Interlude 1
Sarenith 17 4710 (Wealday)
Somewhere Northeast of Sandpoint
About 4pm
Guidemaster Keever suddenly slumped over to his right and tumbled off his big, bay horse. The wagons in the caravan ground to halt.
“Gods! Not again!” Jeren jumped from the bench of the first wagon and landed awkwardly on his stiff legs. He hobbled over to the crumpled Guidemaster and looked down disgustedly. The driver of your wagon, the second in the train of three, took advantage of the stop to stretch his legs. Keever's horse wandered away to munch on grass.
“Ok, that's it. He's out cold again. We camp here!” shouted Jeren. “Hobak, get over here and let's get him off the trail before someone runs over him.” Your driver spit out his wad of chew and clambered out of your wagon. “Might run over him myself.” he muttered a bit too loudly under his breath. “Comin' boss!”. Hobak wiped a stream of brown spittle from his bushy, black beard and ambled off to help Jeren, who seemed to be cussing steadily as he began to drag the highly inebriated Guidemaster from the trail.
Farchet, the driver of the wagon behind yours, slowly worked his wagon off the rutted trail to a wide, level piece of ground. The fine Sandpoint glass in the wagon hardly rattled at all as he deftly maneuvered his team into position and set the handbrake on the wagon. The thick wooden crates creaked one last time under the graying tarp and then went silent. Farchet slipped gracefully from his seat and immediately began tending to his team. Whenever he worked like this, he moved his lips like he was talking to someone, but he never made a sound. The others seemed to accept this strange quirk, perhaps because he was an expert at ensuring his delicate cargo arrived unbroken. At least, that is what Jeren told you when you signed on back in Sandpoint.
“Oi! Guards! Don't just sit there! You know what to do. Someone get an eye out and the rest of ye get my wagon and get the camp set up. Hobak can't cook if ye don't get the fire going!” Jeren wasn't a bad guy, but he always seemed to be in a hurry even if there was no real reason to hurry. He liked his campsites as well-maintained and orderly as he was himself. After five days on the road, he was the only one that didn't look like he needed a bath, a shave or even a change of clothes.
You and your wagon-mates had signed on to serve as guards for a caravan carrying a wagonload of colored glass disks from the foundry at Sandpoint to a new temple being built in Galduria. This sudden stop was the third time Keever failed to make it to the end of the day and the second time he became drunk enough to fall from his horse. While the journey was certainly slow, even with the perfect summer weather, it was also entertaining. Jeren, Hobak, Farchet and Keever were decent enough folk and they made an efficient team even if they seemed to do a lot of yelling and complaining at one another. Perversely, Farchet was the only quiet one of the bunch, and he talked silently to gods-know-who anytime he wasn't in the seat.
Having mastered the rare skill of napping while atop a cart moving along a rough road, it takes Irra a little longer to blink back into wakefulness, tilt her wide-brimmed hat back and pull her shortbow back into its proper position and away from poking her in the ribs. Vaulting up over the side of the cart, she drops deftly to her knees as she hits the ground in a cloud of dust. The other hired guards following her, an odd fact is revealed- Jeren isn't the only one who looks like he doesn't need a bath or a change of clothes. Discreetly mouthing a syllable to cancel her cleaning spell (Prestigiditation) she smiles guilelessly towards Jeren to see if he's noticed yet.
If not, well, there's still a few more days till Galduria to drive him insane.
Stretching, she tilts her head back to the party. "I'll light the fire after I help get things laid out if some of you giants can spy out some wood while you're a-observin', fair?"
Leaving the group with a quick grin, she walks over to Jeren's wagon. "How's the boss? Sprinkle o'Alchemist's kindness should fix him right up; maybe there'll be some at the next town?" She sets to helping set up the campsite, lips firmly pursed; she's been warned about whistling, her quiet yet piercing variant in particular.
V’Thamuus stretches and steps off the wagon. He pears past the tall grass into the trees, just as the little spirit person – ‘gnome’ in this unfamiliar tongue – asks for fuel for a fire.
