DM Salsa Presents - Rise of the Runelords (Inactive)

Game Master AdamWarnock

Dare runs around outside, possibly looking a bit mad, trying to make extra sure every goblin is gone or dead. If she sees any town guards, she will ask them to confirm if the town is safe.

As two goblins get away, Scrapeknee gives a rare CURSE under his breath. Two have gotten away, one with a torch no less. Despite the good they've done, it feels like a loss to let such a risk live. He gets now why Daviren Hosk HATES goblins.

A look to Dani, "Dani, thank you for your help" And a nod to the Cathedral."The good father probably needs you."

Dani nods and limps into the Cathedral to do what she can. She gives you a thankful smile, despite everything turning into a nightmare, as she passes.

The sounds of fighting continue. South of the square, a group of goblins chase a squawking flock of chickens across the street. Down an alley, a goblin tries to drop onto one of the town's guards as he makes his way towards more trouble, but only manages to break its neck when it dives onto the hard-packed ground instead. For a moment, though, it appears that the Cathedral and the square are free of the violence.

Everything catches up to Cailyn, thudding into her like... well like a crossbow bolt into the head of a singing goblin.

She has killed things, many things "I had to" she whispered to herself, as she sagged briefly against the railing. They were killing people and Dogs! so had to be stopped. A prim firm nod of her head as she said those thoughts to herself.

She was right. Looking around the square, at the bodies, she knew it.

But she still wanted to vomit.

Worse was the pool of blood on the steps. Joanna's blood. She needed to go into the cathedral, to make sure she was okay... but she didn't. Couldn't. Not yet.

"I'll stay out here" she tells Scrapeknee, even though she knew he was talking to Dani. She cranked her crossbow, slower this time, fitting in another bolt. She'll need to buy more, unless she... she looked up at the fletching sticking up from the body... no, she needs to buy more.

"And I do not speak Goblin.' she adds "And I am fine up here... keeping watch and what not."

Lita remains at the ready, attention staying locked in the direction of the sounds of more fighting. She's restless, clearly, only barely holding herself back from pacing, and looking for the source of every new sound in that direction.

"Sorry, don't speak Goblin. That's the right idea, I think, trying to interrogate it." she sighs, nervously pushing short black hair out of her face. "Are you all staying here, then? There's still people out there getting hurt."

At the question, Cailyn looks at the cathedral, anxiety creasing her face (and nose). "The door is thick, the walls are stone, Conrad is with them... and Wilberforce... can help and is safe" she contemplates, then decides.

She moves down off the bleachers with swishes and creaks, to stand in front of the knight with the bloody polearm. Tenatively she says, "I'll come with you, Ms Turandarok. My implement's energy is spent, its memory cannot be overly used, meaning no battle-hardened owl to help us, but I've got eight bolts left. So I might be able to help." The young noblewoman in blue silks looks like a rather ridiculous battle companion for the warrior in steel and horns, but she is willing at least.

Cailyn spares a glance to Scrapeknee. The hint of her normal humor returns as she whispers "told you that you were a hero."

"That gobbledygook was a language? I thought the little yahoos were chittering for the sport of it. Sounded like a hundred lapdogs on a runaway carousel."

The Wilberforce traipsing down the cathedral's steps was missing a jacket, but wore a fair bit of blood in place of the garment. Though his tone was light, it was clear the young man was shaken. The usually so expressive face looked drawn. He ignored the Sandpoint native's thanks entirely, not convinced he'd earned them, in favor of slouching up against the wooden stage. Retrieving his hip flask from a pocket, he took a long - much needed! - swig from it before looking up to Cailyn on top of the structure.

"How are you, old top?" he asked, not without sympathy before offering her the flask. More surprised was he when she hopped down to join the paladin.

"Are you all staying here, then? There's still people out there getting hurt."

"Yes, well," Willie coughed, "I rather thought I could, er, hold the fort, you see."

As Lita and Cailyn resolve themselves to go help where they can, a troop of men led by Sheriff Belor Hemlock comes trotting into the square.

"Scrapeknee," he says, seeing his nephew, "Glad to see you're alright. These folks with you?" He points to Cailyn, Conrad, Dare, Lita, and Willie. "I need you to check on the north gate. We're stamping out the other bands that got in. Thankfully most of them are sorry fighters and we've mostly only had injuries, but it'd be real trouble if a bunch of them came through. Can you handle it," he asks, his eyes boring into the young oracle's.

A couple of the men move over to the well as the Sheriff talks and bind the goblin's arms and legs before hauling it back to the others. Outnumbered, the goblin appears cowed, for now.

