The End of the World as We Know It (E6 dnd) IC

[Kaptin Keen]

It's a long march from the various kingdoms and provinces to the desert watch. By ancient systems, each nation and region provides a number of troops based on it's population. These are then divided along the length of the desert, so that all sections of the desert fortifications are equally manned.

All told, it is a very, very large army. Thousands upon thousands of men, from dozens of nations.

But then, it's also a very, very long line to watch.

As your column arrives. it's quite obvious that the desert watch has been neglected in recent decades. These fortifications were once the strongest ever conceived by men. Towers, walls, fortresses stretching to the very horizons north and south. The fortifications have three layers - an outer line of bunkers, traps, ditches and ambush sites, then the main fortifications with walls 50 feet tall, and finally a number of fall back positions.

However, the first line of defence is all but buried in sand from lack of maintainance, and the primary wall is so mired in dunes that half it's height is gone under the sand.

As various leaders coordinate and lead their units to positions along the fortifications, the sorry state of the defences is even more apparent. Once mighty siege engines are crumbling, stores of oil and ammunition empty, even the walls are weathered, cracked and ill-maintained.

Luckily The Enemy has been gone for more than a hundred years.

[root]

Trembling with patriotic fervor, or perhaps exhaustion, Anselm marched with the Blenwoldian troops towards their place at the fortifications. By the time they got to their position, sweat poured off the hapless scribe in streams. He tried to recall what he learned about The Enemy at the Divine Academie and shivered slightly.

"Good thing these buggers ain't around no more."

[bhangbhangduc]

Cohort gleaming, and full of vim and vigor, the young Maeric commandeered a batch of northern infantry in order to start the excavation of the primary wall. The sand could make for a secondary wall a few meters ahead, if enough of it could be shifted. He set about doing that.

Noticing a thin man muttering about the lack of attacks as he passed, he grasped the chance to show off his patriocism. "We need to be vigilant, the enemy could be watching right now!"

He mostly hoped his superiors were watching though. Otherwise all this digging would go to waste.

[Artman77]

A ragged, dark haired thirty-something shuffles at the back of the group, not saying much to anyone. His splint mail is patched together from several different sets and his clothes are thinning from heavy wear.

He sits down on a large block that has fallen fRom the crumbling wall, and watches as the young suckers waste their strength shoveling sand. He pulls a flask from his bag and drinks the last few drops.

[Kaptin Keen]

Along the fortifications, a pattern emerges. Young, eager officers set their reluctant troops to work improving the defences as best possible - while anyone who can avoid such duties busy themselves with anything else they can justify.

Anselm sets up his writing tools, ready to document the proceedings. He has quite specific instructions from back home: Write gloriously about the Blenwolde troops in their splendour for the propaganda effort back home, and take discreet note of the strength and numbers of any other troops present.

Maeric, recently commissioned, sets his troops and anyone else he can pull rank on to work shoring up their position. The sand is just one detail. There are two catapults and three balistae here, in need of some competent care if they are to fire. There are cauldrons of tar, cold and solid. And the artillary needs ammo too. Lots of work to do.

One of the men mutters Really, sir - shouldn't we be saving our strength for the fighting? The irony is think on his voice - but he sets to work with the rest anyways.

At the back, a scruffy-looking individual - who could be either a seasoned veteran or a street bum press ganged into service to fill the ranks - takes little note of the activity either way. Instead, he settles himself on a rock, and drinks deeply of something that may be moonshine. Or fine brandy. You really can't tell.

(And I feel the urge to ask if this last man is Edmund? Or maybe John? Your method, while intriguing, is slightly opague to me =)

[root]

Having regained his composure somewhat, Anselm looked for a spot away from all the noise and, most importantly, back straining labour. He found it soon enough, at the back of the line, where several blocks have fallen off the time-worn fortification. It was clear that he wasn't the only person who wanted to get as far away from physical work as possible - another fellow sat on one of the blocks, seemingly focused on emptying a flask.

Anselm sighed, wiping sweat off his forehead with his robe's dusty sleeve, and opened his satchel. The instructions were pretty clear - to write praise for his compatriots, and to document the proceedings. He briefly wondered if he could have simply stayed back at the garrison in Blenwolde for that... Unrolling a scroll, he began to scribble:

"Today, the glorious armies of Blenwolde have reached the great wall to stand vigil before the Great Enemy. Their heroic arrival has struck awe and jealousy in the hearts of the unbelievers from lesser nations, and yet they paid no heed to stares of envy and adoration as they prepared the fortifications. Truly, the great nation of Blenwolde is blessed..."

[iTookUrNick]

After reaching his assigned length of wall, Ben gets to work with some resignation. He plans to work as little as he can gat away with, but no less. There's someone even less keen on working than I am. he thinks, looking at some of the others. He assembles a little group and fetches wood to rebuild one of the watchtowers and, if they can manage it, fix up some of the siege equipment.

[Kaptin Keen]

Out of nothing but curiosity: Two catapults and three ballistae. What do you start work on?

