Rindilnir finds it difficult to focus on his foe with flaming orcs running about.
Round 3:
Turning back to the orcs, he musters his most intimidating face. In orcish, he threatens the orcs. "You have angered the flaming men! Flee, before I breathe fiery doom down on you once more!" Taking another mouthful of wine, making sure to let some of the delicious oaky red dribble down the back of his throat, he prepares to belch fire on the orcs once more.
If a Throwing roll is required to get the spear towards Varn. (1d4-2, 1d6=[2, -2], [2])
Do the orcs appear to have been injured by the flaming burp?
never mind, you were able to shake off the Shaken, but not able to attack that round.
Round 3 Summation
The orc’s blade cuts into Rindilnir, shaking him slightly from the force of the blade.
Varn rises to his feet, wipes the snow from his beard, and cautiously advances on the two orcs, fists raised in preparation to fight them off bare knuckled.
Serin tries to put some distance between himself and the brutes, pointing to the sky. One of the orcs glances skyward but does not seem to be convinced the fiery god’s wrath is coming from above.
Ferguth moves toward his comrade, tossing his spearwhich lands between the two men. Turning back to the orcs, he lets loose with a stream of gutteral grunts and other sounds. The second orc turns and listens to the pillar of flame speaking orcish, but growls and advances on the pillar of flame.
Rindilnir's opponent, seeing the elf reel from his initial attack concentrates his efforts, but in his excitement, swings wide.
Mustering all his courage, the orc closest to Ferguth rushes the flame-wreathed figure, swinging his blade but missing.
The third orc looks around, and seeing Varn standing weaponless, moves to engage the man. The orc brings his sword to bear against the unarmed man, but his sword slips in his grip.
Varn braced himself as the orc sliced at him with a wickedly curved sword; the icy conditions underfoot caused the humanoid to lose his balance at the crucial moment, allowing Varn to sway aside. From the corner of his eye he spotted Ferguth heaving his spear in his direction - Varn, knowing he had no chance against the orc without a weapon, made a quick decision and threw himself in the direction of the weapon. Grasping it in his good hand, he quickly scrambled back to his feet, hoping to fend off any further attacks until one of his comrades could come to his aid.
- Varn can move half his Pace as a free action. O11 is 2 squares away so he'll move and grab the spear which counts as an action
- Rather than attack, he was going to use the spear to Defend. The book says you get a Parry bonus if it is your only action - but he has moved so maybe that won't work?
- If he gets the bonus that will be his action.
- If not, then he is better off taking the multiple attack penalty and at least trying to attack the orc
Fighting roll
Wild dice
Rindilnir draws his second sword and unleashes a furious cyclone of steel.
Round #4 attacks
attack 1 = 31
attack 2 = 1
attack 3 = 7
Round #4 attack 1 Fighting die (1d10.open(10).each(-2)=4)
Round #4 attack 1 Wild die (1d6.open(6).each(-2)=3)
Round #4 attack 2 fighting die (1d10.open(10).each(-2)=5)
Round #4 attack 2 wild die (1d6.open(6).each(-2)=0)
Round #4 attack 3 Fighting die (1d10.open(10).each(-2)=4)
Round #4 attack 3 wild die (1d6.open(6).each(-2)=0)
round #4 attack 1 fighting die (1d10.open(10).each(-2)=3)
round #4 attack 1 wild die (1d6.open(6).each(-2)=11)
round #4 attack 2 fighting die (1d10.open(10).each(-2)=3)
round #4 attack 2 wild die 1d6.open(6).each(-2)=1)
round #4 attack 3 fighting die (1d10.open(10).each(-2)=7)
round #4 attack 3 wild die (1d6.open(6).each(-2)=8)
round #4 attack 1 damage die (2d8.open(8)+2=10)
whoops a possible raise on attack 1 extra damage die (1d6=5)
round #4 attack 3 damage die (2d8.open(8)+2=16)
In a flurry of flashing blades and splattering blood, Rindilnir dances his way from one orc to another to the last, slicing, his way. His original opponent goes down with a slash to the neck. The second orc, by Varn, takes a swing at Rindilnir as he dances by, but again slips on the ice and almost goes down. The elf savagely slices across the back of the orc in froont of Ferguth, splattering the flaming loremaster in a shower of gore.
The horses run a bit further before coming to a halt.
