"", the beard-elf calls, "Have an end to the horror? Time to speak, and save the fallen? They're all yours, you know. Well, all Read's. Trackers, ambushers, townsfolk called in when his trap sprang un-set. He ignored, then refused calls for parley, and spent... I count, eight men. We all still stand. Let Read be the last to fall here."
"Wheee... this is the worst ambush ever."
Braddon gleefully darts forward up the road to the man being used as cover, and uses him as cover against the archer behind him.
"If Read was the mastermind, I'd be surrendering right now."
Braddon brandishes his blood-soaked weapons.
Gristav interposes himself in the road between the archer and Snake, fitting an arrow to his string.
Phillip unloads his Small quarrel into the stunned man's torso and relieves him of his scimitar.
Braddon dashes up the road to threaten the new arrivals.
Watching Braddon dash up the road after cutting down Reed, Tendal frowns thoughtfully at the remaining ambushers. "I most certainly agree, that it would better for your continued livelihood for you to cease and desist any further aggressive actions at this time." he calls out to them, waving his cane in their general direction.
"Of course, if you would like to continue, I cannot stop you. Mr. Hurst however seems to have a penache for divesting individuals of their arms. I would council you to respect his skills at negotiation." he continues laconically.
Tendal offers unsolicited advice to the group's attackers.
The archer behind the cluster of stones raises his bow and releases an arrow at Snake before retreating toward his companions who are still conscious. Despite the warlock's hex, his attacker is still able to bury the arrowhead solidly within the meat of the tall man's upper arm.
Despite Gristav's and Tendal's reasoning, the other archer steps back and takes a bead on Gristav, standing alone in the middle of the road. Ready for his advice to be ignored, Gristav looses his own arrow and scores a solid hit before the other man releases two arrows in quick succession. The arrow in his own shoulder seems to throw off his first shot, but the second finds its target. He grunts with satisfaction.
The lead man of the tailing party appears terrified to be in such close proximity to Braddon's bloody blades. Deciding that the best offense is a good defense, he stands his ground, making a half-hearted swing with his scimitar which reveals that his priority is to ward off any blows rather than deliver one himself.
As he takes an arrow right near the shoulder, the tall man grimaces before bringing forth healing energy upon himself.
I do not think that I would like to engage those archers directly. Their accuracy, while not impressive, may still make short work of me. One spell remaining...I have not yet used this particular bit of magic in a pitched battle, and now I am curious to see how a conjured creature might effect the outcome, he muses.
Tendal begins tracing a complex pattern in a broad arc before him. The obviously magical pattern hangs in the air as he chants softly, "monstrum egressus, percussit inimicum" over and over. Slowly he turns in place, the arc growing to a quarter circle, then a half, silvery runes now chained together in a near solid band.
"Boo!"
Braddon jumps at the man defending in front of him, but darts around him (Braddon briefly exposes his own back) and weaves his way behind the archer instead.
"Hi, Loser."
Braddon brings the bastard sword to bear, chasing the archer back towards Braddon's allies.
Dropping the blade behind him, Phillip continues his work at disarming the insensate and blind. He relieves the standing man of his crossbow, clattering it atop the scimitar before picking up the unconscious one's spear. Ears are kept pricked to the sound of battle behind him... though it looks like that's well in hand. Eyes on the other hand look for purse strings or other valuables on the samaritan's person.
Seeing his appeal to reason being ignored, Tendal begins to summon an arcane ally.
Phil relieves the two enspelled men of their obvious weapons, then looks for valuables. The spearman appears to have a dagger sheathed inside his boot, while the man whose throwing axe drew the halfling's blood has a lumpy satchel. Phil is taken aback to see the eyes of the man with the satchel lose their blank stare and focus on him, though the man's body remains motionless.
Braddon circles around the inept swordsman, who takes a clumsy swing which comes nowhere near hitting the agile half-elf, to take the fight directly to the last man standing who appears to pose a threat to the party. He expertly ducks the oversized blade with a sneer.
The other archer takes an errant shot at the only clear target in his sights, Gristav, before retreating around the next cluster of boulders toward his remaining allies.