[iTookUrNick]

I'd go with whatever is closer to the half point of the wall length. So assuming they are equally spaced, I'd say ballista #2. Being like a big bow, it might be easier.

[Kaptin Keen]

It might.

They are direct fire vs area of effect.

While your characters may not live long, any choice you make will have an impact. Even if I may not always chose to make it obvious what impact it has - I'm going to try and let every choice affect outcomes, and/or later encounters.

[Kaptin Keen]

[roll0]


Anselm works on the siege engines, while Maeric sets his men to work, and Ben gathers some men to help with a crumbling old tower. It's slow going, but improvements are made. Night falls. As morning breaks, you resume work.

It's well into the afternoon. It will never be remembered who first piped up:

Is that like, a sandstorm?

He wasn't the first to see at any rate. If you'd looked to the side, you'd see everyone staring east across the desert. At the thin, black band between the blue of the clear sky and the dusty yellow of the sand. It's like watching a glass fill a single drop at a time - watching how that thin black band gets wider, clearer.

And every man along the long, long miles of the wall has the same creeping, roiling feeling in his guts. Everyone watches. No one speaks. It's an bottomless depth of disbelief.

What breaks the spell is one guy who finally begins to cry. With a gasp, the sort that comes when you've held it in for longer than you thought you possibly could. Then suddenly, oh gods, and tears are running down your cheeks.


Actions if you have them. Mind, they are at the horizon. Still - maybe - hours away.

[iTookUrNick]

There are many ways to cope with what they are seeing. Some cry, some panic, some stare in silence. Ben cusses his own damn bad luck like there's no one watching. He looks around, searching for his commanding officer. "What now, sir?" he asks to the young Maeric men.

[Artman77]

The middle-aged man looks around with boredom. Many of the younger men are breaking their backs to please their commanding officer(s), as if a few weeks of work is going to somehow undo one hundred and fifty years of neglect. Finally a young man says aloud what he has been thinking the whole time; "Really, sir - shouldn't we be saving our strength for the fighting?" Francis chuckles to himself. If only we could be so lucky. He makes a mental note of the boy, meaning to introduce himself later, and continues to survey the camp.

"Pardon," he asks a passer-by, "Is there a well around here? I could use some more water." He holds up his flask, tipping it over to show it's completely empty. The man just stands there. Staring over his shoulder. Gawking. "Hey boy. I'm talking to you. What are you, slow?" He looks around. Other men stand awe-struck as well, mouths hanging open. Finally curiosity gets the better of him and he stands up from his seat to see what could possibly be going on.

Dust on the horizon. A thin line so dark it could hardly be what he thinks it is. He puts his hand up to his brow to shield his eyes from the sun. After several minutes the height of the darkness had grown. Maybe. He thinks he sees movement. Then he is sure that he did. He looks for spaces or gaps in the dark line that could give him a clue to as the size of the creature, but sees none. Impossible. There was no way there could be that many. He looks at his comrades. Some are crying. Some tremble. Others look so pale he thought they might pass out at any moment. One man wet himself.

Okay--That guy was not his comrade.

How long did they have? Half a day? Hours? Less? He looks over his shoulder at the stone block and considers sitting back down. There's no use wasting his strength just standing there. Hopeless though it was, there is a small part of him that doesn't want to die. No. That's not it. There is a small part of him that wants glory. He looks to the commanders for orders, and rolls his eyes when he realizes they are just as awe-struck as the rest. If you want something done right...

"ALRIGHT MEN!" he draws his sword for dramatic effect, rotating back and forth it so that the blade catches the sun, "This is why we are here! No one thought the Enemy would come! No one thought they still existed! But yet here we are! This is the moment of TRUTH!!!

For years we have enjoyed peace. For years we have gotten rich, and fat, and lazy. For years we have forgotten what it meant to really LIVE. I have had my share of gold. I have had my share of fine wine. I have had my share of the most beautiful women in the world. I have eaten more p**** and f****** more women than I can count! I've--"--for a moment he shamelessly describes his sexual conquests in graphic detail, be fore continuing--"But it is all for naught! THIS is why we are here! THIS is what men train for, what men are alive for, what men are born for! To train and to fight and to die--to thrust their blades into the belly of evil for the betterment of man kind! To bleed and make the Enemy bleed in turn!

We may die today! But for every one of us they take, we will take ONE HUNDRED of them! Our names will go down in history! We fight for glory! AND FOR THE FREEDOM OF OUR FAMILIES AND FOR THE REALM!!!

He is so sure of himself and so confident, one might consider him handsome, if that confidence didn't border on arrogance. Francis knew they were all going to die. But if by some miracle a handful of them lived, he was going to be one of them. Even if that meant convincing some well-meaning, ideological sucker to sacrifice himself by running to the front lines.

[Kaptin Keen]

Of course since time out of memory it's well known that what really inspires the common soldier is some talk of the sex lives of nobles.

Regardless, after a moment of stunned silence, there is clapping. Actual clapping - and even a few cries along the line of 'yea ... HELLS yea!' Because at the very least, there is courage there, and the will to fight.

