Bombadil's Ravenloft PBP

Game Master Bombadil

Tural hears the request for spices and finally has to reply with a negative. "I haven't any spices. I have coffee as I occasionally want it to help wake in the morning. But no spices. Guys? I don't know what personal stuff you all carry. ??

"Guys? I don't know what personal stuff you all carry. ??

Dripping with manly sweat after his juggling exertions, Borracho notes the salty rivulets pouring down his long dark curls. He bows, and returns his juggling keepsakes to his pouch.

"Borracho only carries the only spice he needs: the zest for life and for adventure! That is the way of Borracho!" he says grandly, casting prestidigitation not to clean the sweat from his body, but to add a light manly musk to his personal scent.

"Now that Borracho has entertained you, Borracho desires food and drink...for not even Borracho performs for free," he moves to get some food and drink.

He moves to the kitchen area and start clattering around, then his head pokes out. ”Did you mention something about having spices with you? It’s been years since a trader has visited these parts, even a pinch of pepper would do us all well.”

"Hey, Borracho, take a moment away from your fans to spruce up supper for us won't you? Please?"

The lack of spices just brings a shrug and the innkeeper heads back into the kitchen to continue his work. However the tobacco is more than welcomed and each man seems to relish a draw on the cigarette. ”Ah, haven’t had a good smoke in years”, William comments, and again the troupe is surprised by the complete lack of things that seems normal in the cities they frequent; healing supplies, pepper, tobacco, items that even small towns have readily available. The innkeeper mentioned that it had been years since a trader visited and the isolation has left them wanting.

To Flemming’s surprise, the pipe from the gnome slowly refills the tobacco he removed, and as he removes more it continues to do so. It’s an eversmoking pipe, somehow Horatio has crossed the magics involved with an eversmoking bottle and a sustaining spoon to create something truly marvelous, especially in a realm that lacks trade. (those items are side by side in the wondrous item table, insert the eversmoking pipe between them with the same value, although it’s certainly more in an area without access to tobacco) Through the evening you can keep passing the pipe around and soon the sweet smoke of gnomish tobacco hangs in the air.

The innkeeper emerges from the kitchen with shepherd’s pies, caramelized carrots, and honey buns. The food is good and filling, though not amazing to the troupe, yet the locals Ohh and Ahh over it in delight, yet another example of the limited resources.

With full bellies, full mugs, and the pipe passing about, the chairs are pulled closer to the hearth and the patrons of the inn start telling the story of their sad fate. ”Must be a century now since the mists closed in on us, as the elders would tell it. They said at first it was just a change in weather, seemed it was always foggy, but no travelers arrived on the roads, and those that tried to leave found the roads led right back to where they started. The seasons all blended into one, stuff would grow, vegetables still ripened, but everything struggled in the lack of sunlight. Then folks started disappearing. Every month another person would go missing, usually farmers or woodcutters, mostly happened to families that lived in the woods. And the lord in the castle on the hill had shut his gate and no one saw or heard from him or his servants anymore. The people went to plead with the lord to do something, but he wasn’t there. Instead a count answered their cries, saying he was family of Lord Raven and the lord was away, but no one ever heard of him having family outside of the castle. The count made folk uncomfortable and offered no help, and the people suspected something sinister had befallen Lord Raven. As the years passed and the disappearances continued, people moved to the only town, Barovia, and huddled together at night for safety. The church became a sanctuary and the folks pleaded to the gods to deliver them from this nightmare. When it burned with the priests inside we felt forsaken and little hope has existed since. Seeing William’s leg healed like that is the first good omen we had since that terrible day.” The men look somber, yet a strength and determination remains in these hardy folk. You wonder again at the strange words of Madam Eva and consider whether this cursed realm is part of your destiny. Could it be that instead of telling the tales of other’s adventures, Borracho will soon tell the tale of his own noble quest?

The evening draws late and the innkeeper shows you a humble, but warm and cozy room upstairs with four beds. You notice the other patrons either take rooms of their own or bed down near the fire hearth. No one ventures from the inn to make the trek home at night.

Flemming is surprised by the pipe. Pleased indeed is he to have something to share that does not deplete his resources. Sure, he planned ahead, knowing how lonely some stretches of road were. He had plenty of his own, plus the gnome’s stash, and now this! It was truly wonderful. He felt very indebted to the gnome.

