Elrik Barrow's page

Elrik grimaced as the two hobgoblins rushed forwards together. A sidestep and he met the female Ironfang's wild swing with his shield as her axe blades bit into the heavy oak and clanged against the shield spikes. The force of the blow put him off balance though, and instead of parrying the sword blow of the other Ironfang the blow knocked the sword from his fingers.

The feral grin on the hobgoblin's face etched into Elrik's mind as it directed the point into his side, skipping past the edge of his thin breastplate and stabbing deep into his ribs.

With a hiss of pain that turned into a wordless cry, Elrik stumbled backwards, then down to one knee, and then to the ground.

Current HP: -1

No worries, thanks for keeping us updated. Everyone seems to be having spats of super-busy this month.

Elrik heaves a sigh as, despite some off-course arrows, the wolf goes down quickly without any further injuries to the villagers or his compatriots protecting them. As the others began heading towards the front doors of the shrine, Elrik turned to the two elf hunters as he handed the crossbow off to the dwarf. "We should have done this before, but butcher the wolf quickly for whatever decent cuts you can. We're headed across the bridge and we'll need as much food as we can carry even if we don't have a chance to salt it or cure it. We'll just eat it first."

Leaving the two to their quick work, Elrik crossed to the entrance just as the others threw open the door. The sharp bark of warning from inside and the skinchanger loosing an arrow let him know that there were enemies inside. One more fight, just one more, he muttered, unslinging his shield again and drawing his sword. Swallowing the dry, sticky sensation from his mouth, Elrik pushed forward, the sharp pain in his side still seething.

Inside, the two Ironfang were both facing him down the central path through the pews. Elrik slammed his sword against his shield and took a few steps forward, setting himself in a defensive posture next to a row of pews and waving both of the hobgoblins on. "Come on, you leather-skinned goats. Nirmathas is here. Nirmathas!"

Current AC: 24vGoblinoids
Move: Forward 15ft
Standard: Total Defense (+4ac)
Swift: Battle cry for no effect

"I meant all at once- Fire quickly, before it can start to run!"

Crossbow Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Crossbow Piercing Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 3

Elrik was thankful he didn't need to intercede with the elf siblings as the others coerced them not to run off and get themselves killed. As the brief argument ran it's course, he wondered if they would have listened to his rights and privileges as a knight of the realm. He could call up arms to defend the land, raise a militia if needed and conscript those able to fight. At least, he could do that lawfully until someone with a larger title than his own pittance came through. No need to test them, he thought thankfully. No need to test any of them. Hopefully I never will.

As the group began to move, Elrik took a moment to approach Oreld. "Take this, but keep it low and cover it however you need if you have to," he said, handing the alchemist shopkeep the everburning torch. "When you have the chance, take a glance at these as well. You're a learned man, more than I at least. See if you can find a weakness we can use to bring down the bridge behind us."

-----

As they were approaching the shrine, Elrik hesitated for a moment as his thoughts drifted amongst his alertness. He'd been seeing flashes of the bodies outside the forge, only to remember some of them had been animals. "Gorum's gnarled toes," he swore under his breath. Those might have made for some decent meals with some quick butchering work, he thought, then shook off the frustration. Then again, maybe the smell of fresh meat would have just led the Ironfang to us.

The shrine, sitting close along next to the main road and the bridge, was a common sight for anyone living in town, but with the village being fired and the screams still occasionally echoing through the night sky it took Elrik a moment to realize how quickly they had moved.

The skinchanger and the elf woman with the magical talents took the lead and Elrik fell back a bit, watching behind the group and urging on some of the slower villagers as they hauled their shared loads through the back alleys and shadows. When he heard the elf woman hissing and calling at something to 'get,' Elrik moved forward again to find the others discussing moving around the back of the building. From where they were the coast seemed clear, and while that wolf seemed marginally occupied for the moment it was still an Ironfang wardog. It might attack their backs, or it might even run to find it's master.

"Why don't we just put it down from here?" Elrik asked, then looked back and waved up Lirosa and Taidel, along with the dwarf caravan guard who was still toting the heavy crossbow. "You two wanted to do some hunting? Now is your chance. We have three bows between you elves," he said gesturing to the siblings and Barhador, then took the crossbow from the dwarf, "I'll shoot the crossbow, the kitchen lad can do his mind throwing thing, and you, my lady, can add whatever arcane strike you can muster right now." His thoughts humming, Elrik didn't even notice that he had practically deferred to the elf woman and turned and looked down to the halfling woman as well, "You wouldn't happen to follow in your people's tradtion of the sling as well, would you healer?"

Stuff from the Forge.

PP: 40
Unclaimed Loot:
- Dwarf Merchant Guard: Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts, Heavy Mace
- Oreld: Plans for Stump Remover Acid, Everburning Torch, Keys, PLans for Bridge
- Other Villagers: 3x Daggers, Leather Armour, Mortar + Pestle, Portable Alchemy Lab, Alchemy Supplies (200g, or 600g worth if crafted), 4x scorched studded leather armor, 4x light steel shields, 4x longswords, 4x longbows, 52x arrows
- Mwk Backpack holding 1x longsword, 2x battleaxes, 1x Alchemical silver rapier, 1x mwk light steel shield, 1x climber’s kit, 8x waterskins, 1x Fancy Buckler with Symbol
- Loose Coin: 46g

As the elf woman followed him in to the forge and started talking to the rock thing with that sort of baby-talk women always got around young children and cute animals, Elrik edged his way around the room and hoisted the torch off of it's nook near the forge, then made his way over to the longbows, grabbing the keys and the unmistakable drawings of the bridge on the way. If they needed to take it down, perhaps the smithy had taken notes on where it was most vulnerable to collapse.

Almost jumping right out of his armour when the voices called down from the loft, Elrik nearly dropped the keys in his haste to grab for his sword with the hand he wasn't holding the lit torch with. Lifting the light higher, he scanned for whoever - or whatever - was hiding up near the rafters.

"Even if it turns aggressive, you should get down now while you can. The shop is on fire and will quickly spread to the forge, and only the Ironfang deserve a roasting like that."

