The Last Stand (IC)

[Zalphier]

Twas another commonly chilly morning over the peaceful valley on this late summer's day. Gentle winds kept a comfortably cool breezing blowing down from the mountains. In the fields, the farm hands walked their fields to gauge how well the plants were growing and looking for signs of pests or infestation, but so far it'd seem like another good harvest was on the way. Elsewhere throughout the valley was similar, with everyone getting ready for the harvest and setting to make sure they'd done enough of their regular work that the upcoming absence wouldn't hurt too bad. In the village and market, shops had opened their doors and windows to flood the streets with tantalizing smells or the banter of prices being haggled.

Some of the carts from the outlying hamlets were also just pulling into the village proper, wanting to sell off their raw materials and goods. Even the Black Keep at the mouth of the valley seemed to be full of activity as the distant trails of smoke could just barely be made out showed an uncharacteristic liveliness. The only ones who seemed to have any concern were the skeleton crew of a guard up on the old battlements. They'd been up there for some time, but even with the spyglass, the keep was a bit far for good details to be seen. When a few townsfolk did finally ask about what seemed to have the guard so worked up, they replied that they weren't sure yet, but had sent out a scout. That was usually enough to have them moving on their way again.

By midday, the brightly shining sun had welcomingly warmed the valley for pleasant lunches and breaks for most. "Clang" Came an peace interrupting and unfamiliar sound from above. "Clang, clang, clang." Scores of eyes lifted to see one of the guard furiously striking a crude old bell with a heavy mallet, and hearing similar ones being sounded off in other areas around the village that would echo out far across the valley. Noticing the collection of people starring up confused at him, the guardsman stopped just long enough to lean over the rampart wall and yell out, "MONSTER ATTACK!"

With that clarification out of the way, panic started to form among valley's folk as they didn't seem sure where to go or what to do. Some started running, some turned to look towards the south to see if they too could see this monster attack while others seemed to question the others standing next to them.

************************************************** *****************************************
And here we are. The attack has started, but the enemy is little more than a darker line way out across the fields to those trying to see them from ground level. There are people in the walled/fortified part of the village as well as the part setup after the walls were considered not needed, but none seem certain about what to do. The old alarm bells, while not the best, do ring out and echo fairly far across the valley.

Please include the rough location of where your character is by specifying the box on the map in an OOC. I won't need this every time, but having it in the opener will be helpful especially if you all don't start next to each other.

Link back to the OOC thread (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?625978-The-Last-Stand-(OOC))
And a link to the map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1cWRclMVZPPovRChRyrwGgNit1oAsmA2n6W83TOBW1KY/edit#gid=0)

[Pyrophilios]

Gerwulf sat on the small dock, chewing one of the first apples of the year - it was small and sour and so fitted quite well his mood. His return to the valley of his childhood had been... difficult. The years of fighting showed on the lines of his face, and even though he didn't have had his 30th name day yet, already a few white streaks began to form in his black hair. His parents had been welcoming enough, but his siblings and welcomed him with the same chillyness that the river water brought down from the mountains. But that was still better than what he had had to endure from the people in the village, whose sons he had failed to bring back home.
Two months leave they had been promised - and already two days felt too long.
When the hammering on the bell began, he looked up. "An attack? Here?"

At once he was up, grabbing the rapier lying next to him. Force of habit prevented him from running. A running officer lowered the morale of his men. And so he made his way with all due expediency, but without haste to the top of the wall around the village, staring at the moving black dots at the southern fields.

"Everyone, get your weapons, get your bows and get behind cover!"


Moving from 15U to 16T

[Zero Prime]

https://i.postimg.cc/K83HdM05/Baeranor.jpg
Baeranor of Cairn Fearn (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2387347)
AC: 16 | HP: 49 | CURRENT: 49 | HIT DIE: 5d10 | CURRENT: 5d10
PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 13 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10
Active Effects: None.
Conditions: None.

