Tutti: The wood loses much of its voice when it is cut down, hewn, measured, cut again, polished, and enchanted with spells; but its voice does remain, as it was once true wood formed from a living tree. The effect on it's "voice" to you is that you have trouble understanding the "words" that it "speaks" to you. You know instantly that this chest was made from wood that is not local to these forests. It's wyrmwood, grown in tall deciduous forests north of here, in the Lands of the Barbarian Kings.
The chest is proud; as proud as wood can be, anyway - that it contains a monstrous beast, a beast that is now sleeping restlessly - a beast that repeatedly makes attempts to escape the crate by clawing the insides. It's quite unpleasant, the wood reports.
Retzack, your goggles pierce the wooden barriers: You see this, resting on its side facing away from you. Judging by the height of its shoulders even when lying down, the creature must stand 18 feet high or more when it's on all four feet.
Prox, a Front has been advanced elsewhere in the world due to your failed roll...the effects of this will be made clear to you shortly.
Meatsnacks is raising his body up off his throne surrounded by food. "GOBBOS!" he bellows, his voice carrying easily over all the commotion the tribe is making. All fall silent and stare at the Big Boss expectantly.
"MOST OF YAS ARE SCRAWNY, WEAK, COWARDLY GREENSKINS! BUT NOT MY WARBAND GENERALS! NO! I SENT THEM AWAY TO KILL THE DROW ELVES AND THEIR PUNY TOWER, AND WHAT DO THEY DO? THEY MARVEXA HAS CONFIRMED WHAT BLIBBERBLAB TOLD US IN HER VISIONS! THANKS TO THESE ROWDY GENERALS' SUCCESSES, I HAVE SELECTED THEM TO BEGIN...
The whole tribe erupts in shouting at his words, shouts of "WAAAAAAGH!" can be heard all around you and your fodder goblins - especially the new recruits - all begin to flex up their chests and bully the other goblins for not getting recruited by you.
Marvexa is next to the box now, ordering the hobgoblins to climb over the crate and unlock the chains that are wrapped completely around it.
"No half measures, Chief!"
"WAAAAAAGH!" Talks joins in with the other Fodder Goblins, and begins shoving her own followers, before she realizes what she's doing. She proceeds to brush off one that she's named Pinky.
Prox begins his battlejig while screeching WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!! in a quasi-euphoria, quasi-hyperactive toddler manner. He swings his pig sticker wildly around, not caring about his three legions. To hell with them, he thinks. This is WAAAAAAAAAAAGH
As the screaming of the greenskins in Meatsnacks' Valley reaches a fever pitch, you hear the wild blowing of horns in the distance! Triumphant, beautiful trumpets blast notes of transcendent joy into the afternoon air!
The gobbos gathered around Meatsnacks' throne turn as one to face the music. On the crest of a tall hill about a thousand feet away, overlooking the goblins' valley to the north, a battalion of armored cavalry looks down upon you. They bear tall banners with a lioness rampant displayed proudly upon them, in fierce gold and red colors. The riders are armed with lances and flails, and judging from their height, they're either humans or elves, with some dwarves mixed in. There's at least a hundred of them - still far fewer than the number of goblins in the tribe, but they're well armed and on horseback.
A rider comes to the forefront of the armored host. Through a magically enhanced broach that she holds aloft, the rider - a woman, with no helm and long, flowing red hair, issues a challenge to you:
"WARCHIEF OF THE GOBLINS! WE ARE THE ALLIANCE OF NUMARIA! WE ARE HERE TO PUT YOU DOWN, AND END YOUR WAR BEFORE YOU CAN START IT! YOU WILL CLAIM NO MORE INNOCENT LIVES AGAIN, VERMIN! SURRENDER AND YOU WILL BE GRANTED A MORE MERCIFUL DEATH THAN YOU EVER GRANTED YOUR VICTIMS! YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO COMPLY!"
