Motteditor's Ironfang Invasion PBP

Game Master motteditor

Combat map / Overall map / Treasure tracker / Survivors / Survivors (GM reference)


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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

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Phaendar's Market Festival draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas and that seems especially true this year, with Gozreh seeming to smile down over the proceedings.

After a long, cold winter, spring has come to the Marideth River region. Snow may still linger in the more shadowed areas beneath the forest canopy, but in town the sun shines and warms hearts along with bodies. Flowers are blooming, and the sound of honeybees making their rounds fills the air. The sweet scent of the flowers welcomes those who lean close but can't compete with the mouthwatering odors of cooking meats and other foods.

It is truly an almost perfect day, one in which Molthune seems as far away as the Mwangi Expanse, and people can hardly imagine anything could go wrong, or anything bad could possibly happen.

And later...
One of the key draws for the Market Festival is the chance to hear Aubrin the Green -- the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric -- recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air but you've each made your way into the Taproot Inn to enjoy the merriment there. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town.

“So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”

The former adventurer -- whose career ended when an encounter with a nest of ankhegs left her vision badly damaged -- settles back into her chair with her tankard, letting others take center floor to continue the festivities.


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

When Elrik had come in from one of the fields south of town, covered in sweat and the dust of farm work, he felt like he had entered into a strange new world. Colors and laughter and people crammed all over the place, 'out and about.' Market Festival, he finally realized, stopped at the head of one particularly busy street. I forgot.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered liking Market Festival. He remembered liking all of the festival days in town. Now they just seemed... unnecessary wasn't the right word. Maybe unearned. Too much. Avoiding the busy street, Elrik turned and shrugged the strap of his shield higher on his shoulder as he took the longer, darker route between the houses. It was better than the business of the street. Quieter, too.

Part of him wanted to go straight home, wash his face and hands and collapse into bed until later in the night when most people would be inside and he could go pull some cool water out of the well near his cottage in peace. He'd been promising himself an ale all day though, working himself up to go to the Taproot as he worked the field, churning the unplanted earth to ready it for seeding next year. I can do this, he thought. It's just a few more people. It's just one ale.

It wasn't just a few more people. Two or three of them had turned smiles his way, though more of them gave him a sidelong glance and maybe a whisper to their neighbor. Most ignored him altogether, busy with their revelries and the storytelling. He sat down awkwardly at one corner of the bar, squeezed in between a trio of out-of-town revelers and an older couple listening intently to Aubrin the Green. Elrik waved halfheartedly to the brunette barmaid to get her attention and silently ordered a pint. She smiled at him and he saw the pity in her eyes. He swallowed the dryness in his mouth.

She slid the pint in front of him and he put a silver mark on the counter, enough to cover the drink and a tip. She's pretty, he thought, trying to remember her name. He couldn't, and he didn't feel up to doing anything about her being pretty. What good would I be for her, anyways?

Elrik wrapped both hands around the pint and took a deep breath, the cool feeling of the tankard in his hand and the smell of the ale filling his nose and lungs. Then the room erupted with laughter, a dozen or more voices all bursting at once, and Elrik winced and ducked low to the bar, looking around in a panic. Sheepishly he looked down at himself, at the wet slosh of beer down his front from grabbing the tankard in one hand and pulling it back and ready to strike at the danger. The invisible, not-real danger.

Forcing his body to relax, Elrik took deep breaths. The pity was in her eyes again. Was she smiling or smirking? Elrik muttered a general apology as he stood up from the bar stool, and then another to the out-of-towner he knocked with the shield on his back. He looked for a dark corner of the room he could tuck himself in to, maybe wrap himself up in the shadows and just let them swallow him. Or at least some place to put the tankard down. His hand was still clutching it close and tight by the handle, his arm tense. Maybe this was too many people.


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

Three days before the Market Festival, Barhador moved silently through the forest, tracking the wild boar he had identified a couple of weeks earlier. It was on the same trail set where he saw signs of it originally, and seemed to moving towards the calm, wide spot in the creek where it had stopped to drink previously. Grinning to himself, the hunter shifted into a striped fur, small muzzle and cat's eyes as he circled around to the overlook he had chosen a week ago.

He climbed his selected tree and waited for the boar. As expected, it arrived shortly, hesitating at the edge of cover before moving up to the pool to water itself.

Once the boar was head down and drinking, Barhador bent his bow and loosed a shaft. It struck true, but that just made the boar angry. It moved back into the cover, while trying to find something to attack. Barhador shook the tree and called out "Here! I'm here! Come and get me you foolish pig!" But it chose to run up the trail instead.