Stopping short, Elrik's grip tightened on his blade as he stared down the strange, man-shaped pile of rocks that seemed to be vibrating near the back wall of the forge. Taking a few more steps into the building, Elrik divided his attention between it and looking around to see if there was anything else. The rock-thing didn't have the same aggressive, and ugly, appearance that most of the Ironfang Legion did but that could mean anything.

"You, ah, boulderman. If you're a friend, you may want to get out of here before the fire collapses the building; if you're a foe, I'll leave you in here and we'll be on our way."

Elrik can't attempt the Planes check since it's DC11 and he can't get over a 10 untrained, so he has literally no idea what this is. Did my 21 perception spot anything else in here?

PP: 40
Unclaimed Loot:
- Dwarf Merchant Guard: Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts, Heavy Mace
- Oreld: Plans for Stump Remover Acid
- Other Villagers: 3x Daggers, Leather Armour, Mortar + Pestle, Portable Alchemy Lab, Alchemy Supplies (200g, or 600g worth if crafted), 4x scorched studded leather armor, 4x light steel shields, 4x longswords, 4x longbows, 52x arrows
- Mwk Backpack holding 1x longsword, 2x battleaxes, 1x Alchemical silver rapier, 1x mwk light steel shield, 1x climber’s kit, 8x waterskins, 1x Fancy Buckler with Symbol
- Loose Coin: 46g

As he began gathering supplies, Elrik did his best to ignore the stinging, cloying smoke in his eyes and concentrate on moving quickly. The weapons went first and were easiest, bundling them up by their hafts and scabbards and shoving them roughly into the nearby backpack, followed by the other useful odds and ends behind the shop counter. Slinging one of the shoulder straps awkwardly over his shoulder next to his own satchel of supplies, he searched quickly and took up a handful of sacks the shopkeep must have used for customers. Quickly shifting around the room, his lungs starting to feel the strain of holding in the air while rushing about, Elrik quickly scooped shelves of foodstuffs and other useful items into the sacks, tying them off roughly and slinging them towards the open window.

As his lungs began to scream at him, and the smoke billowed thick and dark, Elrik dodged a falling beam in a shower of sparks and decided it was time to leave - only to notice the half-broken floorboard and the gleaming metal below. Taking a chance, he scrambled back and hauled out a finely crafted buckler with a strange symbol emblazoned across the front that he couldn't recognize. Clutching the small shield in one hand, he ducked below the growing fire and smoke to the window and, quickly and roughly, tossed the sacks of goods back out the window before following them.

Rolling away from the fired building, Elrik coughed and gasped for breath, raising the faceplate of his helm and struggling to remove one of his gauntlets to wipe at his eyes. "Augh," he groaned, slowly standing and wiping the spittle and tears from his now soot-covered face.

Turning to the others, Elrik watched as they scrambled to revive the townsfolk they had managed to pull from the burning building. I didn't want this, he thought. Why did I ignore them? He had always been the soldier, someone else had been the commander. It was a reality he had learned quickly at the Spans - men were a commodity in war, and they were meant to be spent. Supplies on the other hand were necessities.

Bile rose in Elrik's throat as he thought of himself sending men to their deaths, into the maw of an enemy army to buy just a few more minutes for proper battlelines to be drawn or an ambush to be averted. He slipped his hand back into his gauntlet, then lowered the faceplate of his sallet helm to hide the look in his eyes. Waving the townsfolk out from their hiding places in the nearby alley, Elrik spoke loudly and quickly. "Gather up the supplies, share the weight around. We need everything we can carry. You," he said, pointing at a younger lad, "You saw how I searched the other hobgoblin bodies and took what was of use? Good, take from these as well, start with that one and I'll make sure the others are dead."

As the townsfolk started moving quickly, Elrik skirted around the others as they knelt beside the fire victims, quickly stabbing each of the hobgoblins splayed across the ground to make sure they were dead. The shop was fully ablaze now, the fire moving over to forge- The forge. Gorum's fist.

Drawing the point of his blade out of the last hobgoblin, Elrik ducked inside the open entrance of the forge proper and quickly looked around for anything else of us. The shopkeep had one hidden cash, it was possible there was another in here as well and if it was anything as finely made as that buckler it could be useful even just for trade.

Perception in Forge: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Sad vindication is sad. I will say the people inside succumbed pretty quickly, but I had a feeling we had a time limit.

I made the assumption that a shop like this would have some sacks or something for customers to carry loose goods. Hope this is ok. I also packed a bit more than usual into the post only because I assume the others will be doing heal checks and things on the fire victims that would take a little bit of time.

Also I know there's some sort of creature in the forge, but Elrik doesn't so I left it open in case thing's have changed in there.

Edit: Wat are these perception rolls I'm getting.

PP: 28+12=40
Unclaimed Loot:
- Dwarf Merchant Guard: Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts, Heavy Mace
- Oreld: Plans for Stump Remover Acid
- Other Villagers: 3x Daggers, Leather Armour, Mortar + Pestle, Portable Alchemy Lab, Alchemy Supplies (200g, or 600g worth if crafted)
- Mwk Backpack holding 1x longsword, 2x battleaxes, 1x Alchemical silver rapier, 1x mwk light steel shield, 1x climber’s kit, 8x waterskins, 1x Fancy Buckler with Symbol

As the hobgoblin collapsed, Elrik almost cried out with relief but kept his panicked thankfulness in check. He was Sir Elrik now, he needed - no, the villagers needed to see him like that. They didn't need a skittish soldier, they didn't need unnecessary celebrations. A level head would get some of them through.

Elrik realized he had fallen to one knee, panting as he caught his breath. He looked over at the hobgoblin and stabbed his sword into it's face. Dead. Good, he though, then slowly stood.

The shop was still on fire. The others hadn't been able to pry open one of the windows or doors. "Devil's left tit," he swore under his breath, slamming his sword home into it's sheath and rushing over to help. As he and the others tried to make an opening, a stray thought occurred to Elrik - who had boarded the shop up like this to begin with? Were the hobgoblins trying to keep something in, or had someone known this was coming - was there a traitor in town, someone working for the Ironfang?

