Moklik screams a battlecry and charges Garrilk, his face set in rage at the chief's son's betrayal!
Tupilek will continue to ride forward, lowering his lance and heading for Garrilk.
Asheru sets his feet and and holds his club across his chest, standing firm to accept either Garrilk's or his minion's attack.
Caedmon moves as fast as possible towards the Elfwoman.
Common=English
Elven=French
Dwarven=Russian
Orc=Swahili
Draconic=Latin
The Bonewright advances slowly and implacably upon the meelee.
Caedmon runs forward behind the charging mammoth rider, but hampered by his heavy coat. Still, he closes the distance towards the developing melee.
Like a screaming demon, Moklik charges out of the bushes, and straight towards an astonished Garrilk. He thrusts his spear hard at the chiefson, who barely reacts in time, and still takes a deep wound to his shoulder. Garrilk screams in rage, turning his attention from Asheru to the young feral warrior.
Bonewright advances slowly, a look of concentration on his face. The swirling, spectral ravens surge forward from Asheru, surrounding Garrilk, Ormerad and Sertis who flap and wave frantically at the ghostly birds.
Sertis draws his bow, seeking to loose an arrow at Moklik. What would have been a deadly shot is disturbed as he twists and turns to avoid the ghostly ravens and the arrow scores Moklik's hip, drawing a bloody line.
Asheru readies his club in defense.
Ormerad, confused by the sudden turn of events, looks dumbly from his leader to Asheru to Moklik. Finally, he decides that helping his leader can't be wrong, and moves to assist, lashing out at Moklik with his bone dagger, but not connecting.
Wheatbeard, panting and wheezing, hurries after the others. He passes Asheru and closes in on the evolving melee.
Tupilek readies his lance as he spurs Pikkuveli into a charge. Racing past Asheru, he aims directly for Garrilk. It is difficult to make a surprise attack on a charging mammoth, however, and despite the other distractions, Garrilk twists to avoid the attack, the lance only tearing a long rip in his leather cloak.
The other members of Garrilk's band seem torm between joining the fight and obeying their leader's orders. However, two quickly grab the group's gear while a third moves over to the captive and begins cutting her bonds.
Recovering his wits, Garrilk takes stock of the situation, glancing between the raging Moklik and the mass of fur and flesh that this the mammoth rider. With his iron blade in hand, his hunter's instinct takes hold - focus on the wounded. He slashes towards Moklik, but cannot land a blow as the other hunter ducks and weaves.
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0Bzm2DNZNJqxnalZlVFItR192cnM/edit?usp=sharin g
Tupilek throws down his lance, and leaping from Pikkuveli's back he lands with his great bone club in both hands. "Kill these sons of b*tches, Pikku!" He commmands the mammoth, swinging the club at Garrilk.
Asheru spies the henchman dealing with the captive and runs toward him, skirting around Tupilek.
Seeing the mammoth and rider charge in, Moklik abandons the attack on Garrilk and stabs at Omerad, still snarling like a wild beast!
Closing the gap, Wheatbeard took a quick glance of the area. His hope was his companions did not notice him in the fray, lest he be taken for a demon of sorts. Summoning the largest breath he could, the Dwarf blew at Garrilk, a narrow buffet of wind and precipitate harrying him. He was hoping to throw the man off his guard long enough for his companions to take care of him. Wheatbeard was no fool - the man was twice his size and could easily slay him in a contest of strength. It must not come to that!
The run did him in, and the stream went flat before reaching him. Fearing the worst, the Dwarf grabbed his spear from the strap on his back and tried to look as menacing as someone his size could.
Caedmon continues his run forward. In a split second decision, he decides to skirt around the melee, and head for the back of the campsite, where one of Garrilk's henchment was untying the captive.
Moklik seems consumed by fury, more wild beast that human. He lunges towards the lumbering Ormerad, slashing him across the abdomen with a mighty spearthrust.
The Bonewright continues his slow advance, skull-staff held high, as he focuses on his ghostly ravens.
Sertis, the archer, is now spoiled for choice of targets. Still bobbing his head to avoid the spectral birds that flap silently around him, he picks the most threatening of the new arrivals, the mammoth rider, and looses a sharp-tipped arrow, which whacks into the meat of Tupilek's thigh. He then takes a step backwards, trying to escape the flapping distraction of the ravens.
Seeing his opponents well engaged, Asheru drops his defensive stance, and rushes around the melee, towards the captive.
Ormerad, finally displaying a little sense, takes a step forward, freeing himself from the diving, swirling cloud of ravens. Finding himself free of their annoyance, he grins wickedly at Moklik, thrusting his dagger at the raging warrior, slicing a wicked, bloody cut down the man's arm.