Along the wall, various men - some officers, but far from all - gather enough of their wits to get moving. Preparations for battle begin.

[iTookUrNick]

'What a bunch of bull...' thinks Ben, listening to the middle-aged man who keeps turning left and right to inspire his comrades. 'And why not? We all need a little encouragement'. It's not like fleeing will make any difference the end: if the line fails to hold, it won't be long before the whole world is overrun. "Hear, hear!" he shouts at the end, trying to put a little passion in it. Now, if only they could get one of those catapults working in time...

[bhangbhangduc]

Maeric stared, slack-jawed, at the sight of the approaching enemy. He shakes himself out of it. "Right. This is it then," he mutters.

"For the Realm!" He's among the first to applaud as one of their number comes up with a pretty good speech, considering it was made up on the spot.

What to do next though? The digging was probably not the most efficient way to spend his time. He'd been posing, but now he looked around for someone who were up to something productive, and found the closest thing in Ben Barret. "What do you need to get that thing working?" he points at the derelict catapult. Then he calls over some of the soldiers he had digging the last day. "You four, head down the storage and round up as many barrels of tar as you can. Keep them coming till you cant find anymore, and we'll also need a slow-burning wick or something - we got to have something on hand to light them up with." He wasn't powerful enough to rain holy power from the sky, but this would probably be nearly as good.

"The other four of us are under this guy's command." he nods at Ben.

[Kaptin Keen]

With a dedicated effort, you easily have time enough to get both catapults firing. You also have enough ammo - frankly, more than you're likely to have time to fire.

Point of (possible) interest: The catapults fire either barrels of tar, rubble - rocks the size of a mans fist, or boulders. They are various purposes, but you don't really know for sure.

I suppose it's a lot to ask for that anyone picked knowledge: military tactics - or some such?

[bhangbhangduc]

With a dedicated effort, you easily have time enough to get both catapults firing. You also have enough ammo - frankly, more than you're likely to have time to fire.

Point of (possible) interest: The catapults fire either barrels of tar, rubble - rocks the size of a mans fist, or boulders. They are various purposes, but you don't really know for sure.

I suppose it's a lot to ask for that anyone picked knowledge: military tactics - or some such?


Maeric does have 4 ranks in proffession (soldier).

It might easily be too low-level knowledge to be applicable here though.

[Kaptin Keen]

You did what I was too lazy to do ... hm, making the GM look bad would normally be punishable by death (of course), but in this game I feel I need to come up with a new threat =D

Ok, well ...

Boulders are useful for larger enemies - so are the ballistae btw - called siege beetles.
Tar is an excellent area denial weapon. The bugs do not like fire.
Rubble tends to be enormously effective at short range, especially vs flyers, but loses velocity over distance, eventually just bouncing off the chitin of the bugs.

None of the ammo types are ever entirely ineffective.

[root]

It took some time for it to set in. Having left his scrolls and writing utensils behind, Anselm waded through the panicking soldiers until he had a clear view of the wave of blackness at the horizon.

"We are all dead, aren't we?" he uttered, quietly. Having noticed several people attempt to fix ballistae a short distance away, he wandered through, trying to help. Anselm was no great engineer or handywork man, but in his studies he came across a cantrip that could mend broken things. He hoped it would be enough.


I'm just going to help fix the closest ballista to the best of my ability. When combat starts, I will likely try to seek cover and/or hide.

[Artman77]

There was some clapping and cheering. Okay. Perhaps all was not lost. But then again maybe it was.

It looked like they might be severely outnumbered and the man who was in charge of the excavation apparently wasn't the commander, since he was nodding pledging his obedience to another soldier who was repairing the siege equipment. That guy didn't seem to really be in charge either.
Well who the hell is in charge here!? Francis wondered, looking around for whoever it was supposed to be. He looks up the wall at the squad to the north, and down the wall at the squad to the south, to see what they might be doing. His own squad cheered and clapped at his speech, but he doesn't see much movement. Well, not much besides that of the few men repairing the siege equipment.

He peers over the outside edge of the wall to look for any holes or weak spots. There weren't any gaping holes or anything from the safe(eastern?) side of the wall, but you never knew. The outside could be worse. He takes note of where the dunes have drifted up against it, creating little hills where it might be possible for the enemy to climb up.
"Who's in charge here? ANYONE!?!?" he waits a few moments for someone to step forward.


He climbs up on top of a barrel and stands at his full height to get everyone's attention.
"Alright men! We're going to kill these buggers! Not a single one is going to make it over this wall! After the enemy in front of us is dead, we will help the other squads hold the line you hear me??!"
"Anyone who knows how to fire a ballista or catapult to the front of the group, now! You help him fix that one, you and you, help fix that one. You, inspect the bolts for the ballista and make sure none are damaged! We don't want a single shot wasted! You and you! stand by those piles of rocks, and when those guys tell you what to load, YOU LOAD IT!"
"Anyone not helping fix the weaponry or carrying tar, pick up a rock from down there and bring it up here! When we run out of arrows, we'll crush their heads or feet or legs with rocks! We don't want them scaling this wall!!!**"
"When the time comes, anyone with a bow spread out along the wall and be ready to fire as soon as the enemy is within range! Anyone without a bow; stand there, there, or there, where the sand dunes have built up. We don't want a single bugger up here, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

He turns back to those fixing the siege weapons.
"Test fire those catapults as soon as they are ready!! We need as much range as we can get!! We wanna hit those buggers before they can even see that we're up here!"

