With the fall of night approaching, Greis looks off to the side of the road for a relatively soft place to spend the night. As soon as something passable appears he sets down his pack and begins to set things up for the night. He sees to getting the materials together for a fire, though no master of the outdoors he figures between them all they should be able to manage through the night.
"So perhaps something to eat, and a bit to drink once we get the fire going and then we'll split up?"
Technical: Got a 7 for Survival (untrained). So his attempts at setting camp up are really pretty gosh-awful.
Anarath had been largely silent on the walk through the woods, looking around and occasionally back behind them, sometimes commenting on something that caught his fancy to Midnight.
As night approaches, and Greis and the others begin making camp, Anarath spits out the purple berry he had been chewing at for the past half hour, and begins making his own preperations.
He has little expertise at making camp, but is happy to help if someone wants to tell him what to do. He settles himself down on a fallen log, thick with a pale white shelf fungi and picks somewhat despondantly at the cover of his spellbook. "No need to change the selection I suppose," he whispers softly to himself.
Looking around at the lengthening shadows, he suddenly picks up the thread of an earlier conversation. "Watch. Yes, good idea, who knows what is lurking amongst these trees? I don't mind first watch - singles or pairs?"
I am happy to take watch alone.
"Don't much care who does what, 'long as it gets done. I'll take second watch. Or third, whichever comes first."
Anarath glances at Corvin, eyebrow raised.
Quickly scoffing down some of his largely tasteless trail rations, Anarath then settles in for his turn at watch, preparing to wake Dohrlok after a couple of hours should his watch proceed uneventfully, then try to get a solid eight hours reverie himself.
Greis dines upon a little hard bread, in a suprizingly good mood as he sits around the fire. The meal is unfortunately a somewhat more grave and silent affair than he was hoping, and so respectful and a little intimidated, he keeps his own council. What little conversation there is seems to be mostly who will stand guard for what parts of the night--a topic which holds little interest for the young sorcerer. He waits for the two scouts to tromp out a ways and scoots back to a position in the V-shaped nook where the branches spread from a large tree and lays down, hands clasped behind the back of his head. The ground is harder than he'd expected, and full of little harrassing bits of sharp debris. Nevertheless he listens intently (8) for any sign of contact as he waits for fatigue to overcome excitement and discomfort. He hadn't thought to bring blankets--next adventure he thought to himself.
Dohrlok has a frugal meal of dwarven oat biscuits washed down with water from his skin. He runs through a brief excercise routine before settling down for his brief sleep before his turn at guard duty.
Without bothering to remove his armor, Corvin slmps against a tree, and is asleep within minutes.
Dohrlok watches Corvin go to sleep and hopes he won't be too sore in the morning after sleeping in his armour. Foolish warriors - self-belief and capability is the only armour required by a disciple of the Stone Fists. And it is much easier to sleep in.
With that comforting thought, Dohrlok drifts off......
Several hours into the night it is midway through Corvin's watch when something whistles through the air and buries itself into a tree. Soon many more small crossbow bolts fil the air, aimed at your party. They seem to be coming from somewhere to the left.
Technical: Everyone flat footed. All attacks fail except two; 3 pointss damage to Gawlak, 2 points damage to Greis. Monster Initiative: 15. Spot check to accuretly pinpoint location of snipers. Still 50% miss chance.
Surprisingly, Corvin actually thinks he can see the attacker(s). Whether he's right is anyone's guess. What is certain is that he's ready to fight. He makes ready his stance, preparing to enter the fray in a flurry of jagged metal and flying fists.
(Spot check: 17 - 1 = 16; Initiative: 13 + 2 = 15)
Dohrlok springs to his feet and scans the area for intruders.