Later

Ahhh, there’s their story. Flemming thinks as the tale is told. Well s*&+.

He lets it go for the moment as everyone seems to be turning in. He joins his companions in the privacy of their comfy chambers. Once they’re alone, he turns to the others, ”We need to help these people. Hell, we have no choice. I bet that mist circles us back in here if we try to leave. We’ve got to see what this count is up to and free these people - and ourselves.”

Tural nods to Flemming's words. "No follower of The Dawnflower would abandon any in need. There is a sickness here that is draining this community. We have to try and help them. In the morning we will go and meet this Count."

I'm assuming that none of us has heard of Barovia? Or should we all roll a knowledge check of some sort?

"Yes, Flem, and yes my good friend Tural, we must do something," Borracho agrees. "You both share in Borracho's noble and generous spirit." He stands up, taking a roasted potato with him as he thinks about what to say. He’s deep in thought and he might have forgotten something asked of him.

"We know the mists cannot contain Borracho, his friends, or these kind people who have welcomed them. We will rid this town of the mists and hold the count to account if he is the cause of their sorrow and hopelessness. Only lesser men do not strive to show compassion to others, and we are not lesser men," he takes a bite of the potato.

"Not to mention, if we don’t do something and are stuck here, we’d be depriving future townsfolk, specifically womensfolk, of the pleasure of beholding Borracho in adoration," he continues.

"Tomorrow, we shall try to figure out why Sarenrae's light has such a hard time shining on Borracho here," he adds solemnly. "Sarenrae longs to shine on Borracho much like all of you need to see Borracho."

Yep, he forgot something.

Mimi frowns lightly, as she sets her glass of wine down, and raises a wrinkled note up to her left eye, the one capable of seeing things at near. Once she's done reading the note, she wrinkles it up, and pops it into her mouth, and chews it moist enough to swallow it after a constant minute of mastication.

...

The misty morning does little to elevate Mimi's mood. But it does give her permission to not only exit the carriage, but also allows her to stand fully erect, bones cracking, muscles pulling, old woman groaning with relief. She knows somehow that the only ones witnessing her true height are her own. She sways a bit, extends a leg and leans down to stretch, then repeats with the other leg. Her morning ritual concludes when she returns to the carriage from off-road relief.

...

When the day's travel comes to an end, Mimi peeks out, her mood much better for the rocking-road nap afforded to her.

"Only good folk are permitted here.”

"Ah. Well, well. Tural, be a dear." The old woman's hushed tones suggest respect, for both the unobserved observer, and their obviously good folk priest.

"One strict rule, do Not invite anyone inside, no exceptions."

First Rule declared, First Rule broken... On Tural's arm, Mimi is quite a bit lower to the ground for her crouching walk. Her leg strength is easily up to the task of making her way to the first open table within the inn. Her forearm strength is easily up to the task of receiving the inn's finest from Flemming. "You are too kind." Mimi's eyes smile, while her lips are occupied at the rim of the mug.

While Borracho begins to warm the gathered folk, Mimi limbers up her hands, feeling along the seams of her sleeves, where several small denomination coins reside. When it's clear Borracho is in the mood to juggle, the cardsharp begins her flourishes, keeping in time to both musical and masterful rhythms of the others. She watches the audience's eyes, looking for the dimmer lights, the ones which remain in the old gaze a little too long, catching up to the new position of her hands, eventually. She dabs a mental dot of color between those eyes, marking them for later coin manipulations, should she have the time.

"Must be a century now..."

All thoughts of small thefts and misdirections leave Mimi's mind. For now. The patrons of the inn now appear in a different light. Pale, bereft of comfort, shorn of hope. It lowers Mimi's mood, just like the morning mists.

"No sunlight, you say? The fog is constant, hangs over the land, and blocks the sun from showing its face? You're putting us on." When she fails to find any new crow's feet at the corner of any would-be fish-tale-tellers, she grows quiet, unused to the subdued crowd.