-anything to take the chill from the air of this place-
Certainly, Spirit Maiden. He turns to Jaren, I will step into the wood to stretch mine and my friends legs for a time. I will return in one quarter an hour, no more. Jaren, in contrast to their ostensible leader was a strict taskmaster, demanding those who collects his coin to account for themselves at all times. A short high-pitched chirp erupts from the tall grass, followed quickly by red speckled head.
*curiosity*
Yes, Moninga, we can explore for a bit. *hungry* And yes, let’s see if any of these exotic beasts taste good. The head releases another chortling chirp and disappears again; a wake of shifting grass easily demonstrates the path of the reptile in a sinuous path toward the trees. V’Thamuus takes the more direct path and soon disappears into the grove of tiny plants the locals call a forest. He smiles a bit at the thought.
After a time peering through the trees, careful to keep at least one wagon in sight at all times, V’Thamuss trudges back to the caravan with sticks and twigs, even he knows are too wet to be suitable for a fire. Hoots and chirps from the woods and grass give evidence the lizard’s quest is no more successful.
He sets the armload down beside Irra. ”I found this; Moninga will be back soon and he will dry it.” He sits and helps as he sees a need with the general set-up, somewhat clumsily – this is his first time as a caravan guard.
”Spirit Maiden, you know this land better than I. Where are the ruins, the wonders. When my ship first stopped at Sandpoint, I expected more than my old home with smaller trees and colder nights.
He idly freezes bottle flies as they float near the campsite.
A slight whine enter’s his voice as he shifts his shoulders stiff from unused labor. ”Nothing I have seen is what I expected, and I fear our employer was expecting more when he took me on to protect his wares. I’m not used to the fetch and carry.”
Moninga dashes into view with nothing to show for his hunt. *Hungry* V’Thamuus tosses him a chunk of salted meat, and the dinosaur pulls strips from it daintily and gulps them down.
[b]"When you finish Moninga, dry the wood for the fire."
Longfeather hops down from the wagon and heads over to Jeren. He pours some water into a cup, adds some herbs and says,
"For the Guidemaster, it probably won't wake him up now but he should be a bit more productive tomorrow."
He heads to the edge of the nearby woods and gathers what wood he can before assisting with setup. He seems fairly familiar with setting up temporary shelter.
Turad slides casually out of the wagon, mumbling under his breath You do not command any of us, so why do you act like your in charge? . He attempts to mimic Irra's whistling as he unpacks the wagons. Despite his best efforts, Turad can only manage to half-replicate Irra's unique tune. Nevertheless, he continues to whistle loudly.
Great. I left a temple full of people that ordered me to pack and unpack things only to go camping with people who also order me around. Maybe Jeren is secretly a priest of Iomedae. Given that he wants a hot meal and a place to sleep, Turad obeys him... for now. He starts by unpacking the worn cooking supplies, the heavy bags of rice and beans and the dirty, timeworn tents. Once everything is unpacked and at the campsite, Turad begins to lackadaisically set up the tents.
The grey dwarf snaps quickly to attention when the caravan comes to a complete stop. As Jeren barks out orders, Darnak leaps down from the cart. "I'll help the lad set up camp," he says as he moves to aid the barbarian, especially considering the half-hearted effort he's putting into it.
As he nears Turad, the whistling seems to get louder and more off-key. Cringing, "Ya know, on second thought, I think I'll keep me eye out for trouble... over there," he says, motioning in the opposite direction as he snaps his cloak to and rotates his grey, wide-brimmed hat before pulling the front of it down slightly, proceeding quickly in said direction.
Jeren and Hobak prop Keever against Jeren's wagon wheel and douse him with a bit of water to bring him around. The Guidemaster wakes with a start and and looks about bleary-eyed before humming along merrily to the whistling on the other side of camp. Jeren presses Longfeather's elixer into Hobak's hands, saying, ”Here, get him to shut up and drink this,” before striding over to where Irra and Turad are working.