(Initiative: roll 16 + 2 = 18; Spot roll: roll 11 + 2 = 13; also, while it is dark I can see them with darkvision within 60' if they are not trying to hide)
Greis' eyes shoot open and his mouth carps open in pain. He rolls himself over the root of the tree, using the trunk to himself as much cover as possible (Init 19). Hate is in his eyes as he scans around in the direction of the assault (Spot 13). He brings up a hand and carefully touches the bolt, intending to pull it out--but the thrill of pain just causes him to spasm and gasp. He decides against it. Feeling around the opposite side of the tree for his pack he suddenly remembers casually dropping it in the middle of camp--with his crossbow, spear, and every other weapon he might have with the exception of the spellpouches around his waist...
Tech: Down to half hp, 2 out of 4. Owww...
At the hiss and whiz of bolts through the air, Anarath’s eyes snap open. He freezes for a moment in confusion, before rolling away from the dying embers of the fire, trying to extract himself from his bedroll, his fingers already beginning to move in the practised manner of spellcasting. He scans the darkness desperately for the hidden attackers, but his eyes had caught the glow of the fire when he awoke and he is momentarily blinded. Midnight squawks, and with a rush of wings, drops down from the overhead bough to join his master.
(technical: Initiative: 3 – rolled a one, doh! Spot: 5 – another one, dear lord!
On his turn Anarath will cast Mage Armour on himself, sharing the spell with Midnight).
EDIT: oh, if I need a concentration check for spellcasting this round, I get a 16 - not a one this time thankfully!)
NPCing Gawlak: Initiative: 8, Spot 17.
Corvin: Your spot check succeeds and you see five small figure standing about thirty feet away, partially concealed behind a shrub.
Dohlrok; With your Darkvision you see that the figures are samll reptilians about three feet tall armed with crossbows attempting to hide behind a shrub of some kind.
Technical: Hide check 4; 2+2
Yes that is the initiative order. Sorry I didn't get it posted but I had to do something.
Greis falls back behind the tree under the barrage of fire, periodically popping his head out partially to see if he can see any of the attackers . He tries hard to listen and hear if he can make out anything they might say to each other or call out in battle. He closes his eyes and begins to compose a spell to charm them just in case, his fingers absently stroking the air for effective gestures to aid the casting. He figures a spell like this won't require components, just the adequate addresses and conditionals in the magic speech with the right smooth motions of the hand. Still his side hurts tremendously, pulling his mind away...
Dohrlok charges into combat against his diminutive foes, executing the falling mountain charge manoeuvre.
Corvin charges at one of the kobolds, throwing himself on the small reptilian creature and rending its flesh with his jagged-spiked armor.
Technical: Charge attack; attack roll: 18 + 4 for total attack bonus = 22; Grapple check: 16 + 4 for grapple modifier = 20; Damage: 1d6 + 1 str = 6 + 1 = 7 (piercing) = 1 pile of kobold paste. And yes, those ARE my actual rolls. Man, I NEVER get that lucky during regular games. I got killed by one of those little f*$&ers once. Anyway, my AC is now at 14 (previously 16)
Dohlrok, your charge and flurry of blows leaves one of the kobolds dead on the ground and the other looking surprised but uninjured. However when you charged forward both managed to get off a shot with their crossbows.
Technical: Both kobolds roll ones on their AoOs.
Corvin; you do indeed kill the kobold that you grapple but he also gets off a shot with his crossbow but it fails to hit you. As you move past another of the kobolds he stabs at you with his spear which bounces harmlessly off your armor.
Technical: Both AoOs fail; 1 and a three.
The kobolds regroup and prepare to attack again. Two fire a volley of shots with their crossbows and the third stabs at Corvin with his spear. A bolt strikes Anarath and another hits Dohlrok. The attack on Corvin is once again deflected by his armor.
Technical: 2 damage to Anarath and then another 4 to Dohlrok.
Provokes an AoO on both archers.
Dohrlok lashes out at the kobold that attacked him, missing in the confusion.
Corvin launches himself at the next kobold, striking a glancing blow off of the creature's scales and dealing no damage. His next hit is luckier, embedding his spiked knuckles in the kobold's ribcage.