Baeranor was dockside, assisting Ackley Thomsson pull in the nets from the crater, some prawn, crawfish, and other bottom feeding shellfish were in the nets. He was stripped to the waist, his broad back, with it's distinctive whorls of blue woad across his shoulders, shoulder, and chest, a broad smile on his face. Shooting a playful look at his companion who lazily sat on the dock watching him work, he continued with his story, "... and then Visserad, his trousers 'round his ankles comes running bare ass out of the stables, after a roll in the hay with the Brewster lass, her dad tearin' after him." Looking at the catch, he nodded, "Seems like it'll be a good ...," his smile fell quickly as Gerwulf scanned the horizon, his apple falling unheeded to the docks. His call to arms resonated in the big highlander's chest, and a spectral voice leaned close, whispering in his ears, 'I warned you Baeranor, and yet you toiled in the muddy banks with these peasants, rather than prepare defenses for the inevitable fall of this valley.' He turned his head to the empty air to his side, "Silence Caerthalian," he spoke in ancient tel'quessir, "your thirst for greenskin blood shall soon be sated if Gerwulf's eyes don't fail him."

He moved to wear his breastplate and the long single edged elven long blade sat with his gear, he quickly strapped on his armor, sheathing Caerthalian's blade over his shoulder, as he pulled forth a small set of pipes attached to a clothed bladder of air, placing the pipe in his mouth, holding the bladder under his arm, he marched, side by side with his companion, the bagged pipes echoing a marching tune through the air calling his companions from their daily chores.

[Pyrophilios]

Gerwulf nodded to Baeranor, glad to have the Auxiliar at his side. Distracted he said: "Sorry, I didn't catch that - some of these days you really need to teach me that language of yours. Bloody hell, I need to lay my hands on a good spyglass. Can't make anything out with this glare. I wonder where the rest of our company is."

[Shveiran]

So far, coming home had not treated Malcer overly well.
Realizing how much everything had moved on had startled him, sure. His little brother was married, his older one all but disinherited, and his sisters had grown so much... but that was just the beginning.
Meeting his family had been like falling down a slippery slope, the controlled façade maintained through thick and thin lost in an instant. Before them, he had collapsed like his bones had turned to cloth, incoherently crying how he was a failure and couldn’t protect them. He had enrolled to keep the valley recruits safe, and they had still lost so many. Keyra, Theodmond, Albruga…
He was alive and they were dead. The overwhelming guilt he felt before that fact is something he had kept hidden from his comrades for years, but seeing his family again had broken the spell.
They had tried to console him, not quite understanding; even Wendra seemed to walk on shells around him, these days.

He lived and they had died. Half his guilt. Today was the day to confront the other half. Meeting his pacifist mentor.
To figure out if young Malcer was a killer now, or if he could ever be something else again.
And while he was walking there, he had realized he was carrying his weapons, even here.

The realization had shaken him. Perhaps it shouldn’t have; that was what soldiers did, wasn’t it? But there was the rub. He was supposed to be a wizard, not a soldier. Soldiering was supposed to be a one-time thing.
Now he found himself wondering whether he could ever be something else again.

The bells awoke him from his stupor. An attack, here?! But how, why…
This mustn’t register on an emotional level, he reminded himself, mastering his emotion and setting the gears of his mind to grind every unproductive thought into dust. A soldier deals in facts; a wizard doubly so. If you lack facts, acquire them.

Malcer stood whipping his wand from its sheath. An imperious wave later, a motley grey owl appeared in mid-air, answering his call.
Through their telepathic bond, Malcer directed his familiar, Owl, to fly toward the fortress: whatever the trouble was, he would see for himself.
Slipping the leather cord of his wand around his wrist, he started walking briskly toward the palisades. A fireball cannot hold ground; if you find yourself without armed men by your side, acquire them.
Fortunately, he already knew where he’d find the best companions a man could ask for: right in the middle of this ruckus.

Malcer will try to find the rest of the gang, and will periodically stop to watch through the eyes of his flying familiar to try and get a bird’s eye view (ah ah) of the incoming threat.

