”Freakin mosquitos!”
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”Eh, Faerieth has a point. Let’s leave this one here. We can chuck a few of these others in the forest and I’ll carry two off to tuck away or throw down a ravine as we go. It will drive them nuts trying to find the missing two in order to recover numbers and get intel from them.” Big John pulls two of them aside. ”We should heal up before we stumble into another patrol.”
Big John picks up the now dead hobgoblin by the throat. As his hand lifts it off of its feet the party can hear the sounds of bones cracking under the big man’s fist! ”Get up you son of ah!” Seeing it is clearly dead, Big John grabs it by the belt and launches it head first into the nearest rock. His shoulders slump and his breathing changes as he falls out of his rage. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. The swirling spirits slow their frantic flight and peacefully wind down to the ground by John’s feet. They briefly take on the form of three small children that make a ring around John’s legs hugging him tight before they melt into them. Big John slings his shield back over his shoulder and begins wiping off his broad bladed sword. ”Whether they go missing or are found dead like tinsel in the trees, more will come. Either way, let them fear the death hidden in these woods. We can’t spend much time doing whatever it is we chose to do with these pukes. We need to get to the Rangers.” ”I have a lot more vengeance to take, we might run out of Hobs before I’m done.”
With a rebel yell, Big John surges forth with speed unexpected for one so armored (30ft mv). Targeting the hobgoblin to the right of Arlen and Russet, the big warrior leads with his spiked shield before him as he prepares to deliver a savage swipe with his broad bladed sword!
Crashing into his foe, the angry spirits swirl about looking to touch the living flesh of those who have threatened their host.
The spirits around the big warrior are agitated as though they worried for their host. Weaving in and about they lingered near the wounds before seeking to slam into the nearest attacker.
Big John holds up his shield and goes full defensive
The spirits plunge back into their host! Gritting his teeth Big John let’s out a strangled cry as his wounds begin to close!
”Arghhh! Gurrrrrrrr! Damn it!” He yells out gripping his sword and shield with white knuckles!
”You’re up next!” Big John charges the next hob, seeking to drive his spiked shield into the raider.
Three terrible vaguely humanoid spirits spring forth from the enraged warrior and dive towards the hapless hobgoblin footman seeking to harm any their host is fighting.
”Fine.” Big John rolls out! Wrenching his broad bladed sword from its scabbard, he charges forward making a powerful two-handed overhead swing at the Sergeant at the head of the column!
Finishing his suprise attack, John let’s his shield slide down his arm as he prepares to go sword and board for the rest of the attack. ”Get some!”
”We should have run into the Rangers by now, their patrols should have been thick in these parts. I assume the Hobs have them occupied. I don’t know how beneficial it would be to ambush this group. It may lead to more forces dispatched into the area. Our refugees would possibly pay the price.”
”Heh, dinner, a tent, and a show. Well I will take that in compromise.”, Big John says jovially.
”Uh, oh! You mean the banner is the symbol. Yeah. It’s cool. Maybe we can add a badger to it too some day.”
”How about a badger? The badger has always been a symbol for persistence, confidence and strong will. ... The badger is also a symbol of protection and defense, because this animal is always ready to defend its boundaries. The badger can also symbolize individuality and independence.” ”The badger is very assertive. It always defends its ground, even when faced with bigger and more powerful foes. The symbol of the badger tells us to fight back, even if we have to do it slowly and bit by bit. When cornered, badgers never back down even if they are losing the fight.” ”Thats why the badger is also a symbol of fearlessness. In the animal kingdom, it’s a very small creature —- but it can pack a punch, and it proves that size does not matter when you’re up in a survival situation. Sometimes you might find yourself in competition for something, or defending something that is yours from being taken. Even though you might find yourself disadvantaged, you can still stand tall knowing that it’s he who fights best that wins. Pound for pound.” ”Even when not immediately facing danger the badger digs in and holds on through tough winters, one of the most industrious animals.” ”Badgers would rather die than give up.”
”I was halfway hoping they would have found you guys while we were gone. Seems like they would have already found us if it were normal times.”