Braddon... Outnumbered in his file, and with unknown numbers perhaps still inbound...
Gristav, silent, plied his magicked bow, aimed for the rapid archer.
Then rushed to cover the SouthEast egress of the archer, or perhaps spot sooner any additional inbounds.
Gristav releases an arrow that appears true, but at the last moment, the archer seems to hear the zing of its approach and dodge so that it flies past harmlessly.
He turns that dodge into a backward step, giving him enough space to raise his own bow and shoot two swift arrows at Braddon. Despite the point-blank range, both missiles somehow manage to miss the half-elf, and his face twists in rage and disbelief.
His escort hesitates, unwilling to make any move that might put his life at risk.
Discarding the spear behind him...
Seeing the pile of bodies all around, Snake moves toward the party that Braddon's at, fairly certain it's not one he'd ever want to be invited to.
Finally Tendal completes the circle of runes, and moving as if suddenly attracted by a powerful magnetic force, the ring snaps down to the ground, and begins glowing even brighter. Carefully stepping over and out of the circle, Tendal shakes the few remaining strands of magic off his fingers and points his cane up the road. A heartbeat later, a bird flies up and out of the circle, streaming silvery light from its wings. Without pausing it streaks down the road on powerfully beating wings toward the remaining adversaries and lunges at them shrieking an avian war cry.
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Snake moves toward the melee but is overtaken by Tendal's arcane eagle, which swoops past with a hawk-like cry to tear at the archer from behind.
Fixing a stare on the slowly awakening Samaritan Phillip purposefully reaches out and takes the man's satchel. He then takes a single step back, lowering his light crossbow down onto the pile of weaponry he's assembled and draws one of his daggers. Standing side on with the satchel behind and dagger raised and ready he flatly states "On your way now, focus on the pain in your gut... lest you want to feel the same across your throat."
Braddon steps around, keeping the archer trapped between his blades and the newly arrived eagle.
"We've downed ten of your losers. My offer to let you live if you surrender first still stands. How badly do you want Harvey's ale?"
Tendal strides forward jauntily, watching with satisfaction as the eagle, all seven feet of feathered fury strikes at the remaining opponents.
That was far more impressive than I believed it would be, he thought a small smile creasing his lips.
Tendal advances to get a better view of his handiwork.
Phillip deliberately robs and threatens the now-unarmed man.
"You f*+&ing dog biter," the man growls, outraged. "I've been stung by mosquitos bigger than that toy knife of yours." He rushes at Phil, risking being cut as he shoves the halfling away from his position over the confiscated weapons.
Braddon moves to flank with Tendal's summoned eagle, slashing the archer twice deeply.
The bowman off the road hesitates, waiting to see which way the battle turns.
AoO Teeny-tiny Dagger: for
Phil's dagger manages to strike home as he stumbles backward under the weight of the larger man's onslaught.
"If you're looking for something both safe and loyal to do...", Gristav spoke as he rounded the large stones and saw the dithering foeman, "Run and tell the Governess, ' attacked , and eight men are lying in the street'." Notes of steel and sneer evidenced disdain for the fallen shieldman, and the folly of so many fallen.
Letting his bow settle to the ground, Gristav spun his staff into readiness, about a single hand. "Now comes a time for gentleness", Gristav hoped aloud, though steel never left his voice. Another pace and a third and a fifth brought him into the ditherer's reach, but Gristav evidenced no threat. "Archer: Surrender. Or stave, or spell..."
An instant's concentration charged coursing cold, coruscating, crackling...
...calumnious. But Gristav didn't blink, he might even have meant to miss the archer.
"I intend care and mercy to your wounded. Can we not agree on that? If you deny them, be ware, I will deny it to you."
Spooked by Gristav's approach, the man swings defensively, almost instinctively, as the half-elf casts his spell, but Gristav feels only the breeze as the curved blade misses.
Bleeding heavily, the archer grimaces at Braddon a moment, then lowers his bow, spitting curses under his breath. The other two men, seeing him surrender, scarper up the road in the direction of the Port-Governor's mansion.
