Ishmex's second fusilade takes the female warrior down.
Unsure of the situation he's stumbled upon, the lone elf waits and observes.
CYriphrain will crawl out to V8 and try to rise, risking the ire of the villagers outside.
Swatting the villagers attack aside, Blythe looses a kick at the knee of her assailant, before stepping between Delmar and Cyriphrain, giving him a look. "We've got this, stay in the tent!"
Initially Grulorg was wary of starting a battle with an entire village full of people, after all, if they were friendly why slay those who can assist you? It is clear though that these people are warlike, well Grulorg was warlike too if only his earthbreaker had not been lost at sea...
The half-orc draws back on his bow and fires at the villager attacking BM, he trusted Lheo and Ish to take down the last of their present fighters.
Compound Longbow - Damage
Curious. These are obviously outlanders fighting locals, but they seem to be coming out of the tents. If they are hostile, how did they get into the tents? What's the story here?
"What the hell? Did you just bite me?"
,
,
Blythe kicks the villager in the leg and he cries out in pain. Grulorg's shot thuds into the turf roof of the hut nearby. But Lheorvine's blow connects with the warrior's neck and both he and his head, separately, thud on to the shingle.
Delmar ignores Blythe, and decides to try and split things up a bit.
** spoiler omitted **
"Savages." Lheorvine gives the now-headless barbarian's body a kick as he steps over it. "Biting people? These guys are no better than goblins. Grolurg! Grab one of their greatclubs and come help me knock some sense into these fools!"
Ishmex moves up to beach towards the village and takes cover behind a hut.
If they aren’t out fighting, perhaps they are non-combatants.
Kaerishidlon carefully crosses the stream and moves up behind one of the huts where he can see better.
Cyriphrain does not like the odds, but likes the thought of turning his back on his opponents even less.
He slides down the line, throwing a punch at the jaw of the southernmost villager.
Cyriphrain swings at the nearest villager but his opponent ducks back just in time. However, rather than return the blow, the villagers see the second warrior fall and look at each other uncertainly. One of them gabbles in his language at Blythe and Cyriphrain.
"STOP!" Blythe yells to all her companions, seeing the villagers hesitation. She holds her hands up in front of her, palms forward. "I think they don't want to fight."
Delmar pauses, a brand readied to throw, but waits at Blythe's command.
The fisherman continues to talk, but the language barrier seems impenetrable. He begins pantomining something.
Blythe shakes her head at the villager. "I'm fair certain he's trying to sell me a puppy. Does anyone understand what he's trying to say?"
Ah! Here's something!
Rish steps out of hiding, in view of the outlanders, hands raised to show they are empty. Moving toward the paused skirmish, he offers, "He's asking for help. Unfortunately, I don't know the local language, either, but I believe that's what he's trying to say."
Stepping from behind one of the huts is an elf in simple traveling clothes and no apparent armor. He carries a longbow and wears a dagger at his belt, but looks less like a warrior than a scholar though he does seem physically fit enough. He has the slender build common to the elven people, but being relatively short makes him look very young, even for a race that ages so slowly. His voice carries a confidence, however, that leads you to believe him to be much older than he appears.
Long hair flows down past his shoulders and does nothing to disguise his prominent ears. The hair is an earthy brown in color, but seems to have a slight tint of green to it. His skin appears to be very tan.
As the elf popped out of the brush, Blythe sighs audibly. "Lovely. I hadn't quite had my fill of who the bloody hell are you and where the hell are we's today."
Rish, hands still raised, shrugs apologetically. "If I told you the name of the island, it would do you little good, warrior."
"My name is Kaerishidlon Greenbriar. If you wish, call me Rish."
"Blythe, play nicely. We are going to be lucky to get out of this alive as it is. Perhaps this elf can help us? Nice to meet you Rish, but ahh, this is a bit of a stressful situation at the moment." Delmar calls across the beach.
"Aye, I noticed." He approaches slowly, still maintaining a nonthreatening posture. Keeping his expression as friendly as he can and focused on the natives, he speaks to the outlanders, "If you don't know where you are, how did you come to be fighting in this village? You don't appear to be locals."
Blythe lets Delmar talk to the elf, and turns her attention back to the villagers, gesturing to the ground, and to them. "Down! Down on the ground! Get down!"
Grulorg slings Lheo's bow over his should and stops by the body of the fallen warriors to retrieve one of their clubs for use, Not my earthbreaker but it will have to do.
He then begins to pluck the arrows that he shot that missed from the ground, Why waste em and tries to look generally imposing to the remaining villagers.
He lets the rest of the group do the talking at this point.
"Damn Lheo, I need more bow practice, I was lucky I hit the ground with some of these shots..."
"Aye, I noticed." He approaches slowly, still maintaining a nonthreatening posture. Keeping his expression as friendly as he can and focused on the natives, he speaks to the outlanders, "If you don't know where you are, how did you come to be fighting in this village? You don't appear to be locals."
"We were shipwrecked, and woke up captives. It makes you a little fractious."
Hearing Grulorg behind her, Blythe looks over her shoulder to see the other three for the first time. "You survived!"
Grulorg grunts at BM, "Yep but we did not get fancy huts like you did.."