Cailyn resisted the urge to hug her cousin, happy beyond sense that he was alright. But that would be bad manners in front of everyone, and well... ever really. So instead she accepted the flask and took a sip, a small sip that still slid into her like a fire. "I'm fine... is Jo... Is Jo alive?" she whispered to Wilberforce as the authority figure talked to their local hero.

Scrapeknee eyes the Catherdrel, and with a gesture, spreads more water this time on top of the roof of it, more than once.
"In case more of those torch bearers come back I want it to be hard to set on fire."

"Sorry, don't speak Goblin. That's the right idea, I think, trying to interrogate it." she sighs, nervously pushing short black hair out of her face. "Are you all staying here, then? There's still people out there getting hurt."

He tilts his head, and realizes she's right, in the distance, goblins are still hurting sandpoint "Damn it, you're right. I wish Uncle Belor was here. He's Sheriff, He'd know what to do..."

Cailyn spares a glance to Scrapeknee. The hint of her normal humor returns as she whispers "told you that you were a hero."

He whispers back "Cailyn, I don't know WHAT I am. And I don't have the time to walk in circles trying to figure it out." then in good humor back "You never told me Willie was USEFUL. What's up with that?"

As Lita and Cailyn resolve themselves to go help where they can, a troop of men led by Sheriff Belor Hemlock comes trotting into the square.

"Scrapeknee," he says, seeing his nephew, "Glad to see you're alright. These folks with you?" He points to Cailyn, Conrad, Dare, Lita, and Willie. "I need you to check on the north gate. We're stamping out the other bands that got in. Thankfully most of them are sorry fighters and we've mostly only had injuries, but it'd be real trouble if a bunch of them came through. Can you handle it," he asks, his eyes boring into the young oracle's.

"With help, yes." he looks to the others, "This is Willie, who kept a woman, Joana alive and rallied us as well. That's Cailyn, I don't know how she does it, but she has a formidable feathered friend, and is a dead shot. That's Conrad, and he fights with a fierceness to protect the innocent. Dare is fearless and fighting for us. They all are. This is Lita, a paladin of Sarenrae who killed a goblin on me and Dani. They held the square, Sheriff. Sandpoint owes them a debt. And..." he looks at them all "If you're willing, I'd like to have you folks help just a bit more. Northgate?"

Dani nods and limps into the Cathedral to do what she can. She gives you a thankful smile, despite everything turning into a nightmare, as she passes.

The sounds of fighting continue. South of the square, a group of goblins chase a squawking flock of chickens across the street. Down an alley, a goblin tries to drop onto one of the town's guards as he makes his way towards more trouble, but only manages to break its neck when it dives onto the hard-packed ground instead. For a moment, though, it appears that the Cathedral and the square are free of the violence.

Out of sheer spite and need to work off some frustration, Dare spurts acid splashes at the goblins pestering the chickens until they disperse. Amidst the mess they've made, she finds one egg, miraculously whole and still warm on the street, and picks it up, tucking it back in the straw in the open chicken coop further up the alley. She just barely dodges the angry hen that is returning to tend to the remains of its brood. "I know how you feel," she tells the chicken.

Seeing the guards have things in hand and with the fight temporarily worked out of her system, she jogs back to the cathedral to check on everyone. She finds them re-gathering in the square and joins them just as Scrapeknee is introducing them. He calls her fearless and she feels a bit bad that she yelled at him, and it's a shame he will never know that. But what he does know, because she tells him is, "Yeah, 'course I'll go to the gate. Princess was right, then." She nods toward Cailyn with a tone that just veers toward the edge of respect. "Something's up there." She is already walking in that direction.

Cailyn, in the act of handing back the flask to her cousin, almost drops it at Ms Ashborn's tone (and the lack of crinklenose on top of that!) Briefly her lip almost curves into a smile. But the bodies are still around them, there is still smoke in the air, and there are distant screams. Now is not the time for smiles.

This mad nightmare isn't over.

And Ms Ashborn is already leaving!!

"Alight then.". She grasps her cousin's sleeve "Shall we be off?" she says, not asks, as she tugs him along with her toward the gate.

"C-can you stand?" Conrad asks Joanna. Now that the adrenaline rush has mostly subsided, he is becoming increasingly aware of the soreness of his arms as they tremble under her weight - and also, incidentally, that he happens to be carrying an armful of very attractive woman at the moment.

He's trying not to think about that last one too much. But it is with a sense of relief that he lets Joanna return to her bodily autonomy -either by helping her stand, or by carefully sitting her on the floor next to the other wounded.

"Willie, Conrad... hell, all of you, thank you."

