Draconian Measures (IC)

[Cheesegear]

The town of Lyran isn't very big, it's not even a very wealthy town. But, today is special. Today is the Lyran Market-Faire. A crude stage has been built on one side of the green, and a three-piece band have begun their first song of the day. The first song of the faire. It's too early in the morning for dancing, as the first comers to the faire are browsing the various wares of the craftsmen - and women - who have come a short way to hawk their wares. And - of course - people are still on their first rounds of alcohol. It'll take time for them to get up and dance with their womenfolk.

Some of Lyran's finest, the Watchmen patrol the green, their crossbows resting easily on their shoulders as they march across the green. Today is the faire! They're not expecting too much trouble, maybe the worst that could happen is a Family of orcs take 'My Mate can beat up Your Mate' a little bit too far. Nothing big. In any case, as well as one the green, there are Watchmen on the wall surrounding the green. The men on the wall have their crossbows readied with both hands, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. However, they have their attention outside the walls.

However, one person - or, rather - two people, are of special importance. One guard - infamously known as a 'Handler' - walks at a swift pace, with a truncheon in one hand, and a finely polished breastplate on his chest.
In his other hand, he holds a leash, a finely crafted silver leash. Embedded in the piece are a series of coloured stones. The leash, ends in a collar, attached to a human. A 'Ward'. The man constantly twitches and gawks at the myriad of people who pass him. The people who this man stares at try not to look back.

Another strange looking attraction is a Halfling. For the moment, he seems to be entertaining children. As the adults slowly walk past him, and leave their kids to sit enthralled by the juggler. While he is juggling, he is also singing - much to the children's delight - the song The Boy With A Stick Who Wasn't So Quick.

Across the green, almost directly opposite, is an orc Elder, a patriarch of one of the Families. A finely crafted double-headed axe resting across his kness, he is telling a story for older children. A passer-by can probably guess that it has boys-with-swords in it, and there's a good chance a girl will play a part.

Another attraction, although, specifically for buyers, is the Stock. A group of fenced-in areas forming divisions of agricultural animals. Each one, with their owner vying for a sell, or Best In Show.

Suddenly, a voice booms across the green "Welcome! Friends, families and guests!" The man is just on the portly side, but his face is weathered by the sun and age. Probably a hard-worker in his younger days, but, now that he was older, he was enjoying his time off "If you don't know me by now, I'm the mayor of this'ere town, but you can call me Rusker. Now, I know what you're all thinkin'. Teraph has it's Grand Market is less than two months time, so what're we doing here wasting a perfectly good day, when in two months, we're all just goinna hop in our wagons and go there? Well, I'll tell you!"
"On this day, almost a hundred years ago, my gran'pap - and probably yours too, fought back demons on this very spot. And y'know what happened?" he pauses "We won! And now, more'n a hundred years later, we've got those same people who we fought against, as our neighbours and friends, and we couldn't be better off!"

The orcs in the crowd give a cheer. Some even raising mugs full of alcohol. The portly man continues "So, in honour of our good fortune, we've got twelve pigs cooking right now and ale is free all day! So what're you waiting for?" with the mention of free ale, almost all the men give a cheer, while a significant portion of the women in the crowd roll their eyes.

With his speech finished, the Mayor bends down and kisses a girl next to him - probably no more than fifteen or sixteen years of age - on the cheek. With a smile, he parts from her with a group of older men, while she wanders into the Faire proper on the green.

[Miraqariftsky]

He shuffles along, this walker of the waste
Grey-clad, the cloak smokes morn's mist
The swift-sighing dew shies away
Flees from his footfalls

The glaring sun so roaring calls
The bustling crowds, like a roiling fray
Hard-pressed is he, peace's path to list
Stops and rubs his soul with bloodshot haste

A long-held breath he heaves with great relief
That nostrils' mist be not blood-spray
The ever-flinching fighter
Sits on a stump seat

Stares he at his feet
Snatches an ale from a server
Seeing into the brew
Betwixt blade-elder and passing handler
Shudders
To the Mighty One he does pray
Foam and fluid form not fear and flesh...

Drawn by passion unfathomed
Rhyme ropes him in, riding riven reason
Harks to the valorous tale, roars with the
Victor's
Cry
He smiles and sighs
Forgetting for once
The urge to draw blade, shed blood, devour flesh
Slipping into a moment serene...

Shaken, as he wonders
What darkness drives
What shadows shroud
The walking Ward
Bound by rope and shard and soul...

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna Silverwing

Standing among the crowds of humans and orcs, Adrienna listened intently to what the Mayor was saying. I wonder if my father fought against the demons. Perhaps that is why I was chosen. But it doesn't really matter. The free ale will likely keep me busy tonight. Always a few people get a bit too drunk, and do a bit too much damage to their friends. Anways good to have a healer handy in those cases.

Her watchful eyes panned across the crowd, looking for some sign of just what it was that had drawn her here, but nothing revealed itself. She did, however, have to hide a look of disgust when her gaze passed upon the collared human. While she understood that her ways were no longer theirs, some ways were just not right. Still, she couldn't act on that. The laws here were clear. Perhaps an oppertunity to fix that situation will arise later.