”Look, Keever's in a bad way and I surely do not need the either of ye to make it any worse with that damnable piping, so enough of it. I already have to watch after that one”, he says as he hooks a thumb over his shoulder at Keever, who is quietly arguing with Hobak that the “cup ain't got nothing to drink in it, all it has is water.” ”I no more need the two of ye poking my ears than a babe needs a scorpion for a pet, understood? Tell ye what, since the two of ye have so much energy, ye take the watches tonight.” Jeren seems to have lumped the wholly innocent Irra in with his ire at Turad's irritating whistle, perhaps because he has rightly guessed that Turad is only whistling that tune because the gnome taught him how.
Jeren returns to care for Keever while Hobak begins dinner preparations. From the looks of it, it appears beans and rice will be the entree once again. If you are lucky, Hobak may break out the salt and pepper, but he uses these so sparingly you are beginning to think the cook believes they are some rare and exotic spices from a distant land. Once out of earshot and near the guards, Hobak allows himself a chuckle at Jeren's anger. “Funny thing is, you'd think he would be complaining about the whistling of Longfeather here, but it's these two that are doing all the chirping! Don't take it too hard now, lads and lasses, it's just that Keever is Jeren's brother and is bad off on account of the girl he loved running off to Magnimar. Keever's drunk all the stores we had anyway; there's naught stronger in that wagon now than water, nor will there be, until we reach Galduria. What he said about guarding though, that is a good idea. We heard there might be some trouble up this way, so keep an eye out tonight and the rest of the nights til we are tucked safe in some inn. That goes for you as well, Darnak. Help keep these two troublemakers in line, if you would. I don't want to wake up with a dogslicer at my throat because one of them nodded off!.” His tone indicates he is kidding, of course, but there is also a ring of truth to what he is saying.
Meanwhile, Farchet seems fascinated with Moninga, though he is clearly intimidated and dares not approach too close to the lizard. Darnak keeps watch as Longfeather, Turad and Irra finish the fire, stand up the pavilion tent and unpack the cots.
As it grows dark, dinner is served and as predicted, rice and beans (unsalted) are the main course. Keever manages to sit with the others at the fire, but he mainly keeps his head down, his face hidden from view by his wavy, blonde hair. He stirs his meal but eats little and says nothing. Farchet sits next to him, silently chatting away and devouring heaping spoonfuls of beans and rice in an almost mechanical manner. You are fairly certain you have never known anyone to eat as much in a sitting as Farchet, yet he is as as thin as a rail. After dinner, Hobak cleans up and Farchet tends to the horses. Jeren and Keever retire early, leaving the rest of the group to tend the fire and sort out watches.
Darnak eats his meal quietly and without complaint. Once finished, "I'll keep the middle watch. The dark is not me enemy so that'll be the best time for me. You humans might want to consider bookendin' your watches. One of you take first - the other last. At least there will be more 'an just a fire ta help ya see. Ya both wind up with a bit o' sun on your side. Not much, mind ya, but a bit."
Irra raises an eyebrow at V'Thamus and his cold-blooded friend. "Spirit? I've never been named a drinker nor a seer of ghosts and phantasms. And you're driving a load of valuable cargo, I should expect we're passing along the safest route in the land. That said, the cultists, beasts and other nasties who frequent the places of interest around these parts tend to go out hunting for tourists rather than hoping they come to them."
Irra eats her food without complaint, barely seeming to notice it; she tries to sing a few songs, but is shut down quickly by the camp leaders as per the previous nights; she talks about the area and a few juicy pieces of gossip (Bardic Knowledge) and otherwise attempts to liven up the dreary campside.
"My eyes'll be keener in the twilight than yours master dwarf, and you giants. Give me the first or last watch."
