Swinging to face the thug with the club, Mos mutters a curse under his breath and fires an arrow at the approaching menace.
Attack:
Damage:
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Peeking over the tree trunk, Eireachdail hears a feminine sound of worry and fear from one side. Thinking it was Jenneleth he leans over to provide some encouragement only to find himself face to face with Zeebo! A 'what-the-hell' expression comes over his face, and something was about to fly from his lips when the betrayal occurs.
"Betrayal, most foul, Indeed! Carlanis ! Franz! Culk! Marco! All of your names will be known across the land for your betrayal this day! Mark my words! " Eireachdail shouts, drawing his blade and chopping at the man that dared harm fair Jenneleth.
Ulfbrecht turns to the human as the staff cracks against the tree, eye twitching. "Fūl swica.." the dwarf growls. He turns his grip on his handaxe and swings towards the man, dismayed with himself for being caught off guard.
(str + ranger bonus)
A rainbow cone springs forth from the caster’s hand, causing
nearby creatures to fall asleep. The spell can affect a number
of creatures equal to 1d4 plus the caster’s level. The cone is
5 feet wide at origin and its width is equal to its length at
any point up to 25 feet. The closest creatures in the cone are
affected first.
The result of the spell depends upon the HD of the targeted
creatures. Creatures of 2 HD or less are struck unconscious for 2d4
rounds; creatures of 3 to 4 HD are blinded for 1d4 rounds; and
creatures of 5 HD or greater are stunned for one round. Creatures
of the same level or HD as the caster, and all creatures with 5 HD
or greater may make a wisdom saving throw to shake off the color
spray. Sightless creatures are not affected by color spray.
She messed up. That is the thought that was going through her mind. She messed up. She'd let her guard down. She'd been too clumsy, too stupid, too worried about maintaining the facade. Now, she's dodging cudgels and listening to her dead father's voice cursing her for her idiocy. As she ducks under the blow aimed at knocking her sense, and succeeding in taking her hat and wig and knocking the beard and moustache askew, she spots the rusty manacles, and terror grips her heart like an iron vise. She is going to be made a slave. They were going to chain her up and sell her to the gods only know who. Panic fully sets in as she reaches for threads of power in her mind and the small colored beads in her spell component pouch. Ping hurriedly chants the words to the spell, the only spell that might save her from a fate she feared as much as finding herself in Gulven Malidont's clutches. She fans her fingers as she holds out her hands toward the two men, palms facing them and six colored beads held between her fingers. She knows she's not fast enough. She knows that the one that had tried to knock her out would get another chance before she can finish casting the spell as she frantically rolls the words of the chant off her tongue and pulls on the threads that made up reality.
Hûƞidark barrels into the wounded archer slamming his fist into the man, the sound of cracking tree intermixed with the crunch of bone.
As one archer falls, so too does another. Spiro's speculative shot also finds its mark, and tho' it clips a leaf or three it carries enough to drop the man.
For his part Mos let's fly at the advancing Carlanis, though his arrow ne'er gives the burly man pause...
"That tickled little haef'a'man!"
Further down the road Ulfbrecht engages Marko, who avoids the dwarven hatchet with a sneer;
"Dunno what you said oremonger but you fight like that drunk Grizzler!"
By the fallen tree, Marko's companions fare less well. Incensed by Jenneleth's treatment Eireachdail lands a solid slice upon Culk, while Ping brings to bear her magic on the rural thugs;
The iridescent cone rendering both men unconscious!
Despite the odds the remaining ne'er-do-wells fight on!
Looming over Mos, Carlanis snarls and brings his heavy cudgel to bear on the rogue:
... but Mos proves too elusive to the ham-fisted brute.
Feeling he has the measure of the dwarven ranger, Franz attempts to crack him with his stave;
... but his swing is wild and ill-judged.
A vibrant spray of scintillating reds, yellows, greens, blues, and purples envelops the the two thugs, and it's all Ping can do not to hyperventilate and pass out. The image of the chains hits her again and again as she watches the two men fall. Her mind, the part not consumed by panic, insists that it's important. That she needs to tell the others.
she screams, not bothering to disguise her voice. To those who hadn't learned her secret yesterday, it's pleasant enough, or would be if not strained by fear and the need to get the information out.
The words snap her from the fear threatening to paralyze. Yes, they were slavers, and they'd intended to take her for a slave. She snarls as she draws her dagger.
she tells the others, the fear fast fading into red-tinged rage. Bad enough a violent thug wants her for the debts her father had incurred. She will not be a slave. She refuses!
She drives the blade into the closest thug's throat.
