Sir Moss suffers a hard blow to the helm as he chops at Rolg’s shield, followed by the chain of the flail wrapping around his knee and pulling him to the ground. As his side collides against stone floor, he tries to use the energy of the crash to drive the butt of the halberd against Rolg’s kneecap.
Trip Attempt 1d20 + 15 - 4 ⇒ (6) + 15 - 4 = 17
Failing once, he winces as he pushes himself to his feet, knowing a swing to come for opening he created.
A stand provokes an AoO from Rolg. Rolg's turn!
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
Rolg shakes his head and once again flips the flail at the stubborn knight's legs.
If tripped, this is attack, if not, this roll is 2 higher and a trip.
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10 for 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
"Steward! Do not waste a man with this much skill for pride or honor's sake! His dignity is shaken, do not make me break it!"
Intimidate 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
|Steward Jeremiah Wyldote|
Withstanding the shield master’s attempts, the knight nods in response to his lord's command.
"Tested..." Sir Moss pants, turning the haft of the halberd as he speaks to his foe, "but not unbroken!"
With the final word, he delivers a well-timed slice.
Attack 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (18) + 14 = 32 for 1d10 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18, Attack 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (6) + 14 = 20 for 1d10 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
Rolg's flesh is cut deep, but the hobgoblin blocks another attack from the halberdier. Blood droplets sling from Sir Moss' ever-moving blade.
Rolg takes 18 damage (I think he has 9hp left) and it is his turn.
Rolg winces in pain and takes a quick measure of his opponent.
Heal to determine wounds if I can without wasting my standard. If I cannot, please disregard. I can't find the rule right now :( 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (4) + 0 = 4
Rolg covers up and tries to knock his foe to the ground.
Trip 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
You know, I couldn’t find it either. Maybe it’s a vestigial 3.5 rule, or a houserule? Either way, let’s treat it like a knowledge check for now. It does not cost an action.
Rolg knows the look of a man who is battered but still has enough fight left to press on. His hp is about half. Also, make a Profession: Soldier check.
The knight shifts his legs out of the way of the flail, and with Rolg’s weight still behind the swing, he plants the butt of the polearm against the hobgoblin’s chest piece. The shield master feels his opponent’s boot behind his ankle as the shove sends him back, toppling to the ground. The practiced arms of the knight turn the blade toward an opening made in Rolg’s falling, but at the last moment Sir Moss pulls the halberd away.
Power Attack Trip 1d20 + 14 - 2 ⇒ (18) + 14 - 2 = 30, AoO not taken, Power Attack Sunder 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 9 - 2 = 24 for 1d10 + 10 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 10 + 6 = 18
Instead, the Steward’s champion arcs another chop onto the hobgoblin on his back, wearing the resigned expression that he began the duel with. The shield suffers the full weight of the deafening blow, and Rolg feels the vibrations chase up his arm. The weight strapped to his shield arm feels unbalanced, and a glance shows a great cleave through the steel.
Sir Maurice Moss stands over him with an impassive expression. “Yield, hobgoblin. If you do not, then tell me your name, so that I might remember this fight after you are dead.”
Rolg is prone, and his shield is at 6/20hp and is broken. However the Sunder attempt provokes an AoO (remember the prone penalty to the attack roll). It is Rolg’s turn.
"It's Rolg!" shouts the hobgoblin as he tosses the splinters of he shattered shiled into the knight's eyes. Dirty Trick AoO: Blinded 1 round. (I hope) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Rolg stands, drawing his falchion in the process and swings it at the knight's face.
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 for 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (2, 2) + 6 = 10
AC 27 I will use hero points if needed.
Not expecting the underhanded defiance, the knight literally swings blindly as he tries to clear the metal splinters from his eyes.
AoO 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (12) + 14 = 26, Miss Chance 1d100 ⇒ 92, I think this game was to roll under 50, right? Edit: misses anyway!
“Aw sh*t! You’re f*cked now!” jeers Jamie, “Rolg gonna kill your knight ass!”
Showing his true grit, the hobgoblin tosses aside the shattered shield, reaching over his shoulder and rips the falchion free of its scabbard, and in one motion, brings it around onto the blinded knight. The blade bites into Sir Moss’ shoulder before he flinches away, and his armor runs red with blood.
Stepping back, the knight holds up his halberd defensively as one hand frantically works to clear his eyes. 5ft step back, standard to fight defensively, and move action to remove blindess. Blinded condition is not removed until his next turn, if I understand the rules correctly.
The other knights take a step forward, hands on their sheathed weapons, outraged. “He cheats!”
“Put out the gobo’s eyes!”