"Spirit? I've never been named a drinker nor a seer of ghosts and phantasms. And you're driving a load of valuable cargo, I should expect we're passing along the safest route in the land. That said, the cultists, beasts and other nasties who frequent the places of interest around these parts tend to go out hunting for tourists rather than hoping they come to them."
V’Thamuus chuckles nervously, ”No offence intended . . . Miss Irra. I was just taught by my mother to treat those of the First World with all respect due. By your definition, our guidemaster seems the true ‘spirit’ here.” He shifts unsettled in his seat. ”I have no desire for ‘nasties,’ I just thought to see more, that is all.” Aware he is coming off as a bit of a rube, he stands and scans the fields and forest.
-later-
V’Thamuus watches the eyes of his fellow guards as Jaren issues his orders and takes his cue from them. This is why they have me here. I need to do my part, and perhaps Galduria will have more wonders than the road to it. "I and Moninga will take last watch - two pairs of eyes in the hours before sunrise."
Rice and beans are universal, but V’Thamuus grimaces at the blandness. It is no substitute for the real stuff, but he motions Moninga over to magic the food with the flavors of his homeland.
V'Thamuus looks over the other diners and offers with a timid smile, "He often overdoes it, but my good friend here can make a hollow meal more lively. You are welcome to his help as well." Moninga trots up to V’thamuus’s bowl and gives a short hiccupping screech, then places a delicate claw into the mash. V’Thamuus dips his own finger in the bowl, tastes, then eats the rest heartily with a growing smile on his face.
Ill be taking over after Darnack. says Turad as he finishes setting up the last tent. Longfeather, looks like you'll be after me then. Now that watch is squared away, is there anything else that needs to be done, or am I free to do as I please? Turad stands up after finishing tieing the last tent to its post, then begins to cook himself some beans and rice. He sits down by the fire and quietly enjoys a hot meal, a rarity for a traveler such as himself. Turad then finds a comfy spot on the ground to sit, and watches the sunset before heading to his tent for some much needed rest.
"I guess that settles that, then. Time ta catch a bit o' shuteye." He nods to the others and turns in.
Longfeather lets out a shrill croak when he hears the suggestions that he would be whistling, turns to Hobak and says "Why do you think I would be whistling, no-feathers. Sure I'd be good at it but I'm no common songbird and another thing..., That was joke wasn't it, Hobak? And I wasn't even the tail of it, was I? Sorry."
He looks down for a moment, apparently dejected, then he looks up suddenly and says, "If those two are chirping, that makes Turad a mockingbird." Longfeather calls quietly in a way that must be a chuckle.
Longfeather eats his fill which is probably an amusing ritual which some in the caravan may have taken to observing. He starts using the utensils awkwardly but soon gives up on this. When he thinks no one is looking he takes a few quick pecks, but once he notices the looks he just pours the rest down his gullet.
Longfeather nods at Turad's suggestion about his position in the watch. "That will be fine for tonight but I really think we should consider watches in pairs. Obviously, V'thamuus could be left out of it, he already has a watch partner."
As Darnak walks away from the fire, Longfeather rises and says, "I think Darnak has the right idea," and heads off to his tent
Night passes uneventfully and you are once again on the road. It rains a bit the next day but by the time Jeren stops the wagons to raise the tarp over the guard wagon, the rain stopped. Keever appears worse for the wear and rides along side his brother in the lead wagon, his horse tied up and following behind. It is obvious that he is nursing a terrible hangover and is no mood to talk to anyone.
The land in this part of Varisia consists of gently rolling green plains dotted with copses of trees. Occasionally there is a brave homesteader tending fields or a herd, but otherwise the land is empty of all save songbirds and other natural creatures. The road is fairly well marked by wagon ruts but the land is wild and unclaimed by any of the distant cities. While it doesn't feel dangerous, it does feel empty and wild, as if the pleasant weather and tall grasses might conceal any manner of unpleasant surprises.