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Round 3
More gore coats the half-orc’s blood-drenched cestus as he pushes through the woods at the cries from Ping/Zeebo and the threats from the bandit’s villainous leader. He’d never liked bullies, and a grown man going after a halfling – even a skilled one – didn’t sit well.
Hûnidark jogs up behind Carlanis, attempting to draw his ire. ”Why don’t you try that cudgel on my skull, little man?” He waits for the bandit to turn around before trying to drive the cestus into the man’s face, only pulling his punch and twisting his fist at the last moment to avoid possibly breaking the other man's neck.
|
Stun (1):
Fate (3): x
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Ulfbrecht frowns at himself for missing such an easy strike; perhaps fighting in the wide openness of the surface and beneath the light of the sun will take some getting used to. Fortunately his adversary isn't fairing much better and he watches the quarterstaff sail harmlessly by.
Then a voice rings hard against his ears; a voice unfamiliar but the words all too. "Slavers! They're slavers!" The shout echoes deep into his bones and reverberates within his skull and he is nearly sucked away from the present for a split second before his gaze snaps hard onto Franz. His brow furrows more than the field of a ten-armed plougher behind on his taxes as a mask of pure wroth usurps his face.
"þeow-makere, eh?" He reaches out to grasp the man before him with his hands and attempt to hold him against the tree. "Ye will speak what you know!"
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Elyan has rarely seen such hasty violence, not for centuries at least. He questions his choices that lead him to a group so proficient in it. He makes a shaky attempt to knock an arrow but the skirmish appears all but over before he dare draw his bow. Not trusting his aim against foes with 'companions' in close proximity he puts a hand to the horses, as much to calm himself as to calm them. He tries to observe the remaining action and steel himself for the next time. This... is the world I've been missing?
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Eireachdail frowns at Zeebo's new personality, then smiles as he/she flings magic around and then unceremoniously dispatches one of the unconscious bandits, "I like this new you, old man!" he declares.
He then joins in the necessary and calmly slits the throat of the other unconscious bandit.
Then his face no longer smiling, looks up to see where that Carlanis has gotten to.
"If you've got this handled, I'll make sure the archers are down for good".
Spiro moves to begin checking on the downed archers to make sure they're really dead... and that there are no more.
With the brute right before him, Mos fires at point blank range hoping to silence the slaver for good!
Attack:
Damage:
Hûnidark cracks the burly gang leader, leaving him battered and bruised, while Mos takes the opportunity to imbed another of his arrows into Carlanis' broad back, eliciting a bellow of pain!
Meanwhile skald and old haelfling apply a coup de grace upon the downed Culk and Franz!
Spiro arrives at the first archer and find him very dead. The man's jaw and the rest of his skull align in different directions.
Evading the grasp of the doughty dwarv, Marko grimaces and swings wildly at the ranger;
"Keep yer distance dwarv! I'll not have yer grubby mine-paws on me!"
However his prowess does not match his fervour and his swing meets naught by thin air!
Battered and pierced by his two foes, Carlanis smiles through bloodied teeth and mutters an aside to Mos...
"Rest most assured you sneaky runt, once I batter yer mongrel friend 'ere, I'll grind yer haefling bones to make my bread!"
... then brings his cudgel to bear with a thumping blow upon the brawler of Kordd!
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Ping starts shaking as the man takes his last breath. She pushes past the urge to just gibber and cower and turns her attentions to Lady Jenneleth. She was just a charge, someone that they had to protect true, but not someone that she would have called a friend or dear. Still, the young woman has been nothing but kind and accepting of Ping and her alter ego, and the gnome is far to grateful for that to not care about her in turn. She crawls over to the unconscious woman and tries to rouse her.
"Lady Jenneleth, please, wake up! We need to get you somewhere safe," she says as she pats the good lady on the cheek.
Spiro takes a quick look back to make sure that the others have the remaining combatant under control before moving on to the next supposed corpse.
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Round 4
Hûnidark feels the blood trickling from the crease in his scalp. He shakes his head to clear his vision. It was a good wallop, no doubt about that… and he couldn’t afford to take another. He shifts and weaves, giving himself a few moments to consider multiple ways to attack and the risk of each method. The safest course was striking to kill, piling his efforts on top of Mos’ to drop the bandit leader before he can use that cudgel again. But bringing the bandits in for questioning and justice was the better option, just in case they had other prisoners somewhere.
The half-orc weighs his options and makes a choice. He feints, fakes a punch to the man’s head, then drives his cestus into Carlanis’ solar plexus, hoping to take the fight out of him.
|
Stun (1):
Fate (3): x
Eireachdail sees the bandit leader in a fight with two of his comrades, and Ulfbrecht by his lonesome.
