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The smell of stale alcohol and roasting boar meat hangs thick on the hot night air. The Antler and Thistle is a relatively small tavern on the outer edge of the town of Brindol. It offers seating for up to fifty patrons, and boasts a roaring fireplace in the centre of its main room. The walls are covered in memorabilia, all related to the War of the Red Hand. Beams overhead support the floor above, accessible via a staircase outside, where there are several rooms available to rent.
The tavern itself is packed on this barmy summer’s night. The usual clientele of farmers are joined by a number of traders, already pouring into the town in anticipation of the Diamond League Day celebrations next week. Several long tables are occupied by happy, excited groups of people, some are dancing, while others cheer them on with clapping and yelling. Nearby to the bar, a couple of enterprising young students from the College of Ioun are making some coin selling their services to the other patrons; chilling their drinks with prestidigitation cantrips. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people, mostly eating their dinner, occasionally calling the waitress over for a mug of ale or cider. In the back corner a few of the more questionable characters in the tavern are in the midst of a fairly intense dice game.
The nine of you sit and stand around one of the longer tables near the back. You find yourselves united by your interest in the roll of parchment which was nailed to the notice board in the market square this morning. Torn from the notice board, this parchment now sits on the table between you.
”War is upon us! The rumours of the Orc Horde are true. The ancient dwarven city of Overlook calls out to all able bodies to combat this threat. Our scouts have seen the massive numbers that have gathered and if they are allowed to move past the Stonehome mountains, there will be no check on their aggression.”
“Ever has Bordrin’s Watch stood in defense of the Elsir Vale. The hordes have been fought back by those who have not forgotten the Age of Chains. Never again shall we suffer such bondage.”
“This is a call to amass in Overlook to bolster the defenses of Bordrin’s watch. Again, it is imperative that the enemy does not breach the mountain pass. With the help of many, they will meet the great walls of The Watch like water to a levy.”
The parchment is signed with the seals of the Elder council of Overlook, the heads of five of the most renowned dwarven clans.
The city of Overlook stands on the eastern slopes of the Stonehome Mountains, a hoary range of crumbling peaks as old as the world. The city’s founding lies sometime far back in the mists of time, at a point after the dwarves in this region threw off the shackles of slavery and chased the giants and orcs west across the mountains at the end of the Age of Chains.
Overlook, and the fastness of Bordrin’s Watch, were raised to safeguard the liberated dwarf peoples and to be the first line of defense should their ancient enemies forget their defeat and seek to enslave the dwarves once more.
Since its founding, Overlook has never come under attack, though Bordrin’s Watch has time and again, at least once every century. Overlook supplies the mountain pass with soldiers, supplies, and needed resources, ensuring the Watch is never without the goods they need to live up to their ancient responsibility.
While doughty dwarf warriors hold Bordrin’s Watch, the city is far more cosmopolitan and includes peoples of nearly every race and culture known in this corner of the world. Dwarves are still the dominant group, but humans and halflings make up a close second, followed by dragonborn, tieflings, a smattering of elves, and an assortment of other, less familiar, races.
The Council of Elders governs Overlook. Each is elected to office and serves a 10-year term. Currently they are Great Elder Morgoff Stonefist, Elder Galden Sledgemore, Elder Yalissa Mountainhome, Elder Syn Ironheart and Elder Cadrick Gemviper. The dwarves see ruling as a burden and none relish the job, preferring to hand power off to someone else.
It was Dayana's evening off from working in the Cardhouse, so naturally she spent it in another tavern; she never had felt there was much else to do in the town but work and drink and gamble, and she'd never been particularly lucky with cards. Her manner of dress is perfectly idyllic, a green pinafore over a brown skirt and a white blouse, and her dark hair falls freely down her back. Mismatched eyes rove over the parchment and the other eight occupants of the table.
"Sounds dangerous," she begins, her voice quiet (well, as quiet as one can be in a crowded tavern while still being heard), "Yet possibly quite worthwhile." A small frown makes its way onto her lips and she dips a hand into her satchel to surreptitiously brush it against Beledia's head, the viper safely tucked out of sight among her various odds and ends. "Very concerning to hear about, though. An orcish horde? I hope their scouts are simply exaggerating what they saw."
Aelion regarded the parchment with interest, but having already read it, left it on the table for others to peruse. He was nursing a bottle of strong liquor, his demeanor quiet and unassuming, but the weapons he bore, along with the markings on his bare arms, named him one of the Tiri Kitor.
