Arkham Irregulars IC

[Waitingnomad]

As you all shuffle into the room containing the new recruits, Sergeant 'Sane' Barry Bronson of the 31st Arkham Irregular Regiment, known equally commonly as Mad Barry. From what you have heard, regiments 1-30 have suffered a series of gruesome deaths in the line of duty, and you all arrive to overhear ‘Sane’ Barry discussing the past exploits of the regiment fondly with a terrified-looking new recruit . “Ah, the 26th were a good one." He begins. "Fought many a brave battle in the name of King and Country, so they did. Slaughtered near to a man, o’course, but very brave they were, very brave. Only survivour was a young lad by the name of Stevie, if my memory serves me right. Course he’s known better as Ol’ ‘Stumpy now, what on account of all the stumps.”

Barry finishes his conversation and turns to face the assorted new recruits. “You lot must be the new recruits. Come to fight and die in the name of King and Country, eh lads? Then the 31st is the regiment to you, cos we do a lot o’ that. Dyin’, that is. Line up over there wouldya?” He gestures vaguely to the wide open space in front of him, before standing and moving towards the front of the room, standing before all the troops. You can notice that there’s at least 30 people there, shuffling awkwardly around in dirty clothing waiting for the sergeant to speak. The sergeant himself is, as you can see, a fairly short man, and seems to be composed purely of lean, grizzled muscle and scars. There appears to be a few fingers missing from his left hand, and one of his eyes seems to be larger than the other, with a different coloured iris and a socket buried by scar tissue. Chunks are missing from one ear, and as he smiles you see several teeth are missing. “Now, lads, you have the pleasure of being part of the most famous fighting force in the whole army. The 31st Arkham Irregulars! O’course the reason we’re so famous is, some would say cos almost everyone goddamn’ dies, but I like to think its cos we’re a bunch of fearless bastards who’ll kill a man with his own severed arm if he had to, and I hope you won’t disappoint me, cos Donnie ‘One-arm’ was a credit to this group and I’m sad to have lost him. Now, you lot will be fighting to to take back the village of Shady Oak against the oddly large number of greenskins what seem to have set up shop there. No offence," he adds to the end, as he nods towards the greener skinned members of the crowd. "Kill the bastards, and if you find the one leadin' 'em try and bring him in. You’re in charge," he continues, as he indicates a recruit completely at random. "Most of you will probably die. Sorry about that. Try settin’ ‘em on fire or somethin’. Off you go.” He promptly walks off and lights a cigarette. “Go on!”

Some time later, yourselves and the assembled recruits arrive at the village, and find it oddly silent. The streets are clear, but on nearing the houses a scratching sound can be heard from the inside. Suddenly, the door bursts open and orcs spew forth, quickly claiming the lives of the several unfortunate recruits standing before it. Several more attempt to flee, finding themselves cut down in the process, and those that remain engage in brutal melée with the charging brutes. Now separated from the main group by a wall of fighting bodies, you find yourselves alone but for five other recruits; you make a motley group, but the time for consideration can come later. As for the moment, five angry orcs charge forth with bloodlust in their eyes.


"You all meet in a tavern" eat your heart out.

[Waitingnomad]

My bad; completely forgot initiative:
Orcs: [roll0]
Halfdan: [roll1]
Dhrogo: [roll2]
Marcros: [roll3]
Ikliss: [roll4]
Sarkel:: [roll5]
Asura: [roll6]

[Milo v3]

"Xsio. This is just wonderful."
Ikliss said with a sigh. Darting to the side, was hoping to use the chaos as a distraction so he can flank the fury minded orcs.

Bluff + Translation
Bluff Check: [roll0] (Don't know if I'd get a circumstance bonus from the whole wall of melee being a distraction)
Translation Xsio = Damn.

[PrivateJunior]

As the other fools shuffle into the room, fearfully glancing around at its occupants, Sarkell parades in. He stands tall, in robes of white tied with a sash of pure black, flowing to the groud in an intimidating form. Though it is obvious from a glance that he is no stronger than the average man, there is what can only be described as a presence around him that daunts even the most fearsom characters in the room.

At his side hangs a leather-bound book, the handle of a knife protrudes from a sheath sewn into its side. A small satchel contains his other possessions, with a white shield slung over his back and a sickle strapped to it.

He is unfazed by the comments of the Sergeant, expressionless in the face of almost certain death. Death is Sarkell's friend and nemesis, and the medical madman refuses to fear it.

***

In the village, Sarkell has changed into his suit of dyed leather armour, black as midnight and sparkling with tiny metal stars. His shield in one hand, makes a stark contrast with the armour; a glaring white spattered with the blood of his victims. An image of a split skull adorns its center.
His other hand grasps the hilt of a sickle, ready for combat.