As the boards slowly came free, Elrik put the stray thought out of his mind for now. There were people and supplies inside that they needed to get out, and he hated to think it but the supplies might be more important at this point. When the elf woman with arcane talents darted inside, Elrik took in his own deep breath and went into the smoking building as well, ducking low to try and see beyond the thick smoke from the wet thatched roof.

Bodies, racks and selves of supplies. The smoke stung his eyes, the heat of the fire growing by the moment. If they're unconscious, we'll need to heal them. If they're dead, we lose the supplies for nothing. More wounded, even those just weakened by smoke, were going to eat up their ability to move quickly and quietly. They were going to stretch their supplies.

Gritting his teeth, Elrik left the elf woman to her ministrations with the people and went to the shelves, quickly searching for the most useful supplies he could get his hands on.

Woof, I needed to double check Elrik's alignment while making that choice.

Hold Breath: Elrik can hold his breath for 28 rounds/2min 48sec

Perception for Supplies: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Hey all, sorry about my absence. Holidays really put a screw to my usual routine. Catch-up post coming shortly, though it looks like we've all be understandably slow in posting.

As the warmth and wet of his blood started to soak through his undershirt, Elrik kept thinking about the joke a lordling had made when he and Elrik and a few others were presented to the Lord-General. Elrik had been the only man to be knighted who wasn't nobility - the only man without land and means, or that family to provide such, and so his parade armour had been made and provided at the expense of the Lord-General himself. It had no family crests, no flairs of colour or denotations of rank and status. They make it in black so that you can't see the blood.

Elrik gritted his teeth, his breath coming out in short hisses as he swung his sword and blocked with his shield, stepping forward and backpeddling as he and the Ironfang soldier tested each other over and over. His world closed in, focusing into the shift of feet and shoulders, burying away the aches in his arms and the pain and the looming silence from inside the shop he hadn't quite been able to process.

Current AC: 20 v Goblinoids
Full Round Attack
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Longsword Slashing Dmg: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Shield Bash Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Shield Piercing Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

The slice of pain along his ribs as the Ironfang blade drew blood made Elrik hiss even as the hobgoblin also stumbled back with a grunt of pain. The other one was on the ground now, hopefully wounded enough that it wouldn't be scrambling back to it's feet, but he didn't have time to check. He and the Ironfang each hesitated for a moment, sizing each other up.

Elrik spit at the hobgoblin, then took a jerking step forward before pivoting and slashing out with his sword with a fast cut followed by a more carful backhand blow with his shield to try and put the Ironfang soldier on it's heels.

Current HP: 5/12
Current AC: 20vGoblinoids
Full Round Attack
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Longsword Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Shield Bash Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Shield Piercing Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

The skinchanger pressed his advantage behind the hobgoblin, and Elrik fought in a haze of hack and block, lashing out while he desperately tried to both keep the Ironfang's attention and keep his own skin intact.

Current AC: 20 v Goblinoid
Full Round Attack v SE; if he gets killed shift to SW, lose flanking bonus
Note: I'm running out of interesting things to say just standing here hack and slashing :P
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 + 2 = 12
Longsword Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Shield Bash Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 + 2 = 19
Shield Bludgeoning Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

The heat from the flames was starting to lick from the roof and turn the already hot and heavy fight into a sweaty, bone-aching affair. Panting heavily, Elrik trusted that Aubrin had enough sense to continue dumping water from wherever Cayden and the other Gods pulled it from for their clerics onto the fire. Letting out a wordless roar, he used the distraction of the skinchanger skirting around the backside of one of the Ironfang to press his own advantage.

Somewhere behind him the halfling woman had been darting back and forth, stabbing and threatening with her spear, and Elrik just hoped she could fend off the other soldier again while he committed himself to his sweeping slash and then a slam at the head of the hobgoblin.

Current AC: 20 v Goblinoids
Full Round Attack v flanked SE Hobgoblin, redirect to last HG if it dies but take off Flank bonus.
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 + 2 = 6
Longsword Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Shield Bash Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 + 2 = 9
Shield Piercing Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Edit: I mean, this is just impressive.

A single rivulet of dark blood ran down his blade, but Elrik didn't feel the hot liquid through his gauntlet. Panting now, the stench of viscera and violent death quickly intermixing with the smoke in his lungs, he had a moment of relief as he faced down the two Irongfang. Somehow two Ironfang was a relief at this point.

Behind him the scuffle continued, the halfelf woman and the skinchanger attempting to deal with the hobgoblin closest to the trading post, but he was more worried about the screams of panic coming from inside the building. "Aubrin, more! Tell Cayden to break his still if he needs to, there's people trapped in there."

As he shouted, Elrik took a guarded step back, then rushed the Ironfang to his right, which he hadn't struck back at yet and hoped would surprise it. He led with an overhand chop with the sword and followed with a bash with a short jabbing bash with his shield, careful not to overextend and leave himself open to the other soldier.

Current AC: 20 v Goblinoids
Full Round Attack, target SW hobgoblin.
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Longsword Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Shield Bash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Shield Piercing Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

The back and forth of the fight, strike and block, strike and block, began to feel like the rote exercises back on the training fields. Muscle memory fought the numbness in his arms and the panic in his mind. Now I am surrounded. Damn it. More than that, even though he was surrounded, somehow that half-elf woman had managed to separate herself from the group and was getting chased by the fourth Ironfang.

The smell of smoke and fire had grown and while he wildly blocked and parried, ducking back from an overhead blow, Elrik realized that someone hard started a fire up on the trading company roof. None of this matters if the place burns down. "Aubrin! I hope Cayden is listening, we need water on that roof!"

Dropping his guard slightly, Elrik went on the offensive, risking his own hide briefly to try and put the hobgoblin at his back onto the ground. It was the only way for him to not get skewered from behind in the extended fight.

Current AC: 20 v Goblinoids
No longer Fighting Defensively
Full Round Attack at wounded Hobgoblin to North East. If he dies redirect to South East.
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Longsword Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Shield Bash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Shield Piercing Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Elrik's shield arm was already starting to ache as he caught and blocked the heavy swings of the Ironfang soldiers. There was a cry behind him, and he glanced quickly to see that the halfling woman had a vicious wound as the third hobgoblin struck at her instead of him.