"I d-didn't d-do much," he answers immediately, genuinely confused. His sombre expression and the sudden clenching of his jaw suggests it's not just false modesty. There's not much to be proud of in the violence he just unleashed. It reminds him of the violent beatings he had once inflicted on his bullies - but worse.

He can hardly call the blood and gore splattering his armour a way to honor Shelyn when all those deaths were, at best, a regrettable necessity. It leaves an ashen taste in his mouth.

Conrad takes advantage of the pause in the fighting to sit on one ofthe Cathedral's front steps, trying to recover a little from the fatigue and the emotional turmoil. He just shakes his head when Scrapeknee asks if anyone speaks Goblin, and nods awkwardly at the Sheriff when the Shoanti introduces him.

He picks up his flail and stands up, if a bit unsteadily. "Let's g-go," he says resignedly.

"I'm fine... is Jo... Is Jo alive?" she whispered to Wilberforce as the authority figure talked to their local hero.

Although positively haggard, a smile lit up the young man's face at the query in much the same way a Crystalhue pudding might brighten the dismal dining table of the penniless on that festive occasion.

"Cousin, I dare say you'd see me cursing the moon, the stars and every god worth naming like in one of those histrionic plays before flinging myself down the nearest well if that weren't the case. Well, after they fish the goblin out of it, anyway. Yes, dear old Jo is fine. The reverend took her in his tender arms. Mind you, she had a close call. I shudder to think what would have happened if not for that stout chappie lending his strong shoulders!"

He mimed said shudder for added effect.

An all too genuine quake went through the gent's spine the next moment, however, when he recognized a familiar sensation in hearing his name mentioned. Young Scrapeknee, bless his heart, had somehow gotten the erroneous impression that Willie was courageous and capable, chatting up his supposed virtues to the town sheriff. "I say, er..." He raised a finger like a schoolboy begging permission to speak and nearly fell over in his hurry to climb back up on his feet, intent to assert that he was in fact a coward, an imbecile and whatever else his Aunt Arabella declared him in one of her moods. For Wilberforce recognized this feeling, that of being forcefully volunteered to some unpleasant duty, usually by that selfsame aunt.

Dash it all, this was just like that time he'd been tasked with convincing his cousin Gussie not to marry that waitress. Except with even greater risk of being run through with a sharp implement.

"Rotten luck, old boy," Willie ventured, his lemon throbbing to concoct some lie, "You know that if it were a question of volunteers to man the lifeboat, I would spring to the task, but, you see, I fear I've, um, strained my fetlock in all the excitement."

He reached down to cradle the supposed injury only to realize too late he wasn't entirely sure where one's fetlock was located.

Again, just Willie being Willie. Don't let this hold us up. He will ultimately follow out of concern for cousin Cailyn if nothing else.

But what he does know, because she tells him is, "Yeah, 'course I'll go to the gate. Princess was right, then." She nods toward Cailyn with a tone that just veers toward the edge of respect. "Something's up there." She is already walking in that direction.

Seeing Dare take the lead, Scrapeknee nods. He wishes he had his horse, it would possibly save lives and save time, but the walk to the horse would also slow them down. He prepares to go North even if it is just Dare and he together.

"Alight then.". She grasps her cousin's sleeve "Shall we be off?" she says, not asks, as she tugs him along with her toward the gate.

The Shoanti flashes her a smile at that.

"I d-didn't d-do much," he answers immediately, genuinely confused. His sombre expression and the sudden clenching of his jaw suggests it's not just false modesty. There's not much to be proud of in the violence he just unleashed. It reminds him of the violent beatings he had once inflicted on his bullies - but worse.

Scrapeknee wants to protest, talking of Conrad helping people and downing that goblin, but seeing the expression decides not to.

He picks up his flail and stands up, if a bit unsteadily. "Let's g-go," he says resignedly.

Scrapeknee nods again, trying to reassure with the gesture and pretty sure he's failing.

Rotten luck, old boy," Willie ventured, his lemon throbbing to concoct some lie, "You know that if it were a question of volunteers to man the lifeboat, I would spring to the task, but, you see, I fear I've, um, strained my fetlock in all the excitement."

Taking ten on Knowledge Nature

Lita bows her head with a quiet "Sheriff," as Scrapeknee introduces her, though her manner becomes noticeably subdued as soon as Hemlock is on the scene, apparently unwilling to meet the man's eye.

Instead, she distracts herself with Willie's reluctance, hanging back a moment to address him.

"There's no shame in taking shelter, if that's what you want. You're not a soldier." She pauses, as if thinking the idea over. "But, you ran in when there was more danger, and again to help that woman, and your rallying cry was... Well, rallying." another pause, this one accompanied by a smile that she can only hope is reassuring. "You've been very courageous, I think. We'd appreciate your help, if you're willing."

