Moklik swings his spear like a club, attempting to bludgeon the traitorous humans to death!
A blessing in diguise, his oompanions' focus on the enemies would keep his own actions questionable. Wheatbeard took the opportunite to infuse himself with the vitality of the world, making himself fit to do something besides sit by a tree.
Asheru is momentarily transfixed by the ragged wound in Garrilk's scalp.
Did I do this? he wonders as he looks from the wound to the bloodied end of his club.
As the chiefson's henchmen approach, and Caedmon engages, Asheru stands over Garrilk, ready to strike any enemy that gets past his companion.
Caedmon swings again with all his might, but this time Murley, bleeding and huffing, barely dodges the blow, getting a wide rent in his hide armour for his trouble.
Murley spins on his heel, tring to catc Caedmon while still off balance. His flint axe whistles through the air but Caedmon ducks easily. Carreh again thrusts with his spear but cannot connect.
Asheru stands alert, his head cocked to one side, listening.
Moklik, his rage rekindled, charges in, swinging his spear like a club. Carreh turns at the last moment, and and his eyes go wide as the spearhaft crunches into his shoulder, eliciting a yelp of pain.
Wheatbeard, unwilling to engage, channels the spirits to staunch the flow of blood from his side.
Moklik continues his assault!
{dice=Damage]1d6+3[/dice]
Summoning his courage, Wheatbeard dashes in to give the foe a jab. Though he didn't much care for this conflict, he was left little choice in the matter.
for .
Will do an update this evening, including map.
Morning. Had a busy weekend, sorry.
Hopefully this combat will be over soon, and we can move on to something more interesting.
Map. I'm only showing the combatants. I'll hold off an update for an hour or so in case any of you want to change your actions, or in case Caedmon's player wants to post (I assume he's continuing to attack).
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0Bzm2DNZNJqxndlp5NVkwREdTZlE/edit?usp=sharin g
Caedmon, now committed to the combat, swings again
and again only succeeds in rending a great tear in his opponent's armour.
His face twisted in pain, Murley retaliates against the lowly hunter, his axe sweeping in great arcs as he attempts to maintain his reach
damage:
and this time his blow lands. Caedmon attempts to skip away, but the stone blade cuts deep into his side.
Carreh thrusts hard at the raging Moklik and this time connects, his speartip tearing yet another bleeding wound in the wounded hunter , undoing almost all the healing magic that Wheatbeard had blown into him.
Even as the spearthrust strikes home, Moklik continues his assault, but the strength is fading again from his limbs, and he sinks slowly to the ground as unconsciousness takes him.
Asheru stands, his weapon ready in defense.
Wheatbeard bravely steps up to Carreh, his spear thrusting low, but the man easily parries.
Seeing Moklik felled once more gave Wheatbeard a moment of pause. His mystical energy was well on its way to being spent, and he wasn't in perfect health himself presently. If this type of difficulty was had among men, what kinds of trouble would the Orcs pose?
Instead of worrying about the threat, he let his hatred for the creatures flow through him and into his spear, taking another thrust.
.
Caedmon shrugs off his injury and swings again at his wounded attacker. Again, his blade bites deep into flesh, and as his swing follows through, his target goes with it, collapsing in a heap on the ground.
Seeing a new, albeit less intimidating foe, Carreh sneers and thrusts his bloodied spear at the nervous dwarf.
His overconfidence lets him down, as Wheatbeard sidesteps, before delivering a return thrust. His speartip plunges deep into Carreh's flank, causing the man to roar with pain and fear, as he realises his companion has fallen.
There is a disturbance in the bushes, as a large, furry head pushes its way through, followed by the rest of Pikkuveli and a somewhat battered looking Tupilek. Behind him lurks the enigmatic figure of the Bonewright.
Caedmon Speaks loud and clear."Surrender now or you will feed the Crows."
Seeing his two companions still at battle Tupilek urges Pikkuveli forward in a charge towards Carreh.
