Recent Posts
Th gobin Mitnal injured with his Klar attempts to return the favor, and misses. The uninjured goblin attack Jessa attempts to follow her, but runs into Gengar instead, nicking him with a dogslicer swipe. The uninjured goblin attack Spot takes a swing at her and misses, while the one injured by Kinmorn turns to attack the human instead, but he cannot land a blow either.
Goblin attack on Mitnal: (1d20+2=3)
Attack on Gengar: (1d20+2=18, 1d4=1)
Goblin attack on Spot: (1d20+2=7)
Goblin attack on Kinmorn: (1d20+2=6)
The uninjured goblin attacking Jessa attempts to follow her, but runs into Gengar instead, nicking him with a dogslicer swipe.
Jessa continues moving away from the front-line. At first, she considers joining the unknown halfling slinger, but upon seeing no one is currently protecting the nobleman, she moves in that direction instead. Once there, she surveys the battle, obviously worried about their chances. Gengar seems to need the most assistance, especially given his earlier wounds, so she concentrates her next spell on his opponent.
The enchantment takes little time to cast. A bit of wool, a simple arcane phrase, and an outstretched palm sends a blast of mental energy towards Gengar's goblin.
Sighing as his first shot goes wide, Ruano drops another magic stone into his sling, loosing the stone toward one of the Goblins threatening Jessa. She was a lot of help with that spell, but she does not appear equipped to deal with the Goblins in such close quarters.
Spot, barking enthusiastically, turns on the Goblin that took a swing at her.
Mitnal sings loudly despite the exertion as he swings his hammer down smashing the shoulder and neck of one goblin.
Turning to another goblin, he fends off an attack by smashing his Klar in an upwards motion and then brings the blade of the Klar back down to impale the skittery little freak.
. He fails to confirm the critical though..
"Don't call my name in battle ... It's not wise ..." he howls, wiping blood splatter from his eyes and looking for more goblins to kill.
Kinmorn continues to attempt to skewer a goblin (bless, divine favor): (1d20+1+1+1=8)
Kinmorn takes a step back as he tries to use his longspear against the goblin. He tries to move so that perhaps he can soon flank the goblin between him and the dog.
Just waiting on Gengar to declare an action now, I believe.
DM:
Gengar curses his luck as his axe flings off into the distance. But his grumbling turns to a slight whelp of pain as the goblins surge forward and a blade finds the dwarf's side. He turns toward his attacker and swings his axe.
Gengar laughs as his swing seems sure. Then he deftly slips around behind any goblins toward his next victim.
Battlefield positions updated from last round.
Mitnal sends another dead goblin sailing out into the evening gloom with a hammer blow, then turns and gives the one in front of Gengar a good rake with his klar.
Gengar, seeing opportunity in his wounded opponent's defenses, takes the advantage and cuts the wounded goblin down with an axe strike.
Ruano slings another bullet into the fray. This one passing close enough to Kinmorn's head for him to hear the stone sail past.
Jessa's intended target was cut down by the dwarf, but she redirects at one of the goblins attacking Spot.
(To be continued...)
Jessa finishes her brief incantation and one of the goblins attacking Spot stops his assault and gets a confused look on his face.
Shantare tries to run the confused goblin through, but he fends off her attack. Though he's ceased fighting, he's not letting his defenses down. He still knows he's in a fight, even if it's a losing one.
Spot snaps her jaws around the other goblin attacking her and flings its limp corpse to the ground.
Sheriff Hemlock steps forward and tries to put an end to the remaining goblin, but even he is unable to penetrate the goblins defenses.
Hemlock's attack: (1d20+10=13)
Kinmorn's spear attack fares no better.
The goblin, on his turn, takes no actions, but seems ready to flee the field of battle, if only he could remember how to flee.
Jessa notes the quickly thinning ranks of the goblin attackers and takes a moment to check on the fallen noble.
"A-are you injured, good sir?" she loudly asks.
Jessa can hardly stay focused on the man, still unnerved by how close she came to core of the fray...and the stinging pain of her own considerable wound. Above their heads, Blackwing continues to circle, keeping an eye out for any new foes so he can warn her and the rest of the group.
Yes, there is but a single dazed goblin left, and he looks ready to flee, as soon as he can take action again, if anybody lets him.