"Numarians!" you hear Meatsnacks shouting, the appearance of the wild-haired woman driving him into a frenzy. In a spontaneous fit of goblin fury, he grabs the nearest Gretchin to him and bites its head clean off its shoulders, tossing its body to its hungry companions.
"KIIIIILLLLLL THEMMMMMMMM!" the Chief roars, screaming in red-hot rage.
Prox charges forth seeking to get the attention of the woman on the horse. He screams a blood curdling screech as he bolts toward the mounted woman, hoping to advert her attention while the other, slower goblins react.
Talks can't take her eyes off of Prox as he runs screaming headlong towards the not-goblins. What in the world was going on..?
"Yes Prox, that's the spirit! kill, kill, KILL, " The sound of a dozen goblins chanting is amplified by my magic, and the valley echoes with murderous voices.
I then charge after Prox, eager for mayhem.
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Retzack gawks openly at the mounted beings. Surely this shall be his greatest test from Propoket! At last, a chance to test his custom spell. He has lovingly crafted it for waht seems like months, and now comes a great host of warm bodies! He can not simply let so many subjects go when they have come so willingly.
He begins to cast. In a language long dead he weaves writhing sigils of purset black, that are drawn upon the very air like charcoal upon the board. If one was foolish enough to look too closely, they would see the lines shift and struggle and...breath, as if the power to case the spell was a living thing in itself.
The distance was a care for him not. Indeed, it is best to not be too close
to the VoidWorms.
Retzack barely completes the proper spell, only managing to contain the awful power with his considerable will.
Unto a random trooper, far off in the back, black pinholes form in the nightsky, and with a buzzing sound that is only barely audible, yet infinitely annoying, the VoidFlies enter him in four different points. Though painful, the spell is not finished.
In fact, it has only just begun.
Been a long time, boys and girls (too long!) so I'll recap real quickly:
Having returned triumphant from your mission, the warlords of Meatsnacks have feasted and partied the night away in preparation for the Chief's big announcement the following morning. However, no sooner than the Chief has declared his intention to start a WAAAAGH than the Cavalry of Numaria comes calling to bring his vicious killing to an end! The Forces of Good, over a hundred strong, have come for the goblin horde...will they triumph over Evil?
Time seems to slow as the cavalry of Numaria begin charging down the hillside toward all of you. Their armor gleams with the shining light of righteousness, and the hooves of their multitudinous horses flash in the sun. Lances are lowered and the first phalanx breaks into the goblin masses.
Prox is the first of the warband leaders to react, but his haste leads him to make himself into a great big target. In his enthusiasm, the wild skirmisher charges out in front of the other goblins and draws attention to himself.
One group of cavalry riders, consisting of a section of magicians and other wielders of magic, target Prox with a spell. Prox, you look up to find yourself facing off against a shimmering, golden hand of force, hanging in midair. It's taller than you and it reaches down to snatch you off the ground! Take 1d4+2 damage, and you're being squeezed in midair!
As Blibberblab targets Prox with his enchantment, the wild magic of the Numarians spreads through the arcane link to him, and the bard spawns a Hand of Force of his own! Instead of reaching down to squeeze you like Prox's does, this one attempts to flatten you completely. Take 1d4+2 damage and you're unable to move unless you get out from under the squishing hand!
Retzack, meanwhile, has to expose himself to danger by casting his Infinite Voidworms spell. Moving into position causes some of the sharper-eyed elven cavalry archers to notice you, and one elf lass calls to her captain in unintelligible Elvish. In a moment, a hail of arrows is loosed, aimed at you and your faithful fodder goblins! Meanwhile, the Voidworms you summoned also attracted far more attention than you intended. Your victim is screaming in pain, and is immediately being yanked back from the battle by other warriors, with the intent of healing him or at least containing the damage caused by the spell. You'll need to try again - assuming you aren't too filled with arrows to do that. They're flying through the air towards you right now.