Cursing quietly to himself, the elf dropped out of the tree, shifting into a feathered form with his nose dropping into a sharp beak. Moving as quickly as he dared while following the injured boar, the hunter kept his arrow nocked and prepared to take the dangerous shot should the boar charge him. The boar had left the trail behind and was forging a new path as he fled from the first arrow's bite. The trail of blood and damaged undergrowth made following the boar simple, but watching for it to appear around him and charge kept him slow as he followed it. As he came around a hill, the boar caught him looking the wrong way, and snorted before it charged. That snort probably saved Barhador's life. He had time to see where the pig was, flowing his features back into those of a tiger, and timed his jump out of the pig's path successfully enough to avoid the tusks. He came out of the roll into a stand, turned, and loosed the arrow he had managed not to drop. This also found purchase in the boar, but didn't drop it. The boar turned and charged again. Expecting this, the hunter had already dropped hi bow and pulled his kukri, even as his form shifted again, this time to a dark brown fur, muzzle, and small horns. The two exchanged blows barhador taking a tusk in the leg as he drug the kukri across the boar's neck, lucking out and cutting the major artery despite the thick coat of protective fur.

The elf's features shifted again, the fur lightening and horns vanishing as he moved away from the failing boar. Thanking the forest and the boar for this gift of life to be contributed to the festival, the elf gathered a handful of forest floor debris stained with blood, his or the boar's he wasn't sure, and he held the material up against the tusk wound as he called upon the power of nature to heal himself.

Even after field dressing his kill and building a litter, Barhador spent a full day dragging the boar carcass back to Phaendar and the Taproot Inn, where they had already uncovered the earthen pit to slow roast the entire animal.

The tired elf spent the next day at the Taproot Inn, recovering from dragging the boar back more than from the hunt itself. After ensuring that Aisiridel saw his injury, he promised her a share of one of the cheeks. Then he finished healing himself and performed minor tasks to help the staff finish preparations for the festival.


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Barhador feels a tap on his shoulder. Arryn, the green-eyed cook’s assistant smiles up at him.

”I just checked on the boar you brought in. Juices are starting to flow. He’s going to make quite a good load of ham tomorrow.”

Arryn trails off as he watches Phaistea, the brown-haired barmaid of his dreams bring Elrik his ale. She was always so kind and nice to everybody, even those like himself who didn’t deserve it. The war veteran flinched at a sudden loud noise, and Arryn has to stop himself from doing the same. He understood the reaction, though he could never let Elric know that.

With a glance over his shoulder to make sure that cook hadn’t noticed he'd left his post by the stewpot, Arryn slipped up to the bar to wink at Phaistea. ”Can I walk you home again tonight, after we close up?”

”Dawood! Where’d you get to, boy?” cook called from the kitchens before Phaistea could reply.

”Oops, gotta go,” Arryn said. He tossed a copper onto the bar, saying, ”Another ale for Elrik.” He pauses to sniff in the scent of the ale, before forcing himself to turn and head back towards the kitchens.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

Clover holds her small cup of ale between her knees as she claps for Aubrin's story.

Aubrin's stories are always the best, and bee stings, do I ever know about those!

She sits up on the bar, dangling her legs and looking around as Aubrin leaves the floor open. Clover likes being up high on the bar. She can see everyone all around the room, and besides it will make it easy for Rhyna to spot her when she arrives.

Of all the times to come to Phaendar the market festivals are the best she thinks. So many people in from the outer farms and forest steads, and everyone is in such a good mood. Clover's mood is very good as well. The honey she had brought with her sold quickly, and she doesn't have to concern herself with it anymore. Now the rest of her time in town can be devoted to pleasure.

Sipping a little more on her ale, Cover looks around the room, making mental notes to say 'hello' to a few people once Rhyna is there and they are out mingling. She notices the man, Elrik I think, when he comes to the bar and asks for a drink. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, not looking at him directly. From what little she's heard about him, he's awkward and standoffish. When he spills on himself though she slides the bar cloth laying beside her over to him. She meets his eyes with a smile, but only for a second, not long enough to force him to react in return.

Clover then goes back to watching and listening in on the conversations around her.

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

OK, I think all my travels are done for a bit, so let's get this thing properly started. Thanks, all, for your patience!

As Aubrin relaxes, crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, but eventually Phaistea tops off Aubrin’s tankard and pushes her back into the center of the room.

“All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay, Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“

The front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her.

Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens — perhaps hundreds — of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying. Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone.

Initiative:

Arryn: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Barhador: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Clover: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Elric: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Persephone: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Antagonist: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

1d2 ⇒ 2
1d2 ⇒ 2

OK, combat map is updated. They're 5-ft. squares. Assume they're always 5-ft. squares unless I say differently. Barhador is up for Round 1/2. After he posts his action, I'll resolve it and post the antagonists' actions, then the entire party will be up for a proper Round 1. (Others can react if you want, but no actions as we're in initiative.)

You're all in the room with a badly injured Aubrin (outlined in red), a male dwarf merchant guard, a female human merchant, and a female human villager (all outlined in light blue). Pahistea was in the back room with the tavern's owner, Jet.


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

”What the-?!! Phaistea! Get-“ he cuts off as he realizes she isn’t there anymore.

”Everybody down!”

He stares down the two hobgoblins, remembering the last time he saw the like. Chairs and mugs nearby begin to shift on their own.


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

Sorry for the delay. Scout meeting tonight.

Barhador acts with little hesitation, casting a spell, hoping it will help, and pulling his bow. His skin grows a striped fur, his face a small muzzle, and his pupils become rhombus shaped.