Electing to assist the dwarf, Eireachdail sprints over to deliver a slash with his broadsword!
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Shoving away from Franz's swing, Ulfbrecht keeps his eyes trained hard on the man as the weapon sails by him, hearing the thud of it hitting the ground as if it were somewhere out in the distance. The dwarf's heartbeat pounds in his ears as he steps forward inside the reach of the knave's reach once more.
"Mine-paws, ech?" Ulf spits, grabbing his light hammer from his belt. "Be it so - Have I a hamor for your knee, if'n you recall!" He swings low on the man with the hammer to hobble him.
Rolling out of the way of the thug's leader, Mos shakes his head at the man's continual banter while fighting. Again the halfling takes aim and fires at the brigand...hoping to finally bring him down.
Attack:
Damage:
Hûnidark slams his fist into Carlanis' stout midriff and elicits a stifled grunt as the burly thug folds and he finally slumps to the woodland floor!
As he drops Mos' arrow flies into the space he had occupied, missing the incapacitated thug.
Subdual damage heals faster than normal damage as it is not usually fatal. It heals at a rate of 1 hit point per every 10 minutes. Subdued creatures should be considered unconscious for 24 hours and do not begin healing until gaining consciousness.
Against overwhelming odds Marko continues to fight, gnashing his teeth as he tries to shake off the kneecap crack delivered by Ulfbrecht.
Despite her best efforts Ping is unable to rouse fair Jenneleth, though it is clear the young apprentice is alive and breathing. She surmises it will likely take healing - mundane or magical, to awaken the young woman.
Hobbling and now facing two opponents in a dwarv and skald, Marko winces in pain and swings weakly for newcomer to the melee!
His target now set on his heels and beset by a comrade, Ulfbrecht once more lunges and tries to wrestle the highwayman into a grapple while he is distracted by the bard's appearance.
"Give't up, cnafa, yer ūt-manned.." Ulf grumbles as he grabs for the mann's sword-arm while swinging his own left arm around his side. "Ye've cluf þē lyft ġenōg"
Round 5
Head splitting from the last blow, the hulking half-orc trots wearily toward the last conscious bandit… penning him in and reducing his avenues of escape. ”Surrender. Your boys are dead or caught. We’re taking you, too – beat to a pulp or not. Choose.” He raises the blood-streaked cestus, demonstrating one of the 'pulping' tools.
Stun (1):
Fate (3): x
The doughty dwarv grabs Marko's arm, then twists it behind the man's back in a iron-grip. The bandit drops his staff and surrendering:
"Alright! Alright! I yield! Just keep your pet orc away from me!"
Spiro meanwhile confirms all the archers are dead.
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Somewhere between his splitting headache and the racist comments leveled at practically every non-human in their group, the half-orc’s aura of calm is cracked. He puts the fetters on the gabby prisoner, freeing Ulf from his task.
Then, without warning, he grabs Marko by his chicken-neck and slams him against the tree to get his attention. He snarls in the bandit’s ear, ”Call me ‘pet’ again and you’ll find out what it feels like when this wolf mounts you.”
He turns to the others, hand still squeezing Marko’s throat. More civilly, he says,”We can chain the prisoners and tie them over the horse.”
Stun (1):
Fate (3): x
Marko's eyes pop first at the threat, then at the brutal pressure on his neck.
Legs shaking he wheezes a regret:
"I-I-yield! M-my ap-apologies..."
Hûnidark lightens his grip on the man’s throat immediately, more out of embarrassment at his momentary lapse of control than for any other reason. He nods, ”Accepted. Now, do you have any prisoners nearby, maybe in a hideout? Think hard. We’re turning you over to the law. Any help you give might lower your punishment. And letting some innocent die makes things far worse for you.”
Seeing that the battle is won Spiro begins the process of dragging the bodies out of the woods for proper burial. He does check for any particularly fine arrows or weapons before doing so.
Marko shakes his head, eyes like saucers as although the pressure is relieved, the fear, clearly is not;
"C-Carlanis hired us... Told us we was protectin' Haranshire from bad folk.. Folk like you lot who are bringin' in bad magick... death magick into our land... 'E said e' would point out who the wytchfolk an' necromancers are. We just 'ad to hurt anyone who defends them villains... E' paid well an' we didn't ask questions... check me coin-pouch if ye doubt me..."
He gulps, slowly shaking his head again;
"You lot are our first... Ain't been no others... Least that me, Culk an' Franz know 'bout."