Dare catches Lita's reluctance around the Sherriff. She herself has a deep distrust of law enforcement--which may indeed have been a factor in Dare's own failing to linger near him--but makes another mental note she needs a chance to chat with the tiefling. After she deals with the goblins. And then the merchants. And finds a place to stay. And Modi's Teeth, there's just too much going on!.

As she moves ahead is glad others take her up on her forward momentum, she hears the equivocation from Willie. She spins around and, now walking backwards, says, "Come on, Wibblesocks, you ain't run, fainted, or pissed yourself yet, so you've shown yourself in the game no matter what you say. 'Sides, you gonna let your cousin show you up?"

"I get it now, I thought you were a bit callous at first, but you just use humor to fight your fear and you end up doing what's right anyway, for your kin, and even strangers. Noble in a way. Good man."

"What? No, no!" Willie protested, determined to prove his moral deficiencies if physical ones wouldn't do. "I'm a rotter and a scoundrel, I assure you! Everyone says so!"

The young man felt like he'd stepped into some music hall comedy of errors, one of mistaken identities where the naive townsfolk had confused him for his long-lost twin brother, a paladin of renown here to deliver them from all evil and the only way to save himself from ending up a dragon's dinner was to prove his bad character. Or in this case, some score goblins' morsel and if he had to be eaten, then Willie would frankly prefer being swallowed whole. Others might not think much of his limbs and digits, but the gent was rather attached to them. "If you ask my Aunt Arabella, she will tell you⁠ - in fact, she is quite likely to tell you even if you don’t ask her⁠ - that I am a vapid and irreflective chump. Barely sentient, was the way she once described me and there are days where I wouldn't refute her, in a sort of broad, general sense."

These objections felt feeble as a lamb's bleating, especially when Lita - an actual paladin - expressed some support for him as well. Who was he to argue with anointed champions of the so-and-so? Or the orcoid for that matter, for whom it felt there was no arguing. Willie looked to his cousin, she practically giddy to set off.

"Lead on, dear friends, lead on," he relented with a sort of grim smile.

Piffled, was his conclusion; they were all perfectly piffled - to a one! - to be so eager to hie into danger yet again. Still, the young man couldn't deny a certain nervous vim beyond fright gripping his spirit. Though spoken in jest, it was all true: his Aunt had never expressed much hope for him. Nor had any tutors for that matter. Hearing people convey some modicum of faith in him - this was new to Willie.

The dread in Cailyn's heart lessons as Wilberforce relays Jo's health. There is still plenty there, yes, but just less. As others start to prod him, she releases her tugging of his sleeve, and starts to turn her sudden family protective urges as a shield for his virtue...

Virtue? Willberforce?

No matter, something to think about later. A hand is put on her hip, a clear Vanderale sign of vexation. But before the bookish cousin can think of something properly shaming back to them, Willberforce relents.

She does look up at him then, the relief in her eyes at having him there with her evident.

No no, the party's "paladin of renown" is the one sporting the demonic horns :P

Conrad follows the party meekly. He listens to the back-and-forth going on between Willie and the others, but doesn't really join in... Not just because he's tired, but also because - and he's rather embarrassed to admit it - he hasn't really seen anything the others were doing during the fight. Anything beyond what happened right in front of his eyes is a blur.

"Don't worry, mate," says Dare to Willie. "You can be vapid and still fight goblins." She catches Cailyn putting her hand on her hips. "What?

Cailyn turns back to the half-orc. The need for defense might be gone, but leaving a thread loose to catch and pull seems bad. So she answers, "Simply, please do not use me as a tool to shame my cousin into an action. He saved someone's life today and doesn't deserve that."

Halfway to the gate, you hear the clear sounds of a man in distress and calling for help and the growling bark of a hunting dog. As you round the corner, you see a goblin riding a horrid rat-like monster facing down a large hound and a group of goblins cowering behind stacks of crates and barrels. Before you can come to the canine's aid, the goblin rider runs it through with the crude polearm it wields to the cheers of the other goblins. They have not noticed you, nor has the finely dressed man cowering behind a nearby wagon.

"Help! Someone! Anyone!"

"Shut it, longshanks! Hundreds of us is takin' care of yer mates," the rider growls, inciting a chorus of agreement from the other goblins.

Everyone: You're up. They do not see you. If you want to move closer without being noticed, it's a DC 10 Stealth check as the goblins are distracted. We aren't in combat yet, but I want to do this in rounds to keep things at least somewhat organized. Y'all are up.

Oh, and the map has been updated.