The sketch was of the battlefield before everyone's last round of actions. Sorry for the confusion.
Jesse, I'll give you the noble's reaction when I get home from work.
As the melee winds down, Ruano looks down at his last magic stone. "Do not worry, little earth-spirit. You will be luckier than your brothers." He drops the stone into his bullet pouch, making sure it is on top where he can reach it. Then he pockets his sling and kneels to recover his shield and cudgel.
Spot continues to bite at the last goblin. As far as she's concerned, it hasn't backed down yet.
Mitnal gleefully surveys the battlefield and finds only one opponent standing. Singing "Until I fall and rise again, with eyes you know are mine ... And then perhaps we'll rest and talk of home," he prances over the fallen bodies and swings too early with his warhammer ...
... but then follows through with his Klar.
"... But you'll not be surprised to see how much I walk alone."
Mitnal, not quite realizing the fight is over, sings and spins around with his hammer a few times looking for someone to hit. Not so far gone in the bliss of battle that he can't recognize his friends, he finally slumps to the ground and begins to clean his warhammer. He works away with his fingers at a shard of goblin bone that got stuck too deep in the hammer's surface and then, when that doesn't work, he resorts to using his teeth to get it out.
Kinmorn looks to see who is the most injured...Please make a Spot check, followed by a Heal check.
Spot Check and Heal Check: (1d20+3=5, 1d20+3=5)
"I... You... I... You saved me." The noble seems to be stunned. Or possibly in shock. His eyes are wide, and fixed on you.
"Not exactly," Jessa replies, her lips set in a grim line of determination to hold herself together, "Everyone's been fighting for their lives tonight." Her hands shake from an inability to cope with the adrenaline still coursing through her.
Once Kinmorn arrives, she gives him a quick hug of relief...both for herself and him. "Is everyone okay? Where did these goblins come from...?"
"Is everyone alright," asks Kinmorn,... then he remembers the burning buildings. "Sheriff, do we need a bucket line?"
Kinmorn moves over to the nobleman on the ground to see how badly he is injured.
"Aye! Don't dote over me, we gotta make sure those fires are put out..." Gengar yells a bit winded, but cheerful.
Gengar runs over and retrieves his axes and then joins any nearby fire brigades if nothing else exciting pops up.
After sitting around in a blissful daze amidst the after-battle chaos, Mitnal notices several people running in the same direction. 'More goblins?' he wonders eagerly but then notices, for the first time, the fire. 'When did that happen?!'
He leaps to his feat and lends a hand despite his exhaustion.
"Not exactly," Jessa replies, her lips set in a grim line of determination to hold herself together, "Everyone's been fighting for their lives tonight." Her hands shake from an inability to cope with the adrenaline still coursing through her.
"But you..." he says. His focus seems to wander for a moment, as the horrors of the attack start to sink in. He looks back at you.
"You're shaking." He says. Something catches his eye. "Your... your blood... You're hurt." He reaches out for you tentatively, as if to comfort you, but is interrupted by Kinmorn's arrival.
Once Kinmorn arrives, she gives him a quick hug of relief...both for herself and him. "Is everyone okay? Where did these goblins come from...?"
The sun has now fully sunk below the horizon. Gloom has descended upon Sandpoint. Lit by firelight.
Most people seem to have fled, leaving few behind to deal with the aftermath, but some people remain, and have already begun forming a bucket line to try and put out the conflagration behind the cathedral.
Elsewhere about the town, you all think you can still hear some sounds of fighting -- the clash of steel, a chatter that might be goblins -- but the sounds are faint and distant.
"Is everyone alright," asks Kinmorn,... then he remembers the burning buildings. "Sheriff, do we need a bucket line?"
Kinmorn moves over to the nobleman on the ground to see how badly he is injured.
Before you can examine the noble, Jessa snatches you up in a fierce embrace, but from what you can see of him, he doesn't seem to be injured. He's covered in mud, and maybe a few blood spatters, but nothing like the rest of you.
"Everyone who is able, get on the bucket line." The sheriff puts his hand on your shoulder. "Brother Kinmorn, see what you can do to tend to the wounded. Grab Ruano, and both of you find Father Zantus. Start with those worst wounded that you can save."