Seeing Moklik fall, Asheru trusts his companions to continue the fight and circles around to the injured hunter.
He presses a hand to Moklik's chest. "Now is not your time," he murmurs. "One day, but not this day."
Seeing the cavalry arrive, Wheatbeard breathes a sigh of relief. Withdrawing his spear from the outnumbered opponent, he takes a step back. It had to be done. He was not cut out for this kind of infighting. One thing to slay monstrous beasts, it was, but quite another to attack civilized men.
He surveyed the area for stragglers while the more hasty of their group decided the man's fate.
Bonewright makes sure there are a few allies between him and the enemy then speaks
"They threw off the hibernation? They should have slept till spring." he sighs "Now I must do it again. Kill them while they sleep this time.".
Carreh, seeing himself beset from all sides, looks around frantically at Caedmon shouts his challenge for surrender.
He is still looking to act as Tupilek's club comes down with a loud crack on his skull. His eyes cross briefly before one of Pikkuvel's stubby tusks erupts from his chests in a spray of bloody. The mammoth brays his triumph, before tossing the limp corpse aside.
For the second time in as many minutes, Moklik's eyes flutter open as his spirit is guided back towards the land of the living, just in time for the wan sun to finally clear the top of the trees, and bathe the clearing in the cold morning light.
A brutal end for a brutal man. Fitting. The Dwarf turned to go sit by the tree he was resting at before the resurgance occurred. "I take it you didn't catch the rabbit?" he said, referring to Sertis. Doubtful. He will surely have it in for us. Not particularly hinging on a reply, the Dwarf made his way to the tree and sat again.
His side still burned, and he was beginning to get hungry. The sight of these corpses did not let his appetite take priority though.
"Ooooo." Moklik lets out a long sigh. "I need to stop getting wounded. It isn't fun."
Bonewright walks among the downed, flitting from body to body and carefully collecting weapons - starting with Garrilk's dagger.
"Sertis has fled - but he may return with Orcs. As for the traitors, shall we let the wronged elf decide their fate?"
Tell me when expeditious retreat expires
"We shall let her have a say. We shall vote on their fate as a group. If there are any ties her votes side wins."Stopping to think Caedmon sighs."We should bury the confirmed dead and head to a safer area to continue."He then turns to Bonewright."Bonewright if you need help carrying anything we all will help. Though what have you found so far?"Caedmon then moves to start helping him and gather up the enemies Armour."Gather up the ones that can be saved and strip them down. Should they get free I want an easier time taking them down."
@Bonewright - that would be about now
Tallying the contents of the camp and its inhabitants takes a while. There is the usual selection of travelling gear, basic weapons - stone axes, spears, bone knives, a single bow - as well as some preserved food and supplies, including no fewer than four skins of mead. On spits over the fire are some skewers of an unfamiliar meat that Moklik, with much sniffing, finally identifies as squirrel.
Apart from a few gold trinkets from the various corpses and captives, the greatest haul comes from Garrilk. The Chiefson wears a finely crafted hide coat that has been decorated with careful burning and dying into attractive patterns. And, of course, glinting in the sunlight at his feet is the strange blade of dull grey metal.
Bonewright takes Asheru aside on the premise of talking about "How your people honour the dead"
Once aside he asks
"For all these were traitors, they were your tribe. Should your people be told the truth of what happened here? It seems likely Sertis might head back before us."
"Other one run away. We follow him quickly, or he will tell orcs we are coming. Cut open these devils in human skin, leave them for wolves to smell blood. They will reborn as wolves in their bellies."
Asheru helps Moklik rise, then offers him one of the fetish pouches. "Here, this will speed you to recovery."
To Bonewright he says "Tupilek is not far off. We usually leave our dead on raised wooden beds to let birds and rain and wind carry the bodies away. But dinner for wolves seems like a fitting end for these scoundrels."
He bites his lipped, somewhat dismayed at the prospects of leaving the death rites unobserved. Asheru also wonders if these men's spirits will find there way to him, to hound him for his lapse.