For sheer testicular fortitude, Rolg gains 1 grit point, which I am ruling to be spent on removing the shield remnants as a swift action so he can wield the two-handed weapon without penalty. We will talk more about augmenting the Barvery ability with Grit points in Discussion.
Sir Moss is 5ft away, blinded, and it is Rolg’s turn.
|Steward Jeremiah Wyldote|
|Aladdin of the Azlanti|
Sir Moss reels back from the blow, as Rolg’s falchion comes away bloody. He regains his footing, and desperately drives the point of the halberd at the hobgoblin with a roar.
Attack 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24 for 1d10 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Attack 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26 for 1d10 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
The surly sellsword dodges the spike, but the knight whips the blade around and catches between the metal plates under Rolg’s arm. But in a move of heroic defiance, the hobgoblin’s gauntleted hand grabs the halberd blade and keeps it from opening his side. The knight wrests the weapon from Rolg’s grip.
Rolg spent a Hero Point to gain a +4 dodge bonus against one attack. It is Rolg’s turn.
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 confirm 1d20 + 8 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 + 8 = 26
damage 4d4 + 12 ⇒ (4, 3, 3, 2) + 12 = 24
Rolg llunges forward to drive his faction through Sir Moss' throat using all his skill and luck to ensure a devastating blow.
last hero point used I believe.
The battered knight sees the hobgoblin’s blade and slowly tries to knock it away from his neck with a gauntlet, and only succeeds in lowering the stab into his chest. The air in the Oldkeep is silent in shock as the point of the falchion is forced through the back of Sir Moss’ armor. The middle-aged knight sighs a final, ragged breath as his body slides off the mighty weapon. His halberd and armor clang to the ground as he sprawls in a spreading pool of blood.
A look from the Steward spurs the cloaked woman to action, and she hurries to the dueling ground. The hobgoblin sees the adviser’s eyes, cold and grey through a bandaged face, regard him hesitantly, as she nears the body of the Knight Commander. She waits to kneel to see the defeated knight’s condition, wary that Rolg’s bloodletting is not yet done.
|Steward Jeremiah Wyldote|
“That settles it, then,” the Steward declares flatly, “The hobgoblin Rolg is the victor. Though it eases my mind none to see the greatest of my knights bested by one of your kind, I gave my word to not sentence you to death. You will wait until I decide what to do with you; I have other matters to address.”
Jeremiah Wyldote steps forward, turning an imperious look at the Borderguard lieutenant. “Stonebit. I did not know your house taught any of their youths the redundant speech of court. Nevertheless, I have use of your unique position. You will sail to the Hammertide Isles and beseech The Three Kings for aid, and do so quickly. My fastest ship is in Siloguard, but given our need of haste I suggest finding a seaworthy vessel in Stonebit to sail down the Snowrun and across deeper waters.”
Simon raises his voice to object but the Steward cuts him off, “You will not leave my sight, Simon. It is time you put away your childish “adventuring” and learn to lead in the real world. That is the end of the matter,” he adds with finality.
He turns a prudent look the stout dwarf, more specifically, to all of the weight on the priest’s shoulders. After a moment of thought, he says, “I do not know your intentions, Master Dwarf, but if you were going to sell the excess of arms and armor you carry, I am willing to buy. But do not deceive yourself into exploiting us this dire time -I insist on the standard market rates. When we are done here I need you to accompany this Stonebit to your home islands -in hopes your presence will ease the reception of his request.”
“What of that wizard?” Sir Montague sneers at the mad stormborn.
“I don’t like him,” answers Jeremiah Wyldote, “In the short time he has spent in my presence I find him unpredictable, and I want him nowhere near the front lines should he lose control of his magic. Wherever you go, mage, let it be far from here.”
“And of you,” Lord Wyldote at last turns to the victorious hobgoblin, “I understand you are not like your treacherous kin, and are willing to die for that difference. Swear an oath to me now, before gods and men, that you will not raise a weapon against me or those who act in my name.”
"I swear before gods and men this day that I, Rolg Naxdag, will live in peace with Wyldote men and with them they shelter. I will not raise hand or blade against them except in defense of my own life, and where possible, I will shelter them behind my shield and keep them safe."
Rolg stoops and drags a finger through Sir Moss' blood, then presses the bloodied finger into his own serious wound wincing as he does so.
"I swear it in blood that we may be more than wary allies. I do it so we might be brothers."
Rolg turns to Simon. "My contract to you remains your lordship, and I will gladly stand as your shield bearer in the fight to come. Likewise, I will gladly take up your quest and continue on as we've discussed. Besides, I'm not too sure how this group would manage without me." The hobgoblin smiles wryly. "What is your will lord?"