** Falling rocks=1d6/10 ft, anyone? :smallwink:


He notices a scribe or scholar performing some curious repairs on one of the weapons while nervously glancing back at the towers.
"Hey. If you plan on running up there and hiding," he says to him quietly, "at least carry some rocks up with you. You'd be surprised what they could do when hurled from a tower..."

[Kaptin Keen]

If you spend some time considering, the answer comes to you. Look north, look south, the fortifications are manned alright - but not heavily manned. In times past, there were no wars to thin the ranks, just before the war. In times past, reserves and quality troops weren't kept back home out of mistrust of neighboring nations. And then finally, this hasn't been done for real for a long, long time.

There are lots of petty officers, but the nearest ranking officer might be as much as a mile distant - and he might be a Blenwoldian trying to give orders to Kuzumians. Too much wall, too few officers, too much confusion, and more than anything too little expectation that there'd be a fight.

As far as this part of the wall is concerned, either you guys take the reins, or some crummy npc is going to try his best. I wouldn't put all my eggs in that basket if I were you guys.

One slightly more lucid liutenant brings out a spy glass. As he scans the horizon, he is unable to keep a look of rather deep worry off his face, but when he turns, he at least has something to offer:

I estimate they'll reach the walls late afternoon tomorrow. There are no more of them than we should be able to take, he lies, provided we are prepared and fight well. You lot, with me! He points at a number of guys, and heads for the rear.

[Kaptin Keen]

Time passes with furious activity. You actually get a lot done: The walls are taller, the two catapults are ready, you have ammunition, molten tar, piles of rocks and boulders. There is some semblance of a command structure, somehow with the nameless noble on top. The lieutenant that left with a group of soldiers ..... never returned.

You work through the night. All the time, The Enemy gets closer. And there seems to be simply no end to them. They seem to crowd the desert all the way back to the horizon where you first spotted them.

There are break downs - men who simply cannot take it, break down and cry, fall down and refuse to get back up. And there are deserters, who try and run for it, only to be shot from behind by archers posted for that reason.

Finally, they reach the outer defences. Some of these have been manned - by the crazy, the suicidal, maybe a glory hound or two. It is like watching a wave break on the beach. It is short, brutal and bloody. Some traps have been armed too. These make more of a difference, sprays of acid exploding among the massed insects, pitfalls collapsing under them. There used to be explosives, but those seem to not work any longer.

And so it begins. Archers fire when The Enemy is at 300 yards - and keep firing. Men ready their spears, say their prayers, and the fight begins for real.


Roll initiative. This will determine your readiness as the attack comes - mind however, regardless of the roll you have readied actions. You strike first.

Also, I'd like to know what action you're planning. And where, precisely, you are.

[iTookUrNick]

[roll0] - Ben is planning to rain arrows on his enemies. One at the time, that is.

Ben is perched atop the watchtower he helped build, with enough arrows to last it for the battle. With him as many other archers as they could accommodate.
With his spare time and spare wood, he had fashioned a few heavy shields for the first line of melee troops below him, and instructed them to try and push back down the monsters. Those with a spear were tasked with skewering the bugs from behind the cover of their comrades. Pretty basic as tactics go, but hopefully not ineffective.

[root]

Having spent several hours trying to help mend the rather ancient ballistae ( and likely getting in the way of the actual smiled experts), Anselm retreated to the crumbling tower once he felt that the encroaching waves of enemies were uncomfortably close.

By pure coincidence, it was the same tower Ben was in. Without any cantrips but a single casting of cure minor wounds, and several Command spells prepared, Anselm drew his army issue light crossbow to fight off the enemy. He was too tired for the original adrenaline rush to drive him, and feeling hopelessly useless, praying to godking of Blenwolde under his breath, mixed up with frequent cursing.

initiative [roll0] ( might be +2, can't access my sheets at the moment)
I plan to try Command spell to see if it works, and use crossbow bolts/ thrown bricks to fend off the Enemy.
Edit: holy crap a nat 1. Anselm is living up to his legacy, now I really want him to survive =p. He's basically Rincewind...

[bhangbhangduc]

Despite having worked on the catapults, Maeric had redeployed now that the storm was imminent, manning the walls. They'd need courage the most there, he couldn't help but think. Besides, his divine magic was good at keeping morale up, so he'd have to be where their people where thickest.

[roll0]

He rested his crossbow on the crenelations.

[Artman77]

Pits and traps and catapults do some serious damage. Francis sees a glimmer of in they eyes of some men. A glimmer that quickly disappears as the enemy keeps coming. And coming.