Ferguth blinks and wipes the gore from his eyes, surveying the carnage. Seeing one orc still up, he takes another swig of wine, hurdles the fallen orc in front of him and spews forth another gout of flame. The orc tries to dance out of the way , but is engulfed in the flames. The orc collapses to the ground in a smouldering heap.
Serin stops in mid-draw, slings his bow over his back, and applauds!
"The bladedancer's flourish is no mere ballet,
As Rindilnir renders each orc to fillet!
And Ferguth's great actions are more of the same,
As he transmutes strong liquor to equally strong flame!"
Turning to his other companion, also left out of the combat's sudden finale, Serin grins and says, "Varn, I think you and I will be putting up the tents for these two tonight!"
Serin begins poking at the orcs with his staff, ready to bash one over the head if it seems at all lively. Then he searches the bodies to see if these are mere independent bandits or if may be part of some organized threat to Dalsetter's grain.
Serin is searching the bodies. Coins would be nice, since we're all destitute. More important, however, might be written orders (if in Orcish, to be read with the Speak Language spell) or any sort of organizational ring / bracer / pendant / tattoo / scarification.
Also, how is their equipment? Rindilnir wanted a bow and arrows, as I recall, and I might consider upping the damage from my staff (d4) with an orcish sword (d6?), if any of them also has a shield to balance the loss of the staff's parry bonus.
Should I roll to reclaim the arrows Serin shot, or just assume we can make up any losses out of the orcs' quivers?
Searching the bodies:
Notice:
Wild die:
If Speak Language is needed:
Song Magic:
Wild die:
Wow; so that's where all my good rolls were hiding! Notice gets another , and the spell (if needed) another -- and, wow, make that another roll of .
That's a total roll of 9 for the Notice, and of 13 (!) for Speak Language.
Varn remains remarkably calm as the orc which was intent on gutting him is engulfed in flame, thrashing helplessly for several moment before subsiding in a smoking heap at his feet. He prods it with the butt of his newly acquired spear, but anyone could already see that the unfortunate creature is now quite dead.
As his companions check the other bodies, he gives his charge a slight nod, perhaps in thanks for saving his skin. A quick scan of the bard and the elf suggests that the blood on them is not their own, so the old Saxa tracker's healing skills are not required.
Instead, he turns and walks off to where the wagon has come to rest and starts to speak soothingly to the horses in an attempt to calm them. As the adrenaline of the battle wears off, he winces at a sharp pain in his left shoulder - doubtless caused by the impact of landing hard when he threw himself off the wagon.
Serin's search reveals a handful of scields from each orc, 17 in total. The orcs wear tatered leather armor, carry medium shields, shortswords and bows. You collect a total of 10 black-fletched arrows from each of them. A couple things jump out at you as out of place. One of the orcs has a very well made dagger, that doesn't seem to go along with the shoddy workmanship of their shortswords. Another of the orcs is wearing a finely tooled pair of riding boots, but they are obviously too small for the monster, as the toes have been cut open so the orc's oversized feet can fit.
Varn tends to Thunder and Surefoot. The two horses don't appear to be injured, but they stubbornly refuse to move. Even Varn's soothing touch and horse whispering isn't enough to get them to move. For over an hour, the two horses stand stubbornly, occasionally stamping and snorting. Finally, they start to show signs that they are willing to continue to pull the wagon.
Rindilnir's face contorts into a mask of horror as the burning orc meets his end but quickly regains his composure, bowing and even chuckling a bit in response to friend Serin's wit.
As Varn goes to soothe the horses, Rindilnir cleans the blood from his blades before picking out a bow and a quiver of arrows from the fallen attackers.
Rindilnir selects a bow from the four, one that does not appear to be too singed. As Varn checks the bodies, Ferguth examines the orcs carefully , taking note of the fletching on the arrows. "These orcs are of the Eye Piercer clan. Not unknown in this part. Usually the Hearthknights are enough to keep them from harassing travellers. We will have to let them know that they need to tend to their roads a bit better when we get to Dunross."
Serin contemplates the slashed and scorched bodies, after selecting the best shortsword and medium shield from among them and refilling his quiver with arrows.
"Is there anything we should do with these to help future travelers, or to send a message to any other Eye Piercers in the area? Should we string the bodies up on a tree, leave them as they are, or bury them so they just disappear?