She respects the rest of the story, then speaks up again, as is her nature. "Might be the Lord and the Count are just as foggy about the strangeness of the circumstance as anyone. Might be they think they're above it all, as royals are like to do." Mimi gauges the reactions of the superstitious folk. She doesn't let her frustration reflect upon her wrinkled face.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

"The Count have a name?"

...

Mimi listens patiently as her boys bandy ideas about. They mean well. Just hope they have enough sense to see it through. Growing old is underrated, just like dying young is over-glorified.

"Awfully trusting, aren't we? Shouldn't we test their story, see if the mists really do return us here? Might want to lay eyes on the town, and sniff around, listen to see if the story stays the same. I mean, burned priests? That must give you pause, Tural. The gates of the castle are closed, remember? What good would pounding on them do us, if it didn't do much for them?" The old woman twists on her bed, trying to figure out which set of bones will ache the least in the morning, should she assume the correct position.

"The Count have a name?”

”Aye, calls himself Count Strahd von Zarovich. There’s never been any Zarovich’s around here as far as anyone can remember.”

You rise in the morning to laughter downstairs and the smell of breakfast cooking. It’s a welcomed difference from the mood when you first arrived yesterday. You’re greeted with smiles and handshakes as you descend the stairs and hot tea waits for you followed soon by fresh biscuits with a sausage gravy. ”William rode to town at first light”, the innkeeper informs you, ”there’s sure to be plenty of folk interested in your arrival. Carl’s getting your horses tended too, they should be brushed and ready when you are. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but we figured you’ll be heading to town. You should reach it with half a day travel in the carriage. Be careful to stick directly to the road, one step off and the ground is soft enough to sink a wheel. Any supplies you need? I’ve just got the basics, but you’re welcome to any of it.”

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24 Know (Local)

"Does anyone know if this Count has heard of Borracho?" Borracho says, relating what he knows of the Count, but not knowing the most important detail. He moves to address the biscuits and gravy. "This feast pleases Borracho, as Borracho is a many of fierce appetites, both for gravies and for the womens." He grabs a biscuit and dips it into his gravy.

"When you are ready, we shall go introduce the townspeople to Borracho, for they will want to see him."

And with that, he takes out a special book to begin his morning preparations that usually take an hour. It's hard to tell if he's reading or just looking at the pictures, or admiring his own hands.

"Excellent." Flemming nods along with the others.

"Let's head to town and see what we can learn of this Count. I agree, no need for a confrontation quite yet! We should learn what we can and see if the Count is an ally of the people, trapped here as well. Or if he came with the mist..."

With help, he rolls out the coach, and harnesses up the horses for a foray inland. He thanks the innkeeper for his generous offer, but can think of nothing they need that he might be able to provide. They're well provisioned for a trip to Magnimar, so this short jaunt shouldn't be difficult.

When everyone is ready, he lurches the coach forward with a light whip in the air to remind the horses who's in charge - though truly he largely lets them do as they wish on the plodding journeys between the venues.

After breakfast and your daily preparations, the troupe bids farewell to the small group at the inn with many handshakes and wishes of luck on the road ahead. ”Take this with you”, Carl produces a sturdy axe, ”the road isn’t maintained often and fallen trees sometimes get in the way. Just chop off the limbs and use those to lever it aside.” The carriage rolls onto the road and the morning begins well enough, but as you progress the gloom seems to close in around you.

Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors about the muddy roadway. Thick, cold mists spread a pallor over the road. Giant tree trunks stand on both sides of the road, their branches clawing into the mists. In every direction the mists grow thicker and the forest grows more oppressive. (our first actual text block from the module!)

After two hours of bouncing along and splashing through muddy puddles, the carriage pulls to a halt as Flemming reins in the horses. A fallen tree lies partially across the road blocking half of the track. The roots protrude from the torn ground and it appears to have fallen naturally. Clearing the tree from the road will probably take an hour or two of hard work, but you should have plenty of time to still make it to town before sundown by the innkeepers directions. You could also try to navigate around the fallen tree, but that would risk the carriage getting stuck in the soft shoulder of the road.

You can take 10s and with steady work have the tree moved in two hours, or work hard at the task and a combined strength check of 45 to have it moved in a single hour. If you attempt to navigate around the tree, make a DC 30 Handle Animal or Profession Driver check, creative ways to assist can add a bonus. Or take another approach?