Hûnidark begins walking the prisoner over to the tree stump, where they can continue the interrogation with the others while sitting down. The half-orc very much wants to get out of the sunshine with his pounding skull and rest a bit. He listens to Marko’s tale and looks at the man closely. His story had an air about it… a lot of naivete and a fair amount of truth. ”Where did Carlanis find you? I’m thinking you grew up here. Where ya from?”
Marko nods compliently;
"Aye. I'm from Thurmaster original like. Been out o' a job fir a while. See, less you want to toil in Carmen's mines, work the riverboats or hack down trees fir a livin' ain't much to do in Haranshire, but still got to pay taxes."
He coughs, eyes drawn to the still bodies of Culk and Franz;
"M-Me an' my friends met Carlanis in The Silver Crown. 'E bought us some ale an' got to talkin'. Told us how the land was cursed with gobs, bandits an' the like was down to bad magicks and incomers, an how the Count nor Carmen would do nowt as they was in league with 'em. Was up to common folk like us to stop yo-th-them..."
The shakes his head as he recounts the tale;
"Carlanis said 'e had a plan and some men. Told us 'e needed some lads who looked like farmers, common men, to set the trap. Offered us gold an' silver just to back him. He'd lead. We follow. If we caught us some whytches an' death-worshipers we'd be 'eroes."
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While Hunidark and the others interrogate their lone conscious captive, Ping realizes that Lady Jenneleth will not be waking soon, not without some magic aid that she cannot give. After she sees the fight is over, she looks down at the bloodied dagger in her hand and drops as if it had suddenly turned red hot.
She has killed someone. Not only has she killed someone, she killed them when they were defenseless, completely at her mercy. The memory of the rage comes back, and she finds someplace away from the unconscious apprentice and the others to lose her breakfast. Growing up in the bad parts of town, she was no stranger to death but she'd never killed someone before, and that she had in a fit of rage terrifies her.
The fake beard and mustache ruined, she leaves them in the same hollow in the ground where she'd lost her breakfast. As the man tells what he knows, Ping undoes her disguise, stuffing the wig and the pillow in her pack before pulling the hat over her face and curling up next to Lady Jenneleth. She thought about trying to make the human woman more comfortable, but she isn't large enough, nor is she strong enough.
So, she waits, wondering what the fallout from this would be. It was her fault that they'd gotten into this fight, no matter who had made the first move, and she's certain that the others are not going to be kind when their attentions turn to her.
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Before Hûƞidark takes the man into shackles, Ulf stares hard at the man's face now that the heat of the fray has died down, cataloging his features and checking them against any of the descriptions of the slavers he hunts. After an uncomfortably long look, he pushes the chap into the half-orc's custody and goes over and checks the face of the unconscious Carlanis as well. Even if he doesn't mesh with any of the descriptions Ulf has, he carves this man's face into his memory nonetheless.
He gathers his axe and hammer back to his person as he listens to Marko speak his tale. "A ǣmtiġ purs will drive a mann to fūl deeds..as true as a pūca stinks of hland"
Eventually his eyes fall on Ping and he walks over to her, rubbing a chin as the interrogation with Marko continues. He studies her face a moment before he speaks.
After speaking, he nods, and then looks to Jenneleth. He kneels by the unconscious woman and lightly touches the bludgeon wound on her head. "Yer charge lives, by my eye. Poor lass.. was a earg blow."
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Hûnidark soberly reflects on the story. ”Well, Marko of Thurmaster, it’s possible Carlanis thought he’d be doing right... except he picked you because you and your friends looked like common men we’d mistake for guardsmen, not those thugs with their bows. Few men can spot a wytch or necromancer on sight, and Carlanis ain’t one of them. What he could spy was folks that might have purses fat enough to be worth stealing. He led you into banditry not heroics. Maybe you knew that, maybe you didn’t - the law will decide. But, you’d be a fool to follow his lead when you come before a magistrate. He’ll fit you for a noose just like he fit your friends for coffins.”
He regards the bodies for a moment, noting the clean cuts... and frowns. After a moment, he makes sure Marko’s fetters are secured to the tree trunk and leaves the man to mourn his dead friends while he goes to strip Carlanis of his gear and valuables as well as retrieving Marko's dropped weapon.
Stun (1):
Fate (3): x
Marko slumps despondent as the possibly truth and consequence of his situation sinks in.
"G-Garyld the Carpenter is the constable o' Milbourne... e's a fair man... but Master Carmen, who runs the town, e's magistrate. 'Ard as the bloody stone 'e mines that one..."
His head slumps and he goes quiet as you collectively go about your business.
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Eireachdail claps his hands as he sees that all of the bandits have been either slain or subdued, "Ah, a battle for the ages! Well done, chaps...and er....lady? " he says, looking meaningfully at the newly exposed Ping.