"From whence did this orcish menace come?" he mused, mostly to himself - but it was in the common tongue, inviting anyone to respond. "I would know more of this threat before commiting to any course of action that might prove rash. The Council of Elders must know more." But for all his calm words, there was a fire in his green eyes as he regarded the pronouncement.
Turning, he eyed Jathal. This, surely, she would have an opinion on.
It sounds like they legitimately need help. I will be sad to miss the festivities, but I am inclined to go, to do what I can. That's what Overlook was built for, and if we can stop them there, it might protect a lot more people. My concern is leaving my grandfather for who knows how long.
Jathal is slouched bonelessly in a chair, idly spinning a dagger through her fingers, her mug of whiskey is half gone and she's eyeing Aelion's bottle with interest.
"An Orc horde." She says dryly. "What a surprise! They're such a peaceful race. Who could possibly have seen this coming?"
She mutters something about folk who step into a fire then seem surprised they're burning.
Giving Aelion a thoughtful look she asks him lightly. "Did you have anywhere important to be once you delivered your vital message?"
Ingra's white knuckles gripped the handle of the her tankard begore she threw back the rest of its content and slammed it down on the table.
"And I thought that getting here in time for tha festival was lucky! A chance to cut down some monstrous filth of my own sounds much better! And from an old Dwarven fortress! Kord's smiling on me today, no doubt about it!
Guess I'll need ta go shopping next time, this invite is far too important to ignore.
Besides...'
She looks into the bottom of her empty tankard.
"Some thirsts just can't be sated by drink alone."
She looks up around the table.
"Any of ya know the fastest way ta get there? Not as if they'll wait."
Ingra hated orcs, like most dwarves, and had even learnt the language to better counter them in battle.
My first noteworthy deed as a Warpriest. No time to lose if I'm to make it there in time to make a difference
Aelion smiled lopsidedly down at his drink. "It would appear so, wouldn't it? I doubt the orcs would leave Marth and the Witchwood be. I'd still like to know if there's anything more to know, though. Forewarned is forearmed."
He glanced over at Zalindra curiously. "Your reasoning is sound. Better to stop the orcs sooner than later. Had anyone nipped the Red Hand in the bud, many lives might have been spared. Your grandfather... you care for him? Or is he able to care for himself while you would be gone?" It was so hard to tell, with humans. A few decades and one would go from young and healthy to wilted like a banyan in a drought. Though, some old ones did seem stronger than others.
Aelion's smile stiffened at the dwarf's innocent question, and he took a deep drink.
*The fastest way is to fly.*
So these are Elves?
Ingra had only ever heard of them, and these two match the visage that she'd been described very well.
Slowly she was finding that they acted like she had heard as well.
If they look like elves and talk like elves hopefully that means they fight like them. All these questions and thinking, not sure I'll be able handle being around them. Kord, I sound like Bronzebeard.
Ingra couldn't help it. She'd never been a patient person. You either do something or don't. Wondering about it just left it open for others to take control.
If they wanted to do that, they could do it on the way there.
Ingra didn't know how to answer the human lass. She thought her grandpa statement more like whinging. Mostly because in the Dwarven community they had large, tight knit families and community. If she couldn't care for him, there'd be another, just like at home.
She seemed genuine though.
"I'm sure the others will take fine care of your Pa while you're away. And you be able to care for him better knowing that there aren't any hordes heading to ya home."
Jathal reached out and took Aelion's bottle, sniffing it curiously then taking a swig, giving a pleased blink at it's kick. "Nice." She says breathlessly, passing the bottle on to Ingra.
She looks a bit bored. "I'm often told I should let those who are far more wise and experienced than I decide on what to do with Orcs and Hobgoblins. Which seems to be wait until there's enough of them to overrun us and then scream for help."
Shrugging. "My ignorant suggestion that we go and kill them before they rut out enough fodder for another horde is considered needlessly aggressive."
She gives Aelion a sweet smile. "Obviously as good and proper Tiri Kitor it is our duty to go and see just how dangerous this horde is? And while we're there perhaps we might even test their mettle by killing as many as we can. Purely so we can report back to our wise leaders on how much peril we are in."
Jathal says all this in a mild voice, as if she were commenting on the weather.
