The footman's inn. A welcome sight. These basic dwellings speckle the great Empire's breadth like freckles upon a fair maidens face. The offer of warm food, a warm bed, warm conversation, and safety is enough to entice the most journeyed of travelers. Setup at a distance a man can walk in a day, they provide a sanctuary for travelers, especially within dark and dangerous Great Forest that Middenland resides within. Each Inn is just like the last. There is a stables that can house up to 20 horses, a lot that people can park their wagons, and of course the Inn itself. Standing two stories tall, it is broad well insulated from the harshest of weathers. A set number of 32 rooms are available for each night, and with it a warm taproom that has ale by the keg, and mutton on the spit. Yet, without its large wall that surrounds each property, these buildings would be defenseless against the braying packs of Beastmen and mutants found within these woods. Let alone the Chaos followers and other things that ply within the shadows. Yes, its heavy walls do well to protect us from the perils within these dank woods.
The man's voice grates upon your nerves as you lumber along in the wet mud path that is usually a road. Well, a road when it's dryyou wryly think to yourself as you again pull out your boot from the sucking mud.
This spring season has showered the land with enormous amounts of rain, enough to muddy even the great roads. And yet, it is not the roads that sets you on your nerves.
Ever since this morning when you left the last Footman's inn, you have felt as if you are being watched. It is as if the forest has eyes and is attempting to peer into your soul. Setting off alone, or with a fellow traveler, the feeling has forced your group to bunch together, in a better effort to look like a greater force. And yet the feeling remains.
The man who speaks now is just some lone guy, one who appears to be a lone traveler. His cloak is ragged, pants are torn, and shirt patched, he looks about as he figures out either where he is, what time of day it is(for no sun can pierce the thick overhanging boughs) or who he is.
We are near. we must hurry for soon the sun will set, and then we will become the dinner
Cursing her ill luck, Hanna trudged through the mud with the other traveller. A cracked axel had finshed her carriage ride at the last Footman's inn, the driver merely shruggin his shoulders at her furious tirade.
Now her cloak was sodden with rain, its hem now crusted with heavy mud, hampering her every step. Her backpack's straps dug painfully into her shoulders as she used her staff to lever herself forward through the muck.
Her head snapped up at the man's obvious statement. In doing so she noticed that the ground was let wet closer to the trees. Frowning that she'd not noticed before, she flicked her head to clear her face of clinging wet hair and began to angle her way towards firmer ground.
A low, stocky figure walks along the edge of the road, staying mostly out of the mud while remaining within speaking range of the traveling throng. A dwarf, obviously, but with quiet, assured movements and eyes constantly turning this way and that, as if watching for a sign. His voice is low and somber, and barely carries over the squelching of mud on boots.
"Even the inn does not safe, Man. It shelters from rain and wind, but some beasts walk on two legs. Some beasts grip with fingers. I am bewared of observing - something skulks us. A dwarf does not cower at imaginings. Who has blade and skill, for slashing of beasts? If ambush is attempted, who will aid in giving of sharp death?"
A voice "Let's not act as though we're under siege just yet. You'll scare the women and moot folk," Dolwen calls from the rear. The swarthy, stocky and strangely human elf had remained quiet for the majority of the journey-- up until now. He lets out a deep sigh. "We need to make haste more than battle plans."
Brushing back wet hair behind his pointed ears-- nicked like a tomcat's and pierced like a pirate's-- he makes his way to the firm ground. He shows no discomfort in the rain, having seen and felt much worse off of the coast in the Sea of Claws.
He looks at the human woman, struggling with her staff and backpack. Taking a step closer, he speaks quietly to spare any embarrassment. "You're straining like a mule with that bag on your back, and the human is right. Let me carry it a moment for you."
With his bow unstrung and the string stowed safely in his belt pouch to protect it from the rain Elthaslas feels less than confident. His mud caked boots feel as though they are made of lead.
