Azure looks at the earthen creature with curiosity and wonder. Was this one of the monsters from beyond he had learned so much about? It seemed so. It was like a nightmare come to life, all this fire and screaming.
Knowledge(planes)+4:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
As building grows hotter from the spreading fire, Azure grasps his scimitar tightly and edges close to the woman on the ground. Not too long ago, he nursed aspirations of a guerilla campaign against the Molthuni. It seemed the best way to demonstrate his devotion to his adopted people with his particular set of skills. In a peculiar perversion of his upbringing, though, he had sanitized his fantasies. He couldn't smell the burning homes or hear the screams of the people. For so long, he had consumed himself with the memory of his own screams.
All he could do now was step forward, weapon in hand, and try to save one more person.
[ooc]Azure moves forward. He tries to reposition the woman between him and the earth creature. If that's a standard action, that's his action. If not, i.e. if we're in initative, and that was a move and standard, he will then attack it. If we go into initative, Azure will attack the creature on his turn, assuming he is between the woman's body and the earth creature.[ooc]
Azure looks at Caeleron and nods. He drops his bucket and resumes his task of trying to beat down the door, even if he dislocates his shoulder in the process.
STR check +5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Smarting from his bruised shoulder and ego, Azure scowls briefly at the door and runs to retrieve the remaining bucket and toss what water he can on the blaze.
Whoa, new site!!! Is it me, or is it way faster? So cool.
Azure joins the others in grabbing the buckets to toss the dirty water on the fire. Even as he does this, he is too aware of the chaos only a bit away. They are in a battle, and he worries that they will be ambushed while trying to save the people inside. Despite his concerns, he grabs his bucket and starts tossing.
Momentarily backfooted from his earlier strike, Azure capitalizes on his lowered position and the seeming look of bemused confidence on his enemy's smug face. He tries to take a quick slash at the the hobgoblin's belly...
scimitar+5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 scimitar crit confirm, baby!:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 I assume that doesn't confirm. Womp womp. scimitar damage:1d6 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Azure lunges for his opponent with a ferocious swing of his scimitar. He has been this hurt before. He is not afraid to die in the cause of Erastil's good name, defending his home.
Free action top accept this last round of skald goodness. AC is now 15. scimitar+6:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 damage if it hits:1d6 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Azure steps back. His muscles bulge out, and the stripes fade from his flesh. He drops his bow, picks up the scimitar from the ground, and glares at the hobgoblin who slashed his arm. It was a good gash, and Azure can see the bone. It hurts like hell; another like that, and he's done for, he's sure of it.
Azure 5-foot steps to get away from the hobgoblin, activates animal focus: bull, grabs his scimitar from the ground-- not provoking an AoO since he moved out of the way. That's all he can do this round.
Next round he will accept Skalla's raging song. How many rounds of that do you have?
When he sees the hobgoblins outside the Trading Post, Azure scowls and moves at an angle so as not to obstruct any of his companions' path to fighting. As he moves he drops his scimitar to the ground and draws the hobgoblin sergeant's composite longbow. As Azure nocks an arrow, black stripes fade into view along his neck, face, and arms. Growling quietly, he looses an arrow into the closest hobgoblin...
Move action: Get into position where I have placed Azure's token. Free action: While he's moving, drop scimitar into an adjacent square. Free action: Draw composite longbow (+3) as part of the move. Swift action: Activate animal focus (tiger), giving Azure +2 to Dex and +1 to hit with the composite bow. Standard action: Fire arrow at hobgoblin with red outline.
... and lodges the sharp tip directly into his enemy's clavicle.
A feeling races through Azure in that fleeting instant, somewhere between the arrow leaving his fingertips and the thud of the impact into the hobgoblin. It occurs to Azure that it is significantly harder to aim a bow at armed and armored targets than to do the same against foxes, deer, or even bears. Still, there was something right about this, about using Erastil's favorite weapon, one stolen from these bastards, to bring them down. If Azure could have felt anything but anger, weariness, and the always lurking excitement of bloodlust in that moment, he would have smiled.
Lucky shot, but Azure should probably stick to his expertise.
Azure picks up the hobgoblin's composite bow and mutters a prayer to Erastil beneath his breath, asking Old Deadeye to bless his aim with his enemy's weapon. In the same prayer, he asks the god's forgiveness for any wrath that might come from burning the shrine. He truly does not know what the god would want, but he knows Erastil is an intensely practical god-- and that he has seen how Nirmathas deals with the Molthuni threat.
Next, he nods at Faunra and grabs the fallen bodies of his enemies and begins dragging them toward the front of the shrine, ever looking over his shoulder, vigilant for new threats.