Wheatbeard takes a might breath, and blows towards Garrilk. The spirits enhance his breath, and all combatants feels a sudden cold, damp breeze wash over them, but the run has sapped his strength, and it does no damage.
Leaping down from his mount, Tupilek draws his club in a smooth, practiced action, and swings at Garrilk in a single motion. The blow connects with the man's torso, and there is the crunch of cracking rib. Garrilk screams in pain again, and turns his attentions to the new arrivals, just in time for an angry Pikkuveli to cuff him about the head with a mighty blow of his trunk.
His head spinning, and seeing himself outnumbered, Garrilk chooses the better part of valour, abandoning Ormerad and scrambling and stumbling back to the campfire to better position himself . He shouts to his other henchmen to leave the gear and draw their weapons, which they do The other henchmanm, who was untying the elven captive, glances up to see both Asheru and Caedmon barrelling down on him, and abandons his task, drawing back towards the fire and his companions.
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0Bzm2DNZNJqxnd3JJNFR0b1k3QzQ/edit?usp=sharin g
Asheru was about to continue forwards and secure the captive, but he feels a presence urging him towards Garrilk.
"Ignoble cur," he growls, his voice deepening. "You break the Law of Hospitality, then take up arms against your own tribe. The ancestors weep at your dishonor."
"If you want your prize," he says as strides between Garrilk and the elf. "You will have to get past this addle-pate."
Moklik lets out a howl of hatred, then stabs at Omerad again, his blood boiling! for damage!
Not made for sprinting, the Dwarf's stubby legs refused to carry him at the same pace any longer. He approached his foes, but at a more tolerable speed, spear at the ready.
Almost... there...
The ghostly birds swirl around Sertis, faster and faster, closer and closer... a whirlwind of black wings funnelling into him.
Finally they are all gone, and a pair of black ghostly raven's wings spread out from behind him.
"Kill them archer! Kill your friends!" shouts Bonewright.
Soon... soon I will add the knowledge of the elves to my collection. Then this will be within my power in truth!
Ormerad howls as the raging Moklik stabs him again. Seeing himself abandoned by his leader, he tries to scramble back towards his companions, presenting Moklik with an opening that he doesn't pass up. A savage spearthrust strikes the man in the side as he turns to retreat, and Ormerod crashes to the ground, blood flowing from his wounds.
From further back, the Bonewright marshals his magic, the ravens coalesce into dark wings around the back of Sertis. The archer panics, drops his bow, and flees back towards the campfire. Almost instantly, the spectral wings fade like mist in the morning sun.
Seeing the stalemate, Garrilk clutches his side, and spits his contempt at Asheru.
"*My* tribe, Addlepate? I am not Chief yet! My fat fool of a father refuses to die, no matter how much smoked sealmeat he stuffs in his mouth! Years I have waited to be chief, and still I am not."
Controlling his paid, he pulls himself up to his full height.
"Take the elf-wench if you wish. We had our fun with her last night. Run back to my father and mew your tales. But there is a new power rising, Addle-pate. When the orcs conquer this land, the Burning One will need a king to rule it for him. I will no longer be Garrilk Chiefson! I will be Garrilk Overchief! And if I ever find you again, I will hang your skulls from my throne!"
He spits blood, and then gestures to his men to collect their stuff. "Take your prize, Addle-pate, and lead your men west. We go east. Pray to your ancestors that we do not meet again."
"Ha! You speak your evil and want to walk away from here? You die now fool!" Tupilek shouts, ignoring the pain of his bloody wounds. He motions Pikkuveli to attack the wicked chief-son.
"Betrayer! This ends now!" Moklik charges the foul chief's son, his face set into a bestial snarl.
"No, Garrilk, we will not meet again," Asheru says with a grim smile as he raises his club.
Sighing with relief as the slate slants against the vile chief-son, Wheatbeard approaches the cluster and readies his spear for an opening - if one appears. He did not much care for this senseless fight, but the man just threatened them all.
Dismissing the image of the crumbling carved raven skull from his mind Bonewright calls upon another. He feels the energy-sapping long winter sleep of the Bear coming upon him. He holds it as he steps forward - then throws it at his enemies.
Bonewright puts a finger to his lips
"Shhh" he hisses.
OK, various people have moved round during the shorty parley. Here's a map of how things stand at the start of the recommencement of hostilities:
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0Bzm2DNZNJqxnMndyUXAxSWtibEE/edit?usp=sharin g
This means there are some problems with some of the declared actions:
Moklik - you cannot charge Garrilk. You can charge Sertis or either of the other two henchmen next to him. Or you can try to overrun to get to Garrilk. You risk multiple readied attacks and AoOs.
Tupilek - Pikkuveli hasn't got enough move to move and attack Garrilk this round. He can double move, but then risks AoOs and readied attacks.