I fear you are right sir. Elthaslas says addressing the man who spoke. I have spent my life hunting in woods such as this and I feel sure there is something malevolent out there watching us. We should hurry on as quickly as we may. He matches actions to words and moves to the firmer ground at the roadside. He switches the carefully wrapped stave of his longbow to his left hand and loosens his sword in its sheath. He hoped they would reach the footman`s Inn without any trouble but it did no harm to be prepared.
He looks at the human woman, struggling with her staff and backpack. Taking a step closer, he speaks quietly to spare any embarrassment. "You're straining like a mule with that bag on your back, and the human is right. Let me carry it a moment for you."
The woman's eyes flash briefly in annoyance, then a weary smile brightens her face "You are gracious to offer, but this burden is my own." she says, hitching a strap higher on her sodden shoulders. Her speech is that of the city, clipped and proper, but you can hear in some of the vowels hint of the countryside.
She flips her robe, sending gobs of mud flying, but most remains stubbornly adhered to the fabric.
The words of danger from the woods seems to galvanize the woman, her strides lengthen on the surer surface alongside the wood.
The dwarf slows slightly from his position in the group, dropping back to speak with Elthaslas.
Quietly, he speaks. "I glad that at least one knows danger, even an Elf. This is skulking weather. Rain to quiet the hears and shorten the see, softness on the ground to walk. I am Nargond."
All the while, his eyes never stop roving.
Dolwen shrugs. "A woman adverse to letting a man carry her things? I find that interesting. There's no shortage of women throwing boxes and barrels into men's arms where I'm from. To find the one who refuses has me wondering just what's in your 'burden' there you can't bear to part with. But if you insist, I'll leave it be. No intention of annoying you, after all."
He plods along a moment in silence. "Dolwen. Dolwen's my name. It sounds like everyone else is readying arms in case of beastman attack."
"Hanna" the woman grunts "'Tis the prudent thing to do , being out in the wild like this. " She then pauses and looks at the Dolwen, with a sigh she decides to trust the gentlemanly Elf. In a low voice she says "If you must know, I've been entrusted with a rare treatise by my...mentor. To deliver to a collegue of his in Middenhiem. Hence my unwillingness to surrender it...but, it grows very heavy on my back, please pardon my earlier surliness. It would be a great boon should you carry it for me. "
"Mud, mud, I love mud
I’m absolutely postitively wild about mud
You can’t go around it, you’ve go to go through it
Beautiful, fabulous, super-duper mud!", sing song a cheerful halfling clad in molded clothes and carrying a rusted pick and spade.
"Hey, wait for me.", he says when all the other leave the road to the side. "You can't just decide like that to leave me alone in the mud. You're just ruining the fun."
Pouting, he still moves towards the side of the road, looking for safety in numbers.
Nargond winces at the doggerel, turning to fix the halfling with an appraising look.
"Rust. Pah. You do not care your tools. One day they will regret you."
Dolwen exchanges his bag for Hanna's, handing her a backpack that must be leagues lighter without what he believes to be a heavy manuscript inside. Slipping over his shoulders, he continues walking along. "I knew you'd come around."
"Now-- what's this about a college in Middenheim? A mentor? You sound like a learned type. And by the weight of this, your mentor's treat-ease, this is a book? Interesting. Next you'll tell me you can read."
Others, seeing you step closer to the tree line, seem to take that as an act of permission form you to go closer to the dark and forbidding treeline. Those with you seem to take heart at your courage as you stride to be close to the tree line and out of the mud. A family, a man with his wife and 3 kids, follow suit.
Hedner, the trees. The warnings...the lady, middle aged with a hunch to her back, year unkind to her features, with a large boil upon her cheek, mutters.
Gentle, my love. These stalwart travelers wouldnt lead us astray. They know the stories of the forest, and the best ways to travel. Me ol' da would say stick to the road for safety. Ne'er trust the trees. These brave people must have seen further into the woods, and by their actions, declare it safe. So i say we follow their lead. Best not be-URK!