Conversation before arriving

Dare looks surprised and then scowls at Cailyn. "I was praisin' him!" she protests, apparently genuinely confused that one could think otherwise. "So who's doing the shaming now, Crinklenose?"

Halfway to the gate, there are goblins!

Dare's face lights on the rider and gets an idea. She whispers to her comrades. "I can try something on the rider, but don't want to blow anyone's cover. So you all go first. If you want to stay quiet I'll do something else.

I have moved Dare's token to indicate where she would stand if Condition 1 goes off, but she can be moved back if it does not. It wouldn't happen till others move but I wanted to show where she would go.

The little green bastards hate and fear dogs
"Well, I'm terrible at sneaking so... I am no tactician, but it seems to me the first priority has to be keeping the fellow with the nice vest alive." A frown as he realizes they may not have 'time' to wait for an ideal moment before the fellow is killed as cruelly as his dog was "So.. to heck with it. I'll try to get them to look my way. I doubt they'll accept the offer so be ready to save me, please."
He moves to the northerly westerly area as much as his body will allow and yells with his hands up, "Hello, I am called Scrapeknee. I am a duly authorized representative of the Sandpoint Sheriff. I am willing to exchange places with that fellow there... he goes free, you deal with me. I'm a far more valuable hostage if you manage to get me. So, what do you say? Let the guy go, and get more fun and glory by interacting with me?"

Double move and Diplomacy Roll 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

More as a distraction

Dare, I moved you back since I think this is going to render those options moot.

The goblins turn form the man to Scrapeknee, looking at him like he's a lunatic. One of the goblins, the warchanter from earlier everyone can see once it's out from behind the stack of barrels it was hiding behind, moves to get a better look.

"He one o' 'em Longshanks I tolds ye about," it spits at the rider.

The rider sneers at the chanter before turning its ugly face towards Scrapeknee.

"Why not both? Two squealers as good as one," it says as it leers at the Shoanti oracle.

Everyone, The goblins haven't noticed you, yet. You can take your turns now. Stealth DC 10 to avoid detection.

Stealth: 1d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 - 2 = 1

Conrad attempts to silently move to a slightly more advantageous position to get a clearer view of the rider, but a stout fighter in full armour is hard not to notice. Move 20ft

Cailyn is still holding her crossbow. Her father's teachings echo in her brain enough that she knows not to do so until danger is passed. Even though it is heavy and unwieldy. As the poor puppy is gutted, she raises and aims but holds her firing as Ms. Ashborn and Scrapeknee converse about getting closer.

"I am close enough" she whispers back, about to say something about agreeing to wait for their signal before firing, but then Scrapeknee is shouting at them. She is unsure if that is the signal so she readies a shot.

Don't think readying is allowed though since we are not in combat yet. So just fluff :)

Cailyn: I'll allow you to ready an action. I'm assuming that the goblins turning hostile is the trigger, so go ahead and roll for your shot.

Everyone: Goblins definitely know you're here and we are in combat. I realize I made this a bit of a mess. I probably should have done this differently, but too late now. My apologies for that. Dare, I'm pretty sure your Condition 1 actions go off, so I'll roll for the grease spell. I think Lita and Willie still need to go after that.

Goblin Dog REF save DC 14: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

As the goblins become aware of the rest of the party, things go from somewhat to very hostile and chaotic in the blink of an eye. Dare casts a spell, but some preternatural sense on the ugly rat-dog causes it to jump out of the spell's effect.

"Bah! Kill the longshanks," the rider bellows.

Lita and Willie: Y'all are up, then it's the goblin's turn.

crossbow bolt: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
damage: 1d10 ⇒ 8

As soon as the goblin rider says the word Kill, Cailyn pulls her trigger. With a twack the bolt streaks toward the nearest the dogkiller, thudding hard into his flesh.

at least I hope so with a 22, otherwise we are in SO much trouble. :)

I'm a bit unclear on whether we're doing proper rounds, or surprise actions and then proper rounds, but what follows feels about right in either case. Subtract a move or add a readied attack as needed, Salsa.

"Don't worry, mate," says Dare to Willie. "You can be vapid and still fight goblins."

"See," said Willie through the sort of grin one adopted when the alternative was too glum, "that's rather what I fear we're setting out to prove."

Still, cowardly as the 'tuff' may or may not be, he was certainly too cowardly to strike out on his own once the little group got going, and so it was that he soldiered on without further comment. Right up until they ran into yet more green menaces. "Oh jimballs."

Young master Wilberforce listened to what strategizing was offered before engaging the enemy, but knowing that his contributions were limited - and not being eager to charge ahead first - he practiced the virtue that was meekness and let others act.

"It seems to me the first priority has to be keeping the fellow with the nice vest alive."