Dayana leans forward in her chair, propping an elbow atop the table to rest her chin in her palm. She hums thoughtfully. "Indeed. Taking care of it sooner rather than later is likely a good idea... if they breach Bordrin's Watch, who knows what misery they would bring before they are stopped? It'd be a veritable feast of slaughter and suffering."
Withdrawing her hand from her satchel, she sets it too atop the table and begins to drum her sharp nails against the wood. Dayana seems to spend a moment thinking, another low hum leaving her as she does so.
"I'll admit, I've been in Brindol longer than I care to spend in most places. I wouldn't mind leaving to check this threat out."
Walking through the tavern he sipped idly at the mug in his right hand. The notice board had drawn a crowd, enough of one to gather at least a few people who seemed armed enough to not be some starry eyed farmer looking for fame and glory in some distant heroic battlefield. The same farmers who liked to walk into a trailing sheathed sword and complain about it often enough he'd had to adjust his sword belt so the sword slung over his shoulder while in the tavern as not to provide and impediment to the drunks.
As he plopped himself down at the table he set the second mug down in front of Ingra with a loud thunk on the wood. He glanced at her sidelong as he did so, "Don't tease her, Ingra. The last time there was anything resembling a 'horde' around here was that winter where Rurik spilled that whole keg of honey mead on the smithy stairs." He took a pull from his mug and frowned, "Never did figure out who's tooth that was in the door frame..."
Pushing the mug away slightly he sighed, "But at this point I'd go just to have a chance at a decent pint." He wagged a finger in the direction of his mug idly, "This is a bit suspect if you ask me."
The large dragonborn stands quietly by, like a tall, dark, ominous statue, taking in the conversation and watching carefully those who answered the call.
This could be it... I am ready. Even in his thoughts, Kra'el is solid.
After a moment, the dragonborn speaks. He does not interrupt. Not on purpose. But when he shifts slightly, it is hard for the others not to notice. It would be like the furniture taking a step. The conversation pauses.
With a rumbling rasp, his voice emits from his cavernous maw, almost echoing in upon itself. It carries to every corner of the tavern. If he is speaking to an individual, it is not clear who.
"If we do not go to fight. Then who?"
It is not a question, really. Kra'el will go. And so will they.
"I have been to Overlook. I can take us there."
Again, not a question. An uneasy shift in the dragonborn's stance implies some small uncertainty. Minor in the face of his unflinching resolve.
Your grandfather... you care for him? Or is he able to care for himself while you would be gone?
Certainly, he can care for himself. I just worry about him without me there to help support him. He doesn't always have enough money to pay the bills.
I'm sure the others will take fine care of your Pa while you're away. And you be able to care for him better knowing that there aren't any hordes heading to ya home.
The dwarf clearly had no idea of her situation and was just being patronizing, but it was a good point that she would likely keep him safer there than here, so she nodded slightly.
____
It looked like most of them were in, so she asked When do we leave?
Dinvirte waited patiently for everyone to o finish reading the he notice before he plucked it from the table with his tail. He nodded politely to his tail as the parchment dropped into his open hand. ”Thank you, good sir” he muttered to his own tail...which tipped itself slightly, reminiscent of a bow.
Din set the notice down and dragged over an empty chair from a nearby table. He leaned back in the chair and struggled to recall anything important about Overlook beyond the makeup of the general populace and instead elected to remain quiet for much of the discussion. You tend to learn what question to ask the longer you take to ask it.
Din jumped a bit when Kra’el spoke, having lost himself in thought regarding the tanned elf's “Council of Elders.”
”Sure, we could all form some happyband of travelers but, I think everyone here is ignoring the possibility that this could all be a ruse. An elaborate plan to pull us away from the safety of Brindol and drop us right into the clutches of this 'Orc army,'" he did air quotes with one hand while his tail completed the pair. ”But why?”
Din scratched at the small patch of hair on his chin,"....could be this Council….makes no sense….maybe the cobbler's guild…" His tail shook its “head,” ”I suppose the only way to find out the truth is to check it out in person,” he grinned, "So who's buying our celebratory drinks?!”
Aelion nodded to Zalindra. "Perhaps the Council at Overlook could be convinced to pay for your service, and send the money to your grandfather by messenger. Would that ease your fears?"
He regarded Din carefully, but said nothing. Paranoia and talking to his appendages... an interesting traveling companion, if he chose to go with them. Aelion felt it was a bit early to celebrate before they'd even gone anywhere, but held his peace. There was no harm in it, after all.
