Here it is! To get us started, I'll do individual spoilers.
VANYA
CASPIAN
WYVURN
KELSIN
A songbird, flitting through the glade, sings of the second group of men, and you immediately realize they must have been following the first. By dusk, you find a deer who explains that her son, a proud buck, has been slain by the second group and skinned – they are inside the forest! Worse, they chopped down a sacred grove for wood – and one of those trees contained a dryad, although the men were deaf to her screams. At dawn, they depart on horses, chasing the first group, and with vengeance burning in your heart, you decide to chase them. The dryad had been a playmate of yours since you were young and first learning the lore of the druids. The bandits decamp during the night –- all the better for you, as men cannot see as well as you in the starlight, and you follow them easily across the meadow to a human inn, where they attack the caravan after the sun has come up over the Estren Forests behind you. Smiling grimly, you set a ceramic bullet to your sling, and make sure your flint knife is loose in its sheath. Snort, always ready for a fight and happy to be getting some action, charges from the trees!
JAEGR
Travelling at night to avoid the terrible glare of the sun, you arrive at the site of the inn near dawn and improvise a bed among a small pile of boulders, intending to wait until evening to enter, to allay suspicion concerning your time of arrival. You have enough food left for a day, in any event. Your rest is short, however; not long after you fall asleep, a caravan of wagons arrives… and with it, a group of a dozen or so horsemen who scream and attack the men in the wagons!
"Oh no, how did they find me!"
Initiative
DM
Do you prefer I assume an initiative roll or wait till you call for initiative?
** spoiler omitted **
As Snort runs up, Kelsin holds his hand out in a "halt" motion. Mentally, he communicates with the impatient quadruped, speaking in elven, which usually seems to soothe him a bit. "Irillv el, fywwa. Caan anira irysillla irilnyn ilan ailnyir eaniram oem quylaan il fean, aniral ama amecc ilew aniras el aniraem laelam-alwelv hyalaan ane walaanmea ailnyir eaniram."
Kelsin watches as the humans engage each other in combat. As he reaches down to scratch the boar's thick, rough hide he extends his awareness and channels the divine energy of the land through his body, enhancing his four-legged companion's already considerable capacity for dishing out pain.
Thinking twice, Kelsin puts back his bullet. He hates using the things as they require visits to "civilized" outposts to procure more, but usually they are his best bet for dealing damage. This time, however, with so many humans, he wants to be sure to maximize effectiveness. Bending down, he rummages around on the ground for three pebbles of roughly equivalent size and shape as a sling bullet, and imbues them with the wild power of nature. ()
So prepared, he moves up within 50' of his target and speaks to his friend in grunting Common, which never fails to irritate the high holy bejeezus out of the grouchy animal. "Alright, Snort, rip out their leg muscles! They'll never walk in these lands -- or anywhere else -- ever again!"
Jagr will wipe the sleep from his eyes, grab his Pick Axe and head over to the caravan yelling "Do you mind? I am trying to get some sleep here"
Jagr will try and make a perception check to see if he can tell who is the aggressor here
One of the riders, wheeling wide, moves past a patch of tall weeds. Snorting, a boar breaks from the cover, slashing with its tusks at the horse's legs; the surprised animal, already keyed up by the surrounding mayhem and on its guard, is more annoyed than injured, strikes back with its hooves:
It fails to trample the tough boar, and the rider, dazedly trying to divert his attention to this new threat, dips his head to invistigate what's underfoot... and a stone whizzes through the space his head had occupied a second before.
Regarding sling bullets:
Jagr will wipe the sleep from his eyes, grab his Pick Axe and head over to the caravan yelling, "Do you mind? I am trying to get some sleep here!"
An angry dwarf rises from a pile of rocks, holding a huge pickaxe.
Then you catch something from the corner of your eye, and see another figure prone in the grass, infinitely stealthier and more sinister, holding a longbow. As this sniper draws back the bowstring, you can see his remaining whole ear is pointed, like the wood elf's (the other is burned or mangled)... but there the resemblance ends, and as you get a better look your memory screams "hobgoblin!" You remember raids by different hobgoblin tribes, and your dwarf blood screams for you to charge forward and cut him down. "The only good gobbo is a dead one," your clan always says. His head snaps around to where you have emerged, and the bow tracks your movement as well...