That's our healer, we need her! Elrik thought, grimacing beneath his helmet. "Pick on someone your own size, you ugly mutt," he shouted, slashing a backhand blow at the hobgoblin standing over the halfling woman while raising his shield to defend against the two already beating away at him. Between blows he lashed out suddenly with the shield, punching at one of the hobgoblins before using the space to take a step back.

They almost had me surrounded. I need something at my back. Elrik looked around furtively but there was no way to protect their few fighters and himself at the same time. Well, s+*#. He gritted his teeth and hefted his shield up, preparing for another back and forth with the Ironfang dogs.

Current AC: 22 v Goblinoids
Full Round Attack; still Fighting Defensively (+2AC/-4Atk)
Sword Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 13 at Goblin that struck Clover for Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Shield Bash: 1d20 ⇒ 1 at SE Goblin for Piercing Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Finish with a 5' step West one square

Lol, yeah. Long post is long, thankfully I've noticed before Editing wasn't an option so I've added the Guidance in on the attack.

In other news, I think it's kind of kismut that I took Paranoia as a drawback in the game where someone else is actually using Aid Another as a main feature. Sorry Clover!

Woof. Lost a couple posts the last two days, sorry about the delay.

He had waited too long, and now Elrik was dragging the village folk along with him to stop at his home. The elf, at least, seemed alert and calm if slightly distracted by the new elven woman who had been in the back. I hope it gives him a reason to fight harder, not make stupid mistakes, Elrik thought to himself as he ducked into his small cottage and began grabbing sacks and shoving them towards the door.

His time in the military had ground certain ideas into him, and despite planning on living in his hometown for the rest of his life Elrik still hadn't been able to shake the ability to move on a moments notice. He passed sacks out the door to the waiting hands - the first held his small collection of fishing gear and some cooking implements, the next some personal care items he was sure he would end up sharing; shaving and grooming kits and some equipment maintenance. After handing off a packed soldier's backpack complete with a bedroll and some old hard tack rations, Elrik took a deep breath and opened the one solid piece of furniture in his home, a standing armoire.

Elrik began removing the items quickly but nearly reverantly, then stripped off his now tattered leathers and the torn shirt, kicking off his worn brown working boots. First came the uniform, the cloth cleaned and starched. It wasn't the one he had worn at the Spans, that had been burned while he was still unconcious in the healers tents after the battle. This uniform didn't have the stains of blood and vomit and mud, it nearly sparkled in the light. This one he had worn when he had knelt before his commander, when he had recieved honors he'd only ever dreamed of us a child. The starched shirt, the dense, padded jacket with the military front panel buttoned up one side with simple, polished silver buttons. Gleaming black boots, worn from his walk back through the country to return home but rebuffed until they reflected even the dim gleam of light coming through the dirty and frosted glass of the windows of his cottage.

Next came the parade armor, a gift from the Lord-General for the ceremony. A thin steel breastplate, formed in the likeness of a muscular man's torso with the crest of Nirmathas embossed on the heart, attached to a black leather overcoat and a matching armoured kilt with three strips of darkened steel to protect the legs. Elrik held off on the helmet, quickly donning his worn, black leather gauntlets and looping his iron mace to the black swordbelt before strapping on his sword to the other hip. Finally came the helmet, a fancier version of the sallet helm he had worn into battle, this one had a liftable visor in the front and some flourshed etchings on the peaked, layered point that protected the back of the neck. He had only worn it twice before, but as he settled it onto his head now it felt similar to what he knew. The field of vision through the visor was good, maybe even better than his simple soldiers helm from before, and it still left his mouth and chin open and able to breath easily.

Fully garbed, Elrik stood in front of the door leading back out of the cottage. He glanced back at the bed where his ripped and torn shirt and armour were discarded. Hefting his shield, he took a deep breath, then opened the door. There was something about putting on the armour, about wearing the Nirmathas crest, that steeled him, and when he stepped out and the village folk saw him, the complaints and bargaining to make other stops halted.

Maybe, at least for a little while, he could be Sir Elrik of the Eighth Span for these people.

--- --- ---

Sneaking through the backstreets and behind buildings felt wrong now that Elrik was dressed as a warrior of Nirmathas again, but it also meant keeping the people he had already saved safe. We, he thought silently to himself. We've saved them. There was no denying that the elf skinchanger, the halfling woman and the kitchen boy had all done their share in this.

Coming to the break in the buildings near the Trading outpost, Elrik lifted a hand to warn the elf not to go too far out, but it was too late as the others moved forward as well. They don't know how overconfidence can kill you, he panicked, stepping forward to warn them, but it was too late. Ironfang, lounging about in front of the trading post. The cry went up quickly and all Elrik could think was that they were lucky it wasn't a whole battalion sitting in the space.

Moving forward, Elrik hefted his shield and planted himself in between the others and the hobgoblins. "Just don't light me on fire, lad," he said to the kitchen boy as he passed, then slammed his longsword against the rim of his shield. "Come on, you louse-ridden poxmongers. Face a son of Nirmathas!"

Current AC: 22 v Goblinoids
Move: Full move to get to 2 down and 1 right of Barhador (aka. right in front)
Standard: Fight Defensively (+2AC/-4Atk), Ready Attack on first Hobgoblin to come close
Longsword Readied Attack: 1d20 + 4 - 4 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 4 - 4 + 1 = 15 for Slashing Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

PP: 18+10=28
Unclaimed Loot:
- Dwarf Merchant Guard: Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts, Heavy Mace
- Oreld: Plans for Stump Remover Acid
- Other Villagers: 3x Daggers, Leather Armour, Mortar + Pestle, Portable Alchemy Lab, Alchemy Supplies (200g, or 600g worth if crafted)
- 1x Dust of Tracelessness, 1x Dust of Illusion to Aramis
- Stuff from Elrik is in his profile

Pfft, that assumes he wants a boy watching his back :P

I forsee this being a great little tension until something more gets revealed!

Note: I would post now but I'm on my tablet and need to manage more loot again, so I'm waiting until I can be at my computer.

