Since the girl did not offer her name, Reknar did the same - he looked around at Craig, Valtyra and Macharius, then nodded - ”Lets do this” - peered out the door to check the vicinity, and when he saw a chance to move away unnoticed, he motioned the group to move.
The door of the tavern shudders as Reknar pushes it open, the heat of the burning town rushing in like a living thing. Smoke curls through the air, thick and choking, carrying the stench of scorched wood and spilled blood. As you all step outside, it becomes clear that the town was a battlefield lost before the fight had even begun. The streets are a vision of ruin: bodies sprawled in the dirt, homes collapsing under the relentless hunger of fire, and in the distance, the screeching laughter of hobgoblins reveling in their dominance. Phaendar had been shattered in moments. There would be no reclaiming it tonight — maybe not ever.
You all press on, evading the enemy and reaching your goal. A signpost by the road announces the clapboard wooden shop and barnlike smithy sharing a single large, stone wall to be the Phaendar Trading Company. The smithy’s double doors stand open, revealing a large, still-glowing forge within. Two slaughtered goats and a dead horse fill an adjacent animal pen. Many fresh scratches and dents mar the trading post’s heavy wooden door, and a chair leg juts through one broken window. Small flames lick at the thatch rooftop where a red-hot iron has been tossed.
Eventually, you all make your way to your destination. Oreld’s Fine Shop — labeled with a small shingle hanging out front — is one of the few buildings in town made entirely of stone. Mortared white blocks form the walls of this odd shaped cottage. Scorch marks that shift in color from black to dark blue to glimmering violet mar one wall. The door to the shop stands open and bloody footprints lead inside.
Securing her weapons, Valtyra tries to blot out the smells of blood, smoke and fire as they work their way toward the smithy, internally dreading what they would find there. Now that they were out in the open, it was all so much worse than any of them could have imagined.
When they arrive her eyes widen at the sight of the dead animals. ”We need to get the iron off the roof before all the thatching goes up!” she says, quickly moving forward. ” Kining, are you here??”
Craig arched a brow as the elf's bypassing of group consensus, but then again he himself had said they couldn't dawdle too long. Sometimes risky or even unwise action is better than no action Grabbing that scroll, he moved on with the others that were heading towards market.
Macharius stiffens for a moment before nodding. "...got it.""I'm not the quietest, but I'll fight like hell."
Craig grunts an acknowledgement, gives a slight smile, at that and taps a finger near his own eye that was once blackened by Macharius as if agreeing and follows.
Since the girl did not offer her name, Reknar did the same - he looked around at Craig, Valtyra and Macharius, then nodded - ”Lets do this” - peered out the door to check the vicinity, and when he saw a chance to move away unnoticed, he motioned the group to move.
And Craig, long bow drawn, is already moving. He, like others, knows this small town's lay out by heart.
It breaks his heart to hear screams he can do nothing about, to see in the distance hobs what are killing his village's people. But he doesn't need his heart nearly as much as he needs his resolve so broken or not, he goes on.And he looks for one and if he can find it, a bucket or something else he can use to sling it up there.
"Unless Macharius wants to climb up there on Reknar's shoulders to use something to knock that ingot down maybe?" He looks for water to splash while he talks.
Aelethea and Shi'ra will approach the shop carefully, her bow drawn and an arrow knocked. She pauses outside the door listening for anything out of the ordinary before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Tern will put his back to the outside of the door frame and let Aelethea go first.
Hopefully full cover helps that if there is anything inside. Outside that is frightening.
The thatch roof, still damp from the heavy rain a few days ago, seems to be resisting the flickering flames building up around the hot iron. For now, only the section in contact with the burning piece of metal is catching.
As you approach the building, you hear muffled voices coming from within the shopfront behind the clearly barred doors. You catch a glance inside the smithy, a place so familiar to you, and are shocked to see what appears to be a pile of living stone looking back at you. It trembles, its rocky form quaking as tiny pebbles tumble from its shoulders. Glowing amber eyes flicker with what could almost be fear, and it hunches low, pressing into the ground as if seeking refuge. A soft grinding of stone on stone escapes it—a nervous, whispering rasp, like shifting gravel. A few feet to it's front, the crushed body of a hobgoblin scout lies motionless, beaten and bloodied.