Also making my way from S16 to T16

[JbeJ275]

Golnar was lucky enough to be armed and equipped with his shield when the news swept through the village, as he was demonstrating what he had been taught to his younger sister. When the news reaches them, he swiftly brings her back to their parents then swifts out towards the source of this panic, faint firey swirls already starting to build on his unarmoured chest.

[Zalphier]

As Gerwulf and Baeranor took their position atop the wall and Malcer and Golnar took up spots at the gate, they would be given some better perspective of the chaos below and around them. Most people tried to get through the gates and then further into the walled section of the town, but others who were farther out simply ran into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. The guard must have heard Gerwulf over the bell and pipes as a spyglass was shoved into his hands quickly. Yet even that would pale in comparison to the view Malcer was able to get from his airborne familiar.

One thing that became apparent very quickly to both was that this wasn't just a random attack. Two rows of goblins mounted on worgs were racing across the valley in a loose formation and closing rapidly. They'd already reached the river bend inn apparently as it was now partially on fire too, but farther beyond that, the spyglass wouldn't show much. The familiar however would be able to see the heavily smoldering keep bearing the scars of a battle and more goblinoid forces were pouring out of it. Not swarming, but marching and then spreading out to seemingly form different groups. Larger figures could be seen shouting and pointing at different goblins and goblinoid groups before they would start off, spreading out across the valley.

Back in the town though, the few guards that weren't on the wall were mobilizing as well, and at the moment they were trying to keep funneling people into the town while standing ready at the gate to shut it once the monsters got closer. A challenging task given that once people were inside, they didn't seem to really know what to do, right along with those that were already inside. One man however could be seen desperately trying to fight his way against the crowd as he attempted to get back outside the gate. "Get out of my way!" he yelled before shoulder tackling his way through another small group, knocking a few of them down in the process.

Out past the gate though, there was already more trouble. A horse had been spooked by the panic and was now rearing and thrashing about in the middle of the road while still hitched to the cart. The driver was struggling with the reins, but the beast continued to buck, jump, and rear, the last of which saw a hoof catching a familiar looking woman on the shoulder that sent her tumbling to the ground. The blow seemed to have stunned her somewhat as she was slow to get up or even move as the horse continued to flail dangerously close.

A short distance from the panicking horse were a small group of most older kids that appeared to be doing some kind of rally. Wielding pot lids, brooms, and all manner of other kinds of improvised weapons, they started quietly and sneakily moving away from the gate.

[Pyrophilios]

"Thanks." Gerwulf took the spyglass and frowned: "That's bad, very bad. Worg Riders. They might even be able to run up the palisade."

"EVERYONE - GET WHATEVER FORKS AND PIKES YOU CAN LAY HANDS ON AND COME UP TO THE PALISADE." Seeing the youngsters going out to get themselves killed, he called out:

"OI, YOU DOWN THERE, GET YOUR DAMN ASSES IN HERE AND UP TO ME I NEED RUNNERS. NOW!

Sometimes Gerwulf had wondered if he had been only promoted because he had a good shouting voice that could be heard over the greatest din of battle.
He had to suppress from turning the spyglass towards the homested of his family. The old sheriff's house was sturdy and would hold out for a little while. Hopefully. There was work to do.

He called down to chaos down in the square:
"You, you and you. Organize each 20 others to get buckets and fill them all. Those little buggers like to soften up folks by throwing burning pitch - or worse.

Baeranor, go get those kids back here. No need for them to get hurt before anyone else here."

He spotted Golnar and called to him: "Golnar, go and get the able men and women organized. We need every weapon they can muster. Especially Archers."



Giving orders
Intimidation
[roll0]+6

[Zero Prime]

https://i.postimg.cc/K83HdM05/Baeranor.jpg
Baeranor of Cairn Fearn (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2387347)
AC: 16 | HP: 49 | CURRENT: 49 | HIT DIE: 5d10 | CURRENT: 5d10
PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 13 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10
Active Effects: None.
Conditions: None.