Kelsin and Snort both let their aggravation get the best of them, causing Snort to get distracted while dancing around the horse's hooves, missing the beast entirely with his tusks. Meanwhile Kelsin, hearing what sounds like the yelling of a dwarf, takes his eye completely off his target and sends his second magic rock whistling harmlessly off into the distance. He winces and mutters blackly to himself in Sylvan.
Wyvurn looks down on the caravan. The odds don't look good.
Drawing his bow, Wyvurn moves himself into a position where he can snipe the raiders. Finding some cover from a rock outcropping, the hobgoblin draws a bead and fires. Instead of ducking back into the rocks, Wyvurn deliberately allows a raider to see him . hoping to lure one towards him and then attack him in melee catching the raider off-guard expecting an archer.
Jagr thinks to himself "The bandits are using hobgoblin snipers, I can't leave them free to fire on the caravan!"
Jagr shakes his in confusion at this weird upside world above ground. Who is the enemy and who is friend? Well the caravan needs help one way or the other. If that hobgoblin continues to help the caravan he can live a little longer.
The hobgoblin, accustomed to years of battle, immediately realizes that there are others in the area that will fight the raiders as well. He therefore realizes that an earlier plan, which would have maximized his odds of success while alone, has potentially been superseded by a new set of odds, and he adjusts instinctively to the new set of circumstances. Moving his bow fractionally towards the dwarf and then away, to indicate his awareness of that fighter and his disinclination to attack him, Wyvurn fires an arrow wide purely as a decoy at the nearest raider, who wheels his steed and charges directly at him, hoping to catch him unaware as he reloads.
Wyvurn: This raider wants to split your skull with a long sword, but your battle plan is high enough that he doesn't realize you're ready to attack unarmed. His sword swing goes wide, and leaves him open to your counterattack.
---
Meanwhile, Jaegr sees that the hobgoblin appears not to be assisting the bandits. For a moment he wonders if it's a double bluff, to get him to turn his back to the archer -- but then the gobbo's shot goes so wild of its mark that he stops worrying -- apparently this particular hobgoblin wasn't paying attention when his murderous clan taught him to pull a bow!
Focusing his attention on another nearby raider, who fires his crossbow as he approaches and badly misses, Jaegr swings with the pick -- knocking the man from the saddle and spilling him to the ground, out cold.
EDIT:
In the midst of the commotion, a very small figure -- evidently a hobbit of some kind -- breaks from the cover of the inn's stable and scurries towards the caravan wagons, away from the raiders. A shot is fired at him
from a light crossbow from one of the bandits attacking the caravan.
Vanya staggers out of the inn. "Morana! What is this racket?!" Seeing bandits, he stops and draws his serrated blade. "Well, someone has gone tired of living... Come, dogs! My blade thirsts! Morana, count the dead!" He raises his left hand and bends his will towards one of the bandits with crossbows.
Focusing his attention on another nearby raider, who fires his crossbow as he approaches and badly misses, Jaegr swings with the pick -- knocking the man from the saddle and spilling him to the ground, out cold.
After downing a bandit he'll either look the next volunteer to fall from his Pick Axe or just pick one nearby.
Attack/damage
Once reaching the deep grass on the side of the road, will hide in some grass......
Stealth
Two of the bandits have been accounted for by the caravan guards, but others have reached it and thrown torches onto the wagons, forcing the defenders to flee. The dwarf valiantly swings at another bandit, but seeing the fate that befell their fellow; they stay at a distance, and one levels a crossbow at him:
Things are looking grim when the door to the inn opens and a haggard man in obvious finery strides forth, waving his hand at the bandits contemptuously.
Saving throws:
Three of the marauders drop from their saddles; one is so deeply unconscious when he hits ground that he strikes his head on a rock, leaving him unconscious for longer than the mere spell would. Nodding to himself, the man in the finery strides forward with a sword, while two of the bandits open fire at him:
One of the marauder's bolts grazes the magician; the other strikes deadly true:
Roll to confirm crit:
Additional crit damage (if applicable):
Meanwhile, the hobbit, rabbit-like, has reached the tall grass of the meadow and has disappeared without a trace -- perhaps he is part brownie or part leprechaun...
The magician-swordsman is heavily wounded, but is apparently too tough to go down, even with a bolt protruding from his shoulder.
Kelsin and Snort continue to attack, taking advantage of the mass confusion being sown by the surfeit of combatants now entering the fray.
Jagr will swing at the bandit he is by, and then move towards the crossbowmen that shot the magician with a sword
"Looks like I have some volunteers!"
