The Start of a Nation

[Galvain7]

Wabo bin Wabo pulled his mouth off of the water pipe just long enough to blow a cloud of blue smoke across the small, dark room before unceremoniously tossing a travel worn scroll in your lap.

"Read."

The wax seal bearing the mark Wabo's district had already been broken. The message was spelled out in blocky clerk script, and read thusly:

Honored Vizir,

The situation at Nim's Oasis is far worse than any reports have indicated. Indeed, the reports drafted to your most esteemed office must either be a product of guilty subvertifudge or blatant incompetence. There can be no other explanation for the almost total degeneration of the town and its inhabitants.

I arrived at Nim's Oasis late in the evening and unannounced, having lost my horse to a lion and two days travel time to a sand storm. At first I believed the post to be deserted, such was the wrecked condition of the place. The sand dykes are completely flattened. The outer wall that surrounds the village is collapsed in numerous places. Many of the houses have not been repaired or reshelled in years and are simply uninhabitable. This was all apparent immediately upon arrival. A closer search yielded a few panicked, dehydrated civilians crammed into what few houses still had roofs and doors to keep out the lions and other monsters. They begged me to remove them from this place, then, seeing that I was alone either cursed me for a raider or implored me to kill the Pasha who was holding the water and some of their fellows captive.

I made my way up to the fort which appeared to be intact. The watchman saw my torch and fired at me even as I was reporting that I was your representative. The situation rapidly deteriorated. At first the guards refused to allow me to enter. Then, when they did unbar the gate after much consternation and threats they tried to kill me, whereupon I to wounded one of their fellows and compelled the rest to take me to the pasha at sword point.

The Pasha has clearly given himself over to the addictions of pesh. Why or how he was able to procure a supply of the drug I know not. First he tried to threaten me, then bribe me, and after much confusion and some violence, the pasha surrendered and is now confined in a cell. I moved the people into the fort, settling them in the ruin of the old bathhouse. Much of the fort itself is not safe to inhabit although the walls are solid. Thankfully the ground water supply is clean but severely diminished. The cisterns for the reserve water are dusty and cracked. There is no food of quality anywhere nearby: the Pasha managed to hoard some dry food, and after applying rationing there is enough to sustain the town for a few days. After that we are reduced to foraging.

Honored Vizir, the situation here is grim and the outlook is dire. In addition to the lack of provisions, poor repair of the structors and wretched condition of the inhabitants, there are numerous enemies in the wastes. Monstrous beasts routinely plague the villagers, instilling fear and preventing meaningful repair. But more worrisome is the presence of the undead out in the wastes. I encountered several on my journey here, and the villagers assure me that thousands more roam the dead city of Sardica Fars, and there is a strong possibility of a death cult there. If any cultists make a serious attempt at our walls we will be overrun.

I recommend that a strong force be provisioned and sent here to escort the villagers away, whereupon the post should be abandoned. I await further instructions, and remain-

Your faithful servant,
Cpl. Calfax

Bin Wabo waves a disinterested hand at the scroll. "A runner with that message was found murdered on the road to Nim's Oasis. He had been dead some time. The Sultan is most insistent that a new route be opened for trade with the elves and secured with a fortified town. So, there will be no evacuation. Given your... ancestry and high standing within the ranks of our Lord's servants, you will be given this task. Your charter and the relevant papers are being drawn up. Go there, take command of the post and repair the situation.

****
There was a saying 'It takes less time to grind water out of a rock than move a Pen-Man', but today the saying proved untrue as you were awoken the morning after your meeting with Bin Wabo by a harried palace pen-man bearing several requisitions, two new charters in your name and a sealed document to be opened on your arrival at Nim's Oasis. To your amazement the requisitions were all edged in red, meaning that they gained priority over all other papers in the master 'in' file and had to be handled on the same day they were delivered to the relevant ministries. The requisitions were all for nominal dry goods: tents, tools, rope, tack, torches, barrels and the like, as well as barrels of beans, rice, and salted sardines for whoever is left alive at Nim's Oasis. The most notable requisition was a writ for 1000 newly minted gold coins to be transferred into your personal strongbox: funds for the repair and fortification of your new home.