They seem to come without end. Some weep, others feint. It's not until some begin to flee that his heart begins pounding in his ears. They couldn't afford to let panic set in. Not this early. Armies often functioned like mobs. Chaos within chaos. Order would have to be maintained if even one man was going to make it out alive...
"Hold the line!!" he bellowed. More men began to run. "Archers! Shoot them down!" Arrows began to fly through the air even as he yelled it. "If anyone lives, it will only because he fought to stay alive! Not because he ran like a coward! Hold the line!!! If they want our lives they will have to PAY for them in BLOOD!!"

He double-checked to make sure that there were extra men on what he thought were weak points on the wall, and then headed back towards the nearest tower, barking orders and encouraging the men as much as possible as he went. He stopped just short of the (door? to the) stairs, turned and drew his sword. The quiet golden sand turned to a writhing, churning sea of black as the enemy flooded the far side of the wall. The archers loosed their arrows. Hundreds fell, and hundreds more rushed forward to fill their place. In too short a time, too few were dead. And then they were at the wall.

He steeled himself for what came next, filling his lungs with air for a war cry to let loose as soon as he saw his first foe.

*Blows on dice*[roll0]
and I don't know how many towers there are, but I was kinda assuming he would just-so-happen to wander towards the one with the other PC's. He talks a good game, but really, he wants to live die last.

[Kaptin Keen]

The first volley is devastating. Missiles rain down on the front rows of the bugs, and they are shattered. It looks wildly impressive, the entire advance stumbling as dead and wounded enemies fall, and others trip over them. There is a moment of mad cheering - quickly silenced, as the wave of enemies quickly flows over the fallen, and continue without pause.

How many insects die, crossing those 300 yards while missiles rain down on them? And yet, soon enough, the tide of chitinous claws and fangs wash against the foundations of the fortifications. The larger ones - called drones by your instructors - leap and scramble up the walls, frantic movement of sharp, barbed limbs propelling them upwards. At the same time, a great swarm of smaller insects - these you know to be called wasps - leap and fly over your first line of defence, guiding their great leaps like grasshoppers. At point blank range, however, the catapults fire, and cut huge holes in the swarm.

Bens defence works very well against the drones - pushing them back or impaling them, and leaving them to tumble onto others below. However, the wasps soon occupy the attention of the spearmen.

The noble, yet unnamed, rushes in from behind to help dispatch the wasps. Maeric, commanding the spearmen, also quickly divides the men between keeping the walls clear of the more dangerous drones, and a few to get rid of the wasps.

From on high, Ben and Anselm along with a squad of archers rain death - until a group of wasps land among them, too. I'll equipped for melee, they try their best to defend.


Low initiative isn't necessarily bad. For instance, the catapult has greater effect for being held until the last moment. Artmans noble gets a counter charge, which is good. On the other hand, the tower and Maeric would have done better by rolling a higher initiative.

You get a bunch of bonuses for being well prepared. You lose a few as well - like a command bonus for the lieutenant that decided this was someone elses fight, not his.

I've mulled the fight on the wall some. We shall do the following: You each roll twice - for any attack or similar standard action you want, and for any social skill or pure charisma or other stat you want to use to bolster morale, or direct the fight (any stat will do - if you want to do a heroic charge, strength is fine by me. Be inventive).

How you roll will influence how many bugs you and the men around you kill. And how many of your men fall.

As I said earlier, you have prepared actions, so you go first. Then we'll see =)

[root]

As the bugs ascended the tower, Anselm cringed. "I should have stayed back home!" he screamed in a futile fury, smashing his crossbow against the crenelated battlements.

Whipping himself in the direction of the nearest bug, with the determination of a cornered rat, Anselm performed arcane gestures. He wasn't sure if it would even work - but in this moment, he was far from rational. "Stand down before the might of Blenwolde!" he screamed, releasing the spell.


Spell: Command (halt)
DC 13, assuming the bugs aren't mindless and thus immune.

If successful, it should cause one of the bugs to stand in place without performing any actions.
"The subject stands in place for 1 round. It may not take any actions but is not considered helpless. "

I'll do a charisma roll for motivation despite my -1 modifier, I just don't see how this action has anything to do with Wisdom or Intelligence =p
[roll0]

[iTookUrNick]

[roll0]. In addition, Ben has a Favored Enemy bonus against vermin, not because of any special study on his part but because he (unknowingly) descends from a line of wall fighters and he has it in his blood. That should count for something. Hopefully.
[roll1] well, you said "be creative' right?

Ben experience something quite strange as he sees the mound of enemies swarming against their defenses, being put down by the scores. If it weren't so unlikely, he would call it a thrill. He seems to have a real knack for taking them down too, but he is only one man and he doubts he will make much of a difference. Suddenly, a swarm of the little ones (wasps, apparently) gets to their position. He lets go of his bow and takes out his axe in one fluid motion, ready to dispatch them. "If you get hit, make sure to pinch your skin and squeeze outward as soon as you are in the clear: they got tiny barbs on those claws that get stuck and slowly poison your muscles unless you take them out!" he warns his comrades, remembering an odd bit of lore that from his grandmother (she used to tell him about the battles, just before going to bed).