Over the next two days, the caravan settles into something of a routine. Keever has been sober since he fell off his horse but he seems to prefer the company of Farchet over that of his brother, Hobak or your group. He spends most of his time riding silently beside Farchet's wagon, his gray eyes lost in thought. He is friendly when spoken to, but it seems clear he is not interested in making friends or having long talks with anyone. Another positive development is the progress the caravan is making. Hobak figures that you crossed the last of the hills and there is only a long, shallow decent into the Ember Lake area ahead of you. With luck, the caravan will reach Galduria by mid-day tomorrow.
The sun is already falling behind the hills at your back when the caravan pulls aside for the night. Your group falls into the familiar routine of setting up the camp when the cool evening air is shattered by a bellowing, inhuman scream that reverberates from somewhere in the deepening shade. Given the way the scream sounded, it had to be at least a couple hundred yards away, maybe from someplace on your left, lower down the hill. If it were light out, you likely would be able to see the place, but with the sun's low angle and your position on the downside of the last of the hills, the area is too deeply shadowed to make anything out, even with the Irra's sensitive eyes.
“ What was that...that sound?” It was the first time you ever heard Jeren sound rattled. The caravan horses whickered and pressed their ears back at the scream, stamped nervously and pulled at their tethers. Hobak stood up and fumbled a bolt into his crossbow, Farchet stopped mouthing words to himself and Even Keever seemed to be listening intently.
“Whatever that was, we need to check it out.” said Hobak. He spit a stream of tobacco juice and wiped his sleeve across his beard nervously.
“Someone could be in trouble” added Keever. “Maybe we ought to ...”
“Maybe we ought to nothing, and ye know it” interrupted Jeren. “It could be a distraction to get us to send the guard off and leave the camp defenseless. We stay here. ”.
“And leave whatever it is out there to wait til we are alseep? Or maybe leave someone to suffer? Forget it, Jeren. If you want the guard to stay here, fine, but I am going to ride out just a bit and check it out. I will be right back.”
Before anyone can really protest, Keever slips back onto his horse and gallops off into the darkness, shouts of protest following him out of the camp. He returns in just under a minute though and dismounts quickly. “ It's a homestead of some kind, a big one. The place is afire or will be soon enough. About two hundred yards down the road. Something is happening there, I could see torches being thrown, like someone was going to burn the house down. There's folk there too, fighting maybe, though I could only hear it.” As if to help validate his story, orange flames leap up into the gloom from someplace down the road. The fire outlines several large structures of some kind, but details beyond that are not available. The fire catches everyone's attention for a moment, and in that time, it seems as if the caravan owners are paralyzed with indecision.
"Sounds like someone's havin' a domestic. What Keever said; we need to check it out." Irra shivers a little in the cool night air and starts stretching her arms and legs to improve circulation. She resumes talking, her speech brisk and curt. "I say we leave the wagons here, maybe move them a little out of sight; we'll circle around, approach the house from another angle. If something's a-happening, no reason to drag the cargo or the rest of you into it." She turns to V'Thamuus. "Leave your cold-blooded friend here so that if they come after the wagons we'll know to sprint back?"
V'Thamuus gives Irra a quick nod. He turns to his decidedly warm-blooded dinosaur (He knows this is not the time for a Mwangi zoology lesson.) "Moninga, remain here. Keep silent, and stay hidden." He turns back to Irra and the others. "With respect Master Jeren, it is our duty to render assistance, plus I have always believed in a proactive defense. Waiting only lets the danger strikes first!" Not looking to see if he is followed, he turns toward the fire and moves at a quick trot toward the farm, circling as Irra recommended. He leaves his backpack at the campsite, and as he moves, he pulls his scroll of hydrolic push from its case.
Turad perks up as soon as he hears the scream. I have no idea what made that noise but Ill be damned if I sit by without checking it out. For all we know some farmer or villager or somthing over there may be in danger. If you still want my protection Jeren, then you will either brave the darkness alone or follow those of us that are going to investigate that scream. Turad then grabs his blade before running towords the noise with the other guards.