Grunting with effort as he keeps his feet despite the violent shove, Phil attempts to keep a competent mien to his face. Keeping narrowed eye he growls "One cut two cut..." marking the man for vengeance. He dexterously flips his dagger blade down in his hand before launching it at the Samaritan's trunk...
...drawing a second as he closes the distance back to where he can smell the foetid stench of the man's breath.
Seeing the archer lower his bow, Snake looks back in the direction of Phillip and notices he's in the midst of dealing with another thug. He immediately turns and heads that way, moving past Tendal as he does.
Bound by Tendal's magic, the eagle ignores the bowman who no longer poses an immediate threat, and flies down the road, clawing and biting the two men as they flee. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the magic circle appears on the road beneath the eagle. Seeing the circle, the eagle dives through the ring and as it does, both disappear in a puff of blue-white particulate light.
Seeing Snake rush past him, Tendal takes his attention from the fleeing men to glance back down the road where he sees Phillip bleeding from small wounds staggering away from an attack.
Spooked by Gristav's approach, the man swings defensively, almost instinctively, as the half-elf casts his spell, but Gristav feels only the breeze as the curved blade misses.
Bleeding heavily, the archer grimaces at Braddon a moment, then lowers his bow, spitting curses under his breath. The other two men, seeing him surrender, scarper up the road in the direction of the Port-Governor's mansion.
"I commend your will and your wisdom", Gristav congratulated the archer. praising, "You wield a yew-wood whip well. Such skill as you've shown I've seen seldom." Looking about, perhaps only away, to dull any threat of it, he added, "Would've pained me, to send you to Hel."
Seeing Phillip keep his feet, though perhaps lose his temper... no, not lose. His temper flies free. ...or in any case, remain in melee, Gristav spoke to the archer again, "Now, call out our peace to your fellows." The staff pointed downrange, and he added, "There's one there, still bullies our Flip. If we're to have truce, let us have it, ere spell, blade, or arrow may slip."
"We have a winner," Braddon grins at the archer. "Pity really. I wanted that bow."
Braddon shrugs and sheathes his swords. "What was Read's issue anyway? This is a lot of trouble to go to to commit suicide."
Snake hustles back toward Phillip.
Tendal's eagle follows the fleeing men, gouging one with a talon before the wizard's magic which summoned it onto this plane fades.
"You should have just stayed down. The opportunity to remove yourself from this altercation was presented to you on a silver platter." Tendal says, moving back down the road towards the two men.
"If I have to blind you again, I think we will just have to run you through afterwards and kick your corpse to the side of the road. You simply are too stupid to leave alive," he continues, sadly.
How unfortunate. I cannot fathom why he did not surrender when he had the chance. The other might have been more fortunate in that my magic took full hold of him, and removed any possibility of him making an unwise choice, he thinks.
Tendal follows behind Snake.
Phillip throws his Small dagger at the man threatening him, but the blade deflects off one of the metal studs in his leather armor. Drawing a second dagger, he closes with his opponent.
On the road, the first of the men to respond to Read's call for volunteers moans incoherently as the magic begins to wear off.
His already-recovered partner snatches his scimitar from the ground at his feet, opening himself to an opportunistic attack from the ready halfling, before returning the attempt with a slash of his longer blade.
Braddon accepts the archer's surrender, sheathing his own weapons.
Seeing the formerly fallen samaritan slash his scimitar over Phillip, Gristav glowers, turning on the archer.
Are you not a partner in this peace?! Call them off! Or if you mean to watch them cut him down, know this: If one of us, if the first of us, falls, I will beat you bloody and curse you cringly."
"Free your blades, Braddon, seems he meant only a rest, not a peace."
Gristav steps into a flanking position against the unarmed but still imposing Braddon, a singlehand spin of his staff setting the tip a-hum with rushing air.
"I don't need you, a fallen hostage, . I need you, to Speak! Of! Peace!"
Round 9:
Phillip takes a hopeful swipe at the man as he bends to retrieve a weapon...
AoO: for
...before reeling as the scimitar cuts heavy and bloody path across his chest.