The man's speech is suddenly cut off as a large black arrow embeds itself into his throat. A gurgle erupts from his mouth, only to be replaced by a waterfall of blood as he falls to his knees. His hands attempt to lift up and grasp the shaft, only to quiver in mid air.
the woman screams.
An unearthly bray, similar in sound to a goat, erupts from amongst the tree line. Startled, you can only stare in shock as 4 forms erupt from the wood line, charging into your group. It takes a moment for you to figure out it is the viscous Beastmen that roam these woods.
Init
Khaine je koule! Elthaslas swears in Eltharin. He draws his sword and prepares to defend himself.
Nargond curses furiously as he draws his axe. "[Incomprehensible Dwarf words]!"
"Someone look the others - if they flee we will not find them!"
****
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh", screams the halfling, his arm badly hurt by the creature blow as he turns on himself and tries to flee the creature.
"Son of a b&@+%! Don't run!" shouts Dolwen at the halfling. Distracted drawing his hand-axe from his hip, he very narrowly dies, a beastman's blow edging close to his skull-- yet narrowly missing. Using the haft of the axe, he parries the frenzied follow-up, kicking the beastman backwards with a struggling shout. Stepping forward, Dolwen plants his axe firmly in the left forearm of his chosen abomination, a squirt of blood drawing a red line across his leather jerkin. He shouts a rage-filled epithet into the beastman's face, retrieving Cleavy's blade with a wet squelch.
to the right arm (53).
Keeping himself light on his toes, he narrows his enemies' frame of attack by turning his side to them, holding Cleavy at the ready. Nargond speaks; the elf scoffs. "I'm not their keeper! Someone else handle it!"
Hanna barely hears the shouts of the others as the beastman jumps out of the forest, rusty blade swinging through the air at her head. With a mind of its own, one end of her staff swings up, trailing a stream of mud,deflecting the killing blow to the side.
A moments thought thanked the wisdom of the Masters at the School of Magic in Altdorf to insist on weapons training for their apprentices, then the beast was upon her again.
Whispering words of power, Hanna pushes aside the beast's weapon arm with her quarterstaff and slips under his guard. Her hand brushes its filthy fur and a small purple spark spans the minute space between.
Sleep, Casting number:6, Half Action, Will Power Test or fall asleep
WS:31
Magic :1
Half Action: Attack with quarterstaff
WS:31 , location body
Damage: , if asleep and helpless , extra
If attacked,
Parry , WS:31+10:41
"Gods above!" shouts Edgar upon seeing the beastmen emerge from the forest. He readies and arrow in his bow, attempting to aim at one of the creatures.
"Fanriel, watch out my dear!
Hearing Edgar's words, Fanriel wheels around to see the chaos taking place behind her. She had been trying to conceal herself in the center of the pack, but found such a thing rather difficult as she peered over the heads of those surrounding her.
Now she simultaneously valued and dispised her central position. While it had provided a bit of a human buffer from the attacks, it also creates a number of obstacle.
"Get out of the way!" She cries at an older gentleman standing between her and the beastmen. She flicks an arrow from her quiver and knocks it against the string, but stares down the shaft at the frightened man who blocks her shot. "Move or duck!"
Panic and horror errupts within the woods as the beastmen charge within the line of travelers, hitting the center of the group hard. A wild beastman makes a successful hit upon poor ethan into his arm, nearly crushing the arm to splinters from the savage blow. Screaming in pain, Ethan flees from the wild beast, only to his horror find the beast keeping pace with him.
Hanna centers her mind, and reachs forth to the winds of magic. The ethers sucumb to her will, and she channels the magic into the creature before her, willing it to sleep.
The beastman, with a low moan, falls limply to her feet, asleep.
Dowlen snatches out his blade, and swings wildly at the creature, connecting with a sharp blow to the creatures right arm. THe creature howls in ferocity and strikes back at dowlen...
...the blade in the fell beasts hand slices hard across his body, drawing blood.
Nagrod, seeing the beast distracted by the sight of blood, attempts a swipe at it, only to miss it.