The next shock came in the form of the first charter: Effective immediately you are elevated to the rank of 'Pasha of New Sardica Fars' a vast Wilderness Province on the northern frontier. You gain the ancient rights and privileges to the rank, namely a seat on the Santrap Jurg (Provincial council of nobles), personal immunity from taxes and a right to be tired only by a jury of other nobles (should the need arise). Furthermore, you gain the right to levy taxes, raise troops, build fortresses, roads and water cisterns and dispense justice in New Sardica Fars. Anyone who disputes this claim is an 'immediate traitor in the eyes of the Almighty Gods and the Sultan Himself.' The document bore Bin Wab's seal, acting as the Sultan's appointed representative.

The second charter was a list of requirements to go along with your new privileges:

"You are to establish at Nim's Oasis a fortified Market town made of stone, to include no less than 500 inhabitants, ample fields and water supplies for all. In addition you are to maintain a garrison for the safekeeping of the province, as well as construct those faculties necessary for the growth of trade. You will from this place collect the Sultan's dues on trade and taxes levied for the well being of the state."

The document goes on to specify which buildings the Sultan wants added, namely warehouses, granaries and a caravan house. A small line in blue ink leads to the margin of the charter, where someone other than the scribe as written "6 months- no excuses.". You follow the train of blue inkdots down to the signature, which reads ""By the grace of Heaven, Absolom Abimalech IV, Sultan of Gades" followed by the Seal of the Sultan.

****
Within 2 days your squads have been brought up from the family estates by the sea to Bin Wabo's Citadel further inland. Your troops have made record time and the supplies are already loaded, but a fierce sandstorm delays your departure for another 2 days. Your departure ceremony consists of a shortened prayer from Bin Wabo's harried cleric and a disgruntled wave from the old man himself, who did not desire to leave the comfort of his shaded garden bungalow.

****

The trip is uneventful but somewhat long, even by sand schooner, hammering home the immense distance between your new posting and any nearby assistance. Your pilots deem it wise to take a wide route around the gargantuan ruins of the old Sardica Fars, leaving behind the great stone slabs of the ancient road that leads to the city. And your encounters with the undead are limited to a few wandering zombies floundering in the sand that are easily picked off by your archers.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken

*As the sand schooner slowly tops a heavy dune, Viken stands at the helm next to the captain, the biting sand upon the wind little more than an annoyance at this point.*

*Despite the brutal glare of the sun and the cutting sands, Viken kept his face clear of cloth, looking out to the horizon with the eyes of a hawk, narrowed and honed by years of necessity on the harsh land. A glance down at the deck showed him the small contingent of men he'd been allowed to bring along. Little more than a single platoon - less than a tenth of the men that had fallen into step behind his banner over the years. They kept to the meager shadow provided by the sail, but had weapons and their gear at hand to a one, and all had their eyes on the desert surrounding them. Viken could feel a smile stretch across his leathered face, his chest swelling with pride. They were good men to a one, and many had come to him with little more than the clothes on their backs - some not even that. He'd led them and come to earn their trust, and saw the men as brothers in arms. Perhaps Nims Oasis would prove to be the home that so many had been hoping for.*

*Turning to the captain, Viken points at the haze of shapes in the distance*
"I do believe that would be our destination, would it not?"

*The captain puts a scope to his eye, nodding after a moment.*
"Yes sir. It is. Shall we proceed as planned?"


"That we will, Captain."
*Moving forward to the railing, Viken raises his voice to address the men.*
"Listen up men! The settlement is in sight! Sargeant. You'll take your men and secure the city gates first. Corporal - your squad is to follow on their heels and clear the courtyard. Our first priority is to secure the keep and civilians entrenched there. They will be in need of supplies and aid."

*Turning to the Captain, he nods* "Captain - you and your men hold the ship and keep a weather eye out. Let's stake our claim men!"

