"Not sure if I said it or only thought it, but spending coin on horses or swords will surely attract attention. We will go afoot. Don't worry, Rolg, we're not fighting a war here. Besides, I can hold my own in a fight. I killed a pirate, you know." Simon tilts his cup. "True story."
Yawning, he gathers up the map and heads to his room.
All the conversation in the Lord’s Landing comes to a stop, and all eyes dart from Rolg to the young man he addresses.
“Hey! Put that away! This isn’t a commoner’s tavern for brawlers and bilge! Out! OUT!” the innkeeper angrily waves his arms, his glare on Rolg.
“It’s alright, sir! Calm yourself!” Simon shouts back.
Simon’s tired eyes flare at the hobgoblin for a moment. Then he offers a small smile, suddenly aware of the attention. “You misunderstand me, Rolg. I find your input very helpful. I do not wish to fight you. Put away your weapons before someone calls the guards.”
He meets Rolg’s eye before trudging up the stairs. Rolg, roll Sense Motive.
Balion awakes early the next morning dons his full armor and heads down to the common area for breakfast. Cheerfully striking up conversation with other patrons while scanning the room for guards or other out-of-place types.
Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Balion finds a breakfast scenario similar to the previous morning. Few patrons are awake this early, but the ones that are appear to be the harder-working associates of nobles, rather than nobles themselves. One well-dressed guild-master casually asks Balion if he was involved in that ridiculous display last night. No one seems to be out of place, and looking outside, the guards patrol the quiet streets as usual.
I'll get the next leg of this adventure going soon, but I've got a lot on my plate right now.
Balion tells the well-dressed guild master that he is "not in the habit of biting the hand that feeds him nor interested in causing a ruckus where the ale is so plentiful". Having said his piece Balion heads back out into the city streets to find some more vendors.
Aladdin heads downstairs and gives the innkeeper 6 gold bits and apologizes for last night's farce.
"Sorry about the display last night, some of the people just have to measure themselves. What's the rumors on magic in this town? Is there some school for it or is it all hush hush?"
The innkeeper grins at the gold. "No hush-hush, good sir. Magic in the hobgoblin dominion is just highly-regulated, is all. Anyone looking to use their arcane or divine abilities as part of a business must register at the city hall and apply for a license, and fill out a hefty stack of papers and undergo a strenuous interview. Even then, you must specify which spells you intend to use, and get a permit for each of those. Or so say the healers and weapon enchanters that pass through here, anyway."
Rolg descends to the common room dressed for war and travel. He slaps two black sausages and a slice of bacon in a biscuit and heads for the yard. Outside he greets his new hired sword and nods to Simon.
The mercenary folds her burly arms and stands near the hobgoblin. She carries a few weapons, most notably a falchion that hangs on her back. Her armor, short hair, and scarred, muscular visage obscure her gender until she gruffly introduces herself. "Name's Jamie."
Simon gives a polite nod, but says nothing. When he sees that everyone is ready, he leads them east on a wide road lined with upscale housing on the north side, and lined on the south side with gourmet eateries and expensive shops of various expert craftsmen. You get the sense that this is the “nicer” part of Hagglesport.
After exiting what was referred to as the “Gold Gate”, the wide road continues eastward. This time, the sides of the road are occupied by typical housing, most of which seem to keep hobgoblins. The houses are lacking in the extravagance of the district you just passed, but these homes are too well-kept to be slums. The residents seem to vary in trade, but all seem be members of the working class.
After nearly a half-mile of walking, the frequency of homes begins to spread out, until the road takes the group between expansive farmlands. Most of the day is spent treading the flat road east. Behind the hills in the foreground, the base of the Frosttooth Mountains is visible from where you walk, and clouds blanket the summits. The adventurers pass trading caravans headed to Hagglesport, the travelers nodding an indifferent acknowledgement.
In the late afternoon, the road leads the group to a ford in what could only be West Snowrun River. There are a few tied barges meant to carry enormous amounts of cargo, but a ferryman beckons you to his small, flat-bottomed boat. Simon works out a price, and the ferryman and his deckhand speed the group to the other side. As you step off, the river men welcome you to the Ytramond Commonwealth.
