Motteditor's Ironfang Invasion PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

If she has a clear shot, Isabella immediately takes it, then reloads or swaps out her crossbow for longsword and shortsword, depending on how close the hobgoblin is..

Heavy crossbow 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13 for 1d10 ⇒ 2 damage.

"Sh*t!" Aramis curses as she steps on the twig. With a growl she hurries forward until she's got the hobgoblin in her sights. She quickly says a few arcane syllables and thrusts her hand forward, launching a green bolt of energy at her face.

Moving east three spaces, then diagonally south east two spaces, which should give me a good view of the enemy. Casting magic missile.

Force Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

"That's for Elrik!"

Arryn moves 30 feet forward (along the diagonal), reaches his hand towards one of the stones of the hobgoblin’s fire pit, and gestures for it to fly at the thing’s face.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 1 = 8

His rage is a bit much and the rock sails high overhead and into the trees.

I'm presuming the greenery on the map is difficult terrain and spoils my charge?

Dregg flashes forward in a sudden burst, lumbering past his allies as he brings his axe out. The trees hinder him though, and his approach isn't as quick as he'd have liked.

Double move to a point adjacent to the hob, drawing axe as part of one of the moves

You presume correctly. Just waiting on Clover (or for me to have a little more free time).

The hobgoblin laughs at your feeble attacks, though snarls at Aramis.

"You're going to be next, elf! Your pretty little head will fetch a nice piece of gold from Scabvistin!"

"Come and claim it then, b****!" Aramis retorts. "Or can't you fight someone who's awake?"

Dregg looks down at the hobgoblin. "Heh. Not so fast, buttercup. Me first."

Clover casts Guidance and touches Fulgun.

She finds it strange that a single hobgoblin would go to the trouble of making a full campsite. "Beware, I think there must be others around here somewhere as well" she says quietly.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

The campsite may be a bit exaggerated because that's the map I have. She's alone as far as you can tell.

Fulgun rushes forward before Clover gets a chance to catch him with her spell, his movement also throwing off Isabella and Arryn's aim. As the newest member of your refugees reloads her crossbow, Clover instead offers her some guidance,

Aramis has more luck, her magic missiles slamming into the woman, who pulls out a vial and pours it on a pouch on her belt -- plunging her and Kyffin into darkness! There's now a 20-ft. radius of dim light around her (circle on the map indicates the area, which gives 20 percent concealment to anything inside).

"It's not too late to pick the right side, Halfie. Help me, and the Legion will reward you," she offers to Kyffin.

Kyffin?

My icon is not in the right place. I should be three spaces diagonally down and right from where I was moved to. Between the broken trees but in line vertically with the firepit.

Aramis shouts a few more strange words then waves her arms, launching another green bolt at the hobgoblin. Magic missile.

Force Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Miss chance, high is good: 1d100 ⇒ 50
Masterwork crossbow attack 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 for 1d10 ⇒ 8 damage.

Isabella calmly lines up another shot, takes it, and reloads.

Arryn moves even closer and more calmly flings a stone from the fire pit at her head.

Miss chance; High is good: 1d100 ⇒ 93
Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 1 = 13

”What’s with all the defective rocks?”

Whoops, sorry. Kyffin is the half-orc in another game I'm playing in. You know, they all look alike to me. :p Aramis is in the right place now.

Clover moves forward to stand beside Arryn. While she's wondering what she should do, she casts Guidance for him.

Dregg works his jaw for a moment, considering the hobgoblin's question. He answers, "Just shut up already," as he brings his axe down in a sudden overhead arc.
Greataxe (p.attack): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21for: 1d12 + 14 ⇒ (7) + 14 = 21

Free action: rage
Move action: switch stances
Standard action: big chop!

Unless that was a deeper darkness effect, that shouldn't hinder me at all I think?

The woman grunts as Dregg, unaffected by the darkness, cuts deeply into her with his axe, blood spraying.

Around him, bolts and rocks fly, the woman ducking them, though she's again hit by Aramis' magic missile.

She feints, and cuts into Dregg's thigh, as she steps away, trying to put some space between them. The half-orc thinks she must have hit an artery, as it begins bleeding copiously, and his visions starts to darken. 16 hp, plus 2 bleed

Miss chance; High is good: 1d100 ⇒ 23
Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 1 = 8 Good grief!!

Even taking his time, a third stone flies wide of the hobgoblin.

”Hold still!”