Technical: Attack roll 1: 12 + 4 total attack bonus - 2 (attacking with 2 weapons)* = 14 / Attack roll 2: 19 + 4 total attack bonus -2 (attacking with 2 weapons)* = 21; Damage: attack 1 (if it hits): 1d4 + 3 = 3 + 3 = 6 / attack 2 (if it hits): 1d4 + 3 = 3 + 3 = 6. Note: using 2 spiked gauntlets (1d4 piercing/bludgeoning)
*Corvin has the 2 - weapon fighting feat
Sorry, I forgot about that. Here's the correct version of the last post:
Corvin launches himself at the next kobold, embedding his spiked knuckles in the kobold's ribcage.
Technical: Attack roll 1: 12 + 4 total attack bonus = 16; Damage: (if it hits): 1d4 + 3 = 3 + 3 = 6. Note: using spiked gauntlet (1d4 piercing/bludgeoning)
Alright, Corvin, your kobold topples to the ground with a squeak. The kobolds are no longer trying to hide but it is still dark.
NPCing Gawlak: Gawlak runs towards the kobold carrying the spear and attempts to stab it with his longspear. His blow is a glancing one and the kobold remains unhurt.
Technical: Attack roll: 8+1=9
Greis calls out from behind the tree, his voice strained injury, fear and the oppressive darkness.
"Anyone have any light? Could cast some spells if there were some light! Might help!"
He falls flat against the tree, breathing heavily. He takes a moment to try and steady himself, willing his hands to obey and be steady, his voice to be sure and even when he needs it. Out in the dark he can hear creatures scrabbling through the brush and the whip of crossbow bolts through the air.
Rushing up with zeal, looking to avenge the bolt he got hit with and to get a chance to prove himself in this battle to the rest of the party. Gawlak aims to high, letting his desire to put a head on the end of his spear overshadow his common sense.
Dohrlok decides that a prisoner to question might be useful once the fight is concluded, and attacks using the mountain mist strike on the remaining kobold within striking distance, though he misses, his blow whistling over its head.
Made somewhat braver by the sounds of the battle thinning, the fighting less intense and more dying on the side of the attackers, he crouches low next to the tree and then bolts out into the open to where he left his pack. Once there he grabs it up in a big bundle in his arms, spear, crossbow and all and runs back to his position behind the tree.
Immediately he pulls out the bolts and dumps a half dozen or so of them on the dirt in front of him. With shaky fingers he works one into the crossbow and pulls it back against the string until it locks, ready to fire.
Corvin, still in his whirling frenzy, lunges at the remaining kobold, shouting "NO QUARTER, NO PRISONERS" at the top of his lungs. Colliding with the small humanoid, he slams its body against his own, trying his best to reduce the kobold to a bloody mess of scales and gore.
“Cursed bed-roll! Cursed bandits! Cursed guard!” mutters Anarath, trying desperately to clear the fog from his head, gain his feet, weave a spell of defence around himself. It is but a few seconds before he can gather the necessary focus to begin the spell, when the bolt whistles through the air, striking a glancing but still painful blow to his upper arm.
Anarath falls back, clutching his shoulder, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. “By the Dark Lady that stings,” he hisses through clenched teeth. But the pain allows him to focus on the danger at hand. Taking a small piece of cured leather to hand, he twists his fingers into unnatural shapes, mutters minor words of power under his breath. A momentary faint blue glow surrounds him and his familiar before fading.
“Protected,” he mutters in satisfaction, peering again through the darkness for the attackers.
Dimly he makes out the confused melee ahead of him. Dohrlok, Corvin and Gawlak seem to have made short work of most of the small reptilian attackers, leaving a pile of corpses behind them. While Corvin and Gawlak seem to have one of the few remaining creatures well in hand, Anarath notices Dohrlok sparring with another creature a short distance away.
Deciding that he may be able to help, Anarath gathers his quarterstaff and begins trying to circle around the bushes and behind the lizard-thing facing the dwarven monk.