”Not yet Ma’am. We were trying to get you and the civilians to a place of safety first. Things have kind of developed on their own as we went along. Now that we literally hiked off with their whole camp we can ensure you all have viable shelter.” ”Once we get you set up, some of us can try to get to the Rangers.” ”Can you think of any other course of action? I don’t want to sound like a negative Nancy, but I am sure any known strategic site is going to be targeted. The enemy appears to have effective intel and multiple units active in the forest.”
”Heh! Check it out! With Faerieth’s magic, we were able to carry off a whole Hob campsite, weapons, food, tents, gear and all!” He shakes hands and looks happy to see the villagers before moving over towards Aubrin. ”Hey. You done slackin off yet? We’re fightin a war out there still you know!?” He chuckles. ”Good to see you’re still on this side of the dirt ma’am.”
”Hope we get there soon!”
”I think we need to drop off the gear and get our people and Aubrin in deep someplace where they can hole up and rest. Then we need to find the Rangers and see what help we can get.” ”We looted some good arms and armor now to form up our militia, or at least give them some training so they can defend themselves.”
Big John carried away the entire campsite all the while fighting the urge to strike Conan the Barbarian poses and talking in a thick Austrian accent!
Big John gathers all he can. If something has to be left behind it wood be the padded armor which is bulky and can be set ablaze. He will try to drag stuff off with one of the tents if it means he can drag more weight. ”These tents will be great for sheltering the people and Sor won’t be wanting for arrows.”
Big John’s face breaks into a grin. ”I’m a lot better now that the medic is back up. Heh!” John looks very relieved. ”I just got a little winded is all. They didn’t land a blow on me.” He gets more serious. ”I was worried we had lost you there for a bit. You were smackin the stuffing outta’em and they slipped in a lucky blow.” John accepts the potion that will allow him to carry more. ”I’ll carry all I can. I suppose we will have to burn the rest?” He smiles at Darry. ”Your plan sounds better than me making a last stand here to cover the escape, just make sure you don’t leave us hangin.” Looking over the pile of gear he says. ”I can use that heavy draw Composite Longbow there, but if one of you archer types can use it, you’ve got first dibs.” ”I would like on of the healing potions though.”
”I think she is still breathing!”, John says excitedly before suddenly being overcome with a rush of emotion. He pushed his giant sausage fingers into his eyes and wiped away the tears welling up there. ”Anyone else have a potion still?”, he choked out. ”If we could get her something for her head and maybe a blanket too.” He looks around defensively. ”How many got away!? They sounded a horn too. We are going to be balls deep in Hobs soon if there are anymore around.” Big John adjusts the cradled half elf in his arms, ready to carry her away to safety if needed, but he is so winded that he remains in a kneeling position, his muscles quivering. ”Just gotta get my breath . . . just gotta . . . <<<sigh>>> . . . “ Big John looks like a bear holding a baby in his arms. As he tried to calm down from the recent battle his eyes look out at the trees, but seem to focus on something 1000 yards away.
”NO!!!” Big John cries out in pained anguish as the rage leaves his body and the swirling spirits dive back in to their host. The large man scoops up the fallen half elf in his arms and pours his only healing potion down her throat. He pats her face with one hand while trying to rub some life into her limbs. ”Come on girl! Stay with us, don’t die on me!”
Big John takes a risk hoping that he can end the veteran warrior in front of him. He quickdraws to his heavy flail sending its leering head into his foe’s chest while the screaming spirits swirling about him also reach out to touch the hobgoblin with their negative energy! ”Catch!”
”Aye! Right good stick work Faerieth!” ”Keep those lyrics comin Yaron! I think I’ll add a line of my own.” ”Heh! . . . There once was an Ironfang recruit named Jed, who was killed little kids in their beds! Until he got in’nah fight a lil’over his head!”— Big John slashed hard.
”and got himself struck dead! Heh! Heh!”
The blow glanced off of Big John’s battered but sturdy shield. He brings it down and slashed in return with his broad bladed long sword. ”Heh! You want some too!? Don’t slip on your comrades guts there boy’oh!”