Addressing Kra'el, he said somberly, "I have been to Overlook, but I cannot take you the way I went. It is well that you can lead us there." The expression on his face suggested that he wished Jathal hadn't passed on his bottle.
Oh, do you think they might pay us? That would be excellent.
Kra'el spends a moment staring at Dinvarte while Aelion and Zalindra continue their conversation before leaning ominously over the tiefling. The dragonborn makes some attempt to speak quietly. It comes out somewhere between a hiss and a light rumble. The dragonborn doesn't really have a quiet voice. Everyone can hear.
"I am certain the council, just like I, will not turn down your aid. But if we must travel together, I would urge you to consider what is appropriate to say out loud, and what is appropriate to keep to yourself. Consider... at length." The dragonborn eyes the tiefling's tail warily before stepping back, regarding the others like nothing happened.
"They will pay. Dwarves are more practical than some."
Leaning back in his seat he looked at the group surrounding the posting and shrugged his shoulders after a moment. He flicked his gaze at Din with a smile on his face, "You worry too much. Brindol will stand a long time to come. And if it were to fall then this little group here wouldn't do much except make the pile a bit higher." He jabbed his finger at his mug for emphasis, "But a bit better mead wouldn't hurt if we're just going to go chase some stray goblins around the hills."
He heard the large Dragonborn speak again and rolled his eyes a bit, "Cranky sort, that one." He gave Aelion a bit of a nod with a sense of pride though, "But he's right. Dwarves are more practical than most."
With a bit of a sigh he reached over and used his forearm to gently nudge at Ingra, "Except this one. Half surprised she hasn't charged out into the night sword leading already. She must like the drink better than me, ey?" He grinned and laughed as he settled into his chair just a little deeper.
Jathal cocks an eyebrow at Din's meandering paranoia. "A ruse to lure us into the clutches of this Orc army?" She snorts in amusement. "Yes, obviously the vale will fall to ruin without our wise leadership and great prowess guiding it."
Seated somewhat further back from the rest, Cecilia took a careful sip of her drink. It was taking every ounce of control she had to not seize the parchment from the tiefling and read through it a second or third time. This was it! This was the opportunity she had been waiting for! Once again orcs were marching on Elsir Vale, eager to wage war and bring ruin. But they would not succeed. For just as her father Tarras Hawthorne had defended Brindol all those years ago, Cecilia Hawthorne would now defend Overlook.
History was repeating itself. Her destiny was making itself known. It was time for Cecilia of the Crimson Lash to make a name for herself.
"I admit I barely know most of you." The human bard said, leaning forward with a smile on her lips. "But could we stop this talk of payment and plots? It is unbecoming of us." Adjusting the feather in her wide-brimmed hat, she smiled again. "This is a cry for aid, the only question is whether or not you will heed the call. And I can say with certainty that Cecilia of the Crimson Lash will not be cowering within the city walls while there is a battle to be fought and a tale to be told."
Almost as an afterthought, Cecilia turned towards Zalindra. "However, I suppose if there was one question that still needs to be asked, it should be Miss Freston's. Would tomorrow morning be a suitable time to depart?"
"A ruse to lure us into the clutches of this Orc army?" She snorts in amusement. "Yes, obviously the vale will fall to ruin without our wise leadership and great prowess guiding it."
With a grin and a thump of his fist on the tabletop he smiled all the wider as he spoke, "Here here! But you forgot the part where we're able to drink the kegs dry in a single night." He continued to smile and laughed as he lounged in his chair.
"This is a cry for aid, the only question is whether or not you will heed the call. And I can say with certainty that Cecilia of the Crimson Lash will not be cowering within the city walls while there is a battle to be fought and a tale to be told."
His smile wilted somewhat on his face and he cast a small glance to Ingra before scooping up his discarded mug and taking a long pull of the somewhat low quality drink, "Yeah. Going to be needing a few more of these before the morning, then." With that he twisted in his chair and made a signal to the table at the bar, "Going to need a round over here!" He muttered into his cup as he took the next pull "Need to lighten some of these people up I tell you."
"Would tomorrow morning be a suitable time to depart?"
"Mid-to-late morning would work rather well for me; I'll need time to pack my things and tie off loose ends before I leave, after all. And some breakfast before hitting the road."
Another rythmatic drum of Dayana's nails sound against the wooden table, and her attention shifts to Kra'el. "So you know the way? I confess, Overlook is not a place I've traveled to before. How hard is the terrain between here and there? Is there plentiful foraging along the way, or should I bring extra food with me?"