[TempusCCK]

"Blast Mal! Could you feign to walk a little smoother? I'm hurt you know!"

The man who spoke sat atop a chestnut brown horse. His arm rested gently in a makeshift sling which consisted mostly of a ripped-up sack with a bit of rope to secure it around his neck. With one hand, the rider guided the horse up the road known as Spire's Way, coming to the gate that would lead into the small town of Lyran.

"Hello!" he called to some of the guards on the wall. "I see you have an event today! Could you please guide me to a suitable place to tether my horse and take a meal?"

Jaron is currently at 19 hitpoints due to an arrow he had taken to the back three days ago. Unable to heal himself or remove the arrow head, he merely broke off of the shaft, covered and cleaned the wound, and stuck his left arm in a sling so as to prevent from moving the muscles along the back and causing anymore damage.

[Cheesegear]

The guard snorts as he stifles off a laugh. "Eat!? Use your eyes man!" he gestures with his halberd towards the green. "Food's over that way. Free ale too. I think you'll find skeleton staff running the show today at most places. Since most have sent their cooks over to the green."

He pauses for a moment, to scratch his beard.

"I can't say so for myself, since I don't have a horse. But you might want to see if Larrick over at the Timid Dragon is still around. Most people go to his place when they're looking like you are." he gives a nod towards Jaron's arm "That arm there looks like it could do some with some work, you might want to check with Till. He's over on the green with everyone else. He's a good hand with a needle, and he's pretty good at setting bones." he waives Jaron and his horse through the gate. Almost as an afterthought, the guard adds "Till doesn't use magic either."

[Miraqariftsky]

Munggo belches loudly then wipes his mouth with the hem of his cowls. Within the shadow of the hood, beady black eyes narrow as the collared human and his handler passes.

A desire arises within him, a perverse curiousity to know why people apparently fear him and why he seems to be so closely guarded. Setting down the tankard, now empty of naught but dregs, he tries to get closer to the bound man but the crowds, that shifting sea of bodies, refuse to part for just another cloaked wanderer.

Seeing that his shuffling has brought him closer to the orcish elder and his audience, he leans back against a nearby tree. He settles in, his right knee bent, the foot resting against the trunk of the tree while the other leg digs into the turf. His thick arms cross over his chest, the heavy grey cloak somewhat parting to reveal hints of battered breastplate glinting beneath a faded green overtunic.

There the once-feral fighter rests, listening to the elder's tale. His breathing becomes heavy and laboured as he becomes immersed in the story and his vision starts to blur with a red haze. One moment he sees several young folk listening, enraptured, to their kindly elder's words... and the next moment he sees them dead and dying, writhing in mortal agony. The elder holds a broken axe-haft which he thrusts desperately at Munggo only to be ruthlessly beheaded...

The vision then fades back to a mundane hue. He blinks furiously, thankful that he had not given in to the dark spirits that plague his heart. He looks about again and realizes that it was indeed only a moment or two that had passed during the hallucination. He gives a savage grin at this small victory, glad for even the smallest triumphs against his former masters.

When the story comes to a close, he stirs once more and strides over to the orcish elder and says to him, "Kar nakh. Ghe kral... tag... d'tagrrak na kassth --- Vhul nag ekhna'ir?"


Rough translation from Orcish*: Greetings, sir. I have been... away... far away and now I ask--- Why is that man bound so?

*The chief Cheesegear may want to give us non-Common languages. If a "canon" Orcish is released, I shall gladly convert these lines.

[lostsole31]

"Everywhere we go, it is the same," Coatl whispers quietly to Xorkath while nodding to the collared wretch. "They are worse than the Cantichtli tribe. At least then the victims were sacrificed and their spirits released to heaven."

[TempusCCK]

"Thank you kindly." Jaron calls to the man, passing him a casual salute with the good arm.

The horse, Mal, slowly meanders his way into town. Jaron, takes a look about the place, trying to spot the aforementioned Timid Dragon and especially a place where he could tie up Mal and move into the crowd (where there was reportedly free food and drink somewhere about). While doing so, he also takes a second to take a look over the crowd and personages in the fair, looking for something that might draw his attention.

Jaron, while not particularly interested in buying anything, was intrigued by the rather large celebration, not having been privvy to a gathering of this sort ever. He decided quickly that he was at least going to give the party a run through, to see what the commotion was about, maybe he enjoyed festivals?

[Salvonus]

Xorkath:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Murmurs. Whispers. Rising in frequency and volume. A crescendo now, a choir of a thousand voices, all calling out in unison. For blood, for pain, for suffering. Xorkath could hear their powerful chant, a hypnotic sonata of murderous intent. His heart began to race, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He could feel an urge rising within him, a response to the hypnotic death-song. An urge to dance with the demons, to bathe in gore. Anything to satisfy the voices, anything to get them out of his head.