"On it," the large highland warrior growled as he moved to action, and even as he spoke, Gerwulf spotted an apparition of a desiccated elven warrior materialize in the air above the crowds head. There was a droning in Baeranor's ear in ancient elven tongue, he could now mysteriously understand, 'Leave the children, their foolish bravado is typical of the realms of men, and why you will fall to the horde.' The red-haired warrior cursed, but ignored the jibes of the specter that now haunted him. He jumped from his position on the walls, his form mixing, blurring with that of the ghost he had summoned, and as it winked out of existence he appeared almost a hundred feet from Gerwulf's side.

Closer now to the children, "YOU! BOY!" He leveled his sword at the lead child, "We need you inside the walls, there are those who cannot fight, who will need your bravery before this day is done! Get behind the walls! NOW!"

OOC: Bonus Action to create my Echo, 30' from my current position. No Action to move the Specter 30' from where I summoned it. It is now 60' from my position. Move Action, using 15' of my movement I will teleport to the specter, switching positions with it, and move the remainder of my movement, now 75' from Gerwulf. Standard Action to Dash, moving another 30' towards the children, now 105' from Gerwulf. At the end of my turn, since my echo is more than 30' from me, it disappears.

[Shveiran]

Not good, Malcer allows himself to think.
That is more goblinoids than the village could realistically mobilize men in such a short notice, and those men would not be trained.
Quickening his stride, the wizard makes his way to his commanding officer. He and Gerwulf have a... complicated relationship, for more than one reason. But none of that matters once the swords come out. At the end of the day, Malcer provides advice and Gerwulf calls the shot; it's as simple as that.

"Captain" he speaks softly, so that only his commanding officer may hear. It would not do to discourage the villagers. "the gobbos are sweeping the valley top to bottom; it looks like extermination tactics to me. They have presence in the keep, goblins and something bigger, maybe ogres.
The closest threat are those worg-raiders; I can't get a head-count with this kind of cover, but I estimate about a hundred.
Captain..."

He hesitates as he meets his officer's eyes, knowing what he is about to suggest goes beyond reckless.

"...We can't hold them at the palisades. Not now, not like this. These people are scared, untrained, and most don't have weapons; even those that can shoot a rabbit won't keep their heads the moment they see a worg chew someone's face off. They are good people, but they are not ready for this. We have seen what this does to people the first time.
If they try the palisades, they'll take it. And it's all downhill from there.

We need an edge, and that means leveraging our only strength: qualitative superiority. We need a choke point where we can make our training count, to kill enough of them they'll retreat to regroup. There isn't one, so we need to make them want to go somewhere. We need to make somewhere look like an easy in."
Here goes nothing.
"We leave the gate open. Baeranor and Golnar can hold the line there, and the two of us can provide enough support to turn it into a killing field. But the gobbos don't know that: to them, it will look easier than assaulting the palisades, because they don't know how little resistance our people can put up right now.
I know it sounds crazy, gods, I wish I could see another way out of this. But these people aren't soldiers, sir; if we act like they are, they'll rout and be slaughtered."
Like Theodmon, he doesn't add.
He doesn't need to.
If there is one person that blames himself more than Malcer for those deaths, that's Gerwulf.

Seeing the horse rampaging out of control, he makes a quick judgment call.
"One moment, please."
Before the panicked horse can injure someone else, he conjures a series of reassuring whispers in the beasts' ears, the kind it is used to be hushed by. Thanks to the spell, the horse will hear them at the same volume and tone as if a handler on top of things was whispering them rather than a panicked villager desperately grabbing its reins. Hopefully, it will react accordingly and settle down before it does more damage.

Casting minor illusion to attempt an animal handling check at a distance. If the plan is judged sound, here's the roll.
[roll0]

[Pyrophilios]

"I'm with you on that Malcer, but we need to show them strength and determination, or this is all over before it's begone. And yes, we need to bloody their noses good and hard, so they pull back to regroup. I bet they don't know that our unit is here - they are expecting disorganized farmers. If we can hit them hard enough and make them doubt their own strength is enough, we stand a chance."

He didn't have to tell Malcer, that their chances were slim to nil in any case.