As she awaits her answer, Dayana's silver-and-purple eyes remain unblinkingly fixated on the dragonborn.
Seeing Javos' signal, the barkeep hefts a new keg up from the floor and begins pouring out some fresh mugs for the gathering of would-be adventurers.
Looking up from the frothy head of the last mug he calls out to the young girl making her rounds through the crowded tables.
"Mirtala! Another round for the group in the back!"
"Yessir, right away!" The tavern girl makes her way to the bar and collects the drinks before bringing them over to you. She couldn't be much older than sixteen, her smile lights up her round face as she approaches you.
"Here you all are, must be a big night 'ey? Or a big day tomorrow, right?!" She jokes, butting in before Kra'el get's the chance to answer Dayana's question.
Before Mirtala can set the drinks down however, the crunch of splintering wood proceeds a resounding smack as the tavern door flies off its hinges and onto the grimey tavern floor. The tavern girl jumps in fright and sends the tray of mugs clattering to the floor.
The sound of a gasp and a half-uttered apology is cut short by the cackling howls of the four wicked looking creatures rushing into the bar, swords outstretched to skewer the nearest bar patrons. The intruders stand barely three feet tall, their scrawny bodies dwarfed by their wide, ungainly heads. Clad in leather armour, blackened with soot, the foremost goblin cries out ”Синрут үшін! Қол үшін!”
~~~
~~~
Goblin Warrior (red): HP 6/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
Goblin Warrior (green): HP 6/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
Goblin Warrior (yellow): HP 6/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
Goblin Warrior (blue): HP 6/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
One unfortunate man sitting closest to the door is immediately eviscerated by the goblin in the green rags, while the goblin in blue cuts down another. Two more townsfolk are escape harm for the moment as the other two goblins wave their swords menacingly and bear their needle-sharp teeth.
NPC Statistics:
Barkeep: HP 23/23; AC/T/FF 13/10/13; Fort/Ref/Will +5/+1/+6; vs Feint DC 20
Farmers: HP 10/10; AC/T/FF 10/10/10; Fort/Ref/Will +1/+0/+3; vs Feint DC 11
Initiative Order: Goblins, Party, Townsfolk
~~~
"There it is! A plan of action!" she beamed at Cecilia and Javos.
She decided she liked humans. Everyone here was interesting but these two were on her level.
She pulled out a silver flask bearing the holy symbol of Kord and poured a shot into Javos' mug.
"You seem to be a man who likes his drink. Storm Stout. Family recipe, can't buy it anywhere."
She takes a small swig before stowing it away again.
"Tried to get as close to drinking a thunder storm as we could. Nice kick, little shocking, tangy like static in ya mouth. Don't know how it'll mix with whatever ya drinking, but that taste won't change from a mead. Dwarven brews are stronger stuff."
As soon a she manages to get her flask away the splintering of wood and clattering of mugs pulls her attention to the entrance.
She smirks at the Goblins, getting to her feet, hand on her greatswords handle.
"For the Hand you say? Let's see if you can back it up, minions."
The dragonborn turns calmly toward the entrance at the commotion, narrowing his eyes at the creatures.
It begins.
Calmly pulling his shield off his back and strapping it to his arm, Kra'el watches impassively, like a towering gargoyle, as the goblins continue to attack the townsfolk. His voice echoes to his companions.
"There is more to this than a few goblins. Prepare yourselves."
He begins his approach.
— As it so happens, Dayana's unblinking and unflinching stare at Kra'el is cut short by the sudden slamming open of the tavern's doors and the chaos the Anter and Thistle proceeds to descend into. The witch lurches back in her seat from the shock of it, messily and barely managing to get to her feet and keep her balance as the chair clattered to the floor behind her; as this happens, she lets out a yelping Yeet! noise.
Seeing this carnage unfolding, she wastes little time in darting closer. Her shoes squeak against the floor as she skids to a halt in position and a quick succession of arcane words leave her mouth; an almost unearthly cadence to them as they shift from a noise anyone around her can hear to a sonic cry that none but the Yellow goblin warrior can hear — an awful noise that pierces and rattles him to the bone.
Sonic damage + the goblin is Dazed for one round.
Ingra follows Kra'el's lead.
Zalindra stands up, draws her bow as she steps up on a chair and then the top of the table so she can get some clear shots, and starts skewering goblins with her bow.