Fanriel, edgar, and Nagrod all group together, ready for another charge. A lone beastmen, standing next to a tall tree, large bow in hand, draws and fires at them...
only to have it miss them by a wide margin.
Elthaslas stands ready, standing amongst a group of children as they rush him for safety.
Nargond flicks his eyes to both sides, trying to keep appraised of the situation without leaving an opening for the horrific creatures. After his initial surprise, Nargond seems to focus on the threats.
(if necessary)
Spotting the beast shooting from the woods, Fanriel finally catches a clear shot and looses a shakey arrow. But it buries itself harmlessly in the brush beside.
Screaming almost louder than before, Ethan makes a sharp right turn and tries to cross the muddy road. "Do something, it's going to kill me."
= failure!
Dolwen lets out a frustrated shout as the blade slips across his chest, leaving a burbling bloody streak on his armor. "Argh!"
"Dwarf-- let's take him togeth--" he catches the beastman's descending weapon with a parry, wrestling its weapon to force it to overextend, and then grabs it by the fur on the shoulder-- chopping at it recklessly. "Screw you!"
= failure
= failure
Its horns do all the work of a main gauche, parrying with loud clops and he ends where he began-- blood-covered and angry on the side of the road, facing down a bleeding beastman.
But what really gets his attention is Hanna's hand sparking... Enough to give him decent pause. He hasn't got enough time to think over his next course of action.
Get out of the way! Stupid Children!Elthaslas cuffs one of the children out of his way and moves in on the nearest beastman. He slashes at the beastman with his sword but only cuts air.
Screaming almost louder than before, Ethan makes a sharp right turn and tries to cross the muddy road. "Do something, it's going to kill me."
Hearing the frantic cries of a fellow Halfling to his right, Edgar turns to see Ethan running away from a lumbering beastman. While acknowledging his own imminent danger, Edgar lets an arrow fly at the beastman terrorizing Ethan.
Nargond, Seeing the elf slice at the beastman, turns and lashes out at the mutant follower of chaos, only to have his blows land harmlessly, inflicting no damage.
The beastman, Howling in rage it brings a massive attack upon Dowlen...
..and connects with the elfs head.
Fanriel aims and shoots, only to find her arrow flying way off the mark. A dark thought of finding a local fletcher crosses her mind as she struggles to nock another.
The beastman, hiding in the woodline, returns fire...
only to have it's shot miss as well.
Ethan, screaming for his life, turns and attempts to out pace his larger foe by crossing into the muddy road. Unfortunately, his pace slows considerably due to the slick mud.
The beastman, having a longer stride, move up on ethan, and takes a quick swing at the little halfling...
..and connects with the halflings head.
Edgar turns and fires, only to have it fly off target.
Dolwen takes note of the blow and moves to leap aside.
But he's not lucky-- it tags him across the cheek bone and ear, adding another bloody mark to the wounded elf.
One eye slicked with blood, he notes that Hanna has knocked one of the Beastmen completely silly and advances on the opportunity she's opened, making two reckless swings.
= to the left arm(51)
He cuts into its arms as it tries to defend itself, ruthlessly attacking.
"If the halfling can keep the other distracted for a moment, we have a shot."
přestanou žít prokletou věc Elthaslas curses at the beastman and cuts at it with his sword but fails to score a hit.
Tearing her mind away from the intotixating tempation of the Aetheryic Winds, Hanna raises her quarterstaff in the air and brings it's iron shod end down upon the skull of the sleeping beastman.
Automatic Hit :
She pauses a moment then hits it again.
Automatic Hit :
Crit #1
Crit #2
As the beastman strikes Ethan's head, the halfling falls into a boneless heap in the mud and lay there unmoving.
Edgar quickly reloads his bow , and draws back to fire again at the Beastman threatening Ethan. As Ethan falls to the ground, Edgar is grateful that he has a lesser chance of actually striking the other Halfling. His arrow is loosed
Nargond, knowing he cannot disengage to help the flighty halfling without leaving an opening for the beastman in front of him, continues his assault, sharp steel flashing in the downpour and lantern light. He knows that it's only a matter of time before more beastmen show up, and if the impromptu warband can't finish this quickly they'll eventually be overrun.