[Galvain7]

The sandstone tower of Nim's Oasis rises gracefully on the horizon as your schooner draws closer. Suddenly the panorama is interrupted by a dull 'whomp' sound and a billowing black cloud vomits into the sky. The words are just on your lips when the lookout cries 'Skeleton troops, Lord, dead ahead!' A well trained deck crewman thrusts a spyglass into your waiting hand and you raise it your eye. A pitched battle leaps into your field of view.

Skeleton Archers in ragged bits of rusting armor are staggered throughout the ruins of the village, firing volleys of arrows at the parapet above the gate. Another squad of skeletons armed with mismatched shields and spears are reforming a wedge at the base of the ramp leading to the gate. The fire appears to be from an oil slick flowing down the ramp: A few skeletons are left burning in the wake.

Distressingly, yet another squad of unscathed spear wielding skeletons are grouped around a black sedan chair borne aloft by 4 zombies. The aggressors do not appear to be aware of you- yet.


I need you to make a knowledge arcana check please. If this proves to be difficult with the tablet just roll with actual dice and share the result.
The check has 3 parts: 15, 20 & 25.

Terrain: The immediate terrain around the town is hardpack desert: the ruins of the village are providing the skeloten archers with 3/4ths cover- facing the tower. But since they are aiming away from you, they get no cover if you shoot them in the back. Savvy? The two squads attacking the town are anywhere between 13-18 skeletons a piece. The reserve squad is at full strength at 20 skeletons.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

*Counting the undead troops with a quick glance, Viken thrusts the spyglass back to the crewman with a nod*.*
"It seems we've come just in time."

*Raising his voice once more, he speaks with the certainty of a man accustomed to being obeyed.*
"This changes nothing men! A few ragged bags 'o bones are nothing we haven't put to rest before, so listen up - we stay as silent as possible . Everyone line up on deck. Take aim and steady your hand. I expect each of you to hold fast until I give the signal, then don't stop until the bones are ready to be ground to dust. Stand by your brothers, men. Not one man will fall today. That's an order!"

"Captain. Ahead full."


Alright. I'm going to give this a try. Hopefully putting them in manually works.

First thing is Inspiration - it gives everyone temporary hp that last the duration of the battle.
[roll0]

Next, I'll ready an action to use my bardic music like I told you. Combined with my commanding presence and battlefield commander, everyone gets +10 to hit and damage - I'm half as good as a true strike spell! Lol

I'm going to try the rolls...


[roll1]
Damage
[roll2]

[roll3]
Damage
[roll4]

[roll5]
Damage
[roll6]

[roll7]
Damage
[roll8]

[roll9]
Damage
[roll10]

[roll11]
Damage
[roll12]

[roll13]
Damage
[roll14]

[roll15]
Damage
[roll16]

[roll17]
Damage
[roll18]

[roll19]
Damage
[roll20]

[roll21]
Damage
[roll22]

[roll23]
Damage
[roll24]

[roll25]
Damage
[roll26]

[roll27]
Damage
[roll28]

[roll29]
Damage
[roll30]

[roll31]
Damage
[roll32]

[roll33]
Damage
[roll34]

[roll35]
Damage
[roll36]

[roll37]
Damage
[roll38]

[roll39]
Damage
[roll40]

[TheMightyQuinn]

Ooc:

Alright, as I said in the text just now, I'm going to reroll for that darn inspiration

[roll0]

Hopefully a bit better. Those attack rolls don't take the archers des bonuses into account, sothey should all be about 2 higher.

That's just for the surprise round here's for inityuiative when it's time
[roll1]

Just go as one, I suppose would be fastest

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

Bardic music- 3 rounds remaining



*As the vessel nears the ranks of the undead, Viken waits, knowing that the first volley would be imperative - if they could cripple their foe before they had a chance to return fire, they'd suffer less injuries. He could afford a few cuts and scrapes, but not to lose a man today.*

*Raising his voice to a thunderous roar, Viken steps forward, placing one foot on the forward rail with the confidence of a mountain goat before leaping down to the deck, his stride carrying him forward to the ranks of his men.*
"FIRE! Not a one of these horrors will escape!"