After he answers, Rolg will agree then turn back to the Steward.
"Jamie here is a pit fighter like myself. She is brave and stalwart and would be a boon wherever she goes on the battlefield, but I ask in earnest that you let her depart from here with a bit of healing and a well provisioned horse. She has served this country well though she never formally entered its service. She has taken many wounds and sacrificed much. Please, if she wishes it, send her home well."
"Take this if it helps." Rolg unties his worn and ratty purse from his belt, clearly all the coin he has in the world, and lays it on a nearby table.
The hobgoblin bows and backs off to learn tiredly against a wall, trying hard not to bleed on anything.
Logan bows at the waist respectfully. "My lord, I am yours to command. I will do whatever I can to gain the allegiance of the Three Kings for the throne. I am sure I will be able to find a vessel in Stonebit to accomplish this task." he looks to Rolg and to the rest of the party, "If it would please my lord, after what I have witnessed of this group, I would request that Rolg's shield and Aladdin's magic accompany me on this mission. Both have definitely saved me from harm and I am sure they will continue to do just that."
Once dismissed by the Steward, Logan will seek an audience with Captain Tauric before he sells loots and such
The moment Rolg ceases an aggressive posture, the woman adviser stoops to look over the body of Sir Moss. She presses her gloved hands to his wounds and begins to chant softly to herself. The knights cringe at Rolg’s blood pact, and even the adviser momentarily pauses in her chanting, but no one objects.
As the Steward and the others speak, some of the knights gasp or uncomfortably shift their weight when Sir Moss begins to breathe slow, shallow breaths.
|Steward Jeremiah Wyldote|
“I accept your pledge, Rolg Naxdag. Your promise will not be forgotten, in feast or famine.”
The Steward turns to Jamie, “By his account,” he nods to Rolg, “you are braver than every knight in this room. He says you have already sacrificed much for the Commonwealth, and that you are a great warrior. Every man and strong lad able to wield a sword will be gathered to defend the realm, so I will not permit your departure. Rest assured, I will pay you to stay and fight, and on top of that I invite you to the royal bath tent and the few casks of ale that traveled with us. Just be ready to fight when the enemy finds our forces one day from now.”
He waves a hand at Logan to indicate his approval of the lieutenant’s companions.
At Rolg’s request, the Steward’s expression softens, as though for a second he considered a small smile before banishing the notion altogether. “I think it would be appropriate for you to take the shield of Sir Moss. He plainly did not make good use of it.”
With a gesture, a knight nods a bow, and brings a heavy steel shield that leaned against the wall with other weapons and shields that belong to the knight order. He unceremoniously hands it to the hobgoblin, who finds it to be high quality in craftsmanship.
I’m already regretting doing this, but Rolg receives a +1 Heavy Steel Shield.
|Aladdin of the Azlanti|
"Well Simon, it appears I've been declared unwanted by the Commonwealth. So unless you have a use for me, or he decides to acquiesce Logan's request, I'm apparently free to wander," Aladdin commented, snapping his fingers. A shimmer appeared and started cleaning his robes and whisking away the water.
Logan smiles at the thought. He then focuses his attention back to the steward "By your leave, my lord, I would like to prepare for the task before me." When dismissed, he bows at the waist and proceeds toward the door, where he sees Captain Tauric. "Captain, whenever you are available, I would like an audience with you so that I may give my report on my mission to rescue the steward's heir, and what I have found."
|Steward Jeremiah Wyldote|
Jeremiah Wyldote nods to the Stonebit. “Take the mage and hobgoblin with you, then. If they should hinder you in any way, cut them loose. There is too much at stake. Go now, and go quickly.”
His dismissive gesture indicates that Logan, Rolg, Aladdin, and Bolgrith should leave. He pays Jamie no heed. The Steward leans over the map covered table again. “Simon, Montague…” and he begins to discuss strategy over the map with his two sons.
The pit-fighter slaps Rolg on the back, ignorant of his terrible deep wounds. “Helluva fight, there, Rolg. Damned knight woulda cut me to pieces.”
Looking back, the advisor still chants over the body, but now Sir Moss’ feet and hands stir slightly. More than likely, the knight will need to rest until the enemy line is nigh.
“Well I got a warm bath waiting for me,” she grins, “it was good working with the lot of you. Find me before you leave and I’ll make sure you each get a tankard of the Steward’s reserve,” she says with a growing smile. With that, she ducks out of the Oldkeep. There is a Motive here to be Sensed, if you wish to do so.
Captain Tauric frowns at Logan. “Don’t be thinking this assignment elevates your rank, lieutenant. You must still salute your superior officers.”