"It is a nice vest, isn't it? Right then..."

There was no avoiding it. Willie wouldn't have it said that he stood by and did nothing when needed. Aroden's ghost, he had to represent the old blood, didn't he? The thought pulled at his lips, ludicrous as it was. Speaking as much to rally himself as anyone else, he approached the goblins with nary a jitter to his knees.

"Barbarity nips at the heels of fair Civility yet! Once more into the fray, ladies and gents!"

Activating inspire and moving up. That ubiquitous +1 attack/damage is up again. Sword is totally drawn at the start of combat this time!

Ah, I should have made that clear. This is a full round.

Cailyn's bolt strikes true, slicing down the throat of the horrid creature the goblin rider is using as a mount and piercing its heart and lungs. It collapses in a heap spilling the goblin onto the road as Willie stirs the blood with a rousing line.

Lita: You're up. :)

Well, if Conrad's armor hadn't gotten their attention, chances are, Lita's would have. Still, she almost winces as the goblin's attention turns in their direction. With any luck, they might have had a chance to pick a few more off before things got any worse. Now, those goblins are hostile, and while Cailyn's arrow might have made quick work of the mount, there isn't much between them and the noble cowering behind his hiding place. Six goblins advancing on the man, and none of her companions close enough to interfere.

None of them close enough to interfere, but... That's a distance she can cover. Lita's grip tightens on her guisarme, steeling her nerve before breaking into a sprint, charging for the now-dismounted rider, and...

Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 4 + 2 + 1 = 8

Lita misjudges the arc of her swing entirely, the blade slicing through nothing but air, but she moves quick, correcting her stance and turning the momentum into another attempt.

hero point reroll: 1d20 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 2 + 1 = 12
damage just in case?: 2d4 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (1, 3) + 3 + 1 = 8

still not a great roll, but including damage just in case it's AC gets lowered enough by prone.

Oh dang. That missed by 1. :(

On the plus side you do get an AoO on him. AC 13 for being prone.

The goblin chanter that had escaped Cleo's wrath begins singing, inspiring the other goblins as they hop up onto the wagon and a stack of barrels to take aim at Lita with their bows. One arrow sails over the paladin's head. Another goes wide to her left while a third pulls to the right. The last one, however, finds a seam in the scales and drives deep into Lita's flesh.

Lita, take 9 piercing damage from a critical hit.

As the arrows fly the goblin rider, now sans mount, hops to its feet and rushes Lita in a bid to finish her off, but only succeeds in covering her in spittle as it snarls in fury and flails about with it's crude polearm.

Lita: takes 9 piercing damage from 1 critical hit.
Everyone: Y'all are up!

"I'm f%*%ing useless, Dare mutters, seeing her spell fail and the others being far more effective. There's little she can do from where she stands so she simply draws her sword and moves toward Lita. Two move actions, draw weapon and move 30 feet. I can't access Google slides so I would appreciate if someone will move her token.

Your wish is my command. :P
I got her moved for ya.

AoO: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 1 = 13
AoO damage: 2d4 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (1, 2) + 3 + 1 = 7

Lita cries out as the arrow hits her, the pain, for a second, making her balance and vision waver. Then, there's movement in front of her, the prone rider getting to its feet, leaving its defenses open enough for another, more successful this time, strike.

Lita lands her blow, but it's not enough to put the goblin down before it gets into her face, so to speak.

You hurt it, but it's still up.
Everyone: You're up!

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

Charge attack (with inspire and Arcane Strike): 1d20 + 3 + 2 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 3 + 2 + 1 + 1 = 17
Damage: 1d6 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 + 1 = 6

When was the last time Willie had been this scared? Not since he'd nearly gotten affianced to that ghastly Mindurian girl, he supposed. When had he last felt this foolish? Probably when that same girl had publicly upbraided her prospective fiancee after he'd been caught snaffling her beloved cat in an otherwise very clever scheme to direct her affections elsewhere. Lor', that had been quite the scene.

And yet the gent thought it hadn't been half as nerve-wracking nor utterly moronic as this moment, him legging it to aid a demon-blooded paladin from a green menace with more teeth than sense. He couldn't even account for what spurred him on, given that bravery, comradery, nobility (hah!) and the other usual suspects were out. None of those applied to him, surely. Perhaps it just was bold old great-granduncle Regulus's crusader blood that demanded it, the Whyte ancestral derring-do. Or had he been a Vetillus?

Or mayhap it was the paladin herself, her example and encouraging words that foolishly, stupidly saw Willie answer them in kind. She'd spoken well of him earlier, the rube. He'd hate to disappoint. Curse these righteous types and their faith in one's fellow man and whatnot.