*The thrum of tense cords being let fly fill the air for only a moment, the men firing in unison, the sheer united force of the vibrations enough to be felt in a mans lungs before the Sargeant was screaming for the men to reload, though they hardly needed it. They had all been tested by fire before, and their hands were already pulling back drawstrings before the command was given.*

*Watching as the bolts soar through the air, Viken notices details he'd missed through the spyglass - the twisted and misshapen feet, with bones stretched out far beyond what they should have been, their digits resembling snowshoes, rather than toes. The other was then number of skeletons. There were too many for a single necromancer to easily control. There were more around, and possibly hiding under a veil of invisibility, but to what point? Their forces would draw the fire of any enemies. Why spend the effort needed to hide themselves? It was a question that would need an answer, but not this moment.*

*As the men started raising their crossbows once more, Viken raise his voice once more *
"Drop every last one, men, but there's more than one defiler among their numbers - keep a weather eye and don't drop your guard! None will return from whence they came."

*As the second volley flies, Viken tries to spot the other necromancers - the could I'll afford anyone escaping with news of their arrival.*


Alright. Perception roll first -
[roll0]

Troop rolls -
Attack -
[roll1]
Damage -
[roll2]

Attack -
[roll3]
Damage -
[roll4]

Attack -
[roll5]
Damage -
[roll6]

Attack -
[roll7]
Damage -
[roll8]

Attack -
[roll9]
Damage -
[roll10]

Attack -
[roll11]
Damage -
[roll12]

Attack -
[roll13]
Damage -
[roll14]

Attack -
[roll15]
Damage -
[roll16]

Attack -
[roll17]
Damage -
[roll18]

Attack -
[roll19]
Damage -
[roll20]

Attack -
[roll21]
Damage -
[roll22]

Attack -
[roll23]
Damage -
[roll24]

Attack -
[roll25]
Damage -
[roll26]

Attack -
[roll27]
Damage -
[roll28]

Attack -
[roll29]
Damage -
[roll30]

Attack -
[roll31]
Damage -
[roll32]

Attack -
[roll33]
Damage -
[roll34]

Attack -
[roll35]
Damage -
[roll36]

Attack -
[roll37]
Damage -
[roll38]

Attack -
[roll39]
Damage -
[roll40]

[Galvain7]

The furious fusillade of bolts tears into the unsuspecting necro-squads with lethal effect: dozens fall in the first volley and those who remain are too slow to react to the second volley which rips into their unprotected flanks: Of the 2 squads attacking the kashbah all are either dead or suddenly bereft of leadership. Only the squad grouped around the sedan chair has functioning troops, but only half.

The flap of the sedan chair opens to reveal a bald human with a fleshless face and red rimmed eyes. He shrieks and points a radial sharpened bone at the sand schooner. A small orange dot of light forms in front of the wand. It grows as it speeds toward you, accompanied by a burning whoosh.


Fireball spell, slightly underpowered. Your ship also takes some damage.
[roll0]

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

Bardic music - 2 rounds remain


*As soon as the spark of fiery magic appears at the end of the bone, Viken s eyes go wide, and he screams for the men to get down, the crewmen already scrambling for the buckets of sand that were kept on deck for scrubbing, the Captain yelling for them to smother the flames.*

*As the smell of burning flesh hits his nose, Viken knows that some of the men bore injuries, though they'd survive - the blast was bad, but not enough to put them into mortal peril.*

*Raising his voice high, Viken thrusts his hand into the air, a shimmering javelin of force wreathed in crackling chords of electricity, the smell of ozone filling the air as he let's fly his weapon.*
"Get down! Sargeant, tend to the wounded! Catch your breath and tend your wounds - we stick to the plan and save the villagers! "


Alright. one more inspiration roll to help out my men
[roll0]

And reflex for half damage
[roll1]

Last ones - attack and damage for a javelin of force
Attack
[roll2]

Damahe
[roll3]

[Galvain7]

Your well trained men recover from the arcane assault with disciplined vigor. Meanwhile, your bolt of lightning sears through the air with an electric crackle, spearing the flesh necromancer right in the chest. He screams an inhuman shreik of pain, but your elation at the righteous strike is dimmed as the vile magician clasps a withered, burning hand around an amulet at his neck and breaks it with a groan. You hear a sharp wisp of air and suddenly your foe blinks out and is gone.