V'Thamuus pauses as Longfeather touches his shoulder. He answers with a start, watching Turad pass him by. "Yes, together is best, but if there are people in true peril, time is of the essence." He nods again at Jeren. "I promise to stop at the edge of the fire's light and evaluate, but discussion should wait until after we know something worthy of discussion." V'Thamuus turns and hurries after the barbarian.
Looking toward the outline of the fire, Darnak turns to Jeren. "I believe they've all said it best. Don'tcha be for worryin'; we'll be back in a jiff," he tells him as he tips his hat and heads quickly after the others.
Jeren starts to protest, but it is clear that his guards are going to check on the house and render what aid they can. As the party runs downhill toward the fire, they can hear Jerren ordering Hobak, Farchet and Keever to be ready for anything and to get into a defensible positions. Keever protests but Jeren will have none of it. The last thing you hear as you slip into the darkness is Jeren reminding Keever who is in charge.
The scene that unfolds as you near the house is one of flame and chaos. The bright, orange flames light the immediate area well enough for you to see most of what is occurring. Small figures carrying torches – goblins undoubtedly – have lit a large barn and outbuilding on fire. Two of the nasty creatures are hacking the bloodied corpse of a horse while another three repeatedly slash a tethered horse with small, sharp knives, apparently playing some kind of sick game of trying to enrage the animal while dodging its hooves and bite. Elsewhere, a pair of goblins are prying open a gate that leads into a small field of crops. In front of the manor house, which is large and richly appointed, are another group of goblins waving torches at a pair of beleaguered guards that are trying to hold them back. Finally, a pair of goblins are dragging a human by each arm off into the darkness. It is too dark to see if the man is alive or dead. The goblins are laughing screeching in their wicked tongue and seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.
"Goblins."
"G+&+@~ned GOBLINS!"
Irra throws up a hand, makes a gesture and barks out a single, ringing syllable. Next to the lit barn, an immense flaming horse flares into life, twenty feet tall and twenty across. Its hooves are red as flame, its skin coal-black with sparks showering off of it. It tosses its glowing blue-and-yellow mane and stamps ferociously onto the ground, attempting to terrify the goblins.
As the chaos becomes clear, "Blast! Time ta move!" Darnak quickly takes off, heading straight for the nearest goblin.
V'Thamuus looks out at the destruction at the edge of the fire's light and hesitates. In the run up to the homestead, Turad easily outdistanced him and lost him in the darkness. For a moment, V'Thamuus just stares. -They are just monkeys. . . just monkeys with knives and fire that don't want to steal your food; they want to kill me, then . . . eat me . . .-
Darnak runs past him straight to the closest gathering of the beasts, the ones tearing the poor dead horse apart. The gnome, Irra steps up a second later, lets slip several Taldane words that V'Thamuus has not yet had the courage to ask the meaning of, then a word of power he did recognize.
V'Thamuus gathers himself with a start and smiles quickly and sheepishly at the pretty gnome, turns and steels himself. -Just like the monkeys- He raises his hands and spits forth his own words of power. Two faintly glowing spheres appear briefly in front of him, rotate twice about his torso, and streak toward one of the goblins. As they fly, V'Thamuus's stomach tightens. -Not really people . . .
As the melee comes into Turad's view, he calls out Hang on we are on our way! He then rund along the edge of the battle to try to reach the man by the fire, surrounded by goblins.
V'Thamuus watches the barbarian run up the left flank. -Rough we may be, but it is good to be with people who are willing to fight for others so readily.- He turns toward Irra, "Let us stay together if possible, these beasts, though small, could swarm and pick us off easily if we split up too much. I am best at sniping the wounded. This is where I will do the most good. Your horse is very impressive!"
LongFeather looks around a bit conflicted about where to go. Seeing Turad is on his own, LongFeather follows him.