Whatever brought it on, action met reaction as young Wilberforce barreled sword first into the goblin threatening the wounded tiefling with a battle cry that sounded more like the hesitant thrill of the public bather, caught by a wave far colder than they had anticipated.

Charge with both inspire and Arcane Strike. Free action to keep up performance. Note that my AC is a meagre 11 for the next round... Willie's gonna have to buy himself some armor after this.

The goblin rider turns as he hears Willie come charging in, just in time to catch the point of his rapier in its throat. It would appear that Desna is smiling on the handsome devil.

And you did just enough to hit and kill the rider.

Cailyn, Conrad, Dare, Lita, and Scrapeknee are up!

Cailyn quickly reloads, as she watches with horror as returning arrows pepper Ms. Turandarok. Her armor, which looked like an impregnable guard versus harm, can't be everywhere. The blood sprays, and Cailyn pauses her cranking, stops breathing, as terror that the paladin will fall...

But she has to keep cranking, has to keep firing, so she bits a bolt, aims, and fires at the goblin that she hopes is the one that shot that arrow into her companion.

shoot Blue
crossbow with inspiration: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 4 + 1 = 17
damage: 1d10 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

Cailyn can hear her father's voice as she readies the crossbow. The drills he'd run her through had been a chore, but they prove their worth now as the half-elf aims and lets fly. The bolt slams home into the goblin archer's chest and sends it tumbling off the pile of crates it had been standing on, very, very much dead.

And yes, Blue was the one that critted Lita. You have avenged the paladin's hurt. :)

Scrapeknee remembers what his Uncle Hemlock once said about plans and battles... 'the first casualty of a battle is often your expectations Plans die on the road side right next to the soldiers trying to carry them out. Don't get attached to them, carry an extra in your pocket if you can, if you can't? Keep your wits about you'

At the time, he didn't quite comprehend just how true that could be. Now? yes.

Lita did her part, but she just took a terrible hit, and Willie of all folks rushed to the rescue despite his earlier protests Better fellow than he knows and Cailyn remains deadly with a crossbow. A part of him wants to whine about his bad leg, about how he really could have used a horse, but there's no time for such selfish indulgence when others are bleeding and HE remains untouched despite his stupid risk.

He is slow... that can't be changed, so no point fussing. However, Lita is hurt, but she's not lame. He races towards her, calling, "Lita, if you can, to me!"

One move , then hold for a cure light wounds on Lita if she can get in reach of him.

CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

She hadn't been expecting Willie's swift interference, and there's a moment where she's shocked at the rapier point going through the goblin rider's throat. The shock wears off quickly, shaken off by Scrapeknee"s yell, and then she flashes an only somewhat bloody smile at Willie by way of thanks, before moving back to tag the oracle's outstretched hand.

Not that she plans on leaving Willie unguarded for long. As soon as the arrow wound is dealt with, she's on her way back.

Double move to tag for heals and come back.

Scrapeknee is surprised, not that Lita ran out to him to get her healing. Honestly the woman seems incredibly calm for one who just badly wounded and OjWoj envies her discipline. More, because the healing worked so well!

His leg ached just briefly, their hands touched just as briefly, and it seemed a halo of starlight flowed from him , no, through him, to her and her wounds, what he could see of them through her armor, just washed the wounds away, like those healing spring wells one hears stories about.

I have no idea how I got this crazy blessing, but to whatever powers are involved? Thank you. Thank you for helping me help Sandpoint and its defenders.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Conrad doesn't notice much, except that one of the goblins is standing rather dangerously close to the prisoner - and Lita's wounds are being taken care of. He rushes to confront the goblin leader. Double Move

Derp! Sorry Dare. I forgot you'd gone already. Please, if I miss things like that, call me out on them.

"Oh no! Not again," the goblin chanter cries before trying to escape Conrad and the rest of the party's wrath. With its attempt to flee, the other goblins' morale breaks and they also run for their lives.

Decided to roll to see if the chanter stuck around, and they failed. We are out of combat, but if you want to take a moment and describe your character getting a little revenge on the snotty runts, feel free. There's four of them here, including the warchanter, but by this point most of the goblins have broken and are running for their lives.

The sounds of fighting die away as Sandpoint routes the goblins and sends them running. The pall of smoke over the town is, mercifully, thin thanks to the actions of the guard, militia, and several people who stepped up to help defend the town. Over the coming hours, the tally of the dead and injured will be known, and thankfully the toll is far lower than it might have otherwise been. Only seven dead, most of them from the square in front of the Cathedral, and a little over sixty hurt either by the goblins or in the chaos as people fled for their lives. While families will mourn their dead, over the days and weeks that follow, memories of the raid take on a more comical air as people remember goblins stuffing their faces full of food, only to choke on it, or goblins being chased by a particularly onery goat or Das Korvut's prized Devil's Blood mastiffs that hang around his smithy. Still, however amusing the antics of the goblins prove to eventually be, there is little doubt in the immediate aftermath of the raid that the consecration will have to wait as Sandpoint takes stock of what happened.