As the warband leaps into action against the cavalry's charge, the horses of the onslaught meet the goblin clan warriors in combat. The recent reveling of Meatsnacks' party made many of the goblins hung over, and the opening moments of the charge are inspirational enough to be immortalized in song - at least, if you're a human, elf, or dwarf. For the goblins, however, it's disastrous. Scores of goblins are slain, crushed underhoof by the raging warhorses, impaled on lances, or smashed by wildly swung flails and maces.
Meatsnacks is immediately imperiled by the vanguard of the charge. The woman with the flowing red hair screams her hatred as she knocks hobgoblin bodyguards aside with her polearm. The banner of Numaria hangs from the tip of the weapon, bloodied with goblin death. "MARVEXA!" Meatsnacks bellows, standing tall on his throne. His favored weapon, a giant club of meat, is hanging loosely from one gnarled hand.
The mysterious shaman was not idle during the opening seconds of the melee. Cackling to herself, the harridan scales the huge box that the hobgoblins dragged out, and begins to beat on one of the corners, smashing the wood until one side falls open! Darkness is inside the box, and you hear growling from within...
Completely ignoring, or perhaps forgetting in the excitement, that she was hiding her true capabilities, Talks rapidly transforms, taking on the aspects of the Giant Rhinoceros Beetle and placing her considerable bulk between Retzack and the arrows. Her considerable bulk should aid in her Constitution. She gains 2 hold.
Prox, using the ultimate form of goblin trickery known as squirming, attempts to shift and wiggle out of the grasp of the magic hand.
It does not turn out well for Prox...
Tutti, your form changes shape rapidly to defend your waifu. Your bulk easily absorbs all of the arrows the Numarians fired at Retzack, but your armor didn't absorb all of the damage. Your entire right side is feathered with arrows; only a few of them smart, but they smart bad! Take 1d6 damage, does not ignore armor.
Prox's struggles against the Master Hand are valiant, and his three followers jump aboard to try and assist him! As some of the other goblins and fighters battling nearby pause and stare in wonder, your three fodder gobbos all attach to the Hand's middle finger! Two of them are crushed between the spell's merciless fingers, their hands waving helplessly out from the gaps, but the third one manages to pull the hand's finger back!
You have an opening, Prox, but you'd better take it fast - the Hand is beginning to elevate itself higher, with all 4 of the gobbos still in its grasp! Roll Defy Danger!
Down below, the battle rages on, Meatsnacks viciously batting aside the lance of the lead rider with his beat-stick. His roars of fury are matched by the beast that emerges from Marvexa's opened crate; it's revealed to be a widely-known and widely-feared OWLION! The creature gives a high-pitched, warbling war cry with an undercurrent of a feline growl, unlike any beast you've ever heard in these parts. Meatsnacks begins to laugh in triumph as the riders assaulting his throne fall back, dismayed, at its monstrous appearance! Tutti, though the accent is foreign, you recognize the words of the creature's speech, and it's shouting about being finally free of its prison, and giving a maniacal account of how it will pick apart each and every one of you. The beast seems infuriated after its long containment.
The rest of you are in grave danger from the mounted riders that are breaking through the goblin lines and cleaving wide paths of death through the tribe. All around you is the madness of tribal combat, goblins alternating between chittering and giggling as they leap up to stab horses in the throat and bring down their riders. Horses are a hated enemy of goblinkind, almost as bad as dogs; they represent the civilization that greenskins hate. Blood and foam stain the earth all around you and hooves churn the mud; what do you do?
15/18 (bonus to con; what is my minus stat? :))
Talks listens for a moment to the craven creature, and becomes excited. She plans to hug it and squeeze it and lick it, and become one with it. If she had vocal cords, she'd squeezed!
"Come with me, wild thing! There are horses to feast on! And peopleses! I hear they're really tasty!"
Talks then performs a charge, slamming into the side of the cavalry... And even some head on! Rawrgh!