The sheriff looks you in the eye for a long moment.
"Only those you can save, Kinmorn."
He looks down at the noble.
"You, what's your name?"
"Fuh.. Foxglove. Aldern Foxglove."
The sheriff points toward Mitnal and Gengar. "Grab those two, and everyone else you can. Get the bucket line organized. Keep it moving. Keep people focused."
He looks back at Kinmorn. "I have to see to the rest of the town. See what's happening elsewhere. See to my men. You'll be okay."
The sheriff turns and runs out into the night.
"I... You... I... You saved me."
The noble seems to be stunned. Or possibly in shock. His eyes are wide, and fixed on you.
Shantare is still not far from the noble, so she overhears his conversation. Ungrateful brute! She thinks spitefully. I help save you too! She looks away, pretending not to be offended by this.
The sheriff points toward Mitnal and Gengar. "Grab those two, and everyone else you can. Get the bucket line organized. Keep it moving. Keep people focused."
Mitnal tenses at being given orders by the sheriff who has abandoned his heritage for the foreign lifestyle but recognizes there is a job to be done.
He calls out to a man ushering his family out of the town centre "You. The dangers passed. Let the women care for the children. Join the line."
He spies a bitter-looking Shantare out of the corner of his eye and wonders 'Why is everyone looking sad. We got to kill goblins today!'.
He calls out to her "Girl. You fought well but we cannot rest. Grab a bucket."
"How badly are you hurt," Kinmorn asks Jessa. Seeing that she is actually hurt, he converts the energy from his prepared Summon spell and allows the divine energies to flow from him to her.
"Sorry I can't do more for you," says Kinmorn with an apolegitic smile, "But there are others hurt as well." Moving to Shantare, whom he noticed during the fight being struck, Kinmorn cast two cure minor wounds (2 hp total healing) spells.
"Thank you for helping our community," Kinmorn says to Shantare.
After that, Kinmorn will do as the Sheriff suggests and look for those that have been injured by the goblins.
"How badly are you hurt," Kinmorn asks Jessa.
"Oh...I...I don't know..." Jessa searches herself and then sways a little unsteadily on her feet as the full impact of her wound becomes evident. "Is...is it bad? It looks bad. Is all that blood mine...? Ow...ow..." The rush of pain makes her wince. "Maybe I shouldn't have looked after all..."
Seeing that she is actually hurt, he converts the energy from his prepared Summon spell and allows the divine energies to flow from him to her.
At first Jessa feels a little uncomfortable with the treatment. After all, she isn't a worshipper of Erastil. And she did dare to question Kinmorn's decision to take up the faith of his god. Would his prayer help? Would it make the wound hurt even more? Maybe a brief bit of pain before it failed entirely?
And then Jessa feels nothing more than a bit of warmth. The bleeding noticeably stops. And she does indeed feel much better. She can't help but view him in a different light.
"Thank you."
"Sorry I can't do more for you," says Kinmorn with an apolegetic smile, "But there are others hurt as well."
"Yes...others..." she nods, "Of course."
As he moves away, she stares after him for a moment, half-wishing she could go with him and help everyone else, too. And then the urgent sounds of the bucket brigade invade her thoughts. She sees Mitnal and Gengar and several others trying to put out the fire and realizes she's needed there. Jessa joins the line, hardly noticing when Blackwing leaves her shoulder to chase after the priest on her behalf...
The dark shape of Blackwing glides along behind Kinmorn, trying to catch up. Eventually, the bird crosses his path in a flurry of feathers and lands ahead of him on top of a barrel next to a building along the street.
"Help others, too?" Blackwing offers, bobbing his head, "Find for you? Follow me..."
Provided Kinmorn doesn't rebuff the raven, Blackwing launches again into the air. He flies high enough to keep an eye on the priest's progress, but primarily searches for other citizens of Sandpoint that might need assistance. Once he locates someone, he circles back to guide Kinmorn to them.
"Everyone who is able, get on the bucket line." The sheriff puts his hand on your shoulder. "Brother Kinmorn, see what you can do to tend to the wounded. Grab Ruano, and both of you find Father Zantus. Start with those worst wounded that you can save."