Goblins at the Manor
Outcome of Previous Round
The party races toward the burning buildings and moves in to attack the goblins. V'thamuus's magic crumples one of the goblins abusing the dead horse. Irra creates the illusion of a massive, burning horse, which appears to burst from the burning barn. The others move into position, drawing their weapons.
The goblins appear to have not yet noticed the party or are staring slack-jawed at the huge, flaming horse.
Round: 1
Ordered Initiative (post order)
Longfeather [10]: 14
Turad [15]: 12++
Darnak [14]: 12+
Irra [11]: 12
Goblins: 8
V'Thamuus [7]: 6
Men-at-Arms: 2
Map and Other Info
Map is here: link
The characters are shown in bold on the map using the first letter of their name.
Active Spells and Effects
Irra: Silent Image (requires concentration)
Longfeather moves to Turad, whispers a prayer "Sarenae guide him" and places a hand on Turad's arm.
Turad rushes at the nearest goblin, his massive sword ready to strike down his foe.
Darnak attacks the goblin near him, hoping he can take him out quickly.
*Thump*
*Thump*
Irra raises her foot then pounds it down into the ground.
*Thump*
A deep hunting chant burns from her throat, resounding throughout the clearing, its pounding beat and tempo quickening the pace of all who hear it. The horse prances around faster and faster, keeping time.
*Thump*
Turad cuts down one of the goblins but his charge draws the attention of the other two nearby. They draw dogslicers and try to surround him but neither manages to hit him. Darnak lands a solid blow on the remaining goblin near the dead horse but the goblin manages to keep his feet. The goblin swings his horsechopper wildly in desperation and by pure luck lands a solid blow against the dwarf. The goblins nearest the manor seem totally absorbed in their battle with the guards and they land several blows against the defenders. The goblins at the fence scream in terror at the fiery horse and vanish in a rush behind the manor house. The goblins nearest the flaming horse completely fall for the ruse despite the lack of sound. They drop their dogslicers and scatter into the darkness, screaming obscenities in their foul tongue. The remaining horse runs to the limit of its tether, is yanked down when it reaches its limit and stumbles back to its feet on the far side of the well from the flaming horse. Irra's chant fills everyone with a sense of purpose and begins to reverberate over the field in front of the manor.
Can I have started before the two attacks above?
V'Thamuus stares at the goblin as it falls. He watches as blood flies in a stream from the dwarf. He hears the screams of the men-at-arms. For a few brief seconds he does nothing but stare. With a start, he comes back to himself. -Wake up! If the beasts were closer, they might have killed you.-
Glancing down at Irra, "Darnak has been hurt; I'm going to get closer to help." V'Thamuus rushes north toward the battle. As he runs, he waves a bolt of eldritch energy toward Darnak's foe.
Goblins at the Manor
Outcome of Previous Round
V'Thamuus slams a force missile into the goblin attacking Darnak, killing it and giving the wounded dwarf a breather. Irra's chanting fills the field in front of the manor house with a rhythmic pounding that coincides with the movements of the huge, stamping, flaming horse. The battle at the front of the manor rages on, with the men at arms outnumbered and wounded. Their swings are now wild and fail to connect with any of the dancing, slashing goblins but they are holding the entrance, at least for now.
From somewhere in the second story of the manor comes a woman's scream.
Round: 2
Ordered Initiative (post order)
Longfeather [10]: 14
Turad [15]: 12++
Darnak [9]: 12+
Irra [11]: 12
Goblins: 8
V'Thamuus [7]: 6
Men-at-Arms: 2
Map and Other Info
Map is here: link
The characters are shown in bold on the map using the first letter of their name.
Active Spells and Effects
Irra: Silent Image (requires concentration)
Irra: Inspire Courtgae (+1 to Hit and Weapon dmg)
Turad: Guidance (+1 to a roll, declare before using)
Seeing the goblin fall, he looks around and nods at V'Thamuus in thanks as he takes off toward the surrounded guards.
As he arrives, he hears a woman screaming and realizes they are running out of time quicker than imagined. "Hey stupids! Come over here so I can kill ya!"