Mott, do you mind if I include a quick dip in and out of Oreld's in my next post to gather things from my home, or do you want some rolls for that or anything? Not sure how you want to work this, but I figure making it another stop mostly will just slow the game down an extra day for me to write a post about going in and grabbing stuff.

Elrik made a sound somewhere between a distracted sigh and a grunt when Arryn sassed back at him. Part of the soldier wanted to put the lad in his place, but what was the point. When Arryn began waveringly floating the equipment to himself, a look of shock and awe on his face, Elrik winced and turned. New magic was dangerous. He'd seen it on the training field when a lad was pushed too far and hit someone else with a lick of flame conjured from his own mind, and he'd seen it in the terror of men pushed too far on the battlefield.

Hell, maybe what had happened to him had been the same.

Turning back to the wounded shopkeeper, Elrik knelt down next to the halfling as she did her work on the man. "Oreld, why is the back locked up?"

After Elrik stripped the hobgoblin of it's surprisingly diverse collection of equipment he turned to the elf... bird? Whoever this was, they were the strangest skinchanger he had ever even considered. If it hadn't been for the Ironfang outside he might have been afraid for himself and the others, but the elf was on their side for now so he didn't ask questions.

"Be sure to watch both directions," he cautioned. "The Ironfang can be surprisingly quiet when they want to be."

Turning back to the small pile of equipment he has put beside the corpse, along with the growing pile as the villagers stripped poor Oreld's shop, Elrik took a breath and then started sorting. "Here," he called to the halfling kneeling nearby over the wounded. "If they aren't already dead, we need them able to move on their own. Give each of them one of these." He passed along the two healing potions he had found, grimacing as they left his grip. A good potion like that could mean the difference between life or death and were more valuable than the gold most clerics sold them for when in the middle of a fight.

"You, boy," Elrik called next, gesturing the kitchen helper over. "I don't know how you're doing it, and I don't care. You can throw things without touching them, and you're pretty good at it, so throw these." He pointed to a small pile he'd made off to the side including the Alchemist's Fire, Tanglefoot Bags and Thunderstones. "Just try not to light any more of the town on fire. Or hit any of us." As he looked at the lad Elrik was surprised when he realized that the two of them were probably of similar ages. The other man just seemed so young. Full of life. Maybe it was the way he kept looking at the pretty barmaid who was practically clinging to his arm. The lad was living for something. Must be nice, Elrik thought bitterly, turning to the dwarf who addressed him.

"Hold on, ask Oreld once he can talk again," Elrik said. "I'm surprised he didn't lock himself and the wounded miss back there so there might be something there."

Elrik quickly distributed the rest of the items, waiting for Oreld and the other woman to be given their potions. He had pocketed the gold himself on instinct, though he hadn't exactly been secretive about it, and he took the crossbow from the villager who was holding it timidly and pushed it into the arms of the dwarven guard along with the Heavy Mace, giving him a stern look for not offering to arm up earlier considering his tough persona. He then took the daggers and handed them to a few of the others to carry just in case before packing up all the alchemy and healing things and sliding them across the floor to the halfling.

Don't usually like doing quite so much in a single post, but I'm just organizing loot IC

PP: 15+3=18
Unclaimed Loot:
- Dwarf Merchant Guard: Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts, Heavy Mace
- Other Villagers: 3x Daggers, Leather Armour, Mortar + Pestle
- Alchemy Bag to Clover: Mwk Backpack w/ 6x Potions of Guidance, 3x Antiplague, 4x Bloodblock, 1x Fire Ward Gel, 2x Flask of Defoliant, 1x Antitoxin, 5x Vial of Oil, 1x Unidentified Potion, 1x Healer's Kit
- 2x Cure Light Wounds to Clover for Oreld + Woman
- 3x Alchemist's Fire, 2x Tanglefoot Bags, 2x Thunderstones to Arryn
- 1x Smokestick to Barhador
- 1x Smokestick, 16gp to Elrik

Hustling across the small street, Elrik stood looking back and forth down either end to make sure there weren't more Ironfang rounding one of the bends ready to take them from behind. The fight at the door was swift, the soft snap of the elfs bow releasing twice and then the other's quickly entered. Elrik glanced inside and saw that there didn't seem to be any more enemies inside, so he waved the furtive-looking villagers from where he had left them hiding in the alley.

Ushering them inside quickly, Elrik stepped in last and closed the door quietly. The inside was lit and thankfully the smoke from the fires around town hadn't yet seeped in her, allowing for everybody to breath deeply and catch their breaths for a moment while the halfling and the kitchen helper both knelt next to Oreld to help the bleeding man.

"Everybody, move quick like. Anything that's of use and we can carry, it's coming with us," he said, then moved over to the hobgoblin on the floor and turned it over with a kick, then made sure it was dead with a hard swordpoke to the chest. Wiping his blade on the hobgoblin's rough uniform, Elrik gave it a quick search before returning to the door to keep watch.

Just a few buildings over, he thought to himself. Should I go by myself, or drag all of these folks with me? His home was so close, his old equipment, his gear, just waiting for him in that rough wooden trunk at the foot of his cot. They were going to need a lot of it, but he wasn't sure if he should risk himself or the others to make another stop.

Would I know if Oreld's had a back door?

The streets, from the glances he got between buildings, were almost worse than the aftermath of a battle. Fires were starting to lick the night sky, smoke sweeping through in waves, and the screams of the wounded and the frightened rang amongst the clash of steel. The bile that had been bubbling in his guts made another attempt to escape, but Elrik swallowed it down and spit out the remainder.

There were a few moments when he lost sight of the elf ahead, but the village wasn't so large that he was about to get lost in his own home. Seeing the elf stopped and looking across the small side street in front of Oreld's, Elrik held up a hand behind him to stop the other villagers in the shadows between the buildings and moved up.

"What do you see?" he whispered, peering up and down the street. It looked like the shop door had been kicked in, and even Elrik could see the bloody footprints tromping around and into the entrance. Is it already looted? he thought. We need those supplies. If they are still in there we might have a chance.

Welcome! We're on the move right now so I'm sure you will be popping up pretty quickly.

I had initially mentioned above that Elrik had intended to go last as the rearguard and would move up if Barhador stopped the group. If you guys want to switch that up that's cool. I also mentioned picking Oreld's as first destination, and made up that Elrik's home is near to it.