Before leaving the inn, Tural speaks quietly to the innkeeper. ”Before we leave I have a question. We were told before we came in that your number 1 rule was to never invite anyone in. Can you explain that? I mean no disrespect, but would like to better understand.”

When the carriage stops Tural exits to examine the obstruction. ”Well, looks like we get to try out the axe a bit sooner than we might have expected….” He takes the axe and picks a branch to ‘chop off’.

”Before we leave I have a question. We were told before we came in that your number 1 rule was to never invite anyone in. Can you explain that? I mean no disrespect, but would like to better understand.”

”Years after people started disappearing, folks would have a missing relative or friend show up at their door after sundown looking like they hadn’t aged a day. They couldn’t enter the home unless invited to enter. Those unfortunate homes that invited them in would be a massacre by the morning. The few survivors that hid or fled to tell the story said the missing person would transform once inside, growing fangs for teeth and talons for fingers. At first people didn’t believe the stories, until the knock came at their door. Now, no one ventures out at night, and no one invites folks into their homes after dark. It’s just a rule around here.”

Borracho gets out of the carriage to examine the tree, putting his fists on his hips as he examines the area.

"You see? The tree has thrown itself here so that it and others might get the chance to see the mighty Borracho!" he claims, spinning so that the other trees might get a glimpse of his kilted legs and bare chest. "Take a look, trees, for Borracho is here, and will soon be working to make the road safe for others. Borracho is no stranger to hard work."

Borracho, though without any tools, will help to remove the obstacle.

1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20 Str Check - If we're trying this, idk.

Borracho, when others are ready, girds his kilted loins and will offer a mighty heave.

"If I knew how to handle horses I'd say we use them to help pull the tree aside. For now, let's leave them be."

He gets off the wagon and gets to work. He's not very strong, but he's dogged and doesn't mind getting muddy.

Prefers taking 10 with steady work. Flemming isn't in a hurry.

If the party goes Borracho's route, Flemming does what he can to hoist the log!
Strength: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (9) + 0 = 9

Tural chops off one limb and hands it to Borracho. "Lever. Like Carl suggested. It will enhance our strength. Even the Mighty Borracho can gain power from tools."

He chops off more, one good lever for each of them, then takes one himself and works to move the fallen tree from the road.

Strength? No idea what benefit the levers grant.: 1d20 ⇒ 19

With a show of strength, the troupe heaves the fallen tree from the road while Mimi pulls her shawl tighter from the comfort of the carriage. As they stand admiring their quick work of the obstacle, a faint girl’s voice calls to them from the misty woods. ”Help! Please, help me!”

The road ahead is clear thanks to your quick work. "Please!” the small cry drifts from the woods again.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10 vs DC 20

"Did'ja hear that? Sounds like someone is in trouble! Someone should stay with the horses while we check it out!"

He looks to the others, not wanting to be the one left behind.

perform-sing: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (9) + 13 = 22

Tural hears the call, but turns his head to concentrate on it. ”That’s fake. A huge wolf! Remember the play last fall in Magnimar. It’s an ambush! They probably caused the tree to fall across the road. Be ready, but maybe we should get back to the carriage.” He draws his rapier, watching the woods around them.

Mimi watches from the carriage as the others strain at the log. She can't help but admire their youth, and the muscles flexing firmly. She also listens, when the strange plea for assistance reaches them.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

"Red eyes, too. Not an ordinary creature." The old woman remains within the carriage's door frame, now a little wary of their circumstance. "Flemming, you should probably remain with the horses. For that matter, we all should. Straying from the road, and we risk miring ourselves in the mud. Easy pickings for a pack of red-eyed wolves..."

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 Perform (oratory)

Borracho's bat-like ears, listen to the sound as if they were bat-like. He turns his head in the direction of the noise.

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11 Perception

Borracho's usual eagle eyes do not see anything of interest, which is strange because they are usually so eagle-like.

”That’s fake. A huge wolf! Remember the play last fall in Magnimar. It’s an ambush! They probably caused the tree to fall across the road. Be ready, but maybe we should get back to the carriage.”

Borracho looks at Tural and nods.