[bhangbhangduc]

"All right, here they come. Let's show them what for!" Maeric looks much like the next man in the line, and his short, shouted speach was paltry compared to the nobleman's eloquent production a few minutes earlier. Still, there was a conviction to his words that spread to the men nearby him. Then the first of the enemies had cleared the wall, and they drew sword and spear. "Stand your ground!" It was almost as if he was shining, right in that moment.

He looked about him, wildly grinning as he ducked out of the way of a swooping wasp, before pushing into the melee - he wasn't fighting so much as holding up his shield in front of him and applying pressure, hoping to stall the veritable wall of creatures and maybe push a few off the crenelations.

Casting Bless with my standard action. Dunno if I should roll for that(maybe it would be 1d20+CL+Spellcasting score? Sort of like an attack roll?), or if we just apply the bonus to relevant rolls - for 1 minute, everyone within 50ft. of Maeric gets +1 morale to attack rolls & saving throws against fear. That covers 100ft. of wall.

As for my skill check, str; [roll0]

[Artman77]

Francis lets loose a war cry in an attempt to rally the troops as he charges the bugs now on the edge of spilling over. He hacks at their legs and faces in an attempt to keep them from crawling up over the edge.
"Come on men! Give 'em what for!!!"

war cry/morale boost/adrenaline rush/charge? (str check) [roll0]
attack one [roll1], damage [roll2]
attack two [roll3], damage [roll4]

Edit: ...and this is why noble mom and noble dad didn't want their son playing soldier boy.

[Kaptin Keen]

As the first, dense pack of insects swarm over the battlements, it's like an avalance. It literally threatens to knock you on your back, the sheer weight and numbers. It is a herculean effort to push back, stand firm, and fight. But you do - through sound tactics, strong leadership, and strength of will.

Insects die in droves in those first moments - but not for nothing. Dozens of men are wounded, and there are plenty of insects to replace the fallen. But for now, the momentum is broken. New wasps buzz in to land among you, and the drones press hard against those guarding the walls. The archers on the towers, however, provide much needed relief for those men holding back the far deadlier drones.

At the foot of the walls, it's a veritable sea of claws and mandibles and skittering chitinous monsters.


Roll initiative. The number to beat is [roll0]

For now, the footmen are holding their own. You may chose to aid them, or do other stuff - if you can come up with anything. You are still welcome to take a standard action and do something else - harsh language, a skill check or ability roll - to aid those poor, nameless saps whose fate is to be npc's.

Oh and .... if you're in the tower or actually at the battlements, you may roll spot vs 15.

[iTookUrNick]

[roll0]
[roll1]

And if I may, I'd like to know what I spot (if I do beat the DC) before committing to a course of action.

[bhangbhangduc]

For a short while, Maeric is consumed by the battle. Luckily, he's well protected by the men at his side, and his shield and armour takes the brunt of the claws that he can't dodge. Still, he spends a brief while just fighting for his life, trying to make some room around him with his sword. In a rare moment of ebb in the endless tide, he gets his bearings and tries to bring some tactics to bear on the fight. Breathing room. They had too much to do at once, they needed time to focus their efforts.

"Come on men, we've got to clear the wall! Dump the tar and rocks!"

He follows his own lead, and scrambles to work the mechanism that pours the boiling tar down into the roiling sea of insectoid bodies.

Step 1: Melee attack: [roll0], [roll1]

Profession(soldier): [roll2], dumping the tar.

[root]

Spot: [roll0]
Initiative [roll1]

I am currently located at the tower. I'm assuming we're onto "turn 1" since you've said we had a prepared action in an earlier post, but my head is a bit muddled right now.
If I'm mistaken and we're still on the same "round" as my previous action (Cast spell;), I'll edit this later.

fakeedit: I think I'll follow in iTookUrNick's steps and wait for that spot check to clear.

Edit: since you've said it was against DC 15, I guess it didn't. Heh at least my initiative is tight.


Peering through the dark clouds of the encroaching bugs, Anselm loads his crossbow once again and prepares to shoot the biggest bug that would reach the top of the tower. He was hoping it wouldn't come to this...

Eyeing the other hapless defenders, he tried to inspire them - and perhaps assure himself - that not everything is gone to hell and that there is a solution.
"There can be only this many bugs - they're not endless. With each kill, we're closer to victory!"

Readied action to attack, will roll later since can't edit in rolls.
Hopefully Anselm comment counts as wisdom-based, will roll for that too (In OOC)

[iTookUrNick]

[roll0]
Despite the momentary distractiin, Ben's keen eyes manage to pick up something strange, some sort of fat bug making its way amidst its lesser kin. "What the... Watch out, big one incoming from the left side!" he shouts, not sure of what he is seeing "We need to put it down fast.!".
In the meantime, he lights one of the arrows and shoots one where the tar is thicker to ignite it.