With all of the townsfolk gathered and none moving to take the potions, Elrik swpt them back into the backpack carefully cradled into a bundled tablecloth then swung the bag over his shoulder. He was about to get them all moving behind the elven skinchanger when the cook's helper started giving his own directions. Hesitating for a moment over the man's commands, and the way he spoke, Elrik couldn't help but feel inclined to follow the orders - standing in front of the group, the kitchen help seemed more steady than any of the others and had a natural presence.

Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts, Elrik took up a position beside the back door as the skinchanger pushed through first. "Stay close, stay quiet. If anyone see's anything give me a warning," he half-whispered, then glanced down to the halfling woman beside him. "You covered me earlier. Thanks." With that simple statement he moved through the door after the elf.

PP: 15
Unclaimed Loot:
- Scroll (Calm Animals, Cure Light, Magic Stone) to Clover
- Unidentified Wand to Clover
- Mwk Backpack w/ 6x Potions of Guidance to Elrik
- Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts carried by Villager

Provision Points: 15
Unclaimed Loot:
- Mwk Backpack w/ Divine Scroll (Calm Animals, Cure Light, Magic Stone) and unidentified wand
- Heavy Crossbow w/ 20 bolts, 10 mwk bolts
- 6x Potions of Guidance

Elrik went back to the bar, pocketing two of the potions he had lined up there, before calling out, "Someone carry the rest of these, they'll be of use. Split them up if you can."

When he heard the shouting upstairs he stopped to listen for a moment, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Tell him he'll be all alone in a few moments, and hobgoblins hate cowards even more than they hate people fighting them. Locking himself in the room is only going to make them more angry when they find him. If he won't come out, leave him. We need to go and the Ironfang are going to realize their soldiers aren't coming back out of here."

I'm happy to keep track of PP and unclaimed loot. I'll update and repost the list whenever we get new stuff.

Aid Another Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14

Too bad, but it'll hopefully be the right call moving ahead. Looking forward to meeting the new character :)

Just to clarify, I thought Arryn was going upstairs to look for people. Did he find anyone/thing up there? Also, my spelling and grammar was atrocious in that last post - wish I could edit it but now it's forever enshrined. I need to stop posting on my iPad.

"Alright, you'll go first," Elrik said to Barhador. "I'll take up the rear unless you find something we need to take on together. Otherwise I'll make sure we aren't getting picked off from behind."

Elrik looked around the room at the villagers hurriedly packing sacks and hefting their loads. There was the mark of combat on all of them - the dirt and dust one accumulated just being near a fight, let alone the ones who had ripped clothing and the stains of blood about them.

The walking wounded. A line of men nearly to the horizon, stumbling home from battle. Not nearly as many who walked that same road weeks before.

Elrik blinked hard to shake the memory, swallowing against the bile in his throat. "Someone be sure to support Aubrin. When we move, don't go running off if you see someone you know. We can always stop and make a plan to collect anyone else we find, but we need to do it carefully and quietly. The easiest way for us to get killed is for us to get spotted by just one Irongfang who gets away."

Elrik took a moment to start getting the villagers and visitors organized, then set about handling the corpses of the hobgoblins themselves. Stripping them of anything of worth, he glanced at the stoppered potions, the carefully rolled scrolls and the carved stick in confusion. "What in the nine hells was he doing with this?" he muttered. And who did he kill for it? he wondered, keeping the thought to himself.

Stashing most of the items back into the backpack, he spread the potions out on top of the bar and then put the crossbow next to them. "Any of you folks know how to work this? If you've hunted with a crossbow, this warpiece is similar enough."

Hearing Aubrin give suggestions, Elrik nods. "They'll gather that the Shrine, more like than not, but we won't want to head their until last - too many people moving about will get the attention of the Irongfang. We should head to the Oreld's first, it should be closer and we can take the back alley. My home isn't too far from it either, and I can pick up some things we could use."

Condolences on your loss, pets are always part of the family.

Otherwise, big thumbs up on the mechanics and sorting it as we go.

"We get out any way we need to," Elrik replied to the... extremely odd featured being. A changeling?

Shaking his head lightly, Elrik walked past the archer and into the main room again, stopping beside the counter for a moment to lean against it as his head swam with the scents and smells of the room. The bodies, the blood and other visceral fluids. Crying from some of the villagers. He was back in the war, the war was here. Shaking his head again, trying to clear it and push through the haze, he stepped closer to Aubrin. "If the forest is our best chance, we'll need supplies. We'll also need to bring out as many survivors as we can - if we take down the bridge anyone else will be stranded. That's a lot to manage in a short amount of time, and they're more likely to kill us if we're resisting. If anyone here fears death more than the fear the lash and chain, you should scatter into the town and away from the bodies. Otherwise, if I can get to my home I have tools and supplies that can help and there should be at least some foodstuffs we can empty from the larder here - better we take it than the Ironfang."

I was waiting for a couple more people to chip in but it's been a couple of days now. Where is everyone?

Slowly panting, Elrik was about to make sure the hobgoblin was dead when the kitchen helper pushed passed him in a rush. Elrik went to turn but had to double take as the man slammed the back door with a wave of his hand - from across the room. Then he tugged open the pantry door from several feet away as well.

First that elf grows fur, now this? What is going on? Elrik questioned to himself, then he realized that wasn't the most important question right now. The kitchen help was shouting down into the pantry - there were probably people hiding down there. Elrik stabbed down into the hobgoblins hear, making sure it was dead, before cleaning off his sword with a nearby rag and sheathing it.

"We need to get out of this Inn," he said loudly. "They'll realize we're in here eventually and might just burn it down around us instead of risking more soldiers. Aubrin is right, we need to make for the forest."

There were only a few ways this was going to end, and Elrik knew it needed to happen swiftly. The barricade at the front door wouldn't hold for more than a moment or two and now that the backdoor was also being assaulted they needed to get out of the inn before the hobgoblins decided to burn the building down.

Dodging the off-put blow from his opponent, Elrik spit at the hobgoblin's face before swinging in with his sword and shield, opening with a swift stab and following with defensive bash with his spiked shield. "Drive it back into the corner," he said. "And keep an eye on that door!"