"Tural's wise counsel mirrors Borracho's own. There is danger here, but Borracho is no stranger to danger!" Borracho pauses a moment, and solidifies some armor-like armor around himself. Borracho moves the carriage, not to retreat, but to get his shield. If given time he will don it.

"These wolves do not scare Borracho! Borracho's lion-heart will be more than a match for these wolves," Borracho says steadfastly.

"Oh! Not a girl in need of saving then? Just wolves that talk?" He's not sure that's better or worse.

He sidles up to Borracho, "So, a little wand tap please? Just in case..."

Flemming would know Borracho can cast Mage Armor from Flemming's wand upon Flemming. Probably...

The troupe readies for trouble instead of fleeing on the now clear road. The worgs circle for a minute, your keen eyes spot at least three of them through the mists, with one on the other side of the road. The delay gives the party ample time to equip themselves and ready for the attack.

Seven combat rounds to prepare and take position, then when the first one appears the party can take readied actions prior to initiative order, though it won’t be a surprise round in terms of bonuses

"We should move back to the carriage. Protect the horses but also keep them to your back so the wolves won't flank us. If they come in close to each other I might be able to catch them in a blinding burst."

He moves back to the horses, watching and listening, to be on the side with more of the wolves on it. He casts Fallback Strategy and Weapon of Awe while waiting.

LOL. Just read my previous post. Draw my rapier? I use a scimitar, not a rapier!

Borracho will be-buckle his shield on his arm, casting about for weapon until Flem comes over with the wand. Borracho stares at the wand for a moment, then uses it on Flem, bending the magics to his will.

Borracho is never shy about helping friends, it's what men like Borracho do. He casts about for a weapon, like a scimitar or maybe or rapier, he gets the two confused, and will join his friends around the carriage.

When the wolves are in sight, he will offer his own wolvish howl.

Oops, seeing the map now. Borracho moves to (20,13...I think) right in front of the carriage.

Borracho ponders what's next, and how many heroic acts of derring-do he might accomplish.

”Good call Tural.” Flemming says as he stands where he is to protect the horses.

As the wolves begin to appear Flemming mutters ”Big brutes aren’t they?” He’ll summon his powers protecting himself with Barkskin (+2, 40m).

Flemming swiftly takes on dragonfly style, gaining +3 to acrobatics and a higher ground bonus (+1) on attacks made adjacent to a vertical surface - though there are none here at the moment unless he gets pushed back to the coach and away from the horses.

Mimi repositions herself agilely enough, bunching up her pocket skirts to avoid stepping on them with her moccasins. Standing atop the carriage's driver's seat 20A/14D, she readies her Noogie, a time-worn aklys that looks like it belongs in the old woman's hand. The weapon's cord seems to sneak up her sleeve.

"Any of 'em in sight? You think they're gonna be muddy coming out of the woods?" Mimi shuts up, and begins to strain at the ear to understand how many teeth are bearing down on them.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

The Worgs dart from the woods in unison. From Mimi's position on the driver's perch she spots a fourth one approaching from the rear of the wagon and calls it out to the group. The troupe's preparation gives them the advantage and they launch their readied actions.

updated map is up, the worgs will move in to attack so you can hold position and still get the first strike

party is up for the first full round of combat, so you get readied actions and full round of actions after that. The worgs will move to 18a 13d, 20a 11d, 21a 12d, and 21a 15d

As soon as the nearest wolf closes in, Flemming goes to work. (He attacks the one at18a 13d.)
readied Unarmed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 damage: 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 and DC 15 Fort or be stunned as per stunning fist!
critthreat readied Unarmed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9 damage: 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Unarmed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10 damage: 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

If it still stands, which seems likely, he’ll call upon his powers for an extra attack (Ki used, 6 left).
Unarmed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8 damage: 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

Sigh... thanks dicebot!

Round 1, Init 22

Borracho smiles as the wolves answer Borracho's challenge.  Much like the mighty Borracho, these wolves seek adventure...even when it will result in the certain death of Borracho's party.

"Flem!  I shall leave you some of these wolves to fight as well. Very things are stronger than Borracho's skill in battle, and that is his generous heart!" Borracho draws his dagger, then puts it away, thinking of another way.