He smiles at her reassuringly, then turns to help with divesting the bandits of their valuables.
He then walks over to the talkative bandit, Marko and get very close to him, eye to eye, "In my land, laddee, you'd be screaming for yer momma. We don't take kindly to bandits. " he growls menacingly, then smiles, "But, these are civilized lands..I'm sure your magistrate will sort you out!"
Clapping the man on the shoulder, he trots over to where Jenneleth still lies senseless, asking Ping, "How is she, old man?"
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Mos makes his way over to Lady Jenneleth and Ping. He is not surprised to see the gnome without her disguise and nods in approval of her bravery to show herself.
"Might be for the best this. How is the Lady? Can we wake her?"
He takes a look at the unconscious human and tries to wake her from her unintended slumber.
"Elyan come here and see if you can wake the Lady. Hurry now, I am not sure such a blow and remaining unconscious so long can be good for her!"
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Ping looks up as Ulfbrecht, Eireachdail, and Mos come and speak with her or check on Lady Jenneleth.
"She's out cold, and I don't know how to wake her," she answers Eireachdail and Mos before switching tongues and answering Ulfbrecht.
"Lots of practice," she explains. "The ones I came with know why. Eireachdail missed the explanation, which is why I won't ask you to smite his kneecaps for me after he called me an old man."
She gives a cross look at the skald before continuing on, but there's hardly any spirit in it. The young gnomish woman looks drained, and in truth, she's emotionally spent after what happened. After a moment, she curls back up and speaks softly in her the tongue of her kind.
"It is my fault. I should have known better. I let myself get too far into the role I was playing, and that could have gotten us all killed," she says. "I'm a fool. I should have let Mos or someone else talk instead of putting us all in danger."
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Elyan shakes himself as the Halflings calls him. So swift, all the time! Not an eddy to be seen in their constant flow. Better get used to it old man, or you'll flounder.
"Coming, coming!" He hurries over, examining the unconscious woman. "I... Will do what I can. It is meager..."
He lightly touches her wound and she appears to breath a little easier. "I think... She will be right. I'm unsure when she will wake."
Elyan approaches and administers his ancient arts upon the inert apprentice.
He gently touches her brow and the bruising eases... then as the druid mulls her awakening Jenneleth's eyes flicker and slowly open!
"W-what h-happened? My head... ringing..."
She lies blinking, trying to adjust to this strange perspective of group and the situation.
"They attacked us and tried to take us prisoner," Ping explains. "I'm sorry you got hurt, my lady."
Jenneleth frowns, trying to process Ping's words;
"I remember arrows... and the big man shouting before all went dark..."
She gingerly rises to her feet, hand straying to her bruised head with a wince as her eyes survey the scene around her;
"My. It looks quite the battle... Are we sure it was us they wanted my friends..? Not our goods?"
"They had manacles and fetters. If they wanted our goods, why not kill us instead of knocking us out?"
From where he stands by the horse, debating how best to continue the journey, Hûnidark offers another alternative. ”Robbery, maybe extortion, and ransom... Fetters prove little.” He tacks to the matter at hand. ”Miss, can you ride? If you can, we’ll put you on the horse and tie the leader like a saddlebag behind you. Marko there will be tied to the mule and walk behind it... If you can’t ride, I can carry you.”
Elyan stands and backs up, he eyes Ping sideways but refrains from addressing her disguise. He feels... strangely about it, perhaps it was the comment earlier that he thought he made to a grandfatherly Halfling, not a young gnome woman. Is this... embarassment...? Hmmm... Hasty and dangerous. Is slavery really that much of a threat, or have these people been exceptionally misfortunate? I must remain wary... and act quicker.
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Ulfbrecht helps the Lady to her feet. "A cudgel to the head," he says bluntly. "A saying of my folc...it would mean 'a strong mind breaks stone.'" He points to a spot on his head that aligns with the point at which she suffered the blow. "Took ye the strike well."
Looking between Ping and Hûƞidark, Ulf shrugs.
"May be the lǣdere cnēowe of this cult of the God-Rīpere...may be that he hēaps lyġas on the plates of his folc yet works with the thrall-makers...or for them." The dwarf absentmindedly spits to the side on the ground as if to get the taste of such foul business from his mouth. He sighs. "This cult I hunt has forstolen mine nift - niece. Kill-ed mine brother and his wife. The only purpose of mine life is to finde her."
Ulfbrecht shoots a hard look to Marko briefly before setting his gaze on the unconscious Carlanis. "When woken, cnāwe I what cnēowe he. Soþ hit sylf acyþeð. Cræfta gehwilc byþ cealde forgolden."