Current AC: 18vGoblinoid
Current HP: 10/12

Free: Disrespect! (no mechanical benefit)
Full Action:
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Shield Bash Offhand: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Shield Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

I feel bad about these tight quarters with the Hobgoblin in the kitchen - I considered not even engaging as Elrik did other stuff, but the shout for help and then the (assumed) scream of pain kind of called him over.

Panting from the exertion of throwing around the heavy oak tables, Elrik hefted the shield that had been dangling from his arm and pulled his sword back out of it's sheath. With a fierce shake of his head he tried to push himself to get angry. Get ready to fight.

"One more," he muttered. "Just one more."

He turned and moved through the now empty center of the room, pushing past the fleeing townsfolk. "Move!" he shouted at the bowelf as he came barreling through passed the counter and into the doorway of the kitchen. He engaged with the hobgoblin quickly, opening with a cross-body slash.

Swift: None
Move: 30ft to doorway (Arryn's position)
Standard:
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Elrik cleaned his sword with a ragged linen napkin from the nearby table, but as he sheathed the blade his hand started to shake. He leaned against the table, grabbing the edge to steady himself. His vision got hazy, not like when he was wounded, but more like his mind was trying to shut something out, or maybe push it back to where it came from. Gray-skin, bloodied floorboards and flashes of pain mixed with the cries of the wounded, the screams of the captured. Dead men falling from the Spans to be washed away by the river. Worse...

"There's another one in here!" someone yelled from the back of the inn, breaking Elrik from his stunned reverie. He was gripping the edge of the table with both hands, knuckles white and his teeth clenched.

"Hold it there! Don't let it get out!" Elrik shouted, heaving on the edge of the table and pulling it backwards towards the door, shoving it against the broken frame. He stepped over to the next closest, pulling that one over and wedging it against the other.

Sorry about that, I lost two posts to the nether while writing on my iPad yesterday.

Actions: Down 5, Diagonal DownLeft 5, Down 5 should get me to the door while dragging the middle table, then 5 up to the other table and shove it against the door as well. Not trying to be neat about it, just making a tangle that anyone coming in would need to get through.

Elrik threw himself into the attack, but every blow he rained down upon the hobgoblin was turned aside or blocked. Starting to become desperate, seeing that his opponent was a veteran in ways that even Elrik wasn't, it was only amount of time before the hobgoblin's return blow broke through his defenses, a savage hack cutting into the bicep of his shield arm and then down into his thigh.

"Augh," Elrik cried out, staggering back, his shield dropping low and his feet slipping in the blood he had, and was again, dripping onto the wooden floorboards of the tavern. Just as the darkness was starting to close in again, as the hobgoblin raised his sword once more to finish Elrik off, the wave crashed through him once more.

Refreshment. Replenishment. Ale and friendship and community. Laughter. Somewhere deep inside him, Elrik could remember what laughter felt like.

With a gasp of air Elrik brought up his shield to block the blow, but it never landed. A fabric, some sort of linen, flew through the air and wraped around the head and neck of the grey-skinned hobgoblin, choking the warrior, and in that moment the spear-carrying halfling took her moment and struck, skewering it through the chest.

Elrik stepped forward and quickly stabbed the hobgoblin in the chest, glancing around with slightly wild eyes, then moved over to do the same to the other.

"Watch the door," he called out. "Someone get a table over there, block it up."

Standing over the other hobgoblin, he wasn't sure if it was alive or not. "Just in case," he muttered, raising his blade.

HP: 8 -> 0 -> 10

So I think Elrik is going to pick up the name Elrik the Doomed if this keeps up. The dice gods want to take him home.

IC post coming a little later.

Will do, I was listing in narrative order since it makes more sense that he would shield bash for an opening to sword, but that doesn't really matter for the mechanics. All about my own anal retentiveness :P

As a note: I've technically been doing Two-Weapon fighting wrong but there would have been no significant change - to get my Main/Off attacks I need to Full Attack, but the last three turns I've only ever attacked as a standard and done a 5ft, so mechanically I might as well have been full attacking anyways. I'll keep it in mind from now on and keep it clear in my ooc notes.

Wow, what an HP rollercoaster.

Elrik gasped as he felt a tiny hand pat him on the thigh and a burst of energy ripple through his body. Warmth and energy and good sizzled in his blood and he could feel the dull roar of pain in his abdomen subside, replaced by the ache of an old wound instead. He knew that sort of ache well, it wouldn't hold him back.

Friend, absolutely, he thought. Elrik had never experienced battlefield magic healing before, only the slow, limited trickle of healing found in the medica tent or the rushed bandage and a bite of sense-fulling herb behind the front line. It was, well, it was divine.

The shock and wonder at this burst of energy was a distraction, even if it was a welcome one, and it left him open to the bloodied hobgoblin's reprisal. His guard dropped slightly and his opponent took advantage, dragging his ugly blade across the top edge of Elrik's shield and the point tearing through Elrik's leather armour and opening up his chest.

Pain. Heat. Searing heat.

Elrik's vision tunnelled as he gasped for breath, his mind burning down to the need to survive. To fight.

Then, like a a cool wind on a hot day, like a fresh mug of ale out of the cellar after a long march, goodness again. It felt different, like the taste of one local ale compared to another, but it was still ale, and it was still good. His wound knitted as quickly as it opened, leaving a fresh pink scar of new flesh below the still-gaping slash in his leathers.

The feeling faded and Elrik snarled at the hobgoblin, leaping forward to press his own advantage, batting something from his right aside and ducking a flying object from his left.

Current HP: 3 -> 8 -> 0 -> 8
Current AC: 18 v Goblinoids (unfortunately Elrik is Paranoid as a drawback and the DC to Aid him is 15)
Move: None
Swift: None
Standard:
Offhand Shield Bash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Shield Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Somewhere in the back of his mind Elrik knew that he was in pain. The wet of his blood was soaking his abdomen, the tangy cloying scent filling each breath. His tongue felt thick, his arms already heavy from heaving around the sword and shield after a day in the fields.

None of this mattered.