'Spot! Come!' Ruano mounts up, following Kinnorm. He looks down at his torn and bloodied shirt. I'm going to need clean bandages. He looks over at the saddlebag containing his clean changes of clothes and sighs. I was going to need to go to the tailor anyway.
You are quite surprised, then, to find yourself capable of healing that night. Kinmorn too, finds himself able to heal beyond what he thought were his limits. By the end of the night, the two of you, as well as Father Zantus and the two acolytes, are exhausted to the point of collapse. Which you all do about the time the eastern sky is beginning to brighten.
You are not alone. The fire brigades work through the night extinguishing fires set by the invaders. The worst fire claimed the two largest wooden structures behind the cathedral. One of them, the largest, had served as the main chapel for the town over the last five years. It, and the temporary staff structure next to it, burned to the ground, despite the best efforts of the fire teams. But due to their efforts, that fire did not spread much beyond those two buildings. Beyond one corner being blackened and scorched, the cathedral was undamaged. The other, smaller fires in town were also contained, and perhaps only one other building, a small, rundown house on High street, that had stood unoccupied for several months, would need to be torn down.
Though the sun shows itself briefly at dawn, it is soon swallowed up by the low, pale clouds filling the morning sky. The morning air brings with it a crisp autumn chill, cold enough for people's breath to steam.
Through the night, Ruano works with the priests to tend the wounded. Spot rests in the open, eyes half open, watching for more goblins. Early on, Ruano destroyed his other shirt for bandages, before the acolytes were able to fetch more. Somehow, Ruano is able to call on nature's own essence to heal the most gravely wounded. Nature itself must be trying to heal the destruction the goblins left in their wake, he thinks, while mixing an herbal poultice for a member of the impromptu fire brigade who was burned by a falling timber.
As dawn breaks, Ruano is visibly leaning on Spot for support. The job done, whatever miracle of will and nature's power had enabled him to work tirelessly through the night leaves him. 'Spot...need...rest...inn...bed? Stag...white...stag...room?', he slurs, mixing Common and Halfling. He attempt to get into the saddle, but ends up slumped over it sideways, passed out. Spot doesn't mind, but she doesn't know where to go. She looks around at the priests, selecting whoever looks like he's in charge, walking up to him and whimpering.
In the pale morning light, Jessa quietly pens another entry in her journal:
"Last night Sandpoint was attacked by goblins! They came during the Swallowtail Festival at sunset. Dirty, vile, chaotic little creatures. Childlike in size, but ferocius as a rabid animal. I killed one. And one of them nearly killed me."
"The town itself is quiet this morning. Wounded. Introspective. I feel the same way. This isn't my home. But I mean for it to become one while I carry out my task here. And some part of me feels angry and violated by the attack. I'm glad some of us were able to help defend the town. The losses could have been much worse if we hadn't."
"Mitnal, a native Shoanti, must have struck down a half-dozen of the little monsters. Gengar, his dwarven friend, nearly died. And Kinmorn...well, I guess his faith never wavered last night. Perhaps Erastil prepared him for just such a moment. He defended his home, his neighbors, and the town itself. And once the fight was finished, he and a wild halfling worked tirelessly all night to care for the wounded. And that included me..."
"But I can't help wonder if I shouldn't have foreseen this...? I'm a diviner, after all. It isn't a god or goddess that gives me visions of future events. It's supposed to be the magecraft and powers I've learned to master. I guess I just don't know when to use them. I was too focused on looking for Thassilonian artifacts that it blinded me to the more immediate concern -- my survival...and the safety of this town."
"I need to be more careful. Maybe Blackwing can help in that regard. Next time, I'll be ready..."
Jessa puts down her pen and pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders, staring out the open window at the rising sun. She closes her eyes and lets her senses tap into the connection she feels with her familiar. Blackwing sends back no feelings of alarm, despite circling the town and keeping watch over the primary approaches for further goblin activity. She sends a heartfelt thanks for his vigilance during the night, knowing he did so to protect her and ease her mind.
But even so, she didn't sleep very well. Twice, she had awakened from her dreams, heart racing with the imagined faces of goblins still fresh on her mind. Probably half the town suffered the same.
Jessa finally closes her journal and places it atop her spellbook, before putting both away in the desk. She leaves the window open for Blackwing's return, knowing he'll sense she's gone downstairs for breakfast. As she descends the steps of the Rusty Dragon, she can only wonder how the rest of her friends are doing this morning...the morning after...