[Kaptin Keen]

Ahhh .... but you fixed up the catapults - not the ballista.

Or am I remembering wrong? You have other options tho.

[iTookUrNick]

[roll0] this is the roll you are looking for

[Artman77]

Francis hacks away at the bugs as they climb up the walls and threaten to spill over its edge. It is by dumb luck he doesn't suffer any wounds for his effort. A few of their claws fail to pierce his armor. Another manages a swipe mere inches from his throat, only to be brought down by one of the men next to him. His attacks are passionate, but it is only when combined with the attacks of others that they stand a chance of piercing the vermin's exoskeleton.

For a moment, there is a break in the action. He stops to catch his breath. Maybe his family was right. Maybe he was too old for this. The moment is short-lived. Here they come again.

He glances over his shoulder at the tower to make sure his escape route isn't cut off before swinging at the next bug to pop its head over the edge of the wall.


Attack; [roll0] Damage; [roll1]
and if I'm not dead by round 3:
Attack; [roll2] Damage; [roll3]

[Kaptin Keen]

Two hundred yards east of your position:

A lieutenant, flanked by two men dressed in the gaudy uniforms of the elite Kuzum Alhaadi infantry struggle to push through the fighting, trying to reach a ranking officer. They dispatch bugs and push aside fellow soldiers. Finally, they reach an older, bearded man surrounded by aides and guards.

Sir, shouts the lieutenant over the fighting, snapping off a quick salute, major, we need to face the military reality that we're not going to be able to hold the wall.

The older man turns slowly to face the lieutenant, fury already seeting on his face.

What treason is this, you Kuzum dog? He very nearly spits this last - the nationality of the other man clearly doesn't agree with him.

Sir, this battle is impossible. We must send word back to the cities. Without time to prepare - all may be lost.

Return to your post, lieutenant. That's an order! He turns to his guards If this man does not resume his duties, or makes any move towards deserting - gut him like a pig.

A quick look passes between the major and his staff sergeant. Then, without a word, the sergeant draws his blade, and runs the major through without blinking.

You men heard the lieutenant. We all have family and friends back home. I need twenty men to form up, grab some horses, and get on the road this very instant to spread the word. Everywhere. Go go go!

With that, the sergeant resumes commanding his section of the wall, and the Kuzum lieutenant heads for the stables.

Where you guys are:

The assault continues. Waves of wasps fly onto the wall - and this time there isn't a catapult to scatter them. At least there is archer cover to reduce their numbers.

The wasps are starting to outnumber the defenders on the walls. You see the first men fall as the insects swarm and scitter over them. The larger drones are still held back by the shield wall, and as heavy rocks and burning pitch are dropped along the length of the ramparts, pressure is relieved for a moment. The spearmen have a moment to help clear out the wasps.

However, big, fat beetle like insects have made their way to the front. Some are struck by fire or rocks, and one is skewered by a balista. But some are unscathed, and with an unpleasant buzzing they take wing. They are not nimble or elegant flyers. Some fly straight into towers or walls, and all land randomly on their bellies. But when they do land on the wall, they hiss and spray .... something .... everywhere. Men scream and scratch at their eyes, and stumble around blindly.

One of the sprayers is hit by Bens arrow, wounding it, but not enough to kill it. If only Maerics attack hadn't missed - but sadly, it did.

Anselm for his part held on to his shot, waiting for the right moment.

Finally, Francis went in, sword flashing. His attack connected solidly, killing the sprayer - but not until it had done it's job.

As you look about, the situation isn't good. The spearmen did an excellent job cleaning the wall - but now more than half of them, along with the remaining defenders, are struggling with the sprayers noxious mist.

The foot of the wall is currently covered in flames, so the drones are cut off for now - but that wont last.


This round, everyone gets nibbled on. A few wasps land on the tower, and many land on the wall. All drones get flanking bonus. They're pretty much all over.

Maeric:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
Attack: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Francis:
Attack: [roll8]
Damage: [roll9]
Attack: [roll10]
Damage: [roll11]
Attack: [roll12]
Damage: [roll13]
Attack: [roll14]
Damage: [roll15]

Ben:
Attack: [roll16]
Damage: [roll17]
Anselm:
Attack: [roll18]
Damage: [roll19]

Also, Maeric and Francis can roll a fort save vs 12 or be ..... obnoxicated?! What's the word again, hang on. Dammit, where are my books? Sickened:
The character takes a -2 penalty on all attack rolls, weapon damage rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks.

Long post. Hope it works. Did I remember everything?

[Artman77]

Francis plunges his sword into the beast and is sprayed in the face by its spittle for his efforts. He falls back, choking and gagging. He tries to control his spasming body as best as he can in a vain attempt to retain what little dignity he has left. He hastily retreats to the safety of the tower.

[root]

Having dodged the wasp's wild lunge by luck rather then mere skill, Anselm lurched back and shot his crossbow at the insectoid monstrosity.

"Gah! Stay down!"