Stabilize on Aubrin. May not help, but . . .. Move to ready the bow. Swift to gain Tiger focus

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

Round 1/2:

Barhador: 19
Antagonist: 18
Arryn: 17
Elric: 16
Persephone: 13
Clover: 7

Barhador's spell has no effect on Aubrin, who continues to gasp wide-eyed, futilely holding her hand over the massive chest wound to try to stem the flow of blood. She's still conscious, but seems stunned by the trauma.

"Surrender now, meat, and we'll make your death painless," the first hobgoblin growls as it moves into the room toward Barhador. He lashes out with his sword and a line of crimson crosses the elf's chest, only his quick reflexes keeping the blow from possibly being fatal. 2 hp

The second ruddy-skinned goblinoid enters just as quickly, but goes for the closest target, her blade cutting deeply into the merchant who moments before had been sitting and enjoying the inn's ambiance. She lets out a single cry and then collapses into a heap on the floor.

Mechanics:

1d4 ⇒ 1

H1 vs. Barhador: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
H1 crit?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

1d2 ⇒ 1
H2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (19) + 2 - 4 = 17

HG1:
HG2:

Au: 1
A: 10

And now the entire party is up. Please post your actions as soon as you can. I'll resolve them roughly in initiative order, though there are times I may have you delay if it would make sense (i.e. if someone plans to use ranged weapons, someone else may wait to close into melee) or change targets, etc. for the same reason. Short version, though, is everyone should post your actions.


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

The mugs and cutlery within arm’s reach of Arryn begin to tremble and shake. As the creature cuts down the merchant, Arryn yellls out, ”NO!!!”. He flings his hand out to stop the blade, to no avail, but an empty plate of stew next to him flies across the room to strike the attacker.

Move action: gather power
Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Damage: 1d6 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 4 = 8


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Bent over his mug of ale, Elrik had the distinct feeling of frustration as Aubrin stood up loudly to tell another one of her tales. Just like festival days themselves, he could remember enjoying her stories but now they seemed so unnatural. They way she told them, it wasn't the way things really happened out in the world. Not for normal people at least, and probably not for her either.

The impact on the door, the explosion of sound and splinters of wood that flew clear to the back of the room and scatted across the table, shot Elrik to his feet and his eyes darting around in shock. Adrenaline coursed through him, his vision starting to tunnel as panic gripped at his chest, clung to his throat.

Screams.
The cries of the wounded.
The battle cry of the enemy.

Time seemed to dilate around Elrik as he stood and he looked across the room over the heads and shoulders of the patrons to the dark portal of the front door and the two hobgoblins shoving their way through the splintered remains of the door. Hobgoblins, heavily armored, wickedly barbed blades swinging wildly as they pushed against the shields of the front rank. 'Keep the line, don't let them break through,' an officer yells.

Two were already inside. How many more were coming? The doorway was the only choke point, the only way to stem the tide.

Elrik felt like vomiting, the bile rising in his throat, lofted by the few sips of ale he had taken. Maybe this would have been easier if he had gotten drunk quickly. The first step was the hardest, forcing himself forward. Towards dangers. Towards the front. 'Come on you weasel,' Torgus roared. 'You want them in our homes, you want them in our women? Little half-hobgoblins clutching the skirts of your mothers and your sisters because you couldn't keep them out of Nirmathas? Get to the front!'

An elf Elrik vaguely recognized stepped forward, unslinging his bow and almost immediately getting slashed across the chest by one of the hobgoblins. The other went after a woman, a stranger here for the festival, and stabbed her through.

"Nirmathas! For Nirmathas!" Elrik shouted, shoving his way passed tables and scattered chairs and pulling his sword from it's sheath and the shield from it's place on his back, rounding the hearth to find Aubrin on the floor, choking on her own blood. There was no time to help her, at least not yet. Reaching out, Elrik used his shield-hand grab the red-scarfed woman in front of him who seemed to be frozen in fear, yanking her back and out of the way. "Nirmathas! Hold the gap! Hold the gap!" he screamed again, the roar of a thousand soldiers ringing in his ears as he stared into the beady black eyes of the hobgoblins in front of him.

Move: Assumed difficult terrain to get through, 30ft should bring me to beside Aubrin/behind the village lady. Drew Sword/Quickdraw Shield as part of move.
Standard: Hope it's ok to grab and yank the woman in front of me out of the way. If she resists Unarmed Grab: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14 to try and move her.
Swift: None
AC is currently 18 v Hobgoblins


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

When the doors are blown in and Aubrin goes down, Clover is too stunned to do anything but gape. But when the hobgoblins step into the room and it descends into chaos her brain starts working again.

Unlike most everyone else, Clover isn't afraid exactly. She concerned yes, and she can feel the fear of the others, but it isn't her fear. She knows she has to do something, but she's never actually even seen a hobgoblin before.

She can tell they are not afraid though, and that begins to make her angry. In an instant she knows she wants to make them feel it too, what they've done to everyone here.

Clover drops her cup and brings her arms up, her fingers flexed like claws. She stretches them toward the one who has just cut the down the woman, and as she does she opens her mouth to speak with a feral, snarling expression. Yes, I will send him the fear too!