"I'm not so keen on that last one, mind you -- I don't think we've even got a shovel with us -- but I'd rather not antagonize the tribe more against innocents if it's not possible to frighten them off. I suppose we could just let the folks in Dunross know about the attack and let them deal with the aftermath.
"Oh, and might the folks in Dunross appreciate some of these Eye Piercer arrows? If there are other orc tribes in the area, I could see using this distinctive fletching to stir a little mayhem between them. Perhaps, once we're done with the grain, they'd be willing to fund a little provocation...."
Ferguth considers for a moment before speaking. "I don't remember the exact funerary practices of this tribe. Some leave their dead where they are for the carrion birds to scatter their remains to the sky, some burn them. If you are looking to send a threat to them, I don't know what would be most offensive."
Serin sighs. "Well, best we don't try, then. I'd hate to issue a warning but deliver an invitation!
"These, though, I still think could come in handy," Serin says as he tosses two full orcish quivers into the back of the wagon, "and they aren't that hard to carry with us."
Looking at Rindilnir's new armaments and Varn's newly calmed horses, Serin nods. "So... shall we see how much distance we can put between these and our campsite for this evening? I think we'll make, at best, two-thirds of the way to Dunross by nightfall."
Having finally calmed the horses, Varn walked them around a little then drew the cart up beside the orc bodies. He watched as Serin and Rindilnir gathered up some of the orcish equipment.
'Fire'll attract attention' he muttered, before adding 'leave 'em a while and the wolves see to them'. He hawked and spat. 'Best be moving away from here anyway. And watch who sees what you're carrying - orcish blade and flights might make a man suspicious of how you came by them'.
He climbed back into the driver's seat, and offered a hand up to Ferguth.
"I agree with leaving them for carrion but lets at least drag their bodies over into the bushes so the animals can eat in peace and future travelers won't be unnerved by humaniod remains on the side of the road."
Rindilnir makes a quick show of scaning the surrounding area and then as he climbs abord the wagon, he say's "Don't worry Serin. No signs of wolves yet. It be awile till there scent is strong enough to draw them close and we'll be long gone."
After hiding the corpses behind some low scrub, the group is off. The afternoon is pleasant enough, chilly, but not below freezing. The air is fresh and the sky is clear, but clouds on the western horizon fortell the possibility of snow tonight.
As evening approaches, you begin to start to look for a good place to camp. The clouds have progressed a little more and they bear the dark, ominous color boding snow. Luck is with you, though, as you round a bend in the road. Ahead of you, off to the side of the road on a little rise, you see one of the towers maintained by the Road Wardens, kept stocked with firewood and emergency provisions. But it looks like you will have the luxury of having the tower to yourself, as two wagons stand outside the tower.
"Well, I guess we'll have company tonight. I can regale them over dinner with the tale of shishkabob orc flambée, a la Ferguth and Rindilnir!"
As Rindilnir watches behind the group for another possible orc attack...
Serin and Varn:
Ferguth sits up at the mention of a tower, "Ah, good! Company and a warm place to sleep!", he stammers out sounding slightly drunk. After a silent moment he asks, "One would think if they have been here for any length of time they would have gotten a fire started though, and closed the door against the chill."
As Ferguth tries to rise from the cart, Varn puts a gentle hand on his arm to stop him. Turning to Rindilnir and Serin he says softly 'something not right here'. Sensing the bard has also spotted the lack of horses and the condition of the wagons, Varn points it out to the elf.
Motioning for Ferguth to stay put, Varn grabs his axe, and beckons Serin and Rindilnir forward. His practised eye scans the surrounding area, looking for signs of disturbances.
Seeing Varn has already made a notice check, let's try Tracking to see if there looks like anything has been moving around out here recently
Tracking
Wild dice
Rindilnir nods in recognition as Varn points out the lack of horses, then dismounts the wagon and draws his twin swords, staying close to but out of Varn's way as Varn searchs the area for clues.
"If there are any hostiles about, they are in for a rude awakening." says Rindilnir arrogantly as he twirls his blades with a grin spread across his scared face.
Serin drops his backpack in the wagon, dismounts, then unlimbers his bow and nocks an arrow -- one of the orcish ones, just to add insult to injury if those are tonight's foes.
"If dinner is prepared, Ferguth, I'm afraid it may be horse."
Watching Varn out of the corner of his eye, Serin looks the tower over again for signs of defenders within, then sights at the open door where "company" might emerge.