Wheatbeard - can you be a bit more precise about where you are moving to?
Asheru, Caedmon, Bonewright - your declared actions are valid, but if you want to change them in the light of the updated map, feel free.
I'll try to charge the nearest enemy to get them out of the way in order to get Garrilk.
Jolly good. But it's now just short of midnight here, and I've had too many gin and tonics. Update tomorrow.
Gins and tonics? Gins and tonic?
you get the idea anyway
Caedmon rushes to the elf-woman and whispers deep, soothing words in the elvish tongue. He positions himself between her limp form and the rest of the combatants.
His mind overtaken with fury, Moklik screams an insult and charges the group of hunters in front of the traitorous Garrilk.
Their spears and axes ready, the hunters watch his approach, bursting into action as he takes his final lupine steps.
The hunter nearest Sertis swings his flint axe at the approaching hunter, whose wild charge has left him vulnerable The heavy stone head connects with Moklik's chest, and there is a loud oomph as the air is knocked from his lungs. Moklik spins round on the spot, and then collapses.
The Bonewright, who has finally caught up with his companions, makes another of his enigmatic, seemingly meaningless gestures...
...and, amazingly, two of Garrilk's band suddenly yawn, their eyes roll back in their heads, and they collapse to the ground.
Sertis looks around nervously, drawing his bone dagger and readying a defense.
Asheru steps up towards Garrilk, who slashes at the approaching shaman with his grey metal dagger cutting a wicked bloody line across Asheru's chest. In response, the shaman's swing of his bone club is easily parried.
Wheatbeard, his spear gripped tightly in his fists, runs into the knot of combatants, attempting to reach Garrilk. Sertis takes a swipe at the dwarf as he draws near but the dwarf dodges, then retaliates with a spearthrust of his own into the man's thigh, causing him to stagger as blood courses down his leg. Hearing his comrade cry out, the last remaining of Garrilk's companions steps forward, his spear lowered at the advancing dwarf but is blocked by the spinning, hopping Sertis.
Tupilek draws his bow and looses an arrow, but is more used to hunting on the open plains that firing into a crowded melee, and his shot goes wide. Meanwhile, Pikkuveli charges into combat, trumpetting loudly, but the crush of bodies seems to confuse the young mammoth, and his although he thrusts his small tusks about wildly, he does not connect with a target.
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0Bzm2DNZNJqxnRDNERDdkRHduRlU/edit?usp=sharin g
The Bonewright continues his inexorable advance. The ashed image of his last totem fills his mind, and it is all he can do to activate a simpler but similar charm.
The counterattacks against the Dwarf knocked him out of his relative reservedness in the battle. He escaped conflict in his homeland, but ironically completed his exodus in combat. He did not tarry then, and he would not tarry now.
As his jab went askew, the Dwarf was further reminded he wasn't soldier material; it was one of the reasons his comrade had died instead of him. Cursing himself, his eyes and ears remained alert to (hopefully) keep him alive.
In the chaos of battle, it was hard to discern how the others were faring, but a flicker of a prayer went through his head for them.
Tupilek tries again with his bow, this time on Garrilk's ally.
vs DC 10
Asheru hisses in pain but presses the attack on Garrilk.
Unable to get a clear shot, Caedmon focuses on the elf woman as he cuts away her bonds. She is still unconscious, and has been badly treated, but there seem to be no life-threatening wounds. With a final sweep of his knife he frees her, and catches her limp form as it collapses.
Moklik pants like a wounded animal as he bleeds from his many injuries.
Bonewright focuses again, casting his will forward into the melee, attempting the same mind-clouding trick he had tried before on Caedmon. Garrilk feels his senses begin to spin and staggers slightly as the world reels around him, losing his focus on the attacking Asheru. Taking advantage, Asheru lifts his club high, and, guided by hands that are not quite his own, brings it down hard on the head of the wheeling Garrilk. The chiefson staggers, blood pouring down his face.
Sertis strikes again at the nervous Wheatbeard, his dagger a blur in his hand. Perhaps the Stories about dwarves being made of stone are true, however, as once again, the blow is true, but seems to bounce of the druid's tough hide.
Wheatbeard is unable to take advantage though, as his spearthrust goes wide. Next to him, Garrilk's henchman thrusts his spear forward again This time the dwarf's luck runs out, as the speartip digs deep into his side.
Tupilek looses another arrow, which again goes wide of the swirling melee. Meanwhile Pikkuveli, now fully in battle frenzy, becomes a whirling mass of fur, tusk and trunk, lashing out at the one who had wounded Wheatbeard. The trunk catches the man in the chest, winding him and knocking him back several feet.
Running damage totals: Moklik: 15/13 Tupilek: 2/12 Asheru: 6/13 Wheatbeard: 6/11
No-one moved - the map is the same.