You easily scale the rough stone wall, finding yourself face to face with the burgeoning fire. From your newly gained vantage point, you notice a group of three hobs coming around the south side of the building.
The two of you begin heading toward the pen, finding four buckets next to the trough. You both hear the same muffled sounds coming from within the barred storefront. As you both begin to fill the buckets and try to fight the fire, Reknar's ears prick up slightly. You swear you hear footsteps coming from the south side of the building...
As you press against the doorframe, your boot slips on some loose stones. You slide into the wooden frame with a dull THUD.
You hear a pained groaning sound near the door, and the sound of someone or something shuffling around the shop punctuated with the occasional smashing of glass. As you press the door slightly, you can see a gangly hobgoblin inside who appears to be looting through Oreld's stock. His faced is covered in burn scars, twisting the ruddy skin on his face into a permanent grimace. He holds a chain connected to an iron collar, which is locked around the neck of a man lying wounding just in front of the door. As Tern slips, the noise seems to be enough to rouse the hob's interest, and he turns toward the door with a scowl.
You a see middle aged Taldan with light brown skin, dark brown hair, and a neatly trimmed goatee lying just within the doorway, a javelin protruding from his stomach and an iron collar clapped around his neck.
"Mhhm." Moragul grumbles, advancing into the store with axe in hand. "Looks like you're all alone, gobby."
"HOBS! SOUTH SIDE!" He then calls out before raising his sword!
"HOBS! SOUTH SIDE!"
comes in a timely fashion
Dropping his bucket on the hot iron that just landed he draws his bow and fires as soon as the enemy comes into view. He's sure the hobs heard Machrius call out as well
Not seeing a weapon in the hob's hand Tern does the first thing that comes to mind. He charges the hobgoblin and tries to wrap him up.
"Get him!" the sorcerer pleads.
As Craig loosens an arrow, Reknar draws his longspear and steps protectively ahead of the cleric, and slightly to the side, in a position to intercept any attackers - "Keep those arrows flying - if they come closer, I'll skewer them" - he nodded - "We got this"
"I'm not an enemy. Are you here to protect the forge?"
She'd heard stories of dwarves having strong ties to earth-type magic. Maybe Kenning had some sort of hidden defenses in the forge.
With the hobgoblin now aware of their presence, Aelethea kicks the door in and fires her arrow, but the hob manages to duck away at the last second.
Hissing at her bad shot, Aelethea motions for Shi'ra to charge into the room "Shi'ra, ionsaí!"
The cat, fur abristle, rushes the hobgoblin. While spinning out of the way of Aelethea's arrow, the motion puts the hobgoblin out of position of Shi'ra's pounce as she lands where the gobbo had been moments before.
Mac throws the brand to the ground, burning his hand slightly but removing the source of heat from the roof. The fire remains, though it's intensity is greatly reduced.
Craig's shot spuds into the wooden fence as the hobs make their way around the corner. The lead scout fires at Craig, as the remaining two take pot shots at Reknar with their bows.
As Valtyra approaches the small elemental, it is obvious that it shares no common language with her. It recoils, not completely sure of Valtyra's intentions but seemingly relaxed by her calm tone. The small creature lumbers toward the south side of the smithy, turning it's eyes toward the stone wall.
Block 1, feel free to act
The hobgoblin steps back, narrowly avoiding Tern's attempt at a tackle as the arrow wooshes past. He draws a heavy mace from his belt, lashing out at the man with fury.
Overjoyed at the sound of bones breaking beneath his swing, he lets out a cackle. His joy is short lived, as he notices the menacing Half-orc making his way into the store.
"Mow them down Craig" - he encouraged his companion.
Althea drops her bow to the ground and draws her leafblade as she moves around the room to behind the desk, kicking the chair out of her way as she goes.
Shi'ra lunges for the hobgoblin, teeth and claws bared. She sinks her teeth deep into the Hobgoblin, drawing blood from it's exposed thigh.