The adventurers proceed east still, and as the sun nears the horizon, Simon speaks up.
“Up ahead will be a fork in the road, going north or south. If we pick up the pace, we can go south to spend the night in Wheaton, or we can set up camp at the fork, off the road a ways. If we stay in Wheaton, we’ll have to set a brisk northward pace tomorrow to reach Stonebit before sundown. If we camp, we can keep the pace we have now.”
“The roads in this area are safe, now that we are in the Commonwealth, so I doubt we will suffer any harassment in the night.”
Simon continues walking, but he is silent in waiting for his companions’ answers.
Bolgrith leans back and smells the air. "It might be nice to spend the evening indoors, but it may be better under the stars. In any case, I do not have a preference. Are we under any time constraints?"
The Ranger is beginning to show his weariness concerning the Hobgoblins constant aggressive attitude. He decides to speak his piece,
"If we are going to all slug it out then lets get it over with."
Balion draws his sword and shield from his back and turns to face Rolg. Nodding towards Simon,
"Let us have a proper bout then, Simon and I will take on You and your companion." This should prove interesting...heh
"AH you do have a spirit! I was beginning to think you had no breaking point. If you insist, of course we will fight you. But, my intention was to use these tourney swords."
Rolg unlimbers to blunted long swords.
"I don't want to kill anyone today. I will fight you both in turns if you like?"
Simon grins, "Surely, Rolg. You and I have a score to settle. Let Rolg and I fight one on one with these tourney swords. Balion and Jamie can join us in a second match, if Rolg has the stomach. I'll warn you, hobgoblin, I'm trained by the great swordsman Maurice Moss himself, I will not go easy on you. Master Bolgrith, would you care to serve as arbiter?"
Simon takes a blunted longsword, and whirls it once for show. He stands five feet away from Rolg, waiting Bolgrith's answer and staring intently at his opponent.
Read: there is a five-foot square between Rolg and Simon.
"I will simply dull the edge of my blade and then sharpen it afterwards ." Balion quickly goes about the task with a whetstone he carries in his travel pack. Once dulled to satisfaction he draws a large circle in the dirt to outline their arena. Handing his shield over to Simon, he grips his blade in both hands,"If you are ready I will take the she-man, as to avoid any stain to your honor. I have the luxury of not possessing any."
Balion, dulling your blade to the point of dealing nonlethal damage might need the work of a blacksmith to restore its edge again. Do you still want to do that? Do you have a different weapon?
"What did you call me?" Jamie's voice is even, but her eyes brim with contempt. She shifts her weight, but makes no other move to unlimber her falchion.
I have other weapons to use in upcoming fights. I'll dull it to the point where it is unlikely to deal lethal damage but still able to be sharpened in the future. Could I just take extra time to sharpen it in the future? If not I will still dull the blade and get this brawl on the road.
Balion plants his feet and looks at the sow of a women square in the face without a word.
Bolgrith watches Rolg make his hasty assault. Turning to Simon he addresses him. "If that is your wish, but since this is no blood-match I would offer some guidelines. This is a challenge of skill not endurance, therefore let it be that landing a blow counts as a hit. First combatant to five hits will be deemed the victor." The Priest faces the sellsword; "It would appear that my Ranger friend is keen on testing his manly prowess against you, young miss. Please do not hold his mindless ramblings against him, his tongue is not as skilled as others."
Yo, she doesn't have a dulled blade, I think you may have to just wait your turn. Heh."
Unlimbering his shield, Bolgrith places it on the ground and leans against it, fully eyeing the two swordsmen he nods. "Now, if both combatants are ready... ...begin."
If I have to wait my turn regardless than dulling the blade doesn't make any sense...so yeah...derp.
Balion give a gruff mumble in reply. Displaying unusually vocal behavior of late which seems to be a symptom of setting out on a new journey without a proper hat. The Ranger looks at the horizon and the sky but finds no solace. The next trader will surely have a hat I can buy, perhaps it will be of superior design to my last one. Having given himself sufficient motivation to carry on the Ranger leans on his sword point down awaiting his turn.