All of that will be for later, however, as in the here and now, a grateful nobleman approaches a newly minted band of heroes. Cailyn and Wilberforce, now that they have a chance to get a better look at him, recognize the crest of the Foxglove family, a minor noble family that suffered tragedy when Lord and Lady Foxglove died about a decade ago leaving behind a young son and two younger daughters, on his lapel.

"I am most indebted to you all," he says in a genteel accent. "I am Aldern Foxglove," he introduces himself with a flourishing bow. "It is not often that one is rescued by not one, but three exquisite beauties and their doughty companions." He smiles as he stands up. A shade under six feet tall, he cuts a dashing, if rakish, figure and his clothing speaks well of his apparent means if not his tastes.

"Please, may I have your names? I would like to properly thank you all."

"Oh no! Not again," the goblin chanter cries before trying to escape Conrad and the rest of the party's wrath. With its attempt to flee, the other goblins' morale breaks and they also run for their lives.

"COWARDS!" Scrapeknee is so very tired of these little green bastards getting away and then killing elsewhere. Frustrated he chases after just a bit, and flings a sling stone at the nearest Red I think fleeing goblin!

To hit with bard bonus included 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Dmg: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

His shot goes wise and he huffs, then turns and heads back "I really really hate goblins now."

All of that will be for later, however, as in the here and now, a grateful nobleman approaches a newly minted band of heroes. Cailyn and Wilberforce, now that they have a chance to get a better look at him, recognize the crest of the Foxglove family, a minor noble family that suffered tragedy when Lord and Lady Foxglove died about a decade ago leaving behind a young son and two younger daughters, on his lapel.

"I am most indebted to you all," he says in a genteel accent. "I am Aldern Foxglove," he introduces himself with a flourishing bow. "It is not often that one is rescued by not one, but three exquisite beauties and their doughty companions." He smiles as he stands up. A shade under six feet tall, he cuts a dashing, if rakish, figure and his clothing speaks well of his apparent means if not his tastes.

"Please, may I have your names? I would like to properly thank you all."

"OjWoj "Scrapeknee" Viskalai" He answers "I'm sorry about your dog."

Dare will spend any opportunity she has to repeatedly punch any goblin who hasn't managed to get away. She's not above kicking a dogkiller while it's down.

As Foxglove approaches and addresses them, she looks around at their group, puzzled by one of his comments. "Sure, guess you could call Willie, Cailyn, and Scrapeknee beautiful, but what does that have to do with the price of tea in Xian? Or, well, Lita is pretty but she's a f&@@ing badass, that's more important, innit? And I dunno what 'doughty' means, but Conrad's punching experience sure as heck came in handy." The towering, flame-scarred half-orc shifts her weight. "Anyways, I'm Dare Ashborn, if it matters."

Cailyn winces a little at the words of appearance. She knows she has her good points, but those terms are not for her. Typically, she only hears them when someone wants something, usually from her mother.

But her well-tailored politeness kicks in automatically. As a distant recognition of his status blooms, she goes into a curtsey, which is awkward since she is still holding a primed heavy crossbow in both hands.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Foxglove." remembering to add the title after remembering the death of the former lord, and that there was only one son. As she rises, she finishes with "I am Cailyn Vanderale from the Magimar Vanderale's." She was going to add that no reward was necessary, but she had no right to deny anyone else a reward.

"Are you of Sandpoint, or visiting like myself and my cousins?" Small talk is important to nobility, and now that the goblins seem to be running, the pull of a story is presently tugging at her.

"I- Well."

That fight might have cut it close, and even with the damage gone Lita could still feel a dull ache where the arrow had come so close to sending her to her Goddess, but if anything was going to be the death of her tonight, it was apparently going to be the ease with which these compliments were being thrown around. That any of them might be thrown her way might as well put her in the coffin right now. Even if she can dismiss Lord Foxglove's comment as sycophantic, overly-complimentary to win over his saviors, it still sets her off-balance, cheeks going warm with the embarrassment, and positively burning as Dare follows it up. Suddenly, it's hard to make herself make eye contact with anyone, and she finds herself fidgeting, toying with the symbol of Sarenrae hanging from her neck.

When Lita can find it within her to speak again, she clears her throat, awkward.

"I'm Lita. It's good to see you're unharmed."