The hobgoblin fell, the surprise on it's face curious. How many people had it killed, how many untrained villagers, that an enemy with a sword seemed like no threat? Dozens?

Elrik moved to stab down at the hobgoblin and make sure it was finished, but the elf... or skinchanger? Whatever the now furred and horned person was, they had been trying to fight the hobgoblin and had dropped - there was no one else between the grey-green bundle of muscles and anger and the rest of the villagers. Ignoring the pain, ignoring the smell, ignoring the weight of sword and shield, Elrik stepped over the body of his foe and around the large wooden table to press the attack and distract the hobgoblin from the defenseless folk.

At the last moment before striking a flash of metal through the air caused Elrik to flinch away, a knife planting into the hobgoblin. Someone has a decent arm back there, he though, the shoved his shield into the goblin to try and put it off balance before his sweeping strike with his sword.

Not technically first blood, but still first kill. Go Elrik!
Swift: None
Move: 5-Foot down one square; this assumes I can do this over the body of the hobgoblin, if you rule it difficult terrain then I will need to make an actual Move, triggering an AoO. In this case I choose to Fight Defensively as my Standard, giving me a +2 to AC (20 total) and a -4 to the below attack rolls.
Standard:
Offhand Shield Bash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17-4 if Fighting Defensively
Shield Bash Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14-4 if Fighting Defensively
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Note: I used 2 different terms which were both wrong for my shield attack in the last post. It is technically an Off-hand Shield Bash. Slam is a feat I plan to take later, and Smash is something the Hulk does.

Using the momentum of the red-scarfed woman as she turned to run, Elrik managed to scoot her off behind him but as he turned back and shouted his battle cry he was met with a shock of searing pain and a wave of hobgoblin stink as it rushed forward and sliced under his guard. The coppery smell of blood was already filling the room and Elrik's wordless cry of pain joined those of the other wounded.

Gritting his teeth, spittle dripping from his grimacing lips, Elrik knew he should back off. In a battle there would be another man behind him, and another behind that one, ready to fill the gap in the line.

The problem was that he was the line, and the last time that happened...

The darkness didn't take him. This wasn't the Seventh Span, a glorious battle. "Gorum," Elrik hoarsely said, calling out to the god of Battle. The clerics had said he had been possessed by the avatar of a god on the Span, or at least empowered by one. They had bickered over which one it was, but the one that made the most sense to Elrik had been Our Lord in Iron, patron of soldiers and warriors. And now, within moments of his first battle after the Span, he was dying. Not today. Not here. Please. "I will fight!"

Swinging with his sword at the Hobgoblin directly in front of him, Elrik followed up with a smashing blow with his shield hoping to catch the foul-smelling slaver off guard.

Wow, that one hurt!
Move: None
Swift: Prayin' to God (no mechanical effect)
Standard:
Sword Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Sword Damage (Slashing): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Offhand Shield Smash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Shield Slam Damage (Piercing): 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Heh, I keep tabs open on my computer with both Gameplay and this discussion thread open. I probably refresh checking for posts an unhealthy number of times per day :P I agree that momentum is key for this sort of thing, would love to see us really get into the thick of this.

Bent over his mug of ale, Elrik had the distinct feeling of frustration as Aubrin stood up loudly to tell another one of her tales. Just like festival days themselves, he could remember enjoying her stories but now they seemed so unnatural. They way she told them, it wasn't the way things really happened out in the world. Not for normal people at least, and probably not for her either.

The impact on the door, the explosion of sound and splinters of wood that flew clear to the back of the room and scatted across the table, shot Elrik to his feet and his eyes darting around in shock. Adrenaline coursed through him, his vision starting to tunnel as panic gripped at his chest, clung to his throat.

Screams.
The cries of the wounded.
The battle cry of the enemy.

Time seemed to dilate around Elrik as he stood and he looked across the room over the heads and shoulders of the patrons to the dark portal of the front door and the two hobgoblins shoving their way through the splintered remains of the door. Hobgoblins, heavily armored, wickedly barbed blades swinging wildly as they pushed against the shields of the front rank. 'Keep the line, don't let them break through,' an officer yells.

Two were already inside. How many more were coming? The doorway was the only choke point, the only way to stem the tide.

Elrik felt like vomiting, the bile rising in his throat, lofted by the few sips of ale he had taken. Maybe this would have been easier if he had gotten drunk quickly. The first step was the hardest, forcing himself forward. Towards dangers. Towards the front. 'Come on you weasel,' Torgus roared. 'You want them in our homes, you want them in our women? Little half-hobgoblins clutching the skirts of your mothers and your sisters because you couldn't keep them out of Nirmathas? Get to the front!'

An elf Elrik vaguely recognized stepped forward, unslinging his bow and almost immediately getting slashed across the chest by one of the hobgoblins. The other went after a woman, a stranger here for the festival, and stabbed her through.

"Nirmathas! For Nirmathas!" Elrik shouted, shoving his way passed tables and scattered chairs and pulling his sword from it's sheath and the shield from it's place on his back, rounding the hearth to find Aubrin on the floor, choking on her own blood. There was no time to help her, at least not yet. Reaching out, Elrik used his shield-hand grab the red-scarfed woman in front of him who seemed to be frozen in fear, yanking her back and out of the way. "Nirmathas! Hold the gap! Hold the gap!" he screamed again, the roar of a thousand soldiers ringing in his ears as he stared into the beady black eyes of the hobgoblins in front of him.

Move: Assumed difficult terrain to get through, 30ft should bring me to beside Aubrin/behind the village lady. Drew Sword/Quickdraw Shield as part of move.
Standard: Hope it's ok to grab and yank the woman in front of me out of the way. If she resists Unarmed Grab: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14 to try and move her.
Swift: None
AC is currently 18 v Hobgoblins

Welcome. I gave your background a read through and it looks like Arryn was a military man like Elrik here, but they certainly had different paths. I hadn't considered what Elrik would think of a deserter, it'll be interesting to see what happens if that ever comes out.

Just throwing it out there, Mott left an intro post up for us to start RPing a bit before he left on Vacation (or whatever he's doing). I've put up an intro into the opening scene if anyone wants to approach Broody McJumpy here :P