When he is done, he smears the hobgoblin's blood on the thick hide that has protected him so well this day, and returns to his post at the door, his new bow slung on his shoulder, his old bow ready for the pyre. In one hand, he grasps his scimitar with whitening knuckles, and in the other he flexes his grip around his chipped wooden shield. He peers again outside the shrine, ready to spill whatever blood is necessary,
"Burn them quick. Then to the Trading Company," he says.
It seems as though the elaborate tattoos and scars that clutter Azure Wolftongue's features may be reconfiguring yet again, but instead his brow furrows intensely as he caresses the lines of the bow and arrow engraved on Faunra's gift like he would hold a foundling infant. Here, in air choked by the fumes of burning buildings and the coppery scent of fresh-spilled blood, the weightless, odorless quintessence of camaraderie peeks through.
Azure looks briefly at Faunra, rather, at her knees, and smiles with the corner of his lip and almost imperceptibly nods at her. As he peers from the doorway into the streets, his nose grows more aquiline, and small, almost translucent feathers sprout from his neck, face, and hands.
Without looking away, Azure asks, "Caeleron-- Caeleron, right? I have trouble with elf names-- do you want the second one's bow? It looks nicer than mine, but we've been relying on your arrows." His sentences are punctuated with quick, oddly angled avian neck movements. "Next, to the traders. Need supplies. Other survivors will think the same thing. Start the fire here, and let's get moving. Time to mourn later."
If we live that long.
Animal Aspect: Falcon (+4 Perception) mostly because I think that's what Azure would do. Also, I want the composite longbow (+3) because I'mma murder me some hobgoblins at range!
Azure keeps his vigil over the entrance, although he glances over his shoulder at the work his companions are doing. As they inspect the bodies, he recognizes every face turned over, and he forces himself to keep his watch ever more assiduously. It took him so long to think of himself as one of them. Part of him found the constant threat of Molthuni encroachment agreeable: the part of him that loved the thrill of a fight and the satisfaction of a hard won victory. But he had seen these people at market and tavern. They had eaten his quarries time and time again. He had escaped so much pain, only to find himself again mired in a surfeit of blood.
He is broken from his revelry of self-pity and shame when Faunra touches his arm, "Will you be alright? Is there anything you need to do before we leave? Something Ersatil requires in times like this?"
What do the Parables say about times like this? He knows Nulgreth would be amused. He knows Gorum would insist on another battle. Would Erastil crave vengeance, as Azure does? If he doesn't, what sort of god is he?
I don't mean that, Lord. It is for us to make good. We must take back our community or make sure this never happens again. I know this. But I don't feel so compelled for the community. I want it for myself. I want to find whoever is responsible for all this blood, and I want to drive my blade through his heart. Children lived here, Lord. Old men and pregnant women with no tools to fend off this menace. At times like this, isn't Calistria a worthy ally? I don't know. Please help me, Deadeye. I don't know what will become of me.
Without looking Faunra in the eye-- he simply cannot right now--
Azure says, "We are Nirmathas. We salvage what we can. We burn the rest. Leave them nothing more to take. Find more survivors. Gather them up. Kill any of these things that stand between us and the forest.
He doesn't know, of course, what Erastil would want, a fact that is driving him mad with guilt and shame. He only knows that it is better to help than to hurt, better to protect than to attack.
Azure surveys the carnage, and his features return to normal, his muscles shrinking, his eyes becoming less taurine. He looks at Faunra, but he feels inadequate to the task of comforting her. He places his hand delicately on the shattered things of the shrine, gingerly avoiding the bodies of the fallen.
"Avenge them, Faunra. That's what you should do. Avenge them all. Caeleron, find anything?"
He is barely paying attention for the answer. He closes his eyes and mumbles under his breath what little he could remember from the Parables of Erastil
Azure slashes as the sergeant attempts to attack Skalla. He reflexively grunts as the blade slashes under the armpit of the hobgoblin...
scimitar+5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21 scimitar damage:1d6 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
... and tries to remove the sergeant's arm with a solid upward slash.
There would be no time to collect the fallen shrine. Azure was so uncertain what to do. He ought to honor Erastil by repairing this place. But Old Deadeye doesn't care about ceremony. He cares about community. Right? This was the only place Azure was comfortable, in the throes of battle, in a sword cutting through flesh. The good people, the best people, could make the world whole from the ruins of war. Did that mean Azure wasn't a good person?
Eyes wild with feral bloodlust, Azure slides the blade from the body of the fallen hobgoblin. In this moment, he is not half-orc or half-human. He is the wild. He is the animal. He attacks with savagery devoid of grace...
Move Action: close on the sergeant. Standard Action: attack him! scimitar+5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
...but his strikes are too clumsy and too never find purchase through the hobgoblin's armor.