Prox rolls to deftly escape the hand again using his goblin art of fleeing.
He then looks around and looking for the finger wiggler the hand is coming from.
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Retzack curses that the Void Worms are wasted. If given time he could probably still salvage them, but it'd be a fight against whatever healers they have, and time is of the essence.
Instead he focuses on the charging line of horse-mounted cavalrymen. It's no secret that well-trained horse will charge fire and steel...but what if they weren't well-trained anymore?
Retzack concentrates on shackeling the part of the horses' minds that are kept in line by their training, seeking to reboot them to their wild, uncontrolled state. Such is a minor spell since it doesn't actually require gripping the mind in absolute control, so he tries to free the thinking with horses.
Such an act continues to make him a greater target, but he figures they're all f!@&ed either way.
The Owlion tosses its head in surprise to look over at Tutti. With an interrogatory screech, the creature makes to approach the druid...but is interrupted.
With cries of "WE'LL PROTECT YE, MISTRESS!", three armored dwarves detach themselves from the lead knight's retinue, breaking away from combat with Meatsnacks and his bodyguards. With howls of battle-joy, the dwarven berserkers, each wielding two handaxes, jump at the Owlion with vicious overhead hacking swings. The Owlion is engaged with trying to destroy the short but squat attackers! With a cry of fury, the beast responds to the dwarven assault by spitting lightning at them!
Meanwhile, Prox, having recently freed himself from the Master Hand's grasp, finds himself above the battlefield on the hand's finger. For a moment, before the finger shakes him loose, Prox has a dominating view of the entire melee. The casters, he can tell immediately, are frail-looking old men and women that are clustered tightly together near the center of the cavalry charge. You can get to them with a well-aimed jump - but you'd be in the thick of all the crusaders and cut off from support. Alternatively, your goblin allies are on the opposite end of the Hand and you can jump to them, risking continuing harassment by the mages. What do you do?
Retzack feels that his doom is nigh. The flashing armor and shining lances of the Numarians has broken his will, and threatens to kill the last of his hope that any of them will survive this.
Rather than rally internally and allow himself to recover from his despair, Retzack decides to use it. Spreading both hands wide apart with his fingers splayed, Retzack uses his magic in a wholly new way, a way that he's never experimented with before.
Like a cone of intense wind, Retzack's magic sweeps over the horses of the cavalry charge. Roll your damage twice, Retzack - that number of horses will forget their training and remember only their fear of goblins. However, when they're freed and ready to flee the battle, they happen to create a mini-stampede that's heading your way! What do you do?
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As the wall of honor and steel is thrown into a choatic mass of confused, stamping horses, Retzack is only mildly shocked to see the wall of chestnut flesh threaten to overwhelm him.
Casually he draws upon his extensive knowledge of the Tower and instantly creates a Barricade of Rock of the form of a "V" about him and his followers so that the wave of horseflesh breaks around him as the wave upon the eternal shore.
[dice=I saw this one time in the movie "Spawn"]2d6+2[/dice]
Talks had found a friend! Diverting her attention from the scattering horses (SO POWERFUL AND MAJESTIC WAS SHE!), to the dwarves, she TOOK TO THE SKIES! Spending her other Hold. Whoops.
While she was shifting back, pieces popping into place, she was already reforming her body into that of a bear as she came crashing down upon the dwarves!
And so it was, that an emerald green bear came to bellyflop in the great battle of Marvexa and Meatsnacks, attempting to Crash Through them.
Prox, self-styled goblin leaping lord, decides that his legions can handle affairs without him, and leaps boldly toward the casters.
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Gathering his power about him like a cloak, Retzack communes with the Towering pillar of madness that only he has seen, and forcefully shoves the rock up from below with fingers borne of dark magic. The rock is then shaped protectively in a cone around you, shielding you from the onrushing horses. Some of them jump directly over the rock shield you've created, their armored bodies thundering overhead. Recognizing your spellcasting when they see it, your followers gather closely around you - but about 25 other nearby goblins are not so lucky or observant, and are crushed by the stampede as it rolls over either side of the barricade. Even when things go well, the goblins are dying by the droves. Ah, such is the way of the Waaagh.