As the hobgoblin cuts into Dregg, Aramis lashes out with her magic, sending another green bolt flying at the enemy.

Force Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" she growls.

Miss chance 1d100 ⇒ 77Masterwork heavy crossbow, using guidance 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 1 = 18 for 1d10 ⇒ 3 damage.

"C'mon now," Isabella mutters as she aims, squints -- shoots! -- and immediately reloads. "Li'l better."

Dregg looks down at the bleeding wound, then up at the hobgoblin. "Heh." He takes a step up next to their foe, then, staring down at her, he cracks a half grin. "My turn." He brings his axe around from the side in a wide arc, looking to catch her between the ribs.

Greataxe: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17for: 1d12 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15

5ft step then swing!

Wow. That hurt, mott! Do I take the bleed at the start of my turn? If so I'm at 9/23 rather than 11/23.

Also, I don't know that I like the look of all those extra icons you have on the side of the map =P

Dregg's swing just misses the hobgoblin, who turns to run ... only to be blasted in the back by Isabella and Aramis' bolts, which fell her. The darkness remains, though many of you aren't affected by it.

And, yes, Dregg, you take that bleed at the start of each turn. You'll take 2 more if you don't do something about it this round (though otherwise we're out of combat, so I assume Clover or something will heal you in time).

As the hobgoblin backs away Fulgun, Clover rushes to him. The two of them had traded what looks to Clover like very nasty blows and she figures he needs help right away.

CLW: 1d8 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 1 = 10

Aramis quickly looks around the camp for signs of other enemies.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Then she looks at Dregg.

"You alright?"

Dregg nods at Aramis as Clover rushes to him and mends the wound considerably. "Better than that one, Red," he hitches his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the fallen hobgoblin. He then smiles down at Clover, "Thanks, little shepherd."

Clover smiles up at the big half-orc in the weird dim light. "Honestly I'm mostly a beekeeper."

Clover joins Aramis in looking through the camp. She's particularly curious to see if there is evidence of other occupants who aren't there at the moment.

"Maybe it's time to turn the tables. If there are more of them, we can hide that hobgoblin who was here and set up an ambush. It's about time we hit back."

"Of course we should also move our camp deeper in the forest as soon as we can" she adds hastily.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

”Can our trackers tell if there was more than one set of hobgoblin boot prints here? That should be fairly definitive.”

"I'll check," Isabella says, noncommitally.

Survival to look for tracks: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11. Did any of my bolts survive? ^_^

You can roll yourself for your bolts, Isabella. That's far more than I want to do. :) Standard 50 percent change of missed bolts surviving.

Looking around, you find only a bedroll for a single person, though Isabella can't tell if there were ever other orcs here, the area having been pretty trampled in short order during the fight.

Eventually, the area of dim light around the hobgoblin fades, and even those who have difficulty seeing can tell she has one remaining potion bottle on her, a nice suit of studded leather, a very fine dagger with a tourmaline set in the pommel, a shortbow with 20 arrows, a chunk of rough green-blue gemstone about the size of her fist, a scrap of paper with writing on it, and 9 gp and 6 sp.

You also find a bloody-soaked sack hanging from a tree not far from the bedroll.

1d100 ⇒ 69, 1d100 ⇒ 59 and 1d100 ⇒ 15.
Is the note written in Common or Goblin?

Common.

Isabella grunts after reading the note, and goes to collect two of her bolts, the third having broken in half somewhere inside the hobgoblin assassin's body.

"Seems to me," she says, "you folks want to get your merry band moving now. Where there's a reward, there'll be more'n one hunter. Fact is, you don't know there haven't been others that went to report yer names and where yer lairing. Now... I don't mind sniping a hob, now I know his name, but you don't want me heading off to do an assassination for ya, I think. Not with your little lambs still out here in the killzone. 'Sides, you said you won't pay me."

Arryn reaches our, using his mind to untie the rope holding the bloody sack and floats it over to him. He takes one peek inside to ensure that it’s Elrik’s, then closes it up again, looking around for an appropriate place to bury it.

His eyes come to rest on the dead hobgoblin, and his vision goes red. He picks up her sword and asks, ”Anybody feel like sending the hobbies a message in a language they’ll understand?”

Aramis reads the note, then passes it on to the others. She sighs. "Agreed. We need to get moving immediately."

She gets to work looting the corpse of the hobgoblin. She chants a few words and examines everything. Detect Magic

Appraise: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11 Is anything masterwork?
Spellcraft on the potion: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Anyone want something before the rest gets passed on to the refugees?