The enemy assualt crumbles instantly: The skeletons remaining and the four zombies that were holding the sedan chair crumble into dust. Your men let out a ragged cheer but over their din you hear another paniced scream:

"Sweet Gods they're coming up through the basement! Get in here now!"

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

"Cursed Necromancers! Captain! Keep an eye out and sound the war horn at the first sign of trouble. Corporal - get your men on the walls and secure the high ground. Sargent! You and your men are with me - make sure they're patched up and catch up. Once we find the townsfolk, you escort them back to the ship. We move now!"

*Leaping down from the ship, Viken hits the hard packed sand with the grace of a hunting cat, reaching into his billowing white cape to retrieve the heavy steel shield stored there, rushing towards the keep and the calls for help.*
"Fight for your lives! Help has arrived!"

[Galvain7]

Perhaps the townsfolk barred the gates a little too well. They are still moving the heavy cart filled with bags and baskets of sand when you arrive, and after a few tense minutes of heavy lifting the gate slams open and a score of panicking villagers crash into you and the relief force. All is confused as the soldiers charging up the ramp mingle with the civilians streaming down the ramp, but discipline prevails as your men pack into a single file and bull their way forward. You muscle your way to the top of the ramp with the vangard and enter the courtyard.

Oftentimes the expression 'hail of arrows' is overused, but you struggle to find a better word to describe the interior of the kashbah, which is covered in broken, twisted arrows as if heaven itself had simply dropped the missiles on the stones like a monsoon. A few bloodied corpses in tatters liter the space, but you push on toward the tower. The doors are ajar, and as soon as cross the dark threshold your nostrils are assailed by the unmistakable smell of burning flesh. You follow the dark hallways down two levels until you reach a trapdoor that has an heavy bookshelf hastily lain on top of it. In the far end of the circular room a pale, overweight man laying in a pool of blood is moaning while trying to hold a wound closed with his hands.

You hear histarical hoarse screaming from the other side of the bookshelf. "Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn you shovel faced inbred camel humping abominations! OOORRRAHH!"

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

*As the blockades are moved and the villagers start pouring out, Viken can't help but feel pity for the folk. Men and women with terrified eyes, the smell of refuse and bodies kept too long in close quarters without bathing hits him in the face like an unseen force, but it doesn't slow his momentum. They had survived - they were strong enough to fight. It was time to give them respite.*

* Putting his fingers to his mouth, Viken let's out a shrill, piercing whistle loud enough to make a few of the villagers.cover their ears that lasts until after he has every eye on him. His men are unfazed, having seen the method used before, and keep filing into the town, following orders.*
"Everyone! Head for the schooner. The Captain will give you further instructions. Move."

*It was all they needed right now - the time for explanations would come later.*

*Spinning back toward the town proper, Viken heads for the keep, hot on the tail of his fighters, alert and aware for danger, one hand rising to block a bit of the stench from his nostrils as they proceed further into the hold - the smell of searing flesh mixed with sweat, fear and other unpleasantness was nearly overpowering, and more than one soldier gagged at the smell, coughing heavily while trying not to retch.*

*When they come to the final circular room, Viken quickly moves to the wounded mans side, laying a hand on him to let some of the powerful magic he held in check flow forth, hoping to heal the worst of the mans wounds.*
*Sargent. Get him clear. Get him moving so that one man can escort him to the ship. The rest of you - defensive positions. Nothing gets out of here. I'm going down there. The hole is too small for you to enter en masse, so you hold the line here. We finish this. You've done well men. The day is nearly ours."