Seeing the bodies and the broken statue of Erastil, Azure is almost incandescent with rage. In a fleeting instant, he recalls the savagery and incessant violence of his upbringing. He recalls the torture and the pain he was born into. It was through the blessings of Erastil that he was effectively born into civilization. It is by Erastil, Serenrae, and Desna that he was shown that there is not only another way to live but that the way is blessed by beings of real power: that love and compassion toward others and kindness of spirit were not effete any more than the heat of Serenrae's light or the tip of Erastil's arrows are effete. Here, in sight of awful blood and broken idols, fury overtakes Azure.
With the need for stealth mercifully discarded, he bellows loudly and attacks the hobgoblin rummaging in the sack.
Move action: advance on the hobgoblin rummaging in the sack. Standard action: attack hobgoblin scimitar slash +5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 scimitar damage:1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Azure crouches slightly. It is awkward with his supernaturally increased bulk. He pads toward the shrine toward the wolves' masters, his scimitar still readied in his hand.
Azure's features reshape, and his muscles bulge. Reflexively, he exhales through his nose with a a snort. Despite himself, there is a comfort here, something of the chaos and carnage that reminds him of home. In clear-headed moments, he would never admit to this, but the smoke and fire and blood suit Azure like a tailored glove. His anguish at seeing his town destroyed is real. Azure loves Phaendar and Nirmathas and all the people who make them up. But Azure's soul, the real wolf part of Azure, feels the answer to some unvoiced question in the presence of carnage.
Azure stalks toward the wolf engaged with Rhyna, attempting to set up a flank.
Swift action to switch from eagle to bull focus. Move action to move into a flanking position behind the wolf. scimitar slash +5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
After assessing the horrible situation, Azure turns his gaze to Caeleron. Azure's eyes are entirely golden, with pinprick pupils-- like an eagle staring at the sun. "If we leave them here, there is no telling what may come from around the next corner. A wolf, a hobgoblin, or worse. Look at them," he gestures to the unarmed survivors with his empty hand. "It's not what we asked for, but we ARE their sanctuary. I don't like it any more than you do. But they stay with us. Agreed?
Azure wipes some of the ashes in the air from his eyes and looks plaintively at Caeleron, then to the other survivors, lingering especially on Faunra, Skalla, and Callistria.
Azure looks around and surveys the town. He addresses Caeleron without looking at him, "Where is safe? Nowhere is safe. You and I are safe. Skalla, Faunra, Callistria. Aubrin. We are safe. We leave these people, they are not safe."
GM, correct me if I'm wrong, but proverbial hell has broken loose, correct? I am picturing something like a viking raid with sounds of horror and fires and whatnot. Am I mistaken?
Azure looks at Skalla's wound, then to the fallen wolf. Caeleron and Skalla will tend to the survivors. Azure looks over the band they have assembled. Too few fighters. At least they have Aubrin with them. Azure peers around the next corner to see if anyone is standing between them and their next destination. For some reason all this chaos and carnage would make more sense if only it were the Molthuni. His heart is pounding in his chest. He tries to hear above it...
Perception:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20 The +9 comes from a +4 to his Perception from Animal Focus: Eagle. I didn't include the ooc description when I said above, "His face takes on a more aquiline shape, and he is, in an instant, covered in tiny, almost translucent feathers."
Azure's scimitar is drawn, and he advances on the wolves. If Skalla doesn't scare them off, Azure would show they why they should have been scared. Did these wolves belong to the hobgoblin, or did they smell a chance at food. Probably the former: the chaos would have chased the wolves away, not drawn them.
He growls as menaciningly as he can at the wolves, joining in Skalla's threat.
Azure draws his scimitar again and heads downstairs. His face takes on a more aquiline shape, and he is, in an instant, covered in tiny, almost translucent feathers. When everyone is ready, he opens the door, ready to brave the battleground his village has become.
Azure immediately dismisses his animal focus and attempts to look like a normal, run-of-the-mill, horrendously scarred and immensely tattooed half-orc.
His face still contorted into a scowl from the effort of knocking in the door, his tusks jutting from his lower lip, he says in a calm, flat voice, "We are trying to get you to safety. We will get you out of here. You can walk, or you can be dragged. But your death will not be on our conscience." He nods to Skalla. "Your choice."
If they protest again, swift action bull focus, then attempt to grapple. CMB+5:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Azure looks exasperatedly at Skalla, knowing that neither she nor anyone else would approve of what he is about to do and says, "I understand you're scared, but I won't leave you to die or be enslaved while we flee to safety. Either you open this door,
or I OPEN IT FOR YOU." Swift action to activate Bull Focus, when Azure slams her shoulder into the door. STR check:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Azure sheathes his scimitar and rests his forehead against the door. He considers his fearsome appearance and glowers. He wishes Faunra or Skalla was with him, someone who knew honeyed words to speak. Someone like...