Notice roll to see whether anyone's on the top battlements (?) or peeking out through an arrowslit (?). I don't really know what the construction of a Road Warden tower is like.
Notice:
Wild:
Can the Aim maneuver be used when a target isn't yet in sight? Basically, I want to spend this turn sighting on the doorway, at about torso height for a man, then put myself on Hold thereafter in case of company. Yes, if it's a goblin I'll fire over his head, and if it's an ogre I'll perforate his kneecap. And I won't fire automatically at movement, lest I skewer a Road Warden investigating the same mystery as we are.
As you start to investigate, more details become clear. Snow has drifted into the wagon beds, mingling with the contents under the shredded canvas, as well as into the open door. The canvas bears some mark, but it is too faded to be seen from where you stand. As Ferguth pointed out, there is no smoke coming from the tower, nor are there any apparent guards.
As Varn begins his examination of the ground, he notices that the thin layer of snow on the ground by the hitching post has settled unevenly, indicating the ground has been torn up. Brushing away the snow reveals the hoof prints of four horses, their depth and pattern indicating that something spooked them. Broken leather straps hanging from the hitching posts, and more tracks wound indicate that they broke their leads and galloped away to the west.
As Varn investigates, Serin and Rindilnir stand guard, but no hostiles appear.
Ferguth climbs out of the wagon, holding an open bottle of wine in his hand. He slowly walks up to stand between the Bladedancer and the Skald. His eyes are narrow as he surveys the scene.
Serin slowly stalks along an arc that brings him face-to-face, although at bowshot range, with the open door of the tower. With a jerk of his chin, the Anari suggests to Rindilnir that he creep around the wall of the tower to close in on the same opening. Serin peers into the interior, looking for any sign of life in the deepening dusk light.
From the same vantage point, the skald tries to make sense of the faded mark on the shredded canvas of the wagons.
Having surveyed the scene for a moment or two, Varn points out his findings to the others, particularly the hoof prints and the broken reins still attached to the hitching post.
'Don't like this' he mutters, hawking another glob of phlegm to the ground. 'Something scared the horses bad; bad enough that they tore their bindings to get away from it. Doubt even orcs would have that effect so everybody stay alert'.
He has another scan of the surrounding area, then begins to edge towards the open doorway, motioning for Serin to 'cover him'.
Let's have a Notice roll for the hell of it
Notice check
Wild dice
Re-rolled Notice check
Taking his cue fron Serin, Rindilnir moves to flank the tower opening with blades at the ready. Once in position he gives a quick nod to Serin.
Serin moves to a better vantage point, but in the fading light, can't make out anything too clearly in the shadowed interior of the tower. There doesn't appear to be any movement other than the shredded canvass flapping in the evening breeze.
As a light snow begins to fall, adding to the accumulation already on the wagon, you all see more clearly the faded crest on the canvass; two barley stalks crossed over the letter D. Underneath the tarp, you can make out what looks to be broken wooden items, but without a closer inspection, you can't determine what they are.
In the fading light, the snow begins to fall heavier, and a silence descends. Not even the sound of the winter birds breaks the silence. Only the crunch of your feet in the deepening snow.
Curiosity gets the better of Rindilnir as it becomes evident that there is nothing for his blades render into tiny pieces. He moves over to the abandoned wagon. Just what was under that tarp anyway? Using his twin blades as tongs, Rindilnir deftly pulls the tarp aside to reveal what is underneath.
You all see more clearly the faded crest on the canvass; two barley stalks crossed over the letter D.
'Any of you recognise that symbol?' asks Varn.
'Notice there's not much sign of wildlife either. That, plus the horses bolting, makes me think we've got something on the loose out here' he mutters darkly. 'But no animal would have smashed up what was in the wagon...'.
Moving up beside the elf, Varn takes a closer look at the contents.
Rindilnir lifts up the tattered remains of the tarp, revealing severalbroken scraps of wood and metal hoops, the smashed remains of several barrels. Mingling in with the snow is another fine white powder, which upon closer examination, you determine to be flour. The bottom of the wagon is also heavily scratched.
The ensignia on the wagon's cover does not match the one on yours.
Ferguth approaches, letting the tattered canvas trail through his hands as he examines the mark on the rear of the wagon. "While I grew up in the area, and I have seen marks like this before, I don't know what they mean."