"Why do you resist, Demon-Child?" A soft, feminine voice spoke, rising above the demonic chant. Xorkath could detect the slightest hint of a smile. It was not a kind smile; no, it was cruel, calculating, unkind. "Come back to us..." it whispered seductively. "Kinslayer, you will always be. Embrace that. Embrace us. Remember the fun? You enjoyed it. You enjoyed making those proud Orcs scream for mercy. You laughed, don't you remember?"

Xorkath had subconsciously closed his eyes to the real world, ignoring the scene before him. A ghostly apparation of his previous self now floated in the dark void of his vision. Kinslayer was smiling, a cruel, bloodthirsty grin. His tattered armor was bloostained and tarnished, as was the head of his cruel greataxe. He waved at Xorkath, mockingly, gesturing towards his axe. His grin turned into a deep, hearty laugh. His face began to morph, rapidly transforming to mimic all those that he had killed. There was the teenage Orc from Xorkath's youth, his friend who he had struck down in anger. There was the elder who had tried to defend his grandson. Xorkath could not make out any more of the faces - the shapeshifting visage of Kinslayer was changing too fast.

"K'akshiar Xorkath Zaviajan. K'akshiar Xorkath Zaviajan. K'akshiar Xorkath Zaviajan." the chant continued.
("Join us, Xorkath Demon-Child. Join us, Xorkath Demon-Child. Join us, Xorkath Demon-Child.")

A small, glowing capsule appeared near the ever-changing visage of Kinslayer. It rapidly began to grow in size and radiance, taking mere moments to grow to the size of a full-grown Orc. From the pod, a different version of Xorkath emerged. A confident smile was on his face, his twin Orc-fangs looking kind, rather than vicious. His armor and axe did not glow, but a subtle radiance seemed to come from within him. His expression turned to sadness and pity, his eyes filled with sorrow as he glanced at Kinslayer. Reaching out his hands in a gesture of embrace, he walked slowly towards his other self. Kinslayer backed away, stumbling, showing, for the first time, an expression akin to fear. The Orc-like apparition began to turn and run, but it seemed as if he was failing to get away. Moments later, the two Orcs met, the two visages merging together. Kinslayer was swallowed up into Xorkath's projection; the voices were cut short, reduced to mere mumbles once more. True silence followed shortly thereafter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening his eyes to the world once more, Xorkath smiled at the scene before him. Revelries, laughter, happiness, the unity of races that were once mortal enemies - if the world was always like this, he would happily retire to a monastary, finding atonement in contemplation rather than the battle against Evil.

A small rumbling in his stomach indicated that a good meal was in order. For some reason, the meditative trance that he used to dispel the demonic whispers always seemed to render him hungry. Perhaps it was just the enhanced sense of body awareness? Xorkath wasn't sure.

His good mood was quickly cut short by the sight of the shackled "Ward". At the moment he noticed the wretched human, the whisper of his friend Coatl reached Xorkath's ears. Nodding his agreement, Xorkath responded softly, "Aye, 'tis despicable, the way these humans treat their own like cattle. To be able to change this injustice would be a true blow against illegitimate 'Law', but you and I both know that we cannot do anything just yet. Besides, this is a day of peace and celebration, and to taint it with blood and violence would be truly sad."

"Reminds me of why we travel as we do, though, my 'servant'." Xorkath added as an afterthought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(OOC: For lostsole:
Coatl would have noticed the closing of the eyes, and perhaps a slight little wince at one point in the above sequence. As I mentioned, he would know what that means - whether or not he brings it up is up to you.)

[Cheesegear]

The Elder Orc makes a shushing gesture towards Munggo.
"Shh...As much as I'd love to speak my racial tongue, it's best not to, given what these vhul* think of us. Even after a hundred and more years, we still have the demonic appearance of our ancestors."

"In any case, those two" the Orc motions his head towards the Handler and his Ward. "I blame Rusker. He likes to think that this town is more important than it actually is...Don't get me wrong, I like it here though." he adds at the end.

"Anyway, Rusker's been petitioning the Karthese for a troop of Battlemages. Of course, look at this place..." he spreads his arm over the green. It's a backwater-place of no real importance to anyone...So, they sent one. Just to keep Rusker quiet."

The Older Orc then leans in closer "Still, the chained one never really talks. But, his Handler is one mean cuss. To people weaker than himself - of course. I once seen him give his 'friend' there, a beating right in the middle of the street, broke both his wrists and knocked him to the road.

I heard up in the Arcanum, the more powerful you are, the more they beat you. The more they beat you, the crazier you get. The crazier you get, the more powerful you get. The more powerful you get, again, the more they beat you. And the more they beat you, the more you want to blow the whole place into the abyss. Not a wise choice on their part, I think."

"Anyway, with that thing on his neck, that man can't use magic unless the Handler wants him to..."

*vhul (n): Scum, dirt, mud. Humans.

[lostsole31]

OOC to Salvonus:A comforting hand on the shoulder or back, but no more. Coatl would allow Xorkath's subconscious to register that one who loves him (you know what I mean) is present, but beyond that