Dorin will charge the big one on the dog with the Halberd.
Longhammer ATT:
Longhammer DAM:
I will try to gather the cronies Vlad informs the others. He quickly crosses the distance to strike the nearest one.
Duru follows Dorin on the charge of the big ugly goblin and his mean dog. The sight of the dead townsfolk pushes him past his threshold of anger and he erupts in rage, determined to slay the leader and his cronies.
Keeping his distance, Ionacu again throws his javelin toward the fight, targetting one of the goblins who the fools aren't rushing in toward.
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You move forward in a blur of motion, falling upon the goblins before even the dog can register your scent. Ethan's arrow whistles past the dogrider's arm, slicing flesh before thudding into the wall of the Inn beyond. The dogrider growls...much like his mount...then turns - only to take Dorin's hammer strike directly in his unprotected face. The mighty strike immediately squishes his face like soft tin, and blood sprays out from the broken mess that remains. The goblin slides from its mount, most certainly breathing his last.
Duru redirects his own attack, and slices through the dogs mange fur and into its broad side. The gash is long and deep, and the dog yelps in pain. Surprisingly, though, it turns and growls, preparing to fight this new foe.
Vladislav moves towards the goblins, but realizes that they'd be too far away to reach this round. He instead darts towards the snarling dog, puncuating his last step with a lunging stab into the creature. It snarls and yips, then falls to the ground, bleeding out.
Ionacu's javelin skewers a goblin, and it falls over with the point punched through its back. It is down and dying.
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The bomb hits the ground and shatters, immediately washing the first few goblins in flame and glass. Two of them immediately fall to the ground, trying to smother the flames with their own body weight. They fail, and lay smoking and dying. The third hisses as the flames scorch his flesh, but he fights off the pain and readies his wicked sword to attack.
Initiative:
His rage satiated with the death of the leader, Duru's lips curl in a sneer as he leaps forward to slice down the lead goblin threatening the townsfolk.
One of the remaining goblins falls away from the much larger form of Duru, its guts spilling out onto the ground with wet slapping sounds. It's brethren shriek out a battle call, then attack! The first takes Duru's attack on its brother as a distraction, and he manages to slice the mighty hobgoblin's upper arm.
The second goblin moves forward to strike at Dorin, and he unbelievably seems to find a crease in the dwarf's armor. The creature's rusty blade comes away wet with fresh blood.
Ethan aims for the nearest goblin.
Ethan's arrow whistles through air and punches into and through the head of the goblin facing Duru. It plunges through with such force that it pulls the goblin's head back to the wall of the inn and pins it there against the wooden wall. The goblin stares, lifeless, his demise being almost immediate.
Dorin will attempt to decapitate the remaining goblin that wounded him.
Longhammer ATT:
Longhammer DAM:
Ionacu throws his spear at the last remaining goblin, letting out a cheer as he kills the little menace, then quickly looks around for any other threats , pulling another spear from his back.
Ionacu looks around, wary of any other threats that might be out to draw his blood.
Dorin's hammer slams into the ground as the goblin moves aside, but it only manages to step into the way of a spear from Ionacu. The burned goblin collapses with a gasp of pain; it lay on the ground, helplessly writhing in pain as it gurgles out its last bloody breaths.
At a glance, there are no other enemies in the area. Ionacu's keen eyes only pick out one remaining goblin, in the distance, but it's running full tilt to the north outside of the city proper. Fires still burn all around, but townsfolk and guards are out in force, doing their best to douse them where possible.
In the aftermath, the man comes out from behind the barrel behind which he was hiding. His eyes dart back and forth constantly, presumably searching for any more of the vicious little creatures. The man is well dressed, though his clothes and skin are streaked with grime from his ordeal. He's tall and thin, with copper hair and a rather dignified air. He addresses everyone, though he quite obviously stands as far from Duru as he can.
Well fought, friends! I can't thank you enough; your bravery and skill at arms are quite obviously beyond compare. I've no desire to think about what those vile little creatures could have done if you hadn't shown up. How do you think so many of the little beasts got in here anyway?
"They are small, and possessed of a certain cunning. I would hate to think their assault was abetted from within."
Ethan stows his bow and looks to his companions.
"Who is injured? Erastil has entrusted me with a small amount of his healing power."
He looks over the group and tries to assess who is in most need of healing.
I am indeed in need of a blessin' from Erastil, friend.
"Little bastards got me too," Ionacu says, examining his torn, bloody shirt.
"I've just a small flesh wound, and it's bled clean, it should heal fine on it's own." Duru pats his wound, clearly confused on the concept of what constitutes a clean wound, and grins at his new companions. "I'm proud to have stood in battle with you friends!"
Aye, did well by me, Duru. Must say I be a bit surprised, but happily at that. Keep it up and I may have'ta change me mind 'bout at least one goblinkind.
I've a few minor wounds that should be okay in two or three days if tended properly. Vlad adds inspecting his wounds. He begins looking around for something clean enough to make hasty bandages from.
"It seems most of you have taken hurts. Dorin and Ionacu seem to be the worst off. Unfortunately, I am not yet strong enough in the eyes of Erastil to wield sufficient power to heal all of you at once. If we have the opportunity to rest, I can call upon his providence twice more tomorrow."