Hidden beneath the rock, the sorcerer is unable to see the way Tutti takes to the sky and mimics the Australian drop-bear! Such a surprise overhead ambush is commonly known and attributed to these fierce beasts, and Tutti emulates their terrible hunting patterns beautifully. With cries of dismay, two of the dwarf berserkers are knocked clear. Their armor is shattered by the crushing weight of sudden bearflesh, leaving them vulnerable. Marvexa roars in bloodlust and directs her hobgoblin troops to slaughter the exposed dwarves. Drop bears, though terribly strong, are rather clumsy. -1 Dex.
One berserker escaped the druid's attack by climbing on the owlion's back. Reaching down, the dwarf's face lights up in delighted surprise. "Why, the greenies were gonna try to ride this thing!" he cries out to the other warriors battling before Meatsnacks' throne. "HYAH!" the dwarf cries, grasping hold of reins in two hands and yanking it to the side! With a growling grunt, the owlion is yanked off its feet and stumbles sideways, carrying you with it, Tutti! You're off balance and all of you are rolling toward the Chief's hut!
Prox, as you land, you have to twist in midair to dodge a wildly-cast defensive spell that was hurled at you by one of the women. You escape its full blast - but it strikes you in the hand, affecting you there. It was a Baleful Polymorph spell - instead of a left hand, you now have a chicken wing that can barely clutch! -1 to all rolls that involve the use of your left hand until the spell is lifted!
You land ferociously among the squishy clothies. They all recoil in horror and fear as you snarl and gibber - they are used to slinging spells from afar, and are cowardly to the last wizard, as most mages are. Their crusader allies are jostling behind them, trying to shove them aside to kill you, but they have to be careful with their weapons drawn, and the crush of battle is all around them. "Move! Get out of the way!" you hear them shouting angrily at the casters.
Talks snarls angrily at the dwarf that has assaulted her new friend by trying to claim mastery over him (or her). Whether said Owlion is actually her friend or not.
Talks decides to -wreck it- again, to destroy the device that the dwarf is using to control the Owlion, freeing it to do as it will!
In the process of her assault, she tries to bring her vicious canines to bear upon the unfortunate dwarf!
Prox howls in anger as he wings (pun intended) his shield away. That was my itchin' hand! he cries and he furiously stabs at the nearest squishy.
Tutti, you easily snap the reins that the dwarf is holding on to, and the excess force of his arms pulling backward on them causes him to go flying backward! His is the first body to impact the wall of the Chief's hut, and your bear body is just moments behind. Unlike your bearded opponent, however, you intended to jump this way - and you land, foreclaws first, on the dwarf's unarmored chest. You mortally wound him, but dwarves are known for their tenacity! Even as you're crashing through the wall of the hut and into Meatsnacks' trophy room, the dwarf is still fighting back, slashing at you with his one remaining handaxe! Take 1d6 damage, and the dwarf breaks free of your grip. Bleeding heavily from the wounds in his chest and backing away from you deeper into the Trophy room, the dwarf makes to hide behind the ornamental weapon trophies and armor racks that Meatsnacks has accumulated. He's preparing to throw his axe at you from behind the suit of armor, and the Owlion has skidded to a stop just in time to avoid crashing through the wall after you. "Bring the fool to me so I can bite off his hairy head!" the Owlion cries to you, recognizing you as the one that understood it.
Meanwhile, outside in the melee, Prox is occupied with other matters. While his shield goes clanging to the ground uselessly from his chicken fingers, he stabs with redoubled fury at one of the mages.