"You seem to be a man who likes his drink. Storm Stout. Family recipe, can't buy it anywhere."
She takes a small swig before stowing it away again.
"Tried to get as close to drinking a thunder storm as we could. Nice kick, little shocking, tangy like static in ya mouth. Don't know how it'll mix with whatever ya drinking, but that taste won't change from a mead. Dwarven brews are stronger stuff."
With a large grin across his face he took a moment just to sniff at the aroma of the mug now that something more palatable had been added. With a sigh of contentment he looked at the Dwarf and tipped the cup just a bit, "Now you're talkin'."
Just as he went to drink the door crashed in like a runaway anvil. The sudden sound of yelping and screaming started instantly and was almost drowned out by the sounds of clattering mugs as they skipped over the floor. But the sounds of small pinched voices echoed in the space, "Синрут үшін! Қол үшін!"
With a groan he slammed his mug down on the table and made to stand "Leave it to goblins to ruin a good drink..." He hopped up and began to run, drawing his sword from his back as he did, "And this still doesn't count as a horde!"
Jathal stands, unslings her longbow and shoots at Green.
Her arrow slamming into the door frame.
Aelion was up in an instant, an arrow nocked to his bow in the blink of an eye. It was almost as though he'd been expecting trouble, though that was impossible. Almost too fast to see, he fired, whipped another arrow onto his bow, and fired again, his expression serene.
His second shot went wide as he jerked his bow aside at the last second to avoid skewering some poor tavern patron.
As the goblins stormed in through the front door, slaughtering people with every swing of their blades, Cecilia went completely still. This was all happening too quickly. She hadn't expected to be fighting here in this tavern, in a town that was like a second home to her. Cecilia's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes darting this way and that. For a single fraction of a moment the bard wanted nothing more than to flee from this battle. To just turn and run away...
But after a few seconds of indecision, she regained control of her thoughts. With a determined look in her eyes, Cecilia detached the whip from her belt. Standing up, she then moved forward, running towards the central fireplace. Her allies were already attacking the enemy on the left side of the room, so she would do her best to attack the enemies on the right side.
And as she unfurled her crimson whip, Cecilia called out to the panicked patrons of 'The Antler and Thistle', her words loud and clear.
"Everyone get to the back of the room! Let the professionals take care of this."
Din was eyed the mug of ale set before him by “Mirtala.” Most poisoners liked to have some other hapless fool be the deliverer of the poisoned drink. At least, the ones bad at their job did. The skilled poisoners knew to how to use this common knowledge to get their victim to suspect the wrong person.
He was just about to explain this to the people that he apparently, would be traveling to Overlook with, when the front door exploded. The end of Din’s tail turns to “look” at the bursting door before his head does, a reflex that had formed over years of doing it as a joke.
”They found me!” Din shouted before realizing what had burst through. ”These guys are not here for me. So why are they–” the thought was cut off as two of the other patrons are split open.
”Time to go, sir!” Din’s tail nodded in response and the Tiefling scrambled away from the table to the other side of the tavern.
Goblin Warrior (red): HP 6/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
Goblin Warrior (green): HP 6/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
Goblin Skilled Scout (red): HP 9/9; AC/T/FF 18/14/15; Fort/Ref/Will +0/+3/+2; vs Feint DC 10
Goblin Skilled Scout (blue): HP 9/9; AC/T/FF 18/14/15; Fort/Ref/Will +0/+3/+2; vs Feint DC 10
The band of would-be adventurers spring into action with heroic speed. Dayana lets out an ear piercing scream that has the yellow goblin dropping his sword to claw at his ears in pain, seconds before an arrow from Zalindra's bow pierces him through the neck and he drops to the floor. The goblin beside him has only a brief moment to realise his comrade has fallen before he too is felled by an arrow, this one from Aelion.
All around them the tavern patrons are starting to react to what is happening. Some, by the door, remain frozen in fear, while those further from the action begin to yell and scream. Mirtala the tavern girl responds to Cecilia's command with a sense of inspired maturity, rushing to the back of the room.
"This way, there's a way out the back!" she shouts, ushering several patrons to safety before two more goblins arrive through the front.
These new goblins are clad in finely crafted studded leather, noticeably different than the scraps worn by the others. They brandish small vials of liquid, whose flammable nature is immediately apparent. One is hurled towards the bar, where the barkeep dives out of sight to avoid the heat of the fire. The other vial is thrown into the group of townsfolk by the door, and you can do nothing but watch as the flames fully engulf a farmer there.