He crisply turns and pushes open the door of the Oldkeep. “Major Gaunt will need to hear your report as well, Lieutenant Stonebit. Follow me.”
The Borderguard captain leads Logan and any that might follow him through the hastily constructed defenses and the busy men and women from both the Borderguard and the Steward’s retainer. His ground-eating pace passes a few wagons of arms and armaments being unloaded. The captain speaks with one of the Borderguard there, explaining that they were to make a record of Bolgrith’s load of weapons and armor. The Stonebit recognizes Gavin among those unloading the wagons. The captain then tells the dwarf to see one of the clerks among the Steward’s entourage, and they will pay the appropriate sum. Bolgrith remains behind as Tauric continues north, up the pass until he reaches where several men are sharpening logs for the palisades and spikes for the pitfalls not completely dug out. Logan spots Dirk and Robert digging the pit traps beyond the palisade walls.
Major Gaunt scrapes his dagger edge down a spike, and a pile of shavings gather at his feet. He looks up and sees the captain approach from afar, and when Tauric reaches speaking distance, meets the eyes of the captain and the lieutenant and salutes. “Report.”
No need to RP counting the armor and chasing down an accountant. I'll post the results of the loots on Bolgrith's back once I have it calculated.
While Logan speaks with the Major and Captain, Bolgrith rejoins the group with a small chest that jingles with each step. Inside are four large bags of equally-portioned gold bits. The amount, according to the dwarf is 5450 gold bits, or 2725 in the gold currency the Hamonrelders are accustomed to. Everyone gains 2725gp.
Logan gives a salute and gives a report, withholding the key and statue of Honfogalas. Nearing the end of the report, Logan continues. "Upon capturing one of the goblin guard, we learned of what can only be described as a bugbear warlord named Gartok the Undying. I had not previously heard the name before, but the guard seemed to speak of him as one would speak of a god. I had my doubts of the force the goblin described, but I can confirm the force behind Gartok's name is great." Logan finishes his report with a description of the force witnessed.
I knew I was missing something. Thanks Logan! New total for gold is 3579gp.
Jamie’s impish grin at the mention of alcohol suggests that she enjoys losing control, at every opportunity possible. Which, in truth, is not surprising, knowing the pit-fighter.
Jamie’s grin lasted a moment too long on Aladdin, at the mention of returning for a drink with her. If she thinks this will be the last time she’ll see her traveling companions, she might make a pass at some stormborn ass after soaking herself in ale.
The major nods curtly, continuing to sharpen the spike. “I too, questioned some of the goblin kind some months back. Fortunately the bugbears are more knowledgeable of their warlord. If the accounts are to be believed, he earned his epithet when confronting the strongest of the giant chieftains. It appeared that he was crushed to death under the giant’s greatclub, but after a moment he sprung up and severed the giant’s head. Another tale of his renown involves his congress with evil, old gods, who apparently led him to a dragon’s egg buried in stone. Through dark magic, he brought up the wyrmling, but kept it hidden from the world until it was time to make his war. These accounts sounded like far-fetched drivel made up by these prisoners of war, based only in half-truths. An incursion to confirm these rumors would have cost more lives than I cared to spend. Regardless, the important fact remains true: a bugbear warlord who calls himself Gartok the Undying has rallied every goblin, bugbear, and giant tribe of the northern wilds, and presently marches to the land of free folk. They are also in league with the hobgoblin city-state of Haggleport, turning this into a two-front war.”
Logan nods his understanding. "Permission to speak freely?" Once granted. "Does this Gartok have any known weaknesses? Especially any that might persuade the Three Kings to join our cause?"
Major Gaunt frowns quizzically at Logan’s last question.
“The other matter we need to report, sir,” answers Captain Tauric, “Lieutenant Stonebit is assigned by the Steward himself to depart from the frontlines and immediately pursue a diplomatic mission on the Hammertides.”
The major’s expression changes to disapproval, but he shrugs as if to say “what can you do”. He sets down the spike and begins sharpening a new one. After a moment of consideration, he answers Logan. “You are one of the few non-goblins to see this Gartok with your own eyes. I should be asking you of his weaknesses.”
Logan nods and considers what little he knows of Gartok. "Sir," he starts respectfully, "when it comes to weaknesses, I wish I had more to report on that than I do. The only weakness I can imagine him having at this moment is that same weakness which tends to accompany those who quickly rise to power: arrogance. In what little I have been able to observe, he has followers that speak of him as if he rode out of goblin legend on the back of his dragon, he has seemingly singlehandedly been able to unite goblin kind against humanity in a force that hasn't been seen since Braedon and our ancestors walked the land, and he has been able to do so without the majority of mankind figuring out his plan until he was ready for his plot to unfold. I know it isn't much to go on, but this may be a weakness that exposes the faults in his plan that we can utilize against him."