He focuses his will to bring a ball of fire into his hand, and readies to fight when the wolves engage.

Round 1, Init 23

Toral adds Divine Favor as the wolves advance and then strikes, calling praise to Sarenrae. The wolf at 21a 12d is right beside me if I understand the notation.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 = 15
Damage if that hits?: 1d6 + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 = 13

I think that's a hit? So I won't use the Fallback Strategy yet. Active Spells: Fallback Strategy, Weapon of Awe, Divine Favor.

Round 1, Init 17

Mimi shoots the southern worg her Evil Eye, marking its individual movements and rate of huffing and puffing, so she might be able to discourage it, once it comes within her Noogie's reach. Study Worgie

Noogie reaches out to meet her mark. "Shoo now, there's nothing for you here, except an injury from which you might not recover." The aklys whistles as it arcs through the air, however brief the journey.

Noogie: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 9 + 1 + 1 = 16 for 1d6 + 1 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 1 + (5) = 10 bludgeoning damage, including Study and Sneak v Flat-footed four-foot

As quickly, Mimi retrieves her tool, the leather cord easily slipping back up her sleeve. Move Action

"Be careful, boys. These things look like they haven't eaten in ages. This one's drooling plenty."

If Mimi only enjoys a Higher Ground bump from being up top when Noogie remains in her hand, then she doesn't throw it down and retrieve it...

DC 15 Fort save vs stunning fist: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

The horses stamp and buck as the worgs attack, but the troupe’s decision to protects them prevents further chaos. Two of the beasts bite at Tural’s legs, while one stumbles from the stunning blow delivered by Flemming, and the last tries to scramble up the carriage to Mimi provoking an attack from The Crow.

Bite at Tural: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24, Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Bite at Tural: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
Bite at Mimi: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

Trip attempt vs Tural's CMD: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Teeth sink into Tural's leg and the worg shakes in an attempt to bring the cleric down. The one climbing towards Mimi slips from the carriage and tumbles hitting the road heavily.

The party is up! The worg attacking Mimi is flat footed after it's fumble and flop

Tural is annoyed when the worg bites him and even more so when he feels himself get yanked from his feet. Knowing that the beast will probably just take him back down if he tries to stand he slashes at it while prone.

Attack from Prone: 1d20 - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 = 19
Damage if that hits?: 1d6 + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 = 14

Active Spells: Fallback Strategy, Weapon of Awe, Divine Favor 9 rounds.

HP: 15/23, AC: 18, 14 while prone

Tural finds the ground provides a good angle and slashes his blade hard against the worg’s neck. The beast gurgles for a moment before collapsing on the road with a puddle of blood spreading beneath it.

Round 2, Init 22

Borracho moves to (22,14) to help with the wolves who has engaged Mimi.

"Mimi, I hope you do not mind if I help you with this wolf. Much like Borracho, you are called to bravely defend your friends," Borracho tries to drive his fiery fist into the wolf.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16 touch to hit;
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 fire damage.

Pleased that while his initial swings were weak, he at least stunned the thing, he presses further.
Unarmed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22 damage: 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

Round 2, Init 17

"Mimi, I hope you do not mind if I help you with this wolf. Much like Borracho, you are called to bravely defend your friends."

"Oh, you never have to ask, young man. If your ember punch doesn't put this one to rest, Noogie will finish the argument."

If Borracho has already done the worg in, Mimi will move to the other side of the drivers' seat and take a swing at Flemming's foe.

Noogie: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 9 + 1 + 1 = 12 for 1d6 + 1 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 1 + (4) = 11 bludgeoning damage, including Study and Sneak

Oh, no Noogie won't...

The three remaining worgs snap their jaws and attempt to drag their foes down.

Bite at Flemming: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Bite at Tural: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Bite at Borracho: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

party is up!

Round 3, Init 22

"Oh, you never have to ask, young man. If your ember punch doesn't put this one to rest, Noogie will finish the argument."

"Much like Borracho, you are very kind and gracious...and generous," Borracho tries again to drive his fiery fist into the wolf.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 touch to hit;
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 fire damage.

With the one worg down Tural attacks the other standing by him.