"күйік! күйік! күйік!"
The red goblin manages to cut down another farmer near the front of the room, while the one dressed in green jumps up on the table and rips an old war banner off the walls.
"Қызыл қол! Қызыл қол!" it cries out, a manic grin crossing its wide face.
NPC Statistics:
Barkeep: HP 23/23; AC/T/FF 13/10/13; Fort/Ref/Will +5/+1/+6; vs Feint DC 20
Farmers: HP 10/10; AC/T/FF 10/10/10; Fort/Ref/Will +1/+0/+3; vs Feint DC 11
Initiative Order: Goblins, Party, Townsfolk
~~~
The changeling winces as the stench of blood and burning flesh begins to fill the air alongside guttaral shouts she didn't understand and the noises of panic from the fleeing and burning townspeople. Heart pounding so hard she could feel the blood rushing through her ears, Dayana presses her assault against the encroaching goblins; tapping into the font of her powers, she weaves a quick hex around Goblin Scout (Red).
She then steps down to stand inbetween Ingra and Javos, shouting, "Someone has to clear the way down to the others!"
"Do not stand near me."
Without explanation, the dragonborn moves steadily toward the goblins, like a falling tree. Not fast, but inevitable and unavoidable. He draws his blade from its sheath over his shoulder and his voice rumbles out in the goblin tongue.
"Вы приносите свечу в меч-бой."
It doesn't seem like a threat. Just a statement of fact, the implication just as inevitable as the falling tree.
Din held an arm out in front of the group next to him, ”менің артымда!”
He blinked hard realizing his mistake, ”I meant, 'behind me!’”
The Tiefling rushed forward, drew in a deep breath, and released an inaudible screech upon the green-clad goblin.
Explosions ripped through the building, smoke and fire filling the room. People were screaming as even more monsters stormed through the front door, the tavern quickly devolving into chaos. Rushing forward, Cecilia quickly realised that there was no time for her to engage these goblins in one-on-one combat, too many people would be killed if she didn't at least slow down the assault.
"This isn't exactly the most exciting way to end a battle, but I guess it has to be done." Cecilia declared. Extending her free hand, the bard focused her power on the two goblins closest to her. With some scattered rose petals and a few words of magic, she began to cast a spell of Sleep.
Zalindra jumps to the next table
and continues shooting goblins.
However, perhaps because she is still unsteady from jumping from another table, she misses her shot.
Jathal moves to a better position, one that lets her see all the Goblins.
She targets the Red Goblin as he isn't in melee.
Her face is set with purpose now, no sign her her lazy sarcasm.
Ingra throws a hand in the air in frustration.
"What is this!? A family gathering?! Can't see a damn thing!"
Unable to charge toward the Goblins, she shifts her way past the 'crowd' to try and get closer.
Let me just stand in yer' way. Just jump down in fronta tha' swords. Go help tha others, what an idea. Damn magic users. Give a dwarf some space to charge, not like I can prance about like some damn fairy.
She grumbles under her breathe, coming to stop next to the unnecessarily gigantic Dragonborn.
"Sorry to pop ya personal bubble, but couldn't see a damn thing from back there."
She motions to the woman at the table.
"Best get behind us, lass! Run to the back with the others!"
Shielding his eyes at the sudden flashing vials of fire he comes to a stop long enough for the raven haired woman to step closer and shout over the sounds all around
"Someone has to clear the way down to the others!"
With a grunt he shakes his head every so slightly as he muttered to himself, "Why are the pretty ones always so bossy?" He brings his sword back up and shouts over the din, "Get that gaggle of bow users back there to fire a volley over my head!" Turning he started to move and tapped Ingra as he went, "With me!"
Rounding the table he charged across the distance sword raised as he barreled down towards the Goblin scout, "AZAGH BEKAR!"
Despite the situation devolving into even more chaos, Aelion's serene expression never faltered. He smoothly moved up beside Zalindra, arrow nocked as he surveyed the scene.
He saw that the goblins would not live to learn from their mistakes.
Then again, if the liquor caught fire and the building as well, they might not, either.
He fired into the crowd of patrons and goblins with a surety born of a human lifetime of experience.
Like many elves, that certainty in his own abilities could prove blinding to Aelion. The goblin jerked aside a moment before the elf's arrow took it in the head. Still, Aelion seemed unphased.