Take 5 foot step away from the wasp if possible - if not, I suppose I'll take the AoO.
Apply my Dodge feat against the wasp that just attacked me - +1 AC against it. (AC 13 vs the bug, AC 12 vs everything else)
Shoot my crossbow and reload it with my Standard + Move action.

[roll0] to hit with crossbow
[roll1] damage

[iTookUrNick]

Ben's keen eyes spot a commotion down the wall, though he does not understand what it is all about. It's just a moment's distraction, but it is enough to get stung hard by one of the wasps. He curses.
Wit more and more wasps coming in, he feels it would be best to get off the tower, as not to get trapped. He decides to leap down, axe in both hands, aiming to take down one of the bigger bugs down below. He figures he can always make his way back up if appropriate.
[roll0] death from above!

[BBDuc 2E]

Maeric tries to use the short breathing room created by the burning pitch to clear the wall of immediate fliers.

He notes a man jumping down from the tower - he seems in a hurry to get somewhere, so Maeric decides to attempt to clear a way for him, pushing at the throng of fighting bodies.

Initiative(are we still doing this?): [roll0]

Attack: [roll1] (Damage:[roll2])

Str to help clear the way: [roll3]

[Kaptin Keen]

Ben hears the lieutenant's words and decides he wants to be among those 20. It's just a moment's distraction, but it is enough to get stung hard by one of the wasps. He curses.
In order to be able to leave, though, he needs to get off the tower. As a way of showing off and pros his merit, he decides to leap down, axe in both hands, aiming to take down one of the bigger bugs down below.
[roll0] death from above!

200 yards away. Ben has no idea this is going on. Of course you might then ask - why include it? And with good reason. However, the reasons will become apparent.

[Kaptin Keen]

Ben leaps from the tower - as he does so, he hears the uncertain voice of one of the men who looked to him for leadership go: Uh, sir?!

Landing on the ramparts, Ben cuts one of the creatures almost in half. Maeric, next to him, cuts down another - but around them, the defence of the wall is faltering. Half the men are affected by the noxious spray of the beetle-like bugs, too many wasps are landing ... the wasps are attacking the spearmen and shield bearers by the battlements from behind, and a scream draws your eyes as the first of the drones claws it's way to the top, and impales one of the defenders.

Anselm, trying to defend himself against a wasp, fires and missed. However, Francis choses this moment to arrive in the tower. He cuts down the offending insect without a second glance.

[Post unfinished - my computer insists on a restart, and I'm not about to lose what I typed in]

With a hole in the lines at the battlements, the drones start pushing onto the ramparts (my apologies if my terminology is inaccurate here), their great scythe-like appendages cutting down the armsmen left and right. Soon, a small horde of insect warriors are tearing at you, and though steel is harder than chitin, it's all you can do to remain standing in the onslaught. The men in the tower, however, are slightly better off than the rest - for now, at least.

The press of numbers quickly becomes too great. Surrounded, swarmed and swamped, both Ben and Francis fall beneath the clawing, biting, tearing mass of sharp, chitinous appendages.

The remaining defenders on the wall wont last long either. There are still some 20-30 men alive on this stretch of the wall, but they are outnumbered 3 or 4 to 1.

Meanwhile:

One hundred yards from your position, a group of 20 men are fighting their way towards the stables. As previously mentioned, wasps and sprayers have flown over the wall - a relief then, but now it means that this group is having trouble reaching their destination. Lead by a competent Kuzum lieutenant, they are valiantly pressing on. They are still a ways away from your group (or .... what's left of it), but getting closer. The stables are 50 yards from your position, in a small fortified enclosure.

To either side of your position, the defences are crumbling - just like where you are. The towers remain defensible, but that's hardly a long term solution. There are reserves being deployed, but without proper leadership, it's hap-hazard.

In other words, this battle isn't going well for the brave human defenders.

[Kaptin Keen]

It not that is wasn't grand and glorious. It's not that there weren't heroics. Banners snapped proudly in the wind - stout fighters fought to the last drop, friends or former enemies fought back to back. There were moments of undiluted grandeur. Moments that would have become legend.

If only there had been any survivors.

But the sheer weight of numbers made it all moot. It was a long, desperate, hopeless struggle. A fight, not to win or survive, but to stay alive as long as possible - kill as many bugs as possible - before the inevitable.

The frenzied, chittering, clawing, biting, slashing mass could not be held back.

Perhaps with greater numbers, better preparation, maintainance of the wall and it's equipment, things might have been different. But as it was, the struggle was one-sided and doomed. The best and the brightest of an entire generation - cut to ribbons, buried under the enormity of the enemy onslaught, presumably eaten down to the bone, and left in the sun to dry and wither.

Through this doomed struggle, one group of men fight with desperation to reach the stables, in the hopes of being able to outpace the invaders. To mount a defence elsewhere.

Lead by a kuzumian lieutenant, they charge headlong through the various enemies that - for one reason or another - have wound up on the other side of the wall. Even as the defenders on said wall are failing, dying, they cut and bludgeon their way towards the horses.