Ethan holds the wooden symbol of Erastil in one hand and touches Dorin and Ionacu each in turn.
Many thanks, Ethan.
"Ah, much better," Ionacu says, with a sigh of relief as the worst of his pains fade away. He looks around, seeing people taking care of most of the worst of the damage.
"Think they got all the ale?" he asks no one in particular. "I'd like to not remember most of that."
"I can properly clean and bind the rest of your wounds, once we have located a place to set up for the night. In the meantime, none of you appears to have suffered a life-threatening blow, and I am sure the good people of Sandpoint could use our assistance in the aftermath."
He looks around to see where he could be of most help.
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The dignified man sets his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest slightly, appearing quite miffed at being ignored.
"Rats get in everywhere. Goblins aren't much different," Ionacu answers distractedly, still poking at the blood-stained hole in his shirt.
"Come, sir, join us in assisting your neighbors! The gods have seen fit to save you from the goblins' cook-pots this day, and nothing shows gratitude like service cheerfully rendered!"
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The man's demeanor changes back to one of gratitude, and he smiles widely. At the idea of work, though, he seems to be able to promptly come up with more pressing concerns. I'm grateful, good man - sincerely so. I fear, though, that I must get back to the Inn and see what sort of damage has been done. I don't doubt that this mess will cost the town a fortune. My name is Aldern Foxglove, of the noble Foxglove house. I'll be staying at the Rusty Dragon for a few more days. Please, stop by when you get the chance; I'd love to talk with you more and reward you properly for saving me from said pot.
The somewhat pompous noble leaves soon after, and you make a quick survey of the surrounding town. By this time, the battle seems to have been decided. Surviving goblins flee north in droves, in some cases preferring to leap to their certain death off of the cliffs rather than be captured. You come across more than one in your survey that is still alive, but in some way incapacitated.
If there be nothin' to chase down around town, then maybe a few ales at this Rusty Dragon and a chat with fancy pants oughta be in order?
Duru will take the time to check on the cathedral and Abstalar, and hopes that his new friends will accompany him on the task before tilting back the cups.
There are several bodies of townsfolk in the streets; a few can be helped and several are too far gone or already dead.
The cathedral seems fine, having been mostly ignored as the goblins seemed to be searching for people and dogs to kill, and things that would be far easier to burn than the stone structure. Abstalar is busy at work inside, where he tends to many wounded who filter in, their bodies in various states of disrepair. Several acolytes assist him, and he looks up as you enter.
I didn't expect the cathedral to be put to use so soon. From all I've heard, my friends, we'd be performing services for these poor men and women instead of tending to their wounds. I've never seen newcomers to our town fight with such tenacity for people you don't know. I hope that you'll be staying in town for a while, so we may talk again in a less...trying scenario? His look is hopeful as he waits for acknowledgement; his gaze drifts to his charges though...it's obvious that he's in a hurry to get back to his work.
On the street, Ionacu heaves a heavy sigh and leaves off fingering his shirt as he start helping carry wounded to the cathedral.
As he goes, he kicks the occasional goblin, before making a note to himself later to see if they've got anything of interest on them.
"Let us help, Abstalar, there is much work to do for those wounded and extra hands may make a difference." Duru joins Ionacu in the task of bringing the wounded to the cathedral.
Ethan moves through the streets, checking on the wounded townsfolk. He does his best to assess each of their conditions, and calls upon Erastil's aid to keep the badly wounded from death's doorstep .
"Come friends, help get your neighbors off of the streets and to shelter," he calls to the other citizens of Sandpoint. "If some stalwarts could check the goblins: collect and burn the dead ones, dispatch the dying ones. If you find any in condition to speak, hold them fast until they can be questioned!"
He turns to his companions. "It seems a full day's work awaits."
Edit:
I'll be helpin' the injured. this will build up a good thirst!
Heal:
Vlad grimaces at Ethan's words. I will "tend" to the goblins. With that the swordsman goes about the grizzly task in silence. Piercing every goblin he comes upon with his blade, he then rummages through pockets to collect any valuables, which he stores in his belt pouch.
Once he has ensured death and looted any items of value he collects all the bodies at the end of every street to be collected by cart or wagon.
Perhaps they should be burned on the beach...
The townsfolk rally around Ethan's natural leadership, and many hands make for light work, though the mood is grim as men and women see their neighbors, friends, and family injured or worse. Abstalar works tirelessly and, with Ethan's and Dorin's help manages to make quite the difference between a bad day and a tragedy.
By the time it's all done, you're able to gather four goblins that weren't too far gone to talk, but are injured enough so that they couldn't flee the scene. They cower in fright, having seen their brethren so handily defeated.
Ethan looks down at the cowering goblins.
"You seem to have no trouble singing in the common tongue, so you should have no trouble answering our questions."
Duru strides up to the goblins, his face a mask of anger, as he tries to intimidate the bunch.
Unfortunately, Duru has lettuce from his lunch stuck in his teeth and the sight of the vegetarian Hobgoblin threatening the goblins has little effect, unless laughter is counted.
Ionacu has no interest in interrogating goblins. Instead, once all the people are helped, he'll go around and see if there's anything else of interest he can find, assuming Vlad didn't get all of it.