He attempt to get into the saddle, but ends up slumped over it sideways, passed out. Spot doesn't mind, but she doesn't know where to go. She looks around at the priests, selecting whoever looks like he's in charge, walking up to him and whimpering.
Kinmorn spots the dog with the weary druid and with a yawn of his own, he bids the dog to follow him. Assuming his quarters weren't burnt down, Kinmorn will allow Ruano to use his bed and he'll bring out his bedroll and sleep on that.
Weariness eventually wins over a troubled mind and Kinmorn sleeps.
When he wakes he will prepare his spells and then seek out Father Zantus to find out what needs to be done. If Ruano needs food, Kinmorn encourages him to break his fast with the priests and acolytes.
Mitnal stumbles back to his camp and rests for a couple of hours. He wakes a bit dizzy and not at all happy. After the chill in the air of the night before he should move into the town. 'I've stayed outside in worse but no reason to,' he thought. 'Also, I'd like to see my ... friends again'.
As he packs up his camp and gathers his gear, he ponders the battle last night. It was nothing like fighting with his brothers.
Partly because they were caught by surprise and didn't have time to form a group. His brothers and he would form a triangular wedge and hammer their way into whatever dared stand in front of them. This fight was chaotic.
Partly because magic has a rather chaotic effect on the battle. One minute you've got your hammer raised over some twitchy little freak, the next minute he's all googley-eyed and smiling. Magic. Bleh.
Partly because he didn't know these people. Didn't know their abilities. Training would help. Oh, well. No use worrying about it now. It's not like we'll ever have to fight together again, is it?
He puts his hide armour on, stows his weapons, slings his gear over a shoulder and hikes into town up to the Rusty Dragon Inn.
Spot obediently follows Kinmorn, treading carefully to avoid letting Ruano slide off the saddle. After Kinmorn puts the halfling to bed, she'll curl up on the floor next to Kinmorn.
Hours later, Ruano wakes in the large bed, looking a bit disoriented and a lot tired. He looks around, and sees Kinmorn also waking. "Apparently I didn't make it back to the inn last night. Thank you, hunter-priest." Spot gets up from her canine half-sleep at the sound of her master's voice, limping on her wounded leg, since it has stiffened up overnight. Ruano notes she is still in her harness and gear. "Poor girl. I don't know how you slept in those things." He climbs out of bed and helps Spot out of her gear. "I guess you don't have to carry all this stuff today. I'll deal with your leg soon. Hunter-priest...Kinmorn, was it? May I leave my supplies here today?"
After situating his gear in a corner, the young druid changes into what remains of his clean clothes. He pulls his hide armor on as well. The goblins may not be entirely dealt with, and he'd like to at least look fully dressed, even without a shirt. He gives Spot a large slab of jerked meat and a strip of rawhide to chew on while he joins Kinmorn for prayer and mediation.
He agrees to breakfast with the clergy. Before eating, however, he tends to his shoulder and Spot's leg. <Natural wounds heal in time. I call of the forces of life and growth to mend these wounds.>
Everyone sleeps until past noon. Some fitfully, some like stone. Eventually all rise, perhaps ealier than you would have prefered -- you all wake feeling as if you could go back to sleep for another three days, but the world calls...
Kinmorn and Ruano wake in acolyte sleeping chambers in the new cathedral hearing voices from elsewhere in the building. You wander out into the main chapel area to find Father Zathus confering quietly with the mayor and the sheriff over by the open air courtyard of the stones. A pale gray light filters in from above.
The pepper-tang smell of wood smoke is still strong in the air here, accompanied by the cold, earthy smell of autumn.
The high priest and his guests are speaking quietly, and you strain to make out their words.
"...how many?" "...between sixty and a hundred..." "...how many dead?" "...fourteen souls, several dogs, four horses..." "...can only imagine how much worse..." "...how many of them?" "...at least forty of the blighters... Ah! Your friends are awake at last."
The mayor has noticed you two.
"Please, come and join us. We were just about to wake you, and send a runner for your friends. Kinmorn, you wouldn't know where to find the Shoanti basketweaver, would you?"