audible BOOM shatters the would-be-silence of the night.
Faolan turns in Dima's direction with a grin as though to share in the celebration of a joint victory - but something off to Dima's left catches his eye. His smile vanishes into a look of shock and dismay.
From behind Faolan, a shrieking voice cries out, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” - Wythall running full-tilt at Faolan. The ground shudders once, again, with each impact of large roots as a maple tree stalks into the clearing.
Before Wythall can reach Faolan, he collapses to the ground, suddenly tackled by a larger, lankier man who wastes no time in attempting to plunge a knife in his back.
The two grapple, fighting over Wythall's life. The newcomer darts a look up at Faolan and Dima and shouts in apparent exasperation, "TREE-" before a fist connects with his jaw.
no subject
Dima just barely stops himself from scowling. Manages to hold his expression unwavered - thanks you, years of practice in diplomatic negotiations - and even arches an eyebrow, cants his head and keeps his eyes fixed on the hooded figure, watching Wythall from his periphery.
"It isn't, and it is. As I conjured the name first, I believe it is more in my claim than your own.
"Still. If you insist—
"Tell me, Altair: Have I interrupted something."
<.>
Wythall falls still, clearly watching both of the men before him, head turning with each comment as though following a tennis ball. Awkwardly, he motions towards a stack of wood nearby and makes noises about feeding the fire.
There's a sound from 'Altair' that might be a huffed laugh, as thought Dima's reply caught him off-guard.
"What could you possibly be interrupting?" He raises his head just enough that firelight briefly illuminates his face: young, ought-to-be-joyful, smiling. The light catches his eyes oddly, the way it would an animal's, but only for a split second.
<.>
Oddly, Dima's first clear thought is that he'd like a longer, better look at this pseudo-Altair's face.
(And he'd like to hear that laugh again. Strange, it's... Very strange, that he should entertain this thought at all.)
He hasn't lost track of Wythall's movements. Or in any case, Dima attempts to keep an ear and eye half-toward the man's motions while his eyes hold fixed on (Wythall's 'friend') ('the boy') ('Altair,' whose eyes seems briefly set aglow) the seated stranger.
He flexes his fingers against the air idly, a habitual gesture of contemplation and pitches his voice just a little more arch, a little eased in velvet: "I might spend the night in guessing; I find it far more expeditious to ask."
And, cocking a finger toward 'Altair': "Or do you find this overbold?"
There's something else.
As he cocks his finger, as he points at the seated stranger and finishes the question, Dima casts message, whispers soft, soft, lips near motionless: ’Do you know this man.’
[PERC: 13]
<.>
Both Dima and 'Altair' have failed the perception check and no longer are keeping track of Wythall.
For 'Altair's' part, his attention is wholly fixed on this newcomer and the sensation of a voice whispering in his ear. When he cocks his head again, his eyes are visible and focused entirely on Dima - and slowly, he shakes his head.
No, not overbold.
No, he doesn't know this man.
It takes him a moment to tear his gaze from the 'other Altair' under the pretense of giving some attention to Wythall --
Who is no longer visible in the clearing.
Rollllll for initiative.
[ Faolan: 4
Wythall: 13
Dima: 6
The Awakened Shrubs encircling your campfire: 19 ]
In the brief time during which Dima and the hooded figure have been interacting and Wythall has disappeared from the clearing, seven ambulatory shrubs have left their motionless positions on the periphery of the clearing and begin to move in. Two reach the men quickly, though the others are closing in.
The shrub closest to Faolan makes its first attack with advantage and hits for 3 points of slashing damage.
The shrub closest to Dima rolls a total of 18 on its attack without advantage, which I believe is a hit. Dima also takes 3 points of slashing damage.
Wythall is still nowhere to be seen, and so next up is Dima.
<.>
That's not fucking good.
The shooting pain, the... entirely too many shrubs (it's the FUCKING bushes again), the disappearance of the shoeless fuck, and—
And he doesn't love that the hooded figure was struck. It shouldn't matter, it shouldn't register because he doesn't know this person, but Dima feels his anger sear brighter regardless, and scarcely considers his own pain as he whirls around to catch three godsfucked moving bushes as he casts Burning Hands.