The kobold that Corvin smashed with his armor lets out a squeak and then goes limp, dead. The last kobold archer, seeing that he is alone, drops his crossbow and says in a trembling voice "Please, I surrender! Don't hurt me! Please!" and drops to his knees, continuing with a constant stream of pleas for mercy.
Anarath stops. “Waste of an armor spell, eh Midnight?” he says in Draconic. Then to Dohrlok, “The creature is surrendering, can you restrain it Dohrlok?”
He stalks over to the pathetic creature begging for mercy on the forest floor, and lets loose a vitriolic barrage of questions, whilst staunching the ooze of blood from his injured arm. “Why did you attack us? Are there any more of you out there? Are you guarding the Manor? Have you seen a lone, mad human in these woods?”
It is speaking Draconic (sorry I didn't clarify that).
He hesitates for just a moment before saying "Yes! Yes, we guard the manor for our king! I don't know if there are more of us in the woods, I wasn't in charge! That one was!" pointing to the kobold at Corvin's feet. "There is an insane old man who huants the woods around our home and kills our sentries and hunters but I don't know where to find him! He comes out of know where and kills us with his bow. I'll do anything if you don't kill me! I didn't want to attack you. Honest! I just do what I'm told or they kill me! I didn't want to do it! Please don't kill me!" and then he goes on pleading for his life in a piteous tone.
Anarath quickly and confidently translates the creatures’ ramblings into the Common tongue for his companions.
“It would seem that we can communicate with the thing,” he comments dryly. “Does anyone else have any questions for it? I’m interested in who – or what – its king is. And it seems our mad architect is alive and well … perhaps it will be useful to bring this creature along with us, to bargain if we run into any more of it’s fellows. Perhaps it – or this “king” – knows more about the Manor, hmmm?”
Dohrlok (somewhat belately) grabs the kobold in a firm grip, pinning its arms behind its back and inflicting a little light pain to loosen its tongue. Kobold scum.....
Greis comes staggering out from behind the tree, securing the crossbow and letting it fall limply from his fingers. He's pale and his hands move numbly. There's a bloody spot under his armpit where the miniature arrow jammed into his back muscle. Forehead dabbled with sweat he looks as though he might vomit. He staggers forward and joins the others interrogating the kobald, catching it's words as the big dwarf begins to bend him into unnatural shapes. He continues in groggy draconic.
"Where is this king of yours? And what is he? A description...will do if you don't know his race."
He turns to the others, smiling weakly. "I really hadn't meant you to have to fight on your own...I just..." he gestures vaguely to the arrow in his side and collapses.
"Gawlak, I think Greis could use some healing - as indeed could I.
Anarath quickly and confidently translates the creatures’ ramblings into the Common tongue for his companions.
“It would seem that we can communicate with the thing,” he comments dryly. “Does anyone else have any questions for it? I’m interested in who – or what – its king is. And it seems our mad architect is alive and well … perhaps it will be useful to bring this creature along with us, to bargain if we run into any more of it’s fellows. Perhaps it – or this “king” – knows more about the Manor, hmmm?”
So, wait, you BELIEVE this glorified swamp lizard? He's probably lying through his teeth. I know their kind. They'll do anything to save their skin.
The kobold starts to squirm in Dohlrok's grasp saying "Please don't hurt me!" in an even more piteous tone. Then a cunning look comes onto his face and he begins to speak in a less piteous tone "If you don't kill me I'll show you to the Manor. I'll tell you anything you want to know. But only if you don't kill me. And if you keep that one away from me." as he points a trembling finger at Corvin.
You little bastard! I'm gonna show you a whoe new world of PAIN!
Corvin grabs the creature's arm, proceeding to tug on it with all of his might.
THAT'S what you get for attacking us!
Dohrlok, while hardly a friend to kobolds, drags it away from the somewhat uncontrolled Corvin. He finds the display of petulant rage rather distasteful - humans, no decorum.
The kobold shrieks in pain and then passes out.
Hmm, our interrogation goes well. Dohrlok tries to revive the unconcious kobold, though with little success. "Corvin, try and control yourself - your conduct is unbecoming of a warrior."