”Here’s to hopin we run outta Hobbies before I run outta steam!”
Big John’s sword came back before he thrust the tip forward not plunging it into the hobgoblin, ”Look around, when your eyes next open you will be in whatever hell your gods sent you from.”
Unable to attack at the opening of the hostilities, Big John found a hobgoblin at the edge of the foliage. With his shield up, he brought his broad bladed sword up in a savage arc!
Big John heads to the nearest enemy he can reach. As he runs three blue hued spirits are joined with a newer one a little larger and greenish in color. ”This one’s for Gilida!” He yells as he comes down hard with his hand axe! As the weapon swings the greenish specter burrows through the intended target, its crude visage curled in a vengeful grin. VS. Flatfooted
Tears well up in John’s eyes, but he wipes them away and the redness rises in his cheeks and neck. Cherubic spirits crawl up and out of his skin swirling around his body silently screaming ahead of spectral vapor trails. If the man seems them, onlookers cannot tell. ”Gods dammit!” His eyes search the skins looking for smaller than average ones. ”This will not stand, this will not stand today.” ”Let the Hobby’s’ hit the floor!” He stands ready to charge with his broad bladed sword and battle scarred shield.
Big John sighs. ”We are experiencing mission creep, but number one, we are the families only hope. Number two we are better off hunting the enemy before they hunt us. Number three, I want to kill some Hobs. We can deal with them, maybe save some people and can then cut back south.” ”I think we deal with them now on our terms, rather than put it off and have them ambush us at a time of their liking.” ”What do you guys think?”
You are an amazing writer and role player Arlen. I have enjoyed playing with you and you have brightened my life. I know this virtual space makes it harder to connect with the person typing the words. Misunderstandings are common and the other person’s tone and intent are based on the readers interpretation. In my own case I often have a hard time writing my character and having people see them the way I am trying to portray them. I became a PbP player out of necessity and a way to fulfill time and transport myself out of reality and give my mind something to escape to. I have no idea if your feelings are driven from disinterest or depression, but I wish you the absolute best. I have found that if I can allow myself to get swept a long with the current a little bit I can save my energy and paddle for the shore, it is better than fighting against it and simply treading water is exhausting and gets me no where. Swim for what makes you feel alive. Thank you for letting us know how you are feeling rather than just disappearing. I always wonder and worry about those who just vanish. Thank you Arlen and I wish you Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and the highest hopes and happiness in the coming New Year.
”Here it is.” The big man traces above the signs with the tip of his sword. ”Sor can check my work, but . . . “ He shifts so the rest can see. ”The squad here, a patrol of twelve or so Ironfang Legion style hobnailed sandals, trooped by here . . . then stopped here.” ”These marks here show they dragged Gilida out of the woods. It was a couple of barefooted goblin types, had their fun with her over several hours.” He swallows before continuing. ”When they tired of it.” Big John thrusts his sword in the direction they left. ”Then they marched off to the East. Based on the sharpness of the track edges and the clumped soil, between 12 and 18 hours ago.”
Big John rolls Gilida’s limbs over in his hands. He probes a few of the wounds and inspects her neck. He briefly looks under part of her clothing. He sits back in his haunches for a bit. ”F$&!in bastards! . . . damn Hob bastards.” He gets up and paces with his hands on his hips and face lifted towards the sky trying to manage his breathing. ”Damn it Gilida . . . “ He presses his hands into his eyes. ”They just tortured her, just . . . Mangled her for the fun of it. None of these injuries are decidedly lethal blows. The bastards just . . . All of these injuries were shallow and carefully placed to cause pain and a slow death.” ”Did she actually know anything? Did she have any information they really needed or even cared about? Probably not.” ”The rest of you look at this and look hard. This is the enemy, this is who they are. This is what we are protecting those villagers from.” John walks away a bit and tries to calm himself. He begins reading the tracks and trail signs to see what they tell him.
”Why did they leave her bag?” Big John draws his broad bladed sword.