Her words, just a simple "GET AWAY!" come in a deeper, uglier, more distorted voice than seems possible for her body and size.

Casting Cause Fear (DC 14) on the second hobgoblin.


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

Moving back, away from the hobgoblin, but keeping himself between the attacker and the others in the room, the hunter looses a shaft at the hobgoblin who just slashed him. Then he drops the bow and pulls his kukri.

Tiger Focus Bow Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 I'm betting that misses, but damage roll anyway.
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 5

5' step, standard to attack, free to drop, move to draw - AC is +1 base and T with Tiger focus up

I can't move my piece on the map. Should adjust 1 square"up" on the graphic.


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Just checked the map...the hobgob Arryn attacked was within 30 feet, so +1 to attack and damage rolls.

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

OK, going to rule Persephone was even more surprised than everyone else, so I can move things along. Her player PM'd me and said the site problems have slowed him down but was planning to post.

Round 1:

Elric: 16
Arryn: 17
Persephone: 13
Clover: 7
Barhador: 19
Antagonist: 18

Elric, his old training kicking in, rushes forward, yanking the woman back as she retreats with a loud cry of fear from the attacking hobgoblins. Normaly, that would be a drag maneuver, against her flat-footed CMD. In this case, unfortunately there's nowhere to drag her because of the tables, but I'll have her move with the pull and rule she doesn't suffer a CMD thanks to the drag attempt.

As Arryn screams, a plate goes flying toward the farther hobgoblin, slamming into his head, which snaps back, and covering him with sticky, meaty stew. I had Arryn delay, just FYI, so he wouldn't suffer a -4 for ranged attack into melee..

Barhador retreat slightly and launches an arrow, but the streaking plate distracts him at the last moment and the shaft buries itself not in the hobgoblin, but in the Taproot's wooden wall behind him instead. He shakes off Clover's command and advances with a grin: "So, painful it is, then. You'll make good slaves once we break you," he growls.

He advances with his companion, both swinging at the sudden resistance. Barhador's able to lean back and avoid the slash, but Elric's not so lucky and takes a vicious cut, which nearly spills his guts across the inn's floor. Elric takes 9 hp damage.

Aubrin gasps, breath coming in herky jerks, her eyes going wide as she seems to stare off into space. The dwarf rushes forward to try to help her, but is unable to stanch the flow of blood.

Mechanics:

Hobgoblin Will: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
HG1 sword: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
HG2 sword: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

1d4 ⇒ 4
Heal: 1d20 ⇒ 8

HG1: 9
HG2:

Au: 5
A: 10

Party is up again. (And, yeah, I'll move "figs" on the map. Just let me know where you want to move.)


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

"If that's what you want." The elf drops the bow as the muzzle extends and thickens, his pupils return to normal shape, small horns form on his forehead, and the fur turns a nearly black brown. He pulls his kukri and returns the melee attack, snorting as he swings. The blade bounces off one of the chairs as it was thrown out of the way from elsewhere in the room.

melee attack w/ aspect of bull: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 2 + 1 = 5 Yeah, not going to bother with a damage roll.

Free to drop the bow, swift to change to aspect of the bull, move to draw the kukri, standard to wave it about so everyone can see it.


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Arryn has precise shot, so no need to delay.

Arryn flings out his hand at the same hobgoblin, but this thing me the mug of ale clatters harmlessly of its helm.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 1 = 12


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Using the momentum of the red-scarfed woman as she turned to run, Elrik managed to scoot her off behind him but as he turned back and shouted his battle cry he was met with a shock of searing pain and a wave of hobgoblin stink as it rushed forward and sliced under his guard. The coppery smell of blood was already filling the room and Elrik's wordless cry of pain joined those of the other wounded.

Gritting his teeth, spittle dripping from his grimacing lips, Elrik knew he should back off. In a battle there would be another man behind him, and another behind that one, ready to fill the gap in the line.

The problem was that he was the line, and the last time that happened...

The darkness didn't take him. This wasn't the Seventh Span, a glorious battle. "Gorum," Elrik hoarsely said, calling out to the god of Battle. The clerics had said he had been possessed by the avatar of a god on the Span, or at least empowered by one. They had bickered over which one it was, but the one that made the most sense to Elrik had been Our Lord in Iron, patron of soldiers and warriors. And now, within moments of his first battle after the Span, he was dying. Not today. Not here. Please. "I will fight!"

Swinging with his sword at the Hobgoblin directly in front of him, Elrik followed up with a smashing blow with his shield hoping to catch the foul-smelling slaver off guard.


Wow, that one hurt!
Move: None
Swift: Prayin' to God (no mechanical effect)
Standard:
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Offhand Shield Smash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Shield Slam Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

...but this time the mug of ale clatters harmlessly off its helm.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

A question: Can Clover move freely through the squares occupied by Persephone, the dwarf, and Aubrin to arrive in the corner square on the opposite side of Aubrin? Will free movement through allies' squares allow all that?

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

Yes. It would provoke from the hobgoblin, except Elric will have put it down before you move.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

Clover is disappointed she couldn't scare the hobgoblin away. She absolutely MUST get to Aubrin, and it will be far harder with two of them around.