Phil's opportunistic strike is turned aside by his opponent's armor.
The archer flicks a bored glance down the road at the fracas. "Don't know him," he answers shortly. "Looks like he has a beef with the halfling."
"What was Read's issue anyway? This is a lot of trouble to go to to commit suicide."
"Got me," he shrugs. "His lackey said Read needed backup dealing with some bandits and would make it worth my while. He generally paid well."
The lackey in question, together with the remaining man from the tailing party, disappears over a rise in the road as they continue to flee.
Snake continues toward Phillip and what appears to be the last standing enemy, swinging his morningstar at the samaritan's head.
Missing horribly, "Sorry, bub," he says to the halfling, "but it looks like I wasn't able to bring this party to an end," he says facetiously.
Snake attempts to come to Phillip's aid, but his weapon fails to connect with the halfling's attacker.
Round 10:
Phillip grimaces and repositions the Samaritan's satchel to move the strap from lying across his newest wound, before spitting an admonition at the Samaritan "Too slow, now the dog biter's at your heels" slipping around the larger man's position...
...though regardless his prospective attack does little to dissuade the man from continued life.
Tendal moves forward and seeing Phillip hard pressed pushes raw magic into his cane, causing it to leap from his hand and move like a bolt at Phillip's attacker.
The can flashes past the man, trailing blue tendrils, pauses for a moment at its ultimate extent, then snaps back to Tendal's hand.
"You are plainly outnumbered and outmanuvered. It is time to lay down your arms, Tendal commands imperously. "The next strike will not be a warning."
Braddon shouts down the road.
Tendal moves forward, and his cane shoots supernaturally from his hand in the direction of the fracas, missing its target before returning to the wizard's grasp.
Phillip magically slows his opponent's reflexes long enough to get into a more advantageous position, but his ensuing strike still fails solidly to connect.
The man belatedly turns after the halfling with a snarl. "You brazen little thief, who in the Hells do you think you are to rob me and then insult me?" He swings the scimitar again, and Phil is just barely able to duck beneath it, a few hairs of his head shorn by the close passage of the blade.
Grunting with pain as the man's blade is turned but barely by his reflexes and the armour that girds him, Phil growls at his companions, imploring them "Stop madarikatu talking and end him."
"Yeah, yeah."
Braddon swings up his crossbow and fires into the middle of the melee at Phillip's attacker.
Braddon looks to the bow of the archer beside him.
"Can I try that?"
Braddon goes to swing his crossbow up to shoot at Phil's attacker when he realizes he tossed it aside behind the boulders at the side of the road. "Can I try that?" he asks the archer of his bow.
The archer flicks a bored glance down the road at the fracas. "Don't know him," he answers shortly. "Looks like he has a beef with the halfling."
"A beef that might cost him his hams."
"What was Read's issue anyway? This is a lot of trouble to go to to commit suicide."
"Got me," he shrugs. "His lackey said Read needed backup dealing with some bandits and would make it worth my while. He generally paid well."
The lackey in question, together with the remaining man from the tailing party, disappears over a rise in the road as they continue to flee.
"...meaning, they were not the right men to send for the Governor. Anxious to leave, perhaps, but not exactly impartial. We're no bandits, my fine archer. We represent diverse interests of Riddleport and Magnimar and... farther afield. Some of us have dined and dozed at your governor's, and borne Read's glower thereafter. I don't wonder at his motive, but his method, if you can call it that, was a glory of stupidity. I expect an archer as skilled as you to have some fieldcraft; I invite you to poke about, and form your own opinion of what happened here. And as for paying well, some of these men are dead. Were they paid enough?"
Braddon goes to swing his crossbow up to shoot at Phil's attacker when he realizes he tossed it aside behind the boulders at the side of the road. "Can I try that?" he asks the archer of his bow.
"What's your rate, sir? Our battle continues. Would you be on the winning side's roll, when it's called?" Gristav gestures again with his staff, towards the scimitar cutting at Phillip...
The archer shrugs, raises his bow ... and lowers it again. "Fella in my way. You want me to shoot him, too?"