Your blade sticks in the old man's ribs and you use it to climb up on him, evading the swing of one of the crusader's swords! As the old man screams in pain and desperately begs his allies to burn the goblin off of him, the other mages back away quickly. You're rapidly losing the cover of the confused squishies, Prox - you'll be surrounded by Crusaders in moments!
From your vantage point atop the screaming mage's shoulder, you can see behind you and to your left that your fodder goblins are trying to get to you. Rallying other goblins to their cause, the fodder fools are throwing themselves en masse at the wall of armor and horseflesh surrounding you. Behind you and to your right, you can see that the Chief is beating back the leader of the Numarians, the wild-haired auburn rider. Roaring with successive fury, the chief swings his club o' meat back and forth, driving her back.
Ahead of you, behind the furthest back-line archers and mages at a distance of about 25 feet, ballista are being rolled into position! The Numarians brought artillery? What do you do?
Talks, eager to do just that, rushes into the room like a bear in an armor display, wrecking positively everything as she does so, with absolutely no cares . If these things were important they'd be used, not sitting in some room collecting dust. This was exactly what was wrong with civilization. Buildings protecting armor that isn't protecting people...
She rushes for the dwarf, trying to snatch him up in a hug to make his attempts to hurt her turn entirely feeble, so that she can drag him back to the doomy owl lion.
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The horse-mounted danger passed, Retzack gazes about him at the battlefield, taking in situation. It appears that the lines have momentarily stabilized as the wall of willing-to-die goblins are being happily massacred by the armored wall of human steel. Ah, well. Such is the way. That they have not yet lost means that they will surely win can they but hold off any massive advantage.
His eye takes in the struggle by a dwarf and what looks like a two-headed bear. Wait, no. It's two bears? It's two bears? It's two bears and an owl? The dwarf is part owl? The tangle of flesh and fur and feathers is too quick to catch, but as he tries to discern the winner, his gaze extends further, taking in the archers and the mages and the...
artillery.
*sigh*
He's seen siege machines, properly used, slice through massive formations of unarmored lines, much like the goblins now represent. If they can launch even a single bolt, that might crack the lines and spell defeat in itself.
Well, the time to hesitate is gone. If ever there was a time, that time is NOW.
Retzack again concentrates and pulls the darkness in, trying to weave the un-life force that composes the Void Worms.
Oh confound!!! Again the complications of the spell prove unwilling to bend to his will.
Hmmmm. But he manages to learn something.
Alas he can not save the day in this moment. He hopes that the situation is less dire than he thinks it to be.
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After a momentary struggle that ruins and demolishes half of the trophy room, Tutti the bear, dwarf in arms, staggers out of the hut. She has superficial injuries but they aren't enough to have caused actual HP loss - and clearly she got the better of the altercation, because the dwarf is properly beaten up. With a joyous roar, the owlion darts forward, her huge head nonetheless striking with the swiftness of a viper. The dwarf has hardly the time for his eyes to widen before he is yanked out of the bear's grasp and messily devoured.
Meatsnacks was watching this, and roars in approval! The forces of Numaria quail in terror as the Owlion eats one of them, and the battered leader with the wild red hair turns to shout at them, rallying them back to the fight!
Meanwhile, the tribe is energized by the emergence of a seemingly allied bear, covered in trophy jewelry from Meatsnacks' hut from the fight. The tribe just assumes that the bear is a tamed animal that belongs to their Chief. With a concerted "WAAAGH!" the goblins regroup and raise their weapons, charging the armored invaders!
Retzack pays attention to none of these petty victories elsewhere on the battlefield. No matter how dismayed the Numarians are now, they'll certainly rally when the ballista start to rain death from afar.
Imagining the past scenes of mass destruction and death he had seen wrought by siege machines distracted his concentration. His spell crackles painfully at his fingertips, threatening to fail.
You hear cries of angry surprise from your followers all around you. "The master's spell! The master's spell is failing! The master demands...SACRIFICE!"