Far enough out of the city, Aladdin sits down a little ways away from the commotion and concentrates to summon Squall. Squall appears after a minute of mediation with a bag of popcorn and the two sit on the sidelines to watch the swordfights.
Jamie Initiative 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13 Balion Initiative 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10
Jamie meets Balion’s gaze. “I’ll try not to kill you, only teach you some manners.”
It seems she doesn’t have the patience to wait. She maintains her glare as she quickly closes the distance, pulling the falchion overhead and onto the ranger, her face contorting in rage. At the last moment, she turns the edge to land the flat of the blade.
Attack 1d20 + 6 - 4 ⇒ (12) + 6 - 4 = 14 Damage 2d4 + 12 ⇒ (1, 1) + 12 = 14
The ranger is unable to rally his defenses swift enough, and the heavy metal pummels his shoulder. Take 14 nonlethal damage. Balion's turn.
You can attempt to deal nonlethal damage with a lethal weapon by incurring a -4 penalty to a normal attack roll. Roll damage as normal. Or, if you do not want to fight, you use your standard action to add a +4 dodge bonus to your AC, as the Total Defense action. You cannot attack when you make this action.
Simon regains his stance and tries to find an opening. Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11 Damage 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 Come on, Simon! Get your s~!& together!
But his eyes point to an opening he sees and Rolg swats away the metal stick.
Simon staggers from the swift and crippling blow, but surprisingly, still stands. He lashes out desperately. "Never!" Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 Damage 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5 Never, as in "never lands a hit", apparently...
Too desperately -his tourney sword bangs against Rolg's shield.
"Haha! You've got spirit human. I'll give you that. Show me how you'd handle this."
Rolg assumes a defensive stance and conceals the whereabouts of his blade behind his shield.
Fighting defensively: AC 22. Attack readied to trip after I block. If this works, he will miss, I will trip him, he gets no AoO, then I will finish him. :)
Simon studies the hobgoblin’s stance and smirks. As he steps back, he drops his tourney sword and pulls his long spear from his back, butt end outward.
“Can’t even hit you when you’re not hiding behind your shield. Maybe now you can't hit me.”
He thrusts the blunt wooden end of the spear at Rolg's head, unsuccessfully.
Attack 1d20 ⇒ 7 Damage 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6 "Gah! Bloody hell!"
Would she have hit me if Balion's new AC is 15 and while using a shield his AC is 17? Even if he was unaware his new armored coat would have stopped her attack right?
Balion recovers from the blow and observes his opponent carefully drawing up his sword to deliver a blow of his own.
Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Attack 1d20 + 2 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (11) + 2 + 2 - 4 = 11
DMG 1d8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 + 2 = 12 Favored Enemy is human
Balion, I was rolling against your flat-footed AC (flat-footed counts everything but Dex, Dodge, and Deflection bonuses). Now that I look at the numbers though, it doesn't look like you updated flat-flooted AC. Don't count the damage from Jamie's first attack. Also, a Perception check that close to someone doesn't do much unless they are trying to use a disguise or conceal an item. Just so you know. Good on ya for remembering Favored Enemy.
Jamie leans back to dodge Balion’s attack, and sweeps her falchion across like a curved metal paddle. Attack 1d20 + 6 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 6 - 4 = 12 for 2d4 + 12 ⇒ (1, 3) + 12 = 16 But Balion, now with his shield up, blocks the blow.
"Wha-?" Simon is caught off guard by the change in tactic, and his back thuds against the ground as his feet stick up into the air. He grips the spear shaft as though to try to swing behind Rolg's knees, but thinks better of it.
"I yield," he sighs.
Bolgrith watches the fight come to a conclusion. "Or you could just flail about bludgeoning each-other half to death, if that is more to your preference.
Balion presses the attack after the she-man's falchion bangs off the surface of his shield. Planting his feet he swings the flat end of his sword at shim.
Wish I had remembered to apply favored enemy to every previous encounter with humans.
Attack 1d20 + 2 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (19) + 2 + 2 - 4 = 19
DMG 1d8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 2 = 11
Rolg Naxdag