Blood must be answered with blood, a vaguely familiar voice replies. Chiefson or not, he raised arms against his own kind. Let them rot.
Asheru blinks. Did he say that out loud?
Moklik takes his Asheru's pouch with a nod of thanks. He stares at the fallen traitors and walks over to Garrilk. Taking out the elven stone dagger he took from the dead elves, he plunges it into Garrilk's eye and leaves it there.
"Do what you will with the others. Garrilk Traitor will lie here for the wolves and the birds and the rats. He is slain by the dagger of those he slew. Justice is served."
Moklik's reaction is much what Wheatbeard's own people would've done. No ceremony for monsters, no eulogy for the vile. He glanced over to the Elven vixen. What stories can she give us if she pulls through? He pondered the possibilities and motives thereof for a few minutes before lifting himself off the ground and walking to the others.
"It seems we pulled through. My apologies - I am not as battle-seasoned as you may be. The last thrust of his spear bluffed his statement though, covered in blood as it was. He would have to clean it later. "Have they anything telling us of their aim with her?" the Dwarf asked, gesturing towards the unconscious woman.
Caedmon walks over to the woman and will try to help her survive.
"We let other one escape?" Tupilek asks, looking back and forth from the unconscious elven woman to the forest where the last of the dastardly humans had fled. "I have bad feeling about this."
Caedmon stands and yells to his group when he realizes something."Enough wasting time! Tupilek. Find us a safe encampment location. Someplace where we can easily defend ourselves. Asheru. Help me tend to the woman to prepare her to be moved. Everyone else. Search the bodies and gather everything we can use into our packs and prepare them for whatever you decide to do with the bodies."Caedmon thinks well to himself. "I must keep focused. This is a hunt. I am a Wolf on the Hunt. Therefore I will take charge and lead them so that they will return home safe and sound."
Tupilek raises an eyebrow at the smaller man yelling orders at him. "Who die and make you chief? Explain."
Sighing Caedmon stares intently at Tupilek."Do you know of anyone who can move fast to find a safe location for us to go to for when either Garrilk's Tribe or the Orcs come after us? Or would you rather stay and possibly get ambushed?"
"I rather throw the elf over Pikkuveli's back and go track down last bad man. We move quickly he no tell orc, or anyone else. Then when work is done we can rest."
Sighing again Caedmon takes on a more serious look."The forest is to thick for us to keep up we would have to wait until he can't run anymore, he already has a good headstart, and we don't know how close the Orcs are. Also ff I had to place a bet I would say most of are Spellweavers are running low on Spells. We have succeeded in our main goal we should fall back, regroup, and hopefully get somewhere that they can't fight us effectively or can't find us."
Tupilek looks to others, trying to gauge their opinions.
"Either option is better than staying here. I think we should stay together, move on and heal up."
Like Tupilek, Wheatbeard also bristles at the barking of orders. "He makes a good point; we are here to find what we can about our enemy, not to serve you," says the Dwarf, gesturing towards Tupilek and speaking to Caedmon. "Your plan is the better though. We won't be catching the fox." His legs wouldn't allow it, and if a mounted man couldn't, that line of thought ended quite quickly.
"Fine. We lose." Tupilek says, growling. "Since all accept our defeat, we just continue on to mud pits. Still have mission, just might not matter now."
"Who says we lost? We took down our enemies leader and obtained our goal of saving the Elf Woman. It is still a successful hunt. If you hunt Auroch do you consider it a failure if you don't kill the entire herd or is it successful if you get enough food for your tribe."
"This is no hunt. This is war." Tupilek says with finality.
"War is nothing but a Hunt with plenty of Prey. But if this is war then we still one as our enemies have lost a number of warriors. We now have information of a betrayal within our own ranks. Heck, we even now that there might have been an ambush for us later on. That is not counting the fact that we rescued the Elven Woman and can hopefully gain the Elves as Allies even easier."