With a crazed peal of laughter, your followers all draw knives on each other. Knowing how Retzack's magic works by now from all the previous times they had witnessed it, they knew that their lives could fuel the flame of the arcana he drew upon.
Your followers begin stabbing each other in a vicious melee that takes place all around you! goblins lie dead at the end of the altercation, by the time you get control over them once more. The remaining goblins clutch their bloody knives and giggle to each other, as if they were children that had just stolen cookies from a cookie jar. The fodder goblins' deaths were just what you needed, and your spell became a partial success!
Void worms begin to erupt - slowly - from the pores of the skin of the human and elven ballista operators. You successfully delay the setup of the siege equipment as they frantically scream and fall to the ground, slapping at their flesh. Roll your damage!
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Retzack screams at his followers for their hubris that they should know when to sacrifice themselves better than he. Alas, the milk has been spilled and they are not worth the effort to bring back. Collecting their residual spirit-energy like spilled beans, he hurriedly re-focuses, and is pleased to see the void-worms begin their work and begin to consume their hosts for .
Sighing in reflection, he at least now has something to work with.
Pulling on the thread of dark-matter that connect his will to the worms, he begins the second phase, accelerating the incubation speed of the worms as they use the energy provided by their hosts.
His efforts are rewarded as worms burst from their hosts and infect others nearby, initiating the cycle anew!
Talks, seeing her effect... an effect that her Goblin persona would never manage to accomplish... rushes out into the battlefield once more, feeling exalted. Wiggly finger mages, horses, dwarves... and giant wood things. With wheels. She had no idea what it was but Talks hates things with wheels. It had to be destroyed.
Retzack's followers are cowed by their master's wrath, but begin to nudge each other and mutter among themselves as he begins again. The magic he summons works successfully - at least, to the untrained eyes of your lesser goblins. Within your own mind, however, you can tell that your beating on the Weave has set forth reverberations. Reverberations that certain...entities are sensitive to. You feel the worms bursting forth from the ballista operators that are already flailing on the ground. The energy activating their summonings within the victims' flesh can be traced back to you, however.
"They've got a mage hidden there! MAGES! MAKE YOURSELVES USEFUL! COUNTER HIS SPELLS!" calls a commanding shout from a nearby lieutenant, a black-haired human with a curved broadsword held high in one hand. Gesturing at your rocky fortress that you created around yourself, he commands the magic in your direction! You see the mages that aren't wrestling with Prox turn in answer, and channel together to enable a powerful bomb spell! You see a bright ball of light forming above the remaining mages' outstretched hands...forming quickly and growing in size! What do you do?
Meanwhile, Tutti notices the product of Numaria's smithies and civilization rolling up on the goblins' humble huts. A primal rage fills her as she rolls her bear body along the front of the goblin charge like a giant, green, biological tank, rallying the goblins nearby.
As she charges directly at the ballista, her path takes her through a skirmish between a large group of Meatsnacks' raiders vs a smaller but more powerful contingent of Numarian knights. Do you avoid the skirmish? Roll defy danger +Dex to avoid the dangerous melee, and you'll be within range of the Ballista to roll Hack and Slash. If you want to give an advantage to the goblins already fighting the nearby knights, roll +Str to get in the thick of things!
For Talks the Bear, the shortest distance between two points was the path with the most destructible environment. As such, she threw herself headlong into the opponents slowing the advancement of the goblins with a powerful groar, she waded her way into destruction of the opponents, taking the path of most-resistance. The balistas would be there when she finished with the human peoples. Probably.
Tutti, roll your damage as you bowl through the main mass of conflict! Fortunately, most of the goblins have been routed or slain in this area, so the collateral damage of your claws swinging wildly about is minimal; but the riders you're charging through have long-handled weapons that get tangled in the cursed trophies that got caught on you! You're impaired from reaching the ballistae for another turn, only able to look on as the operators desperately try to bring knives to their own bodies to cut the void worms out.