"So yes, we can try the gate, but we'll need something to slow them down - the water I've been sending for could come in handy there. Slick down the cobble stones just inside, make those doggies go down and giving folks a chance to pelt them with stones while they get up again. Stop their momentum.
And we need to be able to close the gate fast, before they overrun us.

Bring them down and let the people keep them there."

He looked down to the town guards, still herding people through:

"You two. Keep the gate ofen until I say otherwise. Stand back so you can charge into the wings when there are worgs running through."

[Shveiran]

Malcer blinked, half-surprised to be listened to so readily.
"I can't do much if they spread around the barricades, sir, but as long as we can lure them into the chokepoint that is the gate, you can leave that to me. You want them slipping, I can make them slip; you want them stuck, I can pin them; heck, if they are stubborn enough, we can do both."

That is, after all, what he has specialized in: a war wizard's job is not to take lives. His duty is to change the lay of the battlefield so that his allies have an easier time doing the killing without getting on the wrong side of it. More often than not, Malcer found, it was better to intervene on the battlefield rather than on the enemy itself: the ground seldomly fought you for it, and was happy enough to stay changed even when your foes died and were replaced by their friends.

"In fact, if we get a minute or two after everyone got inside, I can give our archers something cover and a moat to stand behind. Anything that can give our boys an easier time holding the line should be welcome, I reckon."

[JbeJ275]

Golnar snarled back up at the command, then sprinted into the square. Issueing commands as quickly as he could.

Any man with a bow or Javelin who knows how to use it! Any man with a polearm who knows how to push clambering beasts bak down, anyone strong enough to fight and not afraid get your lazy arm moving for your weapons before you're sent to the floor and get back up to the gate.

After a few more minutes of good furious yelling, Golnar eventually reclims his armour and readies himself. Leaving the motley group he scrounged up with the arcansists he positions himself to anchor the centre of the defensive gap, hoissts his shield up high, readies himself against attacks and lets the burning rage slowly build around him.

(Taking Dodge Action)

[Zalphier]

Gerwulf's practiced military commands, coupled with Baeranor pipes cut through the panic of the people, stopping many of them in their tracks, at least for a moment to listen. The panic is still in their eyes and fear coats their faces, but there's precious little resistance. The three he pointed to, Tuttle Nettly one of the blacksmiths, Adam Boutel the shop keep, and Maurice Levileh who ran the bakery nodded in turn as they were addressed before looking to their fellow townsfolk.

"You heard the man, let's move," Maurice bellowed, his baritone voice carrying better than Gerwulf's, though it didn't have the same commanding air. "Grab your buckets and get back here, we'll make a fire line to the lake!"

"If you need a bucket, come by the shop! We'll bring round some barrels to hold extra!" Adam hollered up next as the starting to assemble villagers dispersed again to start grabbing buckets while a few went with Adam to help with the barrels.
------------------------------------------------

Baeranor suddenly appearing as he did stopped the kids in their tracks, and two of them look sheepishly up at him when he talks, but Ren Pittor stares back with stubborn defiance. "I am going where I'm needed! I'm getting my parents and all my brothers and sisters and bringing them to town! And then we're going by Ari's, and Peter's to get their families too!" He argued back, though despite the determination in his voice, it did crack a couple times as he made his proclamation. The other two however didn't seem to share his bravado, looking nearly equal parts uncertain and scared.

"Maybe he's right Ren, these are real monsters with real weapons. Maybe we should let the adults handle them and help some other way," Peter adds.

"But we have a real weapon!" Ren argues back while brandishing the only reasonable weapon between the three, a recently sharpened sickle. The sense of betrayal on Ren's face is obvious as he glares at Peter, but it cracks when Ari grabs his hand.

"I'm scared Ren, what if they catch us before we can make it home? I don't want us to get caught," Ari pleads, as Ren seems to struggle to find a counter argument, but his bravado is crumbling out from under him.
-------------------------------------------------

A few streets over, the horse Malcer attempted to calm is still panicking and trashing about in its harness, the illusioned words seemed to have little to no effect. While the woman started crawling away from the rampaging beast, the driver who was still fighting with the reigns ended up getting yanked forward only for a power kick to send him flying. He landed hard on his back and was left gasping for air while weakly clawing at his chest.