He's angry. And he'll burn down half the forest if he has to.
Dima casts Burning Hands, hits three bushes. All three bushes are instantly incinerated. Watching the bushes burn, Dima steps takes a few steps back to align with the stranger's shoulder, his eyes still fixed toward the remaining bush behind, watching the area at the stranger's back.
He is, of course, watching for signs of Mr. Fucksaken 'Buggery' and any further shrubs. >:c But his turn thus ends!
<.>
At the top of Faolan's turn: he staggers up and back from the swipe taken at him, his hands immediately closing together in preparation for a spell -
He can't do that. The stranger, the one who seems to be an ally in the moment, just drew up protectively alongside him, and no matter how sensible Thunderwave might be, he doesn't think it would be polite. Or grateful. Not if it happened to kill the man.
Plan B, then: he produces a flame in his palm and throws it at the nearest shrub.
Hits for 6 points of damage; the shrub seems to shrink from the fire, but it's still up; with his movement, Faolan is going to make a dash away from Dima into the space left behind by Burning Hands.
And that ends the round, we're back up to the shrubs.
The shrubs divide up, two on each of of the men, and begin to close in once more; they seems to be moving a little more hesitantly towards Dima now that they've seen what he did to their companions.
The one that reaches Dima first makes its attack - 19 (Hit).
No damage; its attack is pretty halfhearted.
The one that reaches Faolan first misses.
<.>
Dima might, might have grinned - just a little flash of teeth - when 'Altair' produced a flame of his own. He felt the heat, heard the magic's crackle, and though he couldn't turn to view the flame, he could enjoy its presence. Briefly.
Just now, he eyes the nearest shrubs. Turns focus to the one beside him - the little shit that took a swing at him - and levels his hand, readying Chill Touch—
But. Before he casts, Dima reaches his open hand into his pocket and draws out a small vial, filled with cindered dust, and sways it between two fingers, staring daggers at the bush as he speaks, voice pitched with a hiss: "Is this what you want?
"I've done it before; I'll do it again."
[INTIM: 21, w/ adv bc the shrubs are already scared of him]
The two shrubs nearest Dima stop - and immediately begin to retreat.
Dima scowls. “That's right.” He attempts to dagger-stab as an opportunity attack, but whiffs it fully, and moves into his combat phase.
Though there's a moment in which Dima is very, very near to giving the retreating bushes a second round of Burning Hands (how dare the shrub duck from his dagger?), he reminds himself that there are more bushes, there's a smiling dickhead somewhere, and—
He turns, the better to see how the stranger is faring, notes the two shrubs.
And Dima casts Control Flame on the campfire, intending to expand it to engulf the nearby shrub that's already taken a hit. This takes out the shrub.
After, Dima will move fifteen feet in the opposite direction of the retreating shrubs.
<.>
Faolan hears something going on between the stranger and his attackers, but he's too preoccupied with the business of avoiding the attacks sent his way by an increasingly hostile shrub.
One of the two on him vanishes in a roar of flame - something he doesn't quite have time to process beyond a note of irritation that his own attack hardly made a dent.
Seeing Dima retreat, he's going to take a run back towards his original position, placing himself in range of the three remaining shrubs.
And now, with Dima just outside range, he'll cast Thunderwave.
A thunderous blast radiates out from Faolan in a fifteen foot radius, blasting the remaining three shrubs with 16 points of damage and hurtling them 10 feet from him; along with them, his pack, embers from the fire, and anything else loose is shoved ten feet in the blast; an audible BOOM shatters the would-be-silence of the night.
Faolan turns in Dima's direction with a grin as though to share in the celebration of a joint victory - but something off to Dima's left catches his eye. His smile vanishes into a look of shock and dismay.
From behind Faolan, a shrieking voice cries out, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” - Wythall running full-tilt at Faolan. The ground shudders once, again, with each impact of large roots as a maple tree stalks into the clearing.
Before Wythall can reach Faolan, he collapses to the ground, suddenly tackled by a larger, lankier man who wastes no time in attempting to plunge a knife in his back.
The two grapple, fighting over Wythall's life. The newcomer darts a look up at Faolan and Dima and shouts in apparent exasperation, "TREE-" before a fist connects with his jaw.