In regards to our earlier conversation.
perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Major Gaunt puts a little more vigor than is necessary into sharpening a wooden pike. “You are right, that isn’t much to go on. Usually the in-fighting of these northern tribes keep them from attacking together as one. Gartok is as cunning as he seems, he likely knows that his hasty alliances might not last, so he presses his attack before the in-fighting resurfaces.”
He glances from his work to the captain, “Tell the others, that our arrows must find tribal leaders first, rather than firing blindly into a mass of warriors. I need two dozen dwarves to ready their horses and quivers for a preemptive skirmish tonight. Organize them and tell them to travel light. I do not want them to charge the line. I expect a report by tomorrow midday.”
The captain salutes and departs immediately. The major inclines his head to the Borderguard men digging pit traps to the north. “Not my favorite method of fighting a foe,” he explains, “but I know when not to ignore the advice of those under my command.”
He glances at those with Logan before regarding the lieutenant. “Will that be all?”
Once you are done talking to the Major: It takes a bit of inquiry, chasing one person down, to find another, to find another, but Logan finally finds a cousin of the Stonebit clan.
1d100 ⇒ 681d100 ⇒ 801d100 ⇒ 77
He has on him a Belt of Giant Strength +2 (4000gp), a Ring of Protection +1 (2000gp), and a Potion of Cure Serious Wounds (3d8 + 5)(750gp), plus masterwork arms and armor.
Pass a Diplomacy check DC 13 and he will reduce the above prices by 10%, but only for a fellow Stonebit. Remember that sold or traded items are worth half their market price (if you are looking to trade belts, he’ll want some gold to make up the difference).
Or, Logan can spend a half hour looking for someone else to trade with, after another Perception check.
For those of you wanting to do things, it is late afternoon/early evening.
Logan nods in agreement. "I understand what you mean." He looks at the major. "That is all I have to report at this time, sir."
When dismissed, he will salute the major and continue on.
I can see it now..."Your mother's a whore. Sell me your belt" Anyway, how much to trade my belt and buy his?
1d100 ⇒ 88, 1d100 ⇒ 61, 1d100 ⇒ 30, 1d100 ⇒ 40, 1d100 ⇒ 91
As there is no shop or smithy in these wild lands, Logan and Rolg waste no time trading with members of the camp. The Stonebit finds a family relation, and after several people refusing to trade with Rolg, the hobgoblin runs into Captain Tauric, who is open to the shield master’s offer but only if they trade very quickly.
[ooc]Logan: Exchanging belts + 2000gp will buy the Belt of Giant Strength +2, plus a 2000gp Ring of Protection +1 costs 4000 total in gold. Fickle html?
Rolg: Captain Tauric is willing to sell his Ring of Protection +1 for 2000gp.
Here are some other things the two of you find along the way, in case you or a party member wants them: 2 potions of Endure Elements (50gp each), 1 potion of Gust of Wind (300gp), another Ring of Protection +1 (2000gp), and a Cloak of the Elvenkind (the owner called it a Sneaky Cloak) (2500gp). If you want to find something specific, let me know.
|Aladdin of the Azlanti|
Rolg, Logan, Bolgrith, and Aladdin conclude their business among the warriors within the camp. Remember to add what you bought to your inventory and deduct the appropriate gold.
The evening draws near, and the mood of camp grows grim as torches are set up and night patrols are organized. There is one area of the camp that does not share in the dour watches of the night. Singers and fiddlers can be heard in the largest of the Wyldote’s tents, and the imbibing of alcohol is obvious by the shouts and tonedeaf singers that join the music. Jamie’s voice is heard among a few others. This brazen celebration inspite of the circumstance worses the attitudes of some of the Borderguard, while others are stopped by guards posted around the Wyldote tents. The latter continue about their assigned tasks, often turning jealous looks to the warm light that pours out whenever a tent flap is opened.
A runner finds the four and informs them where to find four horses that will speed their journey to the town of Stonebit, courtesy of the Steward.
So, it is about 6 hours until nightfall. Riding horses could get the four of you to Stonebit by dark if you left right away. Or you could head to the Wyldote tents for some ale (on invitation of Jamie), and delay your travel by as much as you want.
Before leaving, Logan seeks out Simon long enough to remind him of the agreement he made with Brenan regarding a Wyldote sponsored arborist and to say his farewell. Afterwards, he will meet with the rest of the group, ready to leave.