Standing tall, he strides down the main street, alert for danger in the eerie silence.

When combat ensues, Sarkell is quick to find the most competent of the recruits huddled together and fending off orcs. Rapidly, the madman joins the fray, eager for the bodies of orcs to add to his knowledge.

[Whisper rider]

Dhr-ogo trys to listen carefully to what the half-his-size men has to say, as he ¨listens¨ his eyes go looking around the lot, he notices the variety of ... individuals... present, one or two catching his interest. As soon as the Sgt. mentions the greenskins, he realizes I´ve never killed my own kind... an almost unnoticeable smile appears in his face for just a second, as he has never faught anything stronger than him.. When the Sgt. Finally finish talking, and the group is getting ready. Dhr-ogo gets ready for combat, His longsword and shortsword in his belt, His impresive size shield in his left hand, and A black helmet. He looks at the Sgt. with intrige. and waits for the command to Leave for the village.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the Smell of blood reaches his nose, Death it´s the only thing that runs through Dhr-ogo mind, he takes a quick look around, and see those who will stand and fight-off those who might bring death. He nods in sing of aproval as one of his companions meets his gaze, while drawing his Longsword and readying his tall-as-a-man Shield, preparing for impact. Readying his action to attack the nearest foe as its comes within his range.
ZIRISSELAT MORI NHARE!!!! A deep grutural voice Cuts through the sounds of battle, as the usually silent Orc, Shuts down the mask of his helmet, covering his face.

ZIRISSELAT MORI NHARE!!!!: CUT OFF THEIR HEADS!!!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Readied Attack & Damage
1d20+7
if it hits :1d8+5

[AquilaRift]

The scarred, silent dwarf moves forward and aims an axe blow at the foremost orc, his own bloodlust rising.


Entering rage and making a melee Power Attack.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage if it hits: [roll1] slashing.

[PrivateJunior]

Reaching the combat, Sarkell raises his shield, calculating the point where his new blindspot would have least effect on the coming exchange.

Without a word of passion or bloodlust, rage or effort, without sound at all, in fact, the tall man raises his sickle...guages the distance to one of the charging orcs...and calculatingly swung downward with the full strength of his arm, trusting the orc to be where the swing landed, when it landed, and with an opening in armour as anticipated.

At last, he makes a sound...a grunt of momentary surprise as his calculations are off and the swing glances away from its target.
He braces against his shield for the coming impact of the orc's charge.


Attack with Sickle: [roll0]
Damage with Sickle: [roll1]

[Draco-V9]

As all the chaos was going on Asura pulled out his pan-flute and start playing the notes "C-A-G-E" and his bardic music. These notes magicaly inspire courage in all Asura's allies. Whilst playing his music he backed away from the combot so he was not interupted by being struke by anyone.

[Whisper rider]

Readied Attack & Damage
[roll0] & If Hits [roll1]

Ki fin yeni! Dhr-ogo seems to lose the grip of his sword as he drawned it to fast, at the sight of an Orc charging it really fast towars him.
Seems i´ll have to rely on my Armor and shield & then strike true.:smallfurious:

Ki fin yeni!: WHAT THE F***!!! (those words are his native orchish langueage)

[Your Nemesis]

Macros is quite concerned by the Sergeant's speech--not to mention terrified. He considers trying to duck out, but decides that any regiment with such astronomical casualty rates must have equally effective measures to prevent desertion. And since the penalty for desertion is death, while he might manage to survive the battle, on the whole going along seems the better option. "I should know better than this by now," he grumbles quietly to himself. "ah, well, it looks like I'll get to kill some tall people at least."

***
"Some days it just doesn't pay to get into tavern brawls."
Macros casts his entangle spell centered on the orcs.

OOC: If the orcs are closer than 40 ft away from the rest of the party, then Macros will center the spell further back so that it does not catch any of his fellow irregulars.

Macros then tells Boris to charge the first Orc that cones out of the entangle.

Attack Roll: 1d20+7
Damage: 1d8+6

[Your Nemesis]

OK, trying the rolls again.
Attack: [roll0]
Dmg: [roll1]

Edit: Make that 11 dmg because of the bardic music.

[Waitingnomad]

Seemingly oblivious to the small reptilian figure darting to one side, the orcs charged forth into the fray. One was cut down immediately by a singing greataxe and Boris' powerful blows, but two more dodged free of the entangling roots and entered the fray, engaging Boris and Halfdan as they clamber past the slain body of their companion, screaming incomprehensibly at the assorted group before them. Dhrogo is able to discern a few words above the sound of melée, cursing them for the killing of their ally and screaming bloody murder in vengeance. One attacks Boris, his blade crashing down against the mighty beast with bloodlust in his eyes, dodging out of the sickle's path but missing completely, his blade causing him to overbalance. The other rushes Halfdan directly, overcoming the struggling dwarf and throwing him to the ground, prone.