"Too damned prepared" Longfeather says as he drops his pack and heads to the prone man. As he runs to the man, he attempts to determine if the man is beyond saving and once he reaches renders what aid he can.
Turad takes another swing at his target. He grunts as he brings his blade down toward his little green foe with all his might.
Irra continues her pounding beat and song, her horse tossing its head in time, terrifying the goblins.
Darnak's shouts draw two goblins away from the men at arms. Screaming curses against their hated dwarven enemy, they move to attack. One slips away from the guard and manages to gash the monk across the forearm with a dogslicer. The other is unlucky and is cut down by a guard as he attempts to disengage. Meanwhile, Turad runs a goblin through, giving Longfeather a chance to check on the downed guard. Unfortunately, the guard is dead. The remaining goblin near the pair takes a half-hearted cut at Turad and moves away as best as he can, a look of fear in his eyes.
At the manor doorstep, the guard on the right suffers another blow and slumps against the wall with a dazed look in his eyes.
Irra continues to chant and the flaming horse rampages behind the backs of the goblins locked in battle with the manor guards.
V'Thamuus continues his cautious march forward following Darnak, pulling adjacent to the bodies of the . . . creatures (not people) he killed with his magic. Ahead at the manor house one beast falls to the defenders and a second turns to draw blood from the Dwarf. V'Thamuus grits his teeth and speaks his words of power a second time. Again, two points of arcane energy pull at the fabric of reality, spinning off on their own until called into obedience by V'Thamuus's will. The missiles streak off to strike at one of the goblins harrying the building's defenders.
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Darnak grits his teeth as the weapon cuts him, irritated at the fact his defenses are so poor. Seeing how as he continues to get hit, he moves into his defensive stance before retaliating as he steps closer to the three remaining.
Goblins at the Manor
Outcome of Previous Actions
V'Thamuus saves the life of the badly injured guard by slamming a magic missile into the goblin closing in for the kill and the other door guard connects on a wild swing, killing the last goblin in front of the manor. Only the goblin backing away from Turad remains alive.
The fires in the barns and outbuildings have spread, fully engulfing those structures.
Begin Round: 3
Ordered Initiative (post order)
Party (Darnak and Longfeather already acted, see above)
Goblins & Men-at-arms
Map and Other Info
Map is here: link
The characters are shown in bold on the map using the first letter of their name.
Active Spells and Effects
Irra: Silent Image (requires concentration)
Irra: Inspire Courtgae (+1 to Hit and Weapon dmg)
Turad: Guidance (+1 to a roll, declare before using)
As the last goblin falls in front of the manor, V'Thamuus runs to the guard slumped against the front steps. He shouts as he slides to a stop, shoving aside the body of his last goblin victim. "Longfeather! Get here quick, I think this man can be saved!" he sinks to the man's side, and turns to the guard still standing. "Sir? Did any get inside? What else can we do to help?"
Turad glances around the battle field looking for another foe, he spots one just behind him and charges at it, massive blade held high.
Irra hesitates as Turad's blade descends, biting her lip, wanting so much to not... but she must.
Her feet stop pounding, the beat and song resounding throughout the clearing vanishes. The horse sprints forward, charging faster than any mortal steed; it collapses to the ground, trapping the goblin protectively in a circle of limbs and stomach, a fiery wall between it and Turad.
"TURAD! Keep one alive!"
Turad is too fast for the gnome and the warning comes too late - the hapless goblin is skewered completely through before he can check his swing.
The wounded guard joins V'Thamuus and helps his wounded friend to the ground. Hold on, Kamos! The gods will not claim you yet! He turns his attention to the wizard, saying None got passed us, Lady Wildhurst is safe! A sudden realization seems to dawn on the man and he looks wildly beyond the wizard's shoulder to the chaos in the field in front of the manor. What happened to Joquin? Where is he?
The timbers in the barn collapse in a spray of sparks and a rattle of heavy logs.