"What are they saying? And just how long ago was that recruitment paper posted? Has Overlook already fallen, for goblins to walk into Brindol?" he asked, his even words strange in all the chaos.
Goblin Warrior (green): HP 3/6; AC/T/FF 17/14/14; Fort/Ref/Will +2/+3/+0; vs Feint DC 11
Goblin Skilled Scout (red): HP 9/9; AC/T/FF 16/12/13; Fort/Ref/Will +0/+3/+2; vs Feint DC 10
Goblin Skilled Scout (blue): HP 9/9; AC/T/FF 18/14/15; Fort/Ref/Will +0/+3/+2; vs Feint DC 10
Hobgoblin (blue): HP 17/17; AC/T/FF 16/12/14; Fort/Ref/Will +5/+2/+1; vs Feint DC 12
Hobgoblin (purple): HP 17/17; AC/T/FF 16/12/14; Fort/Ref/Will +5/+2/+1; vs Feint DC 12
Dinvirte uses his ear piercing scream on the goblin in green who immediately stops waving the banner around and wraps it tightly around its head, trying to drown out the sound. A well placed arrow from Jathal then fells the red-clad goblin.
Mirtala continues to usher some more patrons outside before her courage breaks and she too exits the tavern. Those patrons still by the door desperately try to flee, attempting to navigating their way between the fire and the carnage of battle. Unfortunately two more are consumed by the flames as the fire spreads. Anyone paying attention to the back of the tavern would notice that the patrons at the dice table have yet to move. Each looks anxiously at the rest, eager to leave, but not willing to give up the large kitty of gold in the table’s centre.
Suddenly two more fearsome looking goblinoids rush through the tavern doorway. These two stand much taller than their comrades, at least as tall as a human, and are a lot stockier than their smaller kin. They survey the carnage with beady eyes and bark orders at those of their kind left standing.
“Фермерлерді ұмытып, осы батыл ақымақтарды өртеп жіберіңіз!” One of them, wearing a blue scarf, yells, brandishing an exceptionally sharp looking longsword in the direction of the heroes.
The Goblin Scout in red screams something incomprehensible at Kra’el, retrieving another vial from its belt and throwing it at the dragonborn. Overcompensating for the range though, the vial flies far over Kra’el’s head, smashing across the chair in front of Aelion and Zalindra . The scout in blue however, quickly pulls out a dagger, defending itself against Javos with a stab to his armpit . The hobgoblin in purple follows up this attack to the cavalier with one of his own, but fortunately for Javos the finely crafted blade glances off of his breastplate.
Meanwhile the flames from the first volley of alchemical fire start to spread.
NPC Statistics:
Barkeep: HP 23/23; AC/T/FF 13/10/13; Fort/Ref/Will +5/+1/+6; vs Feint DC 20
Farmers: HP 10/10; AC/T/FF 10/10/10; Fort/Ref/Will +1/+0/+3; vs Feint DC 11
Initiative Order: Goblins, Party, Townsfolk
~~~
Dayana wades further into the mess, ducking between Ingra and the fireplace and leaving little more than a table between her and two of the attackers for the moment. Mismatched eyes narrow as she peers at Javos' current predicament with becoming steadily surrounded and she once more taps into the font of her powers to weave another hex, this one targetted for the Purple-clad Hobgoblin.
•
— and while she doesn't need to chant while doing so, since her hex lacks verbal or somatic components, she does so simply to let people know she's doing more than just standing there and staring ominously at things while the goblins coincidentally (albeit slowly) get worse at life.
Ingra strides over to the Hobgoblin, all frustration gone now that she can join in the battle.
"Well now, aren't you big boned."
She wedges herself between 2 chairs and the table, not wanting to prevent the Dragonborn from attacking. She shifts her greatsword, preparing to attack.
"Let's see if that's all you are."
Distracted for a moment by noticing the card players, Aelion was about to shout to them to put their safety above their greed when he was splashed with fire!
Instead, he winced and turned his attention to the hobgoblins. *Keep your focus. Breathe.* These fellows looked a good bit more dangerous than the goblins, and the goblins themselves had already half-burned down the tavern.
*The others seem to have the hobgoblins occupied.* Leaping down from the table (and over the blaze the vial had started), he took a few quick steps forward, aiming for the same goblin as before as he addressed the gamblers.
"You can't spend gold if you're dead!"
His arrow zipped past the goblin's face, drawing a red line across green skin.