Big John sighs, but not upset. ”I really hope you are proven right Yaron, but they may have mounted units and I doubt their forward infantry elements are burdened with having to forage for supply, tending their wounded or moving non-combatants.” ”Could anyone tell if the Fey moved us and erased the signs of our passage behind us? If so that is a big advantage because I am sure their scouts would have cut our path. It’s not going to take a master tactician to figure we are going to go East staying North of the river.” ”We should consult with the Green too. Maybe she has some wisdom or knows of some hidden asset or something.”
”Yeah. If any of the defense network is still functioning the Rangers should have some intelligence about what’s going on.” ”Im all for hearing to the Redoubt, but I just want to put it out there that the Rangers are a valid—if not the only military target in the area . . . so the Hobs may be headed that way too.” ”Maybe we can have Arlen keep the rest of our charges moving East at a manageable pace along the main forest tree line?” John’s large finger traces a line along his rough map of the area. ”At least they would be putting a little distance between them and the advancing Hobs. If the Ranger’s are already under siege or deployed elsewhere we can pick them back up and head for another location to the East or get deep in the heart of the woods.”
The big man sits up quickly and takes in his surroundings. ”Well, son of a bitc—“ Big John shoots a glance at Faerieth. ”um, birch tree.” He lays back down on the ground and let’s out a laugh. ”Heh heh heh. Well, she got one over on us.” He gets up and takes note of the suns position on the horizon and the shadows on the ground while scanning for land marks trying to discern time of day, direction and relative direction.
He pulls out his rough map of the area. ”Right before I passed out she said “they” had crossed the river. I don’t suppose she meant any of Yaron’s traveling band mates.” He takes stock of his items and starts checking on who and what is still with them.
Come back soon Arlen.
”Eh, I’ve eaten worse. Ever had boot sole soup? We had to take out neetsfoot oiled leather belts and—“ He watches Faerieth cringing. ”During the siege of . . .” Seeing her trying not to gag he stops telling his story. ”Ah well, no one wants to hear that story anyway right? Down the hatch then.” He fills his cavernous mouth and swallows it down as fast as possible. ”Ghaww! Phew! That’s the stuff!” Pounds the rear of a ham fist on his left breast helping the slew down. ”Heh, hope those eyeballs actually do something and you didn’t just drop em in there for garnishment.”
Big John grins at Arlen’s flushed cheeks. ”Heh heh heh, Arlen, looks like you got major wood over here. Heh, heh, heh. Now you’re going to have to really lay into the lumber and get choppin. Heh heh.” The man snickers at his own joke. ”All ribbing aside—Oh now that’s funny! heh heh, ribbing. Heh.” ”Anyways, I’ve got a hatchet and there is a hand axe in the wagon. We got two battle axes, but I didn’t see if the heads were profiled in a way with which we can cut wood with them.” ”We could really use a saw, a splitting maul, a sledge and wedge or a felling axe for this.” ”Theres a couple of ways to whack that up, but just using a couple of hatchets to do the job is going to be a beast.” He sighs heavily. ”But, maybe that’s why she is makin us do it.” He walks over to the log and puts his hands on his hips and looks around. ”Basically you have to start on a slice of the log. Get the two hatchets in on either side and get a gap goin, take one out, start a wood wedge next to the initial cut with the other . . . Oh, and we can use the battle axes to jam in and widen the gap with leverage even if we can’t chop with them and keep using more wedges until we take the first half round plank off and then keep working the corners . . . “ ”I guess years of forage and homesteading might come in handy after all.”
”Heh, well maybe he will do anything, but the rest of us still have standards and morals, but if payment is needed what do you have in mind?”
Take the boots Sor, I think it is useful for your Skirmish and flanking?
Big John shimmies down the rope. ”Heh, This is a cool little hidey-hole.” He looks around.
”Eh? What just happened?”
I would happily take the boots, but Sor might be better with them? Who wants the dagger? It is +1 and usable by any character, maybe a short sword for a halfling?
”Tricky wizards.” Big John shrugs. ”Lets do it.”
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