"Mother Death, don't count me yet amongst your crows!" Vanya once again bends his will towards clouding the minds of remaining bandits.
The boar continues to keep one of the riders occupied in avoiding its tusks; with the rider's attention so distracted, he fails to dodge a second sling bullet missile. Realizing that allowing his mount to dance with the irate boar is a losing proposition, he wheels his horse and forces it into a charge against the slinger.
Charge:
Damage:
Meanwhile, the dwarf drops another opponent, the man's fall from his mount sparing him from the continued downward impetus of the pick that would otherwise have broken his skull like an egg, rather than merely sending him, unconscious and bleeding, to the ground.
The wounded Man in Blck is far from finished; he incants strongly at the bandits attacking him.
Saving throws:
The charging horseman would have normally missed, but the frantic impetus of his mount lets his blade strike home against the wood elf
The strange swordsman's wound seems not to have impeded his magic at all; both of the bandits attacking him, and a pair of their allies attacking the caravan as well, slump in their saddles, their uncontrolled horses running free away from the conflict and across the meadow. The one whose bolt struck home just before now sags so low that he falls and is dragged along behind the horse; you assume he'll be dead after half a mile.
Smiling to himself as he pretends to fumble with the bow, Wyvurn ducks under the sword swing and then quickly springs back upward and attempts to dislodge the raider from his horse with a clothsline to the gut.
CMB check: Damage included if applicable
There are nine raiders down, leaving three active. One is attacking the wood elf, and is seemingly oblivious to the rest of the conflict; a second is unaware that he's about to be cold-cocked by the hobgoblin. The third has abandoned his attack on the people fleeing from burning caravan wagon and instead is frantically trying to wake up his sleeping fellows -- one of them stirs and regains his feet, picking up a crossbow.
Noting the changing odds Caspian decides to attack the guy picking up a crossbow.....
Halfling slingstaff
sling attack
sling damage
As the rider connects, Kelsin howls in pain. "OUCH! Gah, I hate hu-mans!" Sensing his companion's anger and hurt, Snort gouges a chunk of flesh out of the horse's leg and keeps up the chase, unfortunately failing to hit a second time. Kelsin, however, his sling now fueled by adrenaline, drills the rider in the temple a second time, moving to get behind some cover so a second charge will at least be impeded.
The hobgoblin fails to unseat the man riding down on him, but that fellow, seeing how the fight is going, doesn't wheel his horse around to return -- rather, he keeps riding, towards the distant Estren Highlands.
The man who charged the wood elf, his horse tangled up in an angry boar, is struck hard by another missile as he rides past. Wounded now, he wisely opts to follow his fleeing companion -- with the boar in hot pursuit.
The other two, finding themselves surrounded and overmatched, throw down their weapons and raise their hands.
stealth
The hobgoblin fails to unseat the man riding down on him, but that fellow, seeing how the fight is going, doesn't wheel his horse around to return -- rather, he keeps riding, towards the distant Estren Highlands.
The man who charged the wood elf, his horse tangled up in an angry boar, is struck hard by another missile as he rides past. Wounded now, he wisely opts to follow his fleeing companion -- with the boar in hot pursuit.
The other two, finding themselves surrounded and over matched, throw down their weapons and raise their hands.
Jaegr will move over to them threatening them with his Pick Axe. "If you of you even think of trying anything...."
Then he'll call out to the magician, "Hey fancy pants! What do you surface dwellers do with men like these?"
"In my country, we put them on stakes, or burn them alive in wicker baskets. Why do you ask?", replies oprichnik, struggling against hangover and weakness from blood loss.
Kelsin tells Snort to cease chasing the horse and return to him. "Anirama'cc fa illeaniram wila, sa amilmana omealw." he says to the riled-up boar.
Then, overhearing the dwarf's question, he walks up and says "Funny you should ask! Normally we split their skulls with pick axes. Have at it." He gestures at the bandit on the ground, making a "skull asplodey" motion with his hands.
Kelsin shoots Vanya a surprised look. "That's the first sensible thing I've heard a hu-man say in months!"
Oprichnik is turning around, looking for something. "Yes, well, that's vodka talking... Could you perhaps help me with my wounds?" he asks in deep, rich and cultured voice for one so young. "Now, where is that pup, I wonder..." he murmurs.
"In my country, we put them on stakes, or burn them alive in wicker baskets. Why do you ask?", replies oprichnik, struggling against hangover and weakness from blood loss.