Serin nods at Varn's comment, then lowers his bow to approach the wagon with the others.
"'D' for 'Dalsetter'? Or 'Dunross'? Or just 'dead on the road'?"
Common Knowledge (Smarts?) -2:
Wild die:
"I think Varn is right. The problem isn't attacking whatever's taken up residence in the tower; it's defending ourselves from what's prowling outside of the tower. The fates take that rascal Rodgar, and his 'No problems but the weather!'
"Can we get our horses in that door so they can escape the fate of their predecessors? Our empty wagon should be fine, but I'm not willing to take the place of the horses to pull us the rest of the way to town!"
Serin turns his attention from the ruined wagons to the frail tower, and what defenses they can erect for the possible rough night ahead.
The bard does turn from grim tactical speculation to spare one light-hearted moment:
"Four men felt deficient in power,
As they sat in defense of a tower.
Though no lasses they'd rate,
And each man was quite straight,
They all feared that they might be de-floured."
Rindilnir checks to see if he can recall anything about the insignia, then moves to examine the scratch marks in the wagon near the flour, trying to determine the creature's species.
The bard's bawdy song catches Rindilnir by suprise, the elf erupts in laughter and falls out of the wagon rolling in the snow.
When he catches his breath "You first, Serin!" is all he can say before the laughter takes him again.
Ridilnir:
Serin:
Serin approaches the tower to investigate the safety. As he approaches he notices the tower consists of a ground floor and one floor above. The second floor has small windows that look out in the four cardinal directions, but they are shuttered from the inside. There are no windows on the first floor. The ground around the tower is cleared for a distance of 50', but some small brush has begun to encroach.
As your each the door, you see that the ground floor is one room, and it is a complete mess. Snow has blown in the open door, the firewood is strewn all over the room, and the crates of provisions are smashed, their contents missing. Near the fireplace a small box is affixed to the wall for donations to help the Road Wardens keep the towers stocked. The door can be barred from the inside.
With the mood lightened somewhat by the young bard's rhyme, Varn says 'might be that we can take the horses in, fix the door and hole up for the night. Looks like a good field of view from those windows in case anything comes prowling' he says, pointing at the second floor. 'Making the place more secure is good for the next travellers heading down the road if nothing else, til we can tell the Roadwardens'.
Looking at Serin and Rindilnir he asks 'any of you up to a bit of carpentry while I get a fire going?'.
The door itself seems to be in good condition, as well as the stout oaken bar. There is already some wood laid in the hearth as if whomever was the previous guests had just begun to set it.
Serin gestures to the largely intact doorway. "No carpenter needed; we musicians are always good for a bar or two!"
Then the Anari tries to find a more-or-less straight wedge of firewood with which he can scrape out the worst of the snow from the ground floor.
If you rolled a 4, 5, 6 or 7:
If you rolled an 8 or higher:
Tracking roll Wild dice
Varn:
The tracks are made from rats.
'Mmmm, damn rats get everywhere' mutters the Saxa, poking about through the debris on the floor. 'Best check that out though...' he continues, pointing out the blood spots, and the fact they appear to wend their way upwards. Gripping his axe, Varn nods to the first floor, and begins to carefully climb the stairs.
"At least it's not wolves," Serin sighs.
Setting aside his backpack, bow, and staff, the skald takes up the short sword and medium shield salvaged earlier in the day from the orcs. "If they're still there, I'll guess slicing is better than squishing or skewering."
Serin allows the more martial Varn and Rindilnir to lead the way upwards. As the trio climbs, the bard sings softly to himself: "Blade sharp and shield thick, / In combat they should turn the trick. / With blade's edge and shield's might, / I've all the aid I need to fight."
Serin hefts his sword more confidently, and he adjusts the angle of his shield, as the song seems to take effect.
Rindilnir heads outside to retrieve his own pack from the wagon then brings it inside and places it next to Serin's pack. Hearing about the rat tracks and frozen blood drops, a puzzled look washes across Rindilnir's face ”Just rat tracks, no orcs or other predatory creatures? Seems odd don't you think.”
Rindilnir draws his swords and heads up the stairs with Varn and the others. “I hope there is something up there that can make sense of all this.” Rindilnir says, still troubled.
As the group heads up the stairs, Serin begins to spin, half seriously and half in jest, a lurid tale about rat kings, and how they long to gather elven hair to weave their tails more tightly together....