Dolwen throws his weight into it as well.
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Dolwen seems nonplussed. He grips his axe and mutters angrily about the rain and everything else. Keeping an eye out for Hannah, the elf is less than pleased when the light goes out-- of course they'd not get even a moment's rest...
Dolwen watches everyone go, sparing few apathetic glances away from his food and drink. Finally, the armed and dangerous travelling companions of his have left, bustled off into the pouring rain. Slowly, he stands and picks up his axe from under his chair. Dolwen, grumbling, makes his way out of the room. As he passes Minous, he offers a shrug and says "He's not related to me," before passing into the rain and whatever horrors lay beyond.
Dolwen nods apologetically. "Sorry for biting your head off. Lots of elves 'round these parts that like to stick it to a city-born like myself. Apologies," he says, and shovels a warm heap of tavern food into his mouth. He listens idly to the story, more concerned with the road ahead than idle tales of whimsical fancy.
Mid-meal, Dolwen looks up, apprehension on his face. "I'm a kinsman now?" "The drink took the bite off the cuts and everything else is helping it along fine enough. Had to tear up my favorite shirt to bind the wound, but, I can always find another." "But, again: Kinsman. I was born in Altdorf, mate. I don't know hide nor hair of whatever forest you come from."
Slumping back against the wall after drinking down the foul elixir, Dolwen lets out a rumbling sigh. He can feel the warmth of alcohol begin its work, distracting him from the pain, but the pain he feels is truly deep-- down inside, in his very soul. "If only I had done something back there-- shut my mouth and kept a look-out. If only... Damn the luck, and damn me," he muttered, curling into a little ball and nursing the half-full bottle, drinking it and more and more resembling a pathetic dog. With a heaving sigh, Dolwen steadies himself to stand. Suddenly, he's positive again-- but still possessing the same wry, testing voice. "Alright, then. Time to eat," he says, clapping his hands together and thanking the proprietor for his special ale.
"Ladies? I wish I was wrestling with ladies. Even the wrong sort. At least then I'd have a good story to tell." With no other options, Dolwen shrugs in agreement. "If there are no bandages? Do in Tilea as the Tileans do. I'd truly appreciate that 'something', sir. And maybe a rag and some water to clean the wounds with?" The thunderclap gives him unease.
"Generous of you," the elf says. He's no stranger to exhaustion, but the battle and the charge through the forest seem to have drained him of all of his energy. "I'll accept that offer." Dolwen removes the pack from his back with a pained grunt, leaning on a wall and collapsing to the floor. He passes the bag back to Hannah with an uncertain grip. His wounds are a mix of sticky, hardened blood and wet rainy runoff, made only worse by the long journey. The gash along his forehead will no doubt scar. "I need a healer's touch," he says to the proprietor, coughing.
"I'm a man of my word, but it's become less safe on my back. I'll carry it until I die, I suppose." Dolwen grits his teeth, letting his focus drift from the pain to the woods, brimming with cries. "We need to go. Now."
Dolwen bleeds mightily from a gash on his brow and across his chest. He hefts the pack carrying Hanna's things and winces strongly, but doesn't complain. "I need to have these wounds bound, and if I don't, I'll soon need to see a priest. But I agree with the dwarf." Glancing to Hanna, he says "Sorry for bleeding on your bag. Flawless martial technique, there. Starting to wonder if you really are just a scribe, or maybe a wandering noblewoman or knight errant."
Dolwen takes note of the blow and moves to leap aside.
But he's not lucky-- it tags him across the cheek bone and ear, adding another bloody mark to the wounded elf.
One eye slicked with blood, he notes that Hanna has knocked one of the Beastmen completely silly and advances on the opportunity she's opened, making two reckless swings.
He cuts into its arms as it tries to defend itself, ruthlessly attacking. "If the halfling can keep the other distracted for a moment, we have a shot."
I don't know if we're using fortune points still, or advanced armor. Can you tell us what your house rules are?
= failure!
Dolwen lets out a frustrated shout as the blade slips across his chest, leaving a burbling bloody streak on his armor. "Argh!" "Dwarf-- let's take him togeth--" he catches the beastman's descending weapon with a parry, wrestling its weapon to force it to overextend, and then grabs it by the fur on the shoulder-- chopping at it recklessly. "Screw you!" = failure
Its horns do all the work of a main gauche, parrying with loud clops and he ends where he began-- blood-covered and angry on the side of the road, facing down a bleeding beastman.
But what really gets his attention is Hanna's hand sparking... Enough to give him decent pause. He hasn't got enough time to think over his next course of action.
You cast, attacked, and declared parry-- can't do all three. Cast and attack checks out, though. I'm waiting to see if Hanna attacked or if I should lay into the monster. Automatic hits and +1d10 damage? Yes please.
The book I'm looking at (published 2005, p130-131) says Ulric's Fury requires first a 10 on the damage roll, then another successful attack roll, and only then can you just keep rolling the exploding damage die. Is there some errata I'm missing? Good catch. I'll fix that right away.
It's WFRP. If a peasant is ever happy, the universe reacts violently and with prejudice in response. For confused people: Here's a guide
In example, if I roll and hit, I flip it to 41 and look on the chart. Left arm. Got him.