Screaming now echoes within the woodline as combat is now in full force. the small pack of beastmen have engaged the traveling group, attempting to make off with several portions for their stews, only to have met stronger resistance than usual within these groups.
Ethan, his head ringing from the sharp blow, takes a step and then slumps to the mud, feigning unconsciousness. His eyes closed, he prays to the gods above that his actions will help him through this battle.
And yet, he prayers are answered, in the form of a lone arrow. An arrow, from non other than edgar. Having loosed a couple of arrows already at the enemy, and failing to connect by a wide margin, edgar steadies himself, and fires. HIs arrow flies straight and true, and pierces the thick skull of the beastman standing over Ethan. The arrow drives through one side and blasts a large hole out the other, but stays lodged within the braincase of the mutant animal. A bemoaned quibble sounds from the already slackened lips of the beast, and a long moment later it strength gives out from its legs, and it falls, dead, on top of the prone Ethan.
Hanna, being quick to react, drives the hardened end of her staff into her beasts skull. A sick noise of bone being crushed is heard as she delivers the blow. Blood begins to ooze out of the nose and eyes of the creature, and a moment later, she rams it home again, her staff blasting out the other side and into the dirt.
Dowlen, seeing Hanna take care of the slumbering beast, pivots on the ball of his feet and does a quick uppercut to the beast that is between him and the dwarf.
The axehead bites deep into the forearm of the fell creature, and a bonecrushing force is delivered, causing the animal to howl in pain and agony. Its arm in shambles, blood pouring from the vicious wound, the beast, knowing that death is near, attempts to bring down the foe that brought its own demise to it.
only to have its remaining effort fail from severe pain.
The lone beastman, uninjured and still near the woods, shoots at the party and then withdraws into the woods...
*** Sorry I missed your reroll for me. Here's mine in case.
. WOOT!
Elthaslas blinks the rain water out of his eyes and looks down at his unbloodied sword. I am loosing my touch I sense there was something there but didn't spot the beastmen. I wasn't much help in the fight either. He looks around at the group of travellers making note of those who fought. Seeing the group of childern standing behind him.
What are you all standing about for! He yells at the peasents. Move! you think these were the only beastmen in the forest. We aren't out of danger until we are behind the footman inn's walls. Move you fools!
Elthaslas will take a moment to sheath his sword, string his bow, and settle his quiver for easy access before following his own advice and hurrying up the road. He grumbles to himself about the damage the rain could do to his longbow.
His head still ringing, Ethan panics under the weight of the dead beastman before realizing it is but a corpse. digging himself from under the monster body, he sits in the mud to recover.
Seing one of Edgar's arrow in the beast skull, he get to his feet thanking him profusely.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I thought I was dead and you saved me. I'll do anything for you know. Let it be known that Ethan Curlytoes owes his life to you."
Then, without ceremony, he upturns the Beastman body to search fror anything useful or sensitive.
Seeing one of Edgar's arrow in the beast skull, he get to his feet thanking him profusely.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I thought I was dead and you saved me. I'll do anything for you know. Let it be known that Ethan Curlytoes owes his life to you."
Then, without ceremony, he upturns the Beastman body to search fror anything useful or sensitive.
Edgar nocks another arrow, approaching the buried Ethan cautiously. Grateful that the other Halfling is able to squirm out of his predicament, Edgar relaxes, putting away the arrow in his quiver. He waves his hand at the compliment as if it were a fly buzzing around.
"Think nothing of it, lad" he says, watching to bleeding halfling search the beastman for anything of worth.
"Edgar Underfoot, at your service" he adds, bowing his head slightly. He looks around to see if Fanriel is alright, then turns back to the wounded Halfling. "Let's see if we can't get you mended a bit before we move on".