"I'm just not sure what you on the surface do with bandits. We generally just kill them outright. If they surrender or get caught, we may be lenient and roll a huge rock on top of them, allowing them the chance for redemption."
"Could you perhaps help me with my wounds?"
Don't let that gobbo treat you, he'll probably just kill you once you let your guard down. I have some skill treating wounds after a battle, let me help you.
"I vote for the rock. Sounds painful."
"Thank you, friend dwarf. I am fine now." Vanya approaches one of the bandits. "Now, you probably don't know this, but I really love this coat. And your friend put a hole in it. And on top of that, I have really bad hangover. Vodka is harsh mistress, you know. And on top of that, I can't find my familiar - which is kinda stupid. I mean, he is winter wolf pup. He is pure white, for Volos' sake! Where could he hide, right?" He stops for a moment. "I know! There are witches in the mountains who find missing things by reading the entrails of sheep and other animals. That's a great idea!" He plunges his serrated blade into one of the sleeping thugs on the ground, ripping his intestines out while he wakes screaming. "I am a bit unfamiliar with the technique, so I see little in his entrails. How about I check yours? Hmm? Or you could tell me why did you attack us yourself?"
Wyvurn picks up his bow and walks towards the remaining raiders and the collection of people now gathered around them.
"I would have only killed the mage because he was already staring down the reaper, dwarf. I have no healing ability and I would have done it out of mercy. Since you have provided him aid, there is no reason for such grisly talk."
Wyvurn pulls back his hood, revealing his burned visage.
"The first order of business should be putting out the fires, these men have started. I suggest that they get to work battling the blazes with the shirts off their back. Once they finish, and depending on how good a job they do, we can determine their fates."
The inkeeper emerges from the front doors with a crossbow big enough to be mounted on a ship. "Hold it!" he screams, waving the thing about. "You -- elfs, goblins, dwarfs, foreigners, bandits -- whatever you all are -- you want to kill each other, go do it elsewhere. These guys on the horses attached the caravan; any of 'em killed in the fighting ain't gonna be missed too much, I reckon. But I will NOT allow unmarmed men to be maimed and tortured in front of my establishment."
Looking at the hobgoblin, he adds, "You are just about every kind of ugly there is, I guess, but you got more sense than the rest of this rifraff together. And I saw you decide not to shoot the elf, and you acted bravely -- I give you credit for that."
To the bandits: "So I suggest you boys best follow his orders."
Turning to a teenage boy inside the inn, he adds, "Jeb, ride west into town. NOW, boy. Go fast, and tell 'em the caravan was attacked, but don't go adding any wild stories about wood elf uprisings or dwarven bandits. Get the marshall to send men to collect the prisoners."
The dwarf's skill at first aid seems to have deserted him; the man in black turns visibly pale, and nearly passes out. Despite his condition, though, no one doubts that he has no compunctions torturing the remaining bandits; it has yet to be seen whether the innkeeper's crossbow is enough of a deterrent.
"Is it all clear now?"
Turning to a teenage boy inside the inn, he adds, "Jeb, ride west into town. NOW, boy. Go fast, and tell 'em the caravan was attacked, but don't go adding any wild stories about wood elf uprisings or dwarven bandits. Get the marshall to send men to collect the prisoners."
"Bah. Finally someone knows what to do up here. Hopefully Jeb will ride fast, I need to get somewhere with a roof."
Jaegr looks up after saying that and loses his balance for a moment.
"Yes little boy, it's under control now. I have to say you are quick on your feet, back home you would make an excellent vent runner. You're also pretty talented with those pipes. One day when you grow up you might make a name for yourself!"
After Vanya falls Jaegr says to the innkeeper" Even though this man may have taken things too far, though I would be put out as well getting shot, he acted bravely in standing up to the bandits. He came out of your inn, did he perhaps have a room in your inn? He needs a bed."
"I have shed blood protecting your demesne, innkeeper. And you have waited with that crossbow until the bandits have fled or died. Do not wave that thing in front of me, or you shall taste the kiss of my goddess. It would be much better for you to take my money instead and bring me some vodka."
"I am a halfling, not a boy!"
"I am a halfling, not a boy!"
Jagr has a hint of pink on the grey cheeks of his "Errr. Sorry, this is the first I have been topside....I've never met a halfling before. My apologies."
"That is fine then I just recently was sailing over the seas, and I had not done that before, I bet you would think that was like an earth-quake or something with all that moving around day and night....."
"So did you escape from underground, were they keeping you prisoner?"
"I am called Caspian."