At the same time, two orcs remain trapped in the tangle of roots that suddenly rose at their feet, struggling frantically to escape from their hold. One manages to shrug free, staggering away from the plant roots to join the fray.


Orc 2: Trip attempt for [roll0], does not provoke AoO
Orc 3: [roll1] for [roll2] on Halfdan

Orc 4 and 5's Strength checks: [roll3] and [roll4]

I should note that I tend to provide all my mooks with player class levels, and so they tend to be stronger and more tactically able than your average mook. That said, I don't usually play CC chars, so whilst they'll tend to fight a bit smarter than 'smash it until it breaks', they aren't exactly optimised either.

Orc 3 (the one who missed Boris) is now flat footed until the end of next round due to his fumble. Orc 4 is no longer entangled, but has expended his full round action and remains about 20ft from the group. Halfdan, you need to oppose Orc 2's trip attempt (he has Improved Trip and Jotunbrud, and is thus treated as two size categories above you, for a +8 before strength mod is applied). I should probably add for Marcros' sake that the two Orcs who escaped your entangle made some pretty lucky rolls.

[AquilaRift]

Opposed trip check (+5 Str, +4 dwarven stability): [roll0]

[Whisper rider]

:smallmad: FICHAS JAHAKES MOON!! I scream at my fellow companions, while my sword points at the orc who just tripped the dwarf.
In clear Common and in my Regular Deep Voice You scally little one... take his back! and then i Move towards him, making him turn his back at the little kobold.

Fichas jahakes moon: TAKE THEM!!!
Attack & Damage
[roll0] and [roll1]

[Whisper rider]

attack & Damage
[roll0] & [roll1]

sorry got some issues writing the formula or rolling down the first time, whent to the dice roller thread and copy pasted

OOC: DAMN IT!

[PrivateJunior]

Having taken whtever the orc was going to dish out on his shield, Sarkell risked peeking around the rim.
Amidst the flailing arms of the orc, there was no easy mark.
Blindly, Sarkell swung his sickle past his shield, tucking immediately back in behind the potective barrier.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Your Nemesis]

OOC: Is the orc who escaped still in the area of the spell? In that case, they need to save again on my turn.

Next round, Boris attacks the flat-footed orc:


Atk: [roll0] (forgot to include bardic music on the atk roll last time)
Dmg: [roll1]
Trip: [roll2] (bc Boris is trained for war, he can make trip attacks like a wolf.)

[Milo v3]

"Pothoc greenskin, tell the enemy I'm behind them".
Ikliss swiftly drew his crossbow, and fired a bolt towards the allied orc allowed him to flank.

Pothoc = Stupid
Attack Roll [roll0]
Damage Roll [roll1]

[Milo v3]

Sneak Attack Damage: [roll0]

[Draco-V9]

Asura continues his bardic music with the same notes C-A-G-E . Hoping he would not be noticed he continued to back away but staying in ear shot of the battle

[AquilaRift]

Halfdan surges to his feet, heedless of the danger, and hacks at the orc that knocked him down.

Move action: Stand up. This provokes attacks of opportunity from adjacent orcs. While raging, his AC is 13.
Standard action: Melee attack, same modifiers as before but including the bonuses from inspire courage. Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]

[Waitingnomad]

Halfdan carves the orc clean in two, but not before he receives a wound of his own from as he rises from the ground.


Orc hits you for 6 damage and is now dead. 3 orcs remain, and two of them are about 20ft away. One remains entangled. Sorry I'm still so useless, the entire campaign is saved on my other computer and I've been very busy over the last few days.

[PrivateJunior]

Frustrated at his inability to hit his target, Sarkell curses and drops his shield a few inches. Then, with a swipe of his blade over the lowered barrier he strikes at the figure before him. This time, his strike is closer to the mark, though still imperfect.


Attack with Sickle: [roll0]
Damage with Sickle: [roll1]

[Your Nemesis]

Macros uses his crossbow to take a potshot at the closest remaining orc.

Atk: [roll0]
Dmg: [roll1]

EDIT: And misses utterly; the bolt flies off into the distance and lodges in a conveniently located and startled duck.

[AquilaRift]

Halfdan steps over the corpse of his assailant and runs at another, raising his axe.


Attack the nearest foe, moving if necessary.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Are the two orcs 20 feet away still within the entangle spell?