With the constant pulling to keep the horse down, it proceeded to lash out again, this time catching one of the arms of the harness and splintering the wood with ease. This in turn allowed the beast to tear its way out of the harness and go careening down a street.
-------------------------------------------------

Already at attention, what's left of the crowd almost eagerly responds to Golnar's yells with many working their ways towards homes to gather whatever they can.

"Quickly, with me! We'll use anything that's in shop!" the elderly Terenor Nettly calls with his even older sounding voice, leading a number to the blacksmith's.

"I could use a few hands at the old post," Bently the guard adds as well. "We've got some spare bows and arrows in what used to be the guard quarter's." And a number set off with him as well only to return shortly with the extra bows and arrows that were added to the already growing pile of weapons that others had managed to grab from the blacksmith's and homes.

The guards at the gate looked on incredulously at Malcer and Gerwulf's plans, but nodded in agreement anyways and prepped themselves behind the gate.

The barrels that had been brought up earlier had been setup, and were readily being filled with water from the steady line of men, women, and even children ferrying buckets to them. With the lines in order Golnar would find himself flanked by Tuttle who wore thick protective forge work gear and was improvising a door for a shield with a pitchfork spear, and Maurice who had a number of metal pots and pans strapped on, wielding a large cutting board for a shield and a very heavy looking cast iron pan for a mace. "You won't have to face them alone down here," Tuttle added as he settled the improvised tower shield to be more steady. "And your sister's been doing great at the forge. Think she'll be ready to start up her own work soon."

Maurice had been about to speak but was abruptly cut off.

"Maurice! You'd better not crack that seasoning or the new one will be made from your hide!" Gertruda Levileh hollered out as she chased after him, her cane raised rather menacingly for the normally sweetly plump old woman. She stopped short though and looked Gerwulf straight in the eye with a very appraising look over her half-moon glasses. "And you, I'd be a damned hypocrite if I didn't believe in second chances, but you'd better not mess. this. up." she added with a jab that Gerwulf would be able to feel possibly through even plate mail, accompanying every stop. "We're all counting on you dearie, and I know you'll be able to do it, just don't be afraid and remember to ask for help," she went on in her much more common sweet and soft voice.

As she was saying this Terenor sidled up next to her, the two oldest people in the village and in the top five for the valley shared a nod, and together asked, "now where do you want us?"
------------------------------------------------

Through his familiar, Malcer could still see much of the proceedings, how the wave of worg riders seemed to almost split with over half continuing their charge and sweeping out around the valley, and 20 diverting directly to the village. He would also get the chance to see another stream of goblinoids emerging from the southern mine, closes to the Black keep. While most went straight for the keep, a fair number simply started running off in random directions to spread out across the valley. The goblinoids didn't seem to have noticed or paid any mind to the bird for now, so it was free to continue scouting the various areas about the valley.

Before more could be observed though, Malcer would hear an all to familiar voice suddenly start playing in his head.

"Malcer, hoped to talk, did you have to bring war back with you? Safe in tower for now, get to town later, save this valley," Anastrianna's voice echoed through the sending spell.

[Pyrophilios]

Having given, for the moment at least, all the commands he could, Gerwulf made haste to find his own longbow at the inn close by. Funny, how not wanting to leave it at his family's estate now turned out to be the very thing. As fast as he could he made his way back up the rampart and kept watching for the closing goblins.
Turning to the other archers that had assembled ("So few, so very few. The lord should have made sure, his subjects stayed in training, damn his hide.")

"Alright lads and ladies, it's pretty simple - just like a good snipe hunt. Take position and shoot them as they close in. We leave the door open, so we know which way they'll be coming. Don't waste your arrows, but don't hessitate if you can expect a shot to land, either. And don't worry about defending yourself - that's what your neighbors with the pitchforks and spears are here for - keep them at distance while you put arrows through their eyes. One, two, one two. Just like that."