Attack from Prone: 1d20 - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 = 7
Using Fallback Strategy - Attack from Prone: 1d20 - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (20) - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 = 26
Damage if that hits?: 1d6 + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 = 9

Confirm Crit?: 1d20 - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (10) - 4 + 3 + 4 + 2 + 1 = 16
Damage if that hits?: 1d6 + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 = 9

Active Spells: Weapon of Awe, Divine Favor 8 rounds.

HP: 15/23, AC: 18, 14 while prone

Flemming easily dodges the bite, and strikes back!
Unarmed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14 damage: 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9

Sadly, his swing leaves a lot to be desired. Unable to see past the horses and coach while in battle with a worg, he'll call out, "How are you lot doing over there? I can't seem to get mine down, but I am as yet uninjured."

If the crit is confirmed, Weapon of Awe adds "if the weapon scores a critical hit, the target of that critical hit becomes shaken for 1 round with no saving throw. This is a mind-affecting fear effect."

Round 3, Init 17

Noogie: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 9 + 1 + 1 = 13 for 1d6 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 1 = 7 bludgeoning damage, including Study

"Same here. These things have thick skulls. Hard to crack them, and impossible to get through them when they're intent on ripping our own throats out..."

Tural barely avoids the gnashing teeth and nearly drops his blade in the process, but a quick whisper of magic returns the hilt to his palm and he drives the blade into the beast’s chest narrowly missing the heart. Flemming strikes what feels like a glancing blow, then blood gushes from its ear and the worg collapses to his surprise. Mimi’s position in the driver’s seat proves advantageous and the noogie brings a yelp from the beast as it thumps into the back of its neck.

The troupe overwhelms their foes as two of the worgs are quickly slain and the other two are badly injured. Sensing their demise, the remaining two worgs turn and flee from the battle.

Attack of Opportunity for Borracho. The troupe can use any abilities that let you get a final attack or stop their movement. The worgs have a move of 50’ and the feat of Run

The surviving worg(s) disappear into the fog. The troupe’s play last fall in Magnimar taught you a few things about the creatures. They’re both intelligent and have the unique ability among canines to speak the common language. If someone, or something, is master of the worgs, then they’ll soon know about the troupe. You also recall that the magical creatures are valuable for both spell components and their hides.

With the threat ended, the horses settle down and the troupe is free to continue their journey on the now cleared road.

CLW: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Tural gets to his feet and dusts himself off. "Nasty creatures. Was anyone hurt, besides me?"

Tural casts Burst of Radiance after them. radiant damage against evil: 4d4 ⇒ (3, 4, 1, 3) = 11 damage. Reflex Save DC16 or they are blinded for 1d4 ⇒ 4 rounds. If they save, they are dazzled. They do not get a save against the damage but Spell resistance does apply if they have any.

He inspects the wound for any nastiness that might indicate disease, then quietly chants a prayer to Sarenrae, healing the bite wound.

"Does anyone know what can be harvested from the bodies, for spell components, or how to properly skin them? I know the bodies have some value, but not how to harvest any of it."

Borracho takes a half hearted swipe at the worg.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11 touch to hit;
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 fire damage.

"You go now and tell your worg friends that Borracho has let you live. Tell them what the world already knows, that Borracho is as merciful as he is gracious, and your worg friends are welcome to admire Borracho from afar, but if they threaten Borracho's friends again, Borracho will not be as magnanimous," Borracho cries at the retreating worg.

With the combat over, Borracho will dust himself off and return his shield to the carriage. He will then check to see if others are as uninjured as Borracho is.

Borracho has either no interest, or no skill, in skinning the worgs. He will decline any invitation to do so.

Flemming watches the worg run off, and though he's fast, he's not that fast. Further, he doesn't feel the need to go rushing off into these woods alone. He lets them go.

Tural gets to his feet and dusts himself off. "Nasty creatures. Was anyone hurt, besides me?"

"I'm good - thanks!"

"Does anyone know what can be harvested from the bodies, for spell components, or how to properly skin them? I know the bodies have some value, but not how to harvest any of it."

"You got me, but it sounds like a messy business. Let's push the worg off the road and proceed. We still want to make town before nightfall or we might be sleeping in the carriage as nervous as these people are."

He pushes the worg bodies out of the way, takes his spot back on the carriage and readies to depart.