She drops from the bar counter and snatches the spear she had leaned against it. It's easy to thread past willowy Persephone. The dwarf is more difficult, they're so wide. Clover practically crawls around him back to front, far more touching and rubbing than would ever be decent in any other circumstances. "Beg pardon Master Dwarf" she explains as she scampers on. A jump over Aubrin puts Clover in the corner, between Aubrin and the other bleeding woman.

Clover drops to one knee beside Aubrin. With her right arm she couches her spear, pointing it at the hobgoblin on the other side of Aubrin just in case. Her left hand touches Aubrin's chest at the wound as Clover concentrates on the knitting of broken blood vessels, muscle, and skin.

Acrobatics (if needed): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

CLW: 1d8 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 1 = 5

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

OK, I'm going to rule Persephone isn't here. She (or someone else, if need be) can meet up with the group at another point. The woman in the back is another villager, .

Round 2:

Arryn: 17
Elric: 16
Clover: 7
Barhador: 19
Antagonist: 18

Elric's blade catches the confident hobgoblin by surprise, opening up a deep slash, which he follows up by slamming his shield into the attacker's head, dropping him to the ground. Clover takes advantage to rush to the wounded Aubrin's side, healing her. The woman gasps, breath coming more strongly as the flow of blood is stanched, though she still seems badly hurt. Next to her, the merchant's blood continues to pool beneath her as the dwarf moves to help, though seems to have no idea what to do.

Across the room, the hobgoblin ignores the mug hitting its helm and casually bats Barhador's attack aside, following up again with a cut from his own sword that skewers the elf. The pain proves too much, and he collapses to the floor, unconscious. 8 hp, which I think is 10 total

Quick Stats:

Stable?: 1d20 + 2 - 5 ⇒ (15) + 2 - 5 = 12
1d20 ⇒ 4

Hobgoblin: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Stable?: 1d20 + 2 - 6 ⇒ (12) + 2 - 6 = 8

HG2:

Au: 0
A: 12


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 3 + 1 = 21
Damage: 1d6 + 1 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 + 4 + 1 = 8

Arryn cries out again as another person goes down. He tries to will the blade to fail, but Barhador goes down anyway. In retaliation, however, a bread knife flies off a table and buries itself inside the remaining hobgoblin.


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Somewhere in the back of his mind Elrik knew that he was in pain. The wet of his blood was soaking his abdomen, the tangy cloying scent filling each breath. His tongue felt thick, his arms already heavy from heaving around the sword and shield after a day in the fields.

None of this mattered.

The hobgoblin fell, the surprise on it's face curious. How many people had it killed, how many untrained villagers, that an enemy with a sword seemed like no threat? Dozens?

Elrik moved to stab down at the hobgoblin and make sure it was finished, but the elf... or skinchanger? Whatever the now furred and horned person was, they had been trying to fight the hobgoblin and had dropped - there was no one else between the grey-green bundle of muscles and anger and the rest of the villagers. Ignoring the pain, ignoring the smell, ignoring the weight of sword and shield, Elrik stepped over the body of his foe and around the large wooden table to press the attack and distract the hobgoblin from the defenseless folk.

At the last moment before striking a flash of metal through the air caused Elrik to flinch away, a knife planting into the hobgoblin. Someone has a decent arm back there, he though, the shoved his shield into the goblin to try and put it off balance before his sweeping strike with his sword.


Not technically first blood, but still first kill. Go Elrik!
Swift: None
Move: 5-Foot down one square; this assumes I can do this over the body of the hobgoblin, if you rule it difficult terrain then I will need to make an actual Move, triggering an AoO. In this case I choose to Fight Defensively as my Standard, giving me a +2 to AC (20 total) and a -4 to the below attack rolls.
Standard:
Offhand Shield Bash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17-4 if Fighting Defensively
Shield Bash Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14-4 if Fighting Defensively
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Note: I used 2 different terms which were both wrong for my shield attack in the last post. It is technically an Off-hand Shield Bash. Slam is a feat I plan to take later, and Smash is something the Hulk does.


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

Stabalize?: 1d20 + 0 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 0 - 1 = 8 Nope. -2 HP


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Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

As soon as Aubrin seems out of danger, Clover looks up to try and figure out what's happening. Her eyes go wide at what she sees. Things look very bad, and she has some hard choices to make.

The woman beside her is still bleeding badly, and that elf is down on the floor now too. The man, the war veteran she thinks, is also wounded and not doing so well. If he falls the rest of us could very well die, he's the only protection we have left.

Clover ducks under the table while telling the dwarf "find the wound and put pressure on it". Once out the other side, she calls out "friend!" as she reaches out to touch the man fighting the hobgoblin. She doesn't want him to turn on her. She says the words and again thinks about knitting flesh.

She also prays to Desna in her head that she has made the right choice, and that the woman and elf can hang on just a little longer.

CLW: 1d8 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 1 = 5

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

I let people step on/over bodies without difficulties -- it probably *should* be difficult terrain, but seems like more trouble than it's worth (especially when battlefields get more crowded).