Add 10% to your WS or BS on your next action, provided it's an attack. It doesn't last round to round. Most spells have a cast-time. If you spend an extra half-action, you can using the Channeling skill. You can only use this action once a round. You move your full movement and attack with +10% WS. Minimum of 4 yards/2 squares etc etc I don't think we're using maps. Unlike Pathfinder, you can turn mid-charge. If you are in a fight with someone, and want to leave-- you must disengage. It moves you one movement away. If you don't, everyone in the entire fight who wants to can take a free non-action attack on you. Don't run away without disengaging. It's a bad move. You move your speed. This isn't Pathfinder's "declare a thing" ready. It means taking items out or unsheathing weapons. You can also put away an item in-hand at the same time. So if you've got a bow out and you want to sword, one half-action has the bow safely stored and the sword in your hands. No Pathfinder "AWAY MY CROSSBOW" free actions throwing your priceless artifacts to the ground to engage in melee. Guns have a reload time. It takes that long to load them. You get up from the ground, or mount an animal. You make one attack, melee or ranged. If you have multiple attacks, you make them all. You need Attacks 2 or better to use this. If the weapon you're using is a loaded pistol, you get max 2 attacks, one per weapon. If you want to use a skill, like basketweaving, in combat, the DM will tell you a skill test to make. Most skills in combat are non-actions.
One attack at +20% Weapon Skill in a "furious melee attack." After, you can't parry or dodge. For the people who can't parry or dodge, I'm just saying: Get furious. You don't attack. Attacks on you get -20% Weapon Skill. Your turn ends immediately, but you get a half-action for later, which you can use at ANY time for ANY reason. With the GM's style of simultaneous combat, I don't see this being used a lot. You make an opposed Weapon Skill test with your enemy, and if you win, your next attack can't be parried or dodge. If you don't attack right away, you lose your bonus. One attack at -10% Weapon Skill. You get +10% to Parry and Dodge tests. Jumpin' is a full action. Don't go caterwauling around on the battlefield. An opposed weapon skill test pushes the enemy one square. If you want, you follow. This doesn't disengage you, and you can't push them into terrain features like spiked pits or fireplaces, so what's the point of this action? You can now parry if you take a half-action to get ready to parry. If you have a weapon in your off hand, you don't have to take this to parry, but if you do-- you get two parries a round. You boogie your full speed, giving enemies a -20% on Ballistic Skill to hit you. But melee gets +20% Weapon Skill to hit you, so it's a fair trade. These are all the types of action, generally speaking. ... In conclusion, Critical Wounds
Fate Points I hope this is helpful. Next time, I'll go over Insanity Points... GM, feel free to make any corrections for house rules.
"Son of a b#@!+! Don't run!" shouts Dolwen at the halfling. Distracted drawing his hand-axe from his hip, he very narrowly dies, a beastman's blow edging close to his skull-- yet narrowly missing. Using the haft of the axe, he parries the frenzied follow-up, kicking the beastman backwards with a struggling shout. Stepping forward, Dolwen plants his axe firmly in the left forearm of his chosen abomination, a squirt of blood drawing a red line across his leather jerkin. He shouts a rage-filled epithet into the beastman's face, retrieving Cleavy's blade with a wet squelch.
Keeping himself light on his toes, he narrows his enemies' frame of attack by turning his side to them, holding Cleavy at the ready. Nargond speaks; the elf scoffs. "I'm not their keeper! Someone else handle it!"
Dolwen exchanges his bag for Hanna's, handing her a backpack that must be leagues lighter without what he believes to be a heavy manuscript inside. Slipping over his shoulders, he continues walking along. "I knew you'd come around." "Now-- what's this about a college in Middenheim? A mentor? You sound like a learned type. And by the weight of this, your mentor's treat-ease, this is a book? Interesting. Next you'll tell me you can read."
Good point. (Hanna is rich!)
Dolwen shrugs. "A woman adverse to letting a man carry her things? I find that interesting. There's no shortage of women throwing boxes and barrels into men's arms where I'm from. To find the one who refuses has me wondering just what's in your 'burden' there you can't bear to part with. But if you insist, I'll leave it be. No intention of annoying you, after all." He plods along a moment in silence. "Dolwen. Dolwen's my name. It sounds like everyone else is readying arms in case of beastman attack."
A voice "Let's not act as though we're under siege just yet. You'll scare the women and moot folk," Dolwen calls from the rear. The swarthy, stocky and strangely human elf had remained quiet for the majority of the journey-- up until now. He lets out a deep sigh. "We need to make haste more than battle plans." Brushing back wet hair behind his pointed ears-- nicked like a tomcat's and pierced like a pirate's-- he makes his way to the firm ground. He shows no discomfort in the rain, having seen and felt much worse off of the coast in the Sea of Claws. He looks at the human woman, struggling with her staff and backpack. Taking a step closer, he speaks quietly to spare any embarrassment. "You're straining like a mule with that bag on your back, and the human is right. Let me carry it a moment for you."
There we go. I've put everything under the alias, including a lengthy background inspired by kdtompos. |