Dregg works his jaw slowly at the news, his vision bouncing scattershot across the ground as he ponders the discovery. As Arryn starts for the corpse though, he strides up to him, placing his broad bulk between the smaller human and the fallen hobgoblin. "Nope. Not like that." He reaches out and wraps his hand around the blade of the sword, allowing Arryn to cut him if the man wrenches the sword any which way. "Look at me. No, not around me at the hobgoblin, at me." Dregg's voice is gravelly and even as he forces Arryn's eyes up to meet his own. "You're not one of those of those hobgoblins so don't sink to their level. Yeah?"

If the studded leather is MW, Arryn would take it.

Arryn releases the blade, having no quarrel with Dregg, though he does level him with an angry glare before stalking off without a word.

Clover hurries along after Arryn. When she catches up to him, she says in a conciliatory tone "It really is best to leave it alone. It wouldn't scare them, just make them angry. They say 'you shouldn't poke the bear unless you're sure you can eat it instead of it eating you'. I don't think we're ready to eat the bear."

How do you like that mixed metaphor?

”Anger makes people do stupid, careless things. So far, they haven’t been stupid or careless, and it’s about time they started.”

The irony of his little rant is completely lost on him.

"Wouldn' do nothin' fer nothin', anyway. She were just a grunt. You kill a grunt out inna woods an' lop her head off, won' make the hobs fret none. Top one of their chiefs, that gets 'em riled. Or snipe 'em when there's a bunch and they settlin' to camp. Squeeze off one or two every time they try ta relax. Boom. Upsets 'em a lot," Isabella says.

The armor is masterwork "very nice" is pretty much code for masterwork or better; the dagger radiates magic +1. Aramis isn't sure, however, what the potion is but later you can find out it's cat's grace.

”I think you underestimate my ability to be an annoying nuisance,” Arryn replies. ”My father would say that riling up pompous generals was my one true skill.”

Arryn's got the masterwork armour then. Do you have any old armour to donate to the refugees, Arryn? Aramis could use the +1 dagger, but only if no one else wants it. Any other takers? Who wants the potion of cat's grace?

Once she's got the gear, Aramis trudges off back to camp.

Arryn does have a regular studded leather to donate.

Got it! Giving it to Clidon, one of our survivors who goes out to scavenge for food.

Dregg chuckles at Arryn's comment as the group turns to make for the homestead once more. "Heh. Well hitting things with rocks certainly isn't it. Plates, little angel. Plates."

He then adds, "At least we've got some names now. Goggles was on to something if we're wanting to hit back. Taking down this Sargeant Scarfy-whatsits and Captain Scabbyface could do a number on this so-called 'Legion'."

As they begin their journey back to their own camp, Clover mentions a concern of hers to the others.

"You know, the trail we leave going from here to our camp won't be hard to follow if they have decent trackers. Now there are two camps they can discover to find us. I think we need to move on as soon as we can ready to travel."

As soon as they get back to camp Aramis calls out to the refugees. "We need to pack up immediately. You know the drill. Let's get it done well, and quick, alright? Leave nothing we can use, and don't panic."

Then she quickly passes out the excess gear to the others. Clidon get's Arryn's old armour, Yasha gets Aramis' old sickle. Then she approaches Phaistea and presses her old dagger into her hand.

"This used to be my Mom's, Tea. Take it. But, don't fight unless you have to, yeah?"

Then she turns and helps everyone pack up.

[ooc]Is Elrik's gear in his sleeping area?

The refugees -- already concerned about Elrik's disappearance -- let out cries of alarm at the sudden change of plans, Farrow protesting loudly: "We just got here and finally have enough places to sleep and now we have to leave!"

Phaistea nods as she takes the dagger, the others handed gear quickly donning it, though Clidon barely fits into the smaller Arryn's old armor.

Yes, it's all there. Which direction do you all want to go? Phaendar is to the southwest.

"You wanna stay, that's fine with me," Isabella bluntly tells Farrow. "But I ain't sticking with you to hold your hand or dig your grave. Now move. You're a refugee, not a flamin' settler!"

Aramis smirks at Izabella's retort. After forming her face back into a serious expression, she turns to Farrow (and those around him). "Hobgoblins are on our trail. Moving is not a choice. It's a necessity. I'm sorry. But, we need to move. NOW."