Round 3:

Arryn: 17
Elric: 16
Clover: 7
Barhador: 19
Antagonist: 18

Elric's attacks rock the remaining hobgoblin, who -- not knowing the source of the thrown knife -- growls and turns on the former soldier. He cuts him across the chest, perhaps a fatal blow if Clover hadn't just arrived a moment before to heal him. Even so, he feels his vision start to dim... Dang, game is giving me more good rolls than I usually get...

"No," Aubrin gasps, "It can't end like this. Cayden, heal us!"

She seems too weak to do anything more than that, but a wave of healing energy washes out over the room, seeming to exclude the hobgoblins. The merchant moans as she regains consciousness. +8 hp to everyone.

Mechanics:

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

2d6 ⇒ (3, 5) = 8

HG2: 12

Au: 8, channel 1
A: 4


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Arryn looks puzzled as the knife flies into the hobgoblin. As an experiment, he reaches out towards the other hobgoblin’s sword lying on the floor, and only looks slightly surprised when it slowly wobble into the air.

Then his expression changes to a sort of grim glee, and he whips his hand sideways, the floating sword following suit.

Blast: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 3 + 1 = 15. Maybe...
Damage: 1d6 + 1 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 4 + 1 = 11


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

The big man sure is having a hard time keeping that hobgoblin's sword out of his body thinks Clover. Hoping she can help some with that, She steps toward the Hobgoblin and thrusts at him with her spear.

It's an unnerving thing for Clover to do. She never expected she would actually have to use the weapon for anything other than a walking staff. Her expectations aren't high.

But! If the hobgoblin notices me he might be drawn off the man, or maybe even retreat. In any case maybe I can keep my spear in the way of his weapon.

Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 8

AoO Aid Another (Bodyguard) +4 AC: 1d20 ⇒ 11


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Wow, what an HP rollercoaster.

Elrik gasped as he felt a tiny hand pat him on the thigh and a burst of energy ripple through his body. Warmth and energy and good sizzled in his blood and he could feel the dull roar of pain in his abdomen subside, replaced by the ache of an old wound instead. He knew that sort of ache well, it wouldn't hold him back.

Friend, absolutely, he thought. Elrik had never experienced battlefield magic healing before, only the slow, limited trickle of healing found in the medica tent or the rushed bandage and a bite of sense-fulling herb behind the front line. It was, well, it was divine.

The shock and wonder at this burst of energy was a distraction, even if it was a welcome one, and it left him open to the bloodied hobgoblin's reprisal. His guard dropped slightly and his opponent took advantage, dragging his ugly blade across the top edge of Elrik's shield and the point tearing through Elrik's leather armour and opening up his chest.

Pain. Heat. Searing heat.

Elrik's vision tunnelled as he gasped for breath, his mind burning down to the need to survive. To fight.

Then, like a a cool wind on a hot day, like a fresh mug of ale out of the cellar after a long march, goodness again. It felt different, like the taste of one local ale compared to another, but it was still ale, and it was still good. His wound knitted as quickly as it opened, leaving a fresh pink scar of new flesh below the still-gaping slash in his leathers.

The feeling faded and Elrik snarled at the hobgoblin, leaping forward to press his own advantage, batting something from his right aside and ducking a flying object from his left.


Current HP: 3 -> 8 -> 0 -> 8
Current AC: 18 v Goblinoids (unfortunately Elrik is Paranoid as a drawback and the DC to Aid him is 15)
Move: None
Swift: None
Standard:
Offhand Shield Bash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Shield Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

The elf's eyes snap open, and he takes a quick stock of where he is. Hobgoblin standing over him, paying attention to the human with the shield and weapons. Great . . .. Maybe they'll give me a chance .
. ..

Instead of fur, his exposed skin seems to be covered in feathers, his nose extends out over his mouth, and his eyes grow large as he tries to huddle down and be less visible.

Swift, take on the aspect of the Owl. Move, try to hide, probably completely ineffectually. Standard, ready to retrieve the kukri when the hobgoblin appears distracted.

Unlikely meaningful Stealth check: 1d20 + 7 - 1 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 7 - 1 + 4 = 30

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

Clover, looks like you should give +5 AC, with the perfect aid revelation and helpful halfling trait, no?

Barhador, without hide in plain sight, you can't really hide when the hobgoblin's aware of you. That said, since you're lying on the ground, I'm willing to let you recover the kukri without provoking an attack of opportunity.

Round 4:

Arryn: 17
Elric: 16
Clover: 7
Barhador: 19
Antagonist: 18

The hobgoblin, now bleeding, seems to be more cautious, and his training clearly is superior to yours as he lets the flying sword clash off his armor, knocks aside Clover's spear and then ably fends off Elric's attempts to put him down.

"One of you or all, it don't matter," he growls. "Yer all gonna end up in chains."

He hacks again at Elric, again battering past the former soldier's guard, only a jab from Clover preventing what likely would have been a killing blow. 8 hp Again, though, a wave of energy from Aubrin closes wounds as she manages to prop herself against the wall in a seated position, though she still can't seem to get to her feet. +10 hp to everyone.

The dwarf looks around for something he can use as a weapon, reaching for the sword dropped by the slain hobgoblin.