*With the help of a handfull of men, the bookshelf is easily moved to block the doorway out, providing cover for the men and Viken takes hold of the heavy iron latch jerking the trapdoor free, pulling his blade free from the scabbard on his shield as he moves forward, the smell of blackened everything erupting forth from the hole in a wave.*
"Fight hard! Help is here!"

[Galvain7]

Bright flames illuminate a ladder stretching down into a cavern. You clamber down onto a mezzanine overlooking two vast stone water pools, both dry- A stairway leads further down towards the floor. A man is standing behind an overturned table. His sand colored armor is streaked with blood and ash, and a soot grey shoufa covers his face save for his fire bright right eye. All around is the debris of battle: a broken crossbow, a few stray bolts, and dozens of shattered glass and pottery vials.

Beyond the makeshift barricade is a sea of fire. Twisted bodies, broken furniture, all soaked in pitch or oil and burning furiously. Outside the ring of fire you can make out a half a dozen metal tower shields. On of the shields dips to reveal a crouching archer wielding a heavy crossbow. But this is no mere warrior, or even an amplified zombie, but rather a twisted unholy amalgamation of both! The archer is wearing heavy plate, but the body normally covered by mail is instead a thick, warty, smoking flesh. Your gaze moves up the metal torso to behold the still living face, staring straight at you with a furious rage. The bolt flies and strikes a stone just above your head.

"Oh! Hello! Looks like you got here just in time. Sorry about the ah- the heat." The man laughs but the laugh turns into a hacking, bloody cough. "These shovel faces can't shoot for all drek. I'm Calfax! Corporal Calfax, 7th Reserve Scouts, at your service! Listen, I'm nearly out of oil jars, and -- "

His sentence is cut short by a great moan that erupts from the ranks of tightly packed shields. The foremost wall of fire explodes as dozens of zombies hurl themselves onto the flames, smothering the fire with their bodies. More zombies rush the flaming barricade at the base of the stairs, only to be shoved down by the tower shielded abominations, who advance across their corpses and up the stairs two abreast.

"The fat man melted the locks and hinges with Acid! We have to hold here! There is nowhere left to run!"


You are standing on a stone deck, about ten feet above the floor of the cavern with the ladder at your back and the fireman behind the table in front. In front of the table is a set of stone stairs. The deck is 10ft by 7ft, shaped like a half circle. Still burning barricades are on the left and the right keeping the horde from scrambling over the debris at your flanks, but zombies have smothered the fire in front of the stairs and necro-abominations are charging up the stairs, shields raised.


Calfax raises his hands with a scream and lets loose a gout of flame, but the fire does nothing against the shields. "Why?! WHY?! WHY?!"

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

Move action - start bardic music for +6
Badge of valor for +1,
Inspirational Boost for another +1
And +1 from warlord

Use warlord I inspiration to give califax some bonus hp - that makes 3 uses out of 9 for the day
[roll0]

That'll use up my first rounds actions.


"Corporal! Well done, holding them off this long. Take a breather and let me hold them off."
*Stepping forward, Viken raises his shield up yo a defensive position, holding his falchion easily in his right and pointing it out towards the undead abominations*
"Something tells me you can understand me just fine, so let me say this once. Turn tail and flee now, and I will leave you and your masters be. This land is Mine now, and things are going to be different from now on. Stand firm and I will lay every one of you low. I will hunt down your masters and destroy them all. Flee. Now."

*Bringing his blade high, Viken braces himself for the seemingly inevita le attack, raising his blade high, ready to bring it down on thefirstfor to advance.*


Alright, I'm going to ready an attack, so I'll roll it now
Attack -
[roll1]

Damage
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Galvain7]

A basic initiative chart:
1. Monsters
2. Cpl. Calfax (voluntarily goes after you)
3. Viken Paha
-Calfax acts

1. Monsters

The abominations scoff at you, their voices rising to mock you in a sound like a thousand fingernails dragging down chalkboards, heard through a metal can.