"Aubrin is with us. You're safe here for now. Not for long. They will come here. They will find you. The rest of us are fleeing into the woods. There we may have a chance. Stay here, sure as sunrise, you will die. Open the door. Do not grant me the guilt of returning here to find your body. That's if they don't take you prisoner."
Diplomacy check if you really need one.:
Diplomacy:1d20 - 1 ⇒ (5) - 1 = 4
Apparently Azure farted loudly as he said that, or his animal focus distorts his speech and makes him sounds monstrous.
Azure takes deep breaths, already calmer despite the close quarters fighting. He looks at Aubrin, and a pained expression crosses his face. There's absolutely nothing he can do for her. He is powerless when she needs it.
He looks around the room and surveys the scared people. There were so many unanswered questions. The hobgoblins weren't merely marauding.
"They wanted to line us up. Taking prisoners. Not Molthuni. Not bandits. I can carry someone. Aubrin?"
What was the meaning of this? Was that smoke? Were they burning the village?
Azure walks to the door of the Taproot, nodding to Caeleron as he moves. With every step his muscles seem to shrink, and you see a thin matte of grey fur sprout from his exposed skin. He turns to the room once more, and you can see his eyes have changed once more; they are almost entirely gold now, and the tattoos on his face have rearranged to look like a wolf.
Azure stands behind the door, opens it a crack, and sniffs deeply, trying to get a sense of whatever else is out there.
Perception:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Azure activates his wolf animal focus. He has the scent ability, but only within 10 feet.
At the table, this is where we would pepper you with questions. Are there other exits? Are the other PCs right in that protocol says to flee into the forest? Do we hear screams? When Azure peeks out the door, what does he see? Does he see flocks of people running toward the forest?
Azure would regard it as his sacred duty to be ready to be of use to the town at any time. He would have no problem whatsoever being armed and armored whenever possible. He sees his utility to the town-- and thus to Erastil-- as coming through his martial capabilities.
Azure accepts Skalla's raging song. His AC is now 15. Effective HP is 14.
Azure's first instict is the same as Faunra's: protect Aubrin. In the fury of battle, though, Azure recalls the lessons of his foster father. Erastil has a place for everyone. And Azure is not a healer. He is a hunter. He is nature's fury. He is the alpha defending the pack. He is the bull defending the herd. He is the bull.
He is the bull.
While you likely don't notice it in the furor of the moment, with a sharp exhale, Azure's tattoos knit together, becoming less abstract in a single instant. As the muscles expand-- his thighs and neck and calves and arms bulging-- the abstract lines on his face have reshaped into the a lifelike semblance of a bull whose eyes are laid over Azure's own.
He is the bull.
Swift action to activate animal focus: bull Current STR bonuses: enhancement +2, morale +2
Azure bellows, in a voice laced with more than a trace of angry bovine, "Protect the town!" as he advances on the hobgoblin directly in front of him, drawing his scimitar as he moves. Moving with a new sort of rage from Skalla's passionate shouts, his eyes bulging and wide like a charging bull, Azure slashes with his weapon in a single slash...
... that cuts deeply into the hobgoblin's shoulder, bisecting its clavicle with the scimitar's curved edge and scraping against a rib as he yanks the weapon free.
Hell yes. Movement + draw weapon into attack. Straightforward.
Azure looks at Skalla with a skewed half-smile, one tusk jutting slightly higher from his lower lip than the other, and says, "Old Deadeye ensured I had to earn my food is all."
Spoiler:
His wounds sting. But that's all. He is a wolf. He is a bear. He is the fire and earth, angel and shadow. He will be fine. The wounds will knit, even without Callistra's help. He will be fine. This mental litany of self-hardening is a reflex in the face of tenderness that his foster father tried to hug out of him with mixed results, but as Skalla and Faunra fuss over him, the litany seems ironic against the sudden sense that he longs, as deeply as ever, for any loving touch.
Azure misses his mother terribly in that moment.
Seeing Faunra picking at the dirt and plant matter in his armor and Skalla straightening his clothes out, Azure mutters,
in Orcish:
"I'm not comfortable with all this attention.
He nods to Caeleron as he bats Faunra's and Skalla's hands away. He says, "Fuss over the elf. I'll buy you another drink-- Caeleron? Did I hear others refer to you as Caeleron? To make the night go down easier."
Without waiting for an answer, Azure turns around and turns his attention to Jet, the bartender, and echoes Caeleron's order for an herbal firewater and orders a mulled wine for himself.
Regarding the "invasion": You were speaking of the Invaders who attacked your village, who may or may not be Ironfang Legion. Got it. I was just making sure I didn't have to rejigger my understanding of what Azure knows.