Mechanics:

Hg2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

Confirm?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

2d6 ⇒ (6, 4) = 10

Hg2: 12

Au: 18, channel 2


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 3 + 1 = 20
Damage: 1d6 + 4 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 1 + 1 = 12

Arryn rips off his apron, wraps it in bands of aether, and flings it at the hobgoblin’s throat, wrapping the cloth around tightly.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

After her first attempt to distract the hobgoblin, Clover finds herself still being ignored. She decides to try to stab the awful green-skinned thug somewhere out of the way to force him to pay attention. She aims for his shin first, then redirects her spear back between the man and hobgoblin again.

Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 19

Damage: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (5) - 1 = 4

Aid (Bodyguard +5 AC): 1d20 ⇒ 19

Ah yes, you are correct,it is a +5 to AC.

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

The apron wraps around the goblin's neck, pulling its head back and leaving it vulnerable for Clover, whose spear jabs it right in the throat, killing it.

Combat over ... for now!


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

Arryn looks frantically at all the people on the floor. Aubrin seems to have things in hand for the moment, so he quickly ducks his head into the kitchens to check on Phaistea.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

Clover drops her spear and steps back, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth.


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Elrik threw himself into the attack, but every blow he rained down upon the hobgoblin was turned aside or blocked. Starting to become desperate, seeing that his opponent was a veteran in ways that even Elrik wasn't, it was only amount of time before the hobgoblin's return blow broke through his defenses, a savage hack cutting into the bicep of his shield arm and then down into his thigh.

"Augh," Elrik cried out, staggering back, his shield dropping low and his feet slipping in the blood he had, and was again, dripping onto the wooden floorboards of the tavern. Just as the darkness was starting to close in again, as the hobgoblin raised his sword once more to finish Elrik off, the wave crashed through him once more.

Refreshment. Replenishment. Ale and friendship and community. Laughter. Somewhere deep inside him, Elrik could remember what laughter felt like.

With a gasp of air Elrik brought up his shield to block the blow, but it never landed. A fabric, some sort of linen, flew through the air and wraped around the head and neck of the grey-skinned hobgoblin, choking the warrior, and in that moment the spear-carrying halfling took her moment and struck, skewering it through the chest.

Elrik stepped forward and quickly stabbed the hobgoblin in the chest, glancing around with slightly wild eyes, then moved over to do the same to the other.

"Watch the door," he called out. "Someone get a table over there, block it up."

Standing over the other hobgoblin, he wasn't sure if it was alive or not. "Just in case," he muttered, raising his blade.

HP: 8 -> 0 -> 10

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

As Elrik makes sure the two hobgoblins are dead, Aubrin struggling to her feet.

She shakes her head at Elrik's words.

“It... it sounds like there’s an army outside the door," she says. "How did they fall on us without being seen? These damn plains are so flat you can see an elk from two days off, let alone an army!”

She winces and presses her hands against the bloody hole in her chest.

“They sound large. Too large to fight on the ground like honest fools. We need to gather what we can, cross the bridge, and hide out in the Fangwood," she says. "I—I know a few secrets that may keep us safe. Should probably figure out how to take down the bridge while we’re at it, else they’ll just march themselves across before we have the chance to hide.”

Meanwhile, as Arryn opens the door, he sees not Phaistea, but another hobgoblin in the process of tosses stores food and goods around. The soldier sees the door open and turns with a grin.

"Ah, finally found something!"

He hefts his sword.

Initiative:

Arryn: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Barhador: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Clover: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Elric: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Persephone: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Antagonist: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Party is up.

Persephone:

Persephone, your evening at the Taproot was interrupted as Black Phillip sought food, leading you back into the kitchens and then the pantry. That's where you were with Jet and Phaistea when you heard the screams from outside. A quick look out the back door from the bar owner brought her scurrying back, face pale as a ghost.

"It's an attack," she whispers in terror.

"Quickly, into the cellar!"

She opens a trap door in the floor and urges all of you down ... to what she hopes is safety among the alcohol, pickled vegetables, and odds and ends that travelers leave behind, barring the door above.

"We can wait here for some time," she says.


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

”There’s another one in here!” Arryn shouts, even as he reaches for a boiling pot from the wood stove across the way and flings it at the hobgoblin.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 3 + 1 = 13
Damage: 1d6 + 4 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 1 + 1 = 10 hoping for some heat damage too if there is a pot boiling, otherwise it’s just an empty pot off a counter.

He stays put, hoping some one tougher than he steps in between them.


M ARG Elf variant Hunter (Feral) 2 HP 10/15 | AC16 T13 F13 CMD16 | F+3 R+6 W+2 | Init+3 | Per+9 Low-Light | SM+2

The elf gathers his things from the floor. "Thank you, Aubrin. We would not have survived that without your help. Not even close. Does anyone else need healing before we move?" The questions sounds like it is directed to the crowd, but he's looking Aubrin in the eye as he asks it.

----

As the external situation is made clear, he looks at the others with his still expanded eyes. "Quiet and quick it is. Which path into the Fangwood are you thinking?"