"Pathetic Fleshling!" They crow "You are but dust, and to the dust you shall return! Our mistress has enslaved death itself, and has made the very powers you most fear her slave!"

One (Mons. #1) lunges at you, swinging down with a heavy Morningstar. The other moves his shield to cover the exposed flank.


Hit: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


You recover from the swing faster than even you thought possible, and counter with your own mighty swing: before the monster (#1) can heave his shield back in place you swipe with your heavy falcon and cleave through both legs just above the greave, severing them completely with a rotten sounding pop. A surprised, but not pained, look crosses the monster's face, but only for an instant as your follow up blow splits his skull in two before his body can hit the ground. Monster #1 Dead

Your ally Calfax howls in triumph and unleashes two twin missiles that snake up and around the second monster's (#2) shield and collide with its body.


Magic Missile:
[roll2]


The monster (#2) howls in frustration and takes a five foot step back, covering behind his shield. You see another monster (#3) beginning to move across the corpse fire-break to reinforce the retreating ally.

Action Summary:

Monster #1: Dead.
Monster #2: Five foot step, exchange morning star for spear (full round action)
Monster #3: Advance across difficult terrain. (full round action)

(Just trying to be extra clear.)

[TheMightyQuinn]

Viken Pasha

Free action to keep up bardic music for 1 round, so that should make 3 rounds total I've used today.


"The powers we fear most? You poor, foolish soul. The weak fear death and grasp at whatever meager threads of power will allow them to remain in this world. Your Mistress hods no true power.*
*Giving the walking sack of filth as little time to adjust as he can, Viken presses the attack, still keeping his shield up while arcing his blade in a series of blindingly fast slices, trying to find a weak spot in the creatures defenses.*
"Corporal! I appreciate the help, but I thought I told you to catch your breath! Tell me - are you disobedient, or simply rested and ready to fight once more?"
*Vikens bark of a laugh echoes off the stone ceilings, hopefully making his jest clear . He was impressed with the mans bravery - there was iron in his spine , to be sure.*


Alright, I'm going to make a full attack this turn, and hopefully bring the second one down as well.
I'm using combat expertise to raise my ac by 2, or 4 if califax is right behind me, so it should be either 26 or 28

Attack 1
[roll0]

Damage 1
[roll1]
[roll2]

Attack 2
[roll3]

Damage 2
[roll4]
[roll5]

[Galvain7]

"Disobedient?! What? You have no--"

The words fall on your ears like so much noise however, as your furious offensive carries you through the second monster and into the third. Before the flesh infused armor comes to a rest, the packed rank of monsters on the other side of the fire begins to withdraw. The day is yours!

"I don't think we can stand another push. I do not want to be rude, Warrior, but I hope you brought help." As you emerge from the cisterns and out into the courtyard, Calfax is confronted by your well ordered men. "Ah. I am guessing Wabo did send you after all. Your papers?" Your aid de camp hands over the relevant scrolls. You and your bemused troops stand amists the field of blood and slaughter as this sorcerous minor functionary peruses the sheets of official paperwork.

"Congratulations on your elevation, Viken Pasha. The people of this province are forever grateful for the timely rescue. I apologize for this current state of disarray. I hope you will understand that the times have not been good to these people." Calfax heats a blot of wax with a flaming forefinger, then dips a seal ring into your transfer orders. "Sealed in the presence of Heaven and these witnesses. Long live the Sultan! May he reign forever." Calfax passes a leather folio to one of your men. (As the Pasha, you must never be seen to handle the papers publicly.) "This is the record of events since I have arrived here. Unfortunately you will find the previous Pasha had the library burnt. Begging your pardon your eminence." Calfax bows and walks backwards a polite distance, then faints.

****
The remainder of your people, 153 men women and children, await you in the sand schooners.

I am still working on characterizing the NPCs in my head- I imagine Calfax's personality as being rather flat, despite some of his words during the combat.