----

Prepared for a skirmishing retreat, Barhador keeps his bow ready as they move for the backdoor. "Elrik! We could use some help in here!" He nocks and looses an arrow at the additional hobgoblin, remembering how poorly this went just moments earlier.

Bow Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Irrelevant damage: 1d8 ⇒ 1

Move: move to backdoor. Standard: Pointless Ranged attack


F Witch 1 [ HP: 8/8 | AC: 14 | T: 12 | FF: 12 | Fort +1 / Ref +2 / Will +2 | Init +5 / Percept +6 (Low-Light) ]

Persephone is quick to follow Jet and Pahistea into the cellar, leading Black Phillip with her as she goes. Memories of running from her home as a child wash over her, remembering the chaos, the screams, the smell of death, as the Blightfey slaughtered everyone she knew. Now, standing just inside the cellar, terror once again seizes her heart. "What's out there?" She asks of the tavern owner, her face going white as a sheet.

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

Perseophone:

"It was a hobgoblin, but I think there were more. A lot more," Jet says, fear filling her own voice.

Waiting on Clover and Elric.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

When Aubrin and some of the other people start talking about fleeing into the woods, Clover realizes something terrible. Panicky, she snatches up her spear again.

"Ryna's out there! She was coming here to meet me! I have to find her!"


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Elrik cleaned his sword with a ragged linen napkin from the nearby table, but as he sheathed the blade his hand started to shake. He leaned against the table, grabbing the edge to steady himself. His vision got hazy, not like when he was wounded, but more like his mind was trying to shut something out, or maybe push it back to where it came from. Gray-skin, bloodied floorboards and flashes of pain mixed with the cries of the wounded, the screams of the captured. Dead men falling from the Spans to be washed away by the river. Worse...

"There's another one in here!" someone yelled from the back of the inn, breaking Elrik from his stunned reverie. He was gripping the edge of the table with both hands, knuckles white and his teeth clenched.

"Hold it there! Don't let it get out!" Elrik shouted, heaving on the edge of the table and pulling it backwards towards the door, shoving it against the broken frame. He stepped over to the next closest, pulling that one over and wedging it against the other.

Sorry about that, I lost two posts to the nether while writing on my iPad yesterday.

Actions: Down 5, Diagonal DownLeft 5, Down 5 should get me to the door while dragging the middle table, then 5 up to the other table and shove it against the door as well. Not trying to be neat about it, just making a tangle that anyone coming in would need to get through.


Female Halfling Oracle (Spirit Guide) 2 | HP: 19/19 | AC: 17 (T: 14, F: 14) | CMB: -1, CMD: 12 | F: +3, R: +4, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +2, SM: +0 | Speed 30'

Clover grimaces and follows Elrik.

RPG Superstar 2014 Top 16, RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

Round 2:

Barhador: 22
Clover: 20
Arryn: 7
Elrik: 5
Antagonist: 5

As Elrik moves to barricade the front door, Barhador -- not having enough time to get an answer to his question from Aubrin, much less anyone else -- rushes over and fires another arrow, this one going wide as the hobgoblin ducks the pot that suddenly goes flying across the kitchen, splashing liquid on the floor.

He advances toward Arryn, and again the attackers' training is clear as his sword sends the man's blood splashing across the walls. 8 hp to Arryn

The merchant, two villagers and dwarf move away from the sudden resumption of combat as Aubrin shakes her head, seemingly trying to clear it, her arms still clutched protectively over her chest.

"We're coming," she calls out. "We --"

She trails off, seemingly still in shock over her own wound, despite the healing she's provided herself.

Mechanics:

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8


HP: 21/21; NL: 4; Force Ward: 4 AC: 16 (touch 13; FF 13); CMD 12 | F/R/W: +7/+6/+1; Init: +3; Perc: +6;

”Aargh!” Arryn cries as the blade cuts him. ”Stupid dog humper! You’ll pay for that!”

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

Despite his hostile words, Arryn feints to throw off his attacker, then does a straight backflip past Barhador and 15 feet into the common room. Once there, he readies an attack for when the hobgoblin comes through the doorway.

Readied Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 1 = 9

The mug of ale he had bought for Elrik flies off the bar but over the hobgoblin’s head.


M TN Human Fighter (Two-Weapon Warrior) 1 |HP: 5/12 AC: 18(+2vGoblinoid)(T:12, FF:16)|CMB +4, CMD: 15|Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +2; (+2 v Fear effects)|Init +2|Percep +2, SM +2, Bluff -1, Diplo -1 |Speed 30ft|Active Conditions: None

Panting from the exertion of throwing around the heavy oak tables, Elrik hefted the shield that had been dangling from his arm and pulled his sword back out of it's sheath. With a fierce shake of his head he tried to push himself to get angry. Get ready to fight.

"One more," he muttered. "Just one more."

He turned and moved through the now empty center of the room, pushing past the fleeing townsfolk. "Move!" he shouted at the bowelf as he came barreling through passed the counter and into the doorway of the kitchen. He engaged with the hobgoblin quickly, opening with a cross-body slash.


Swift: None
Move: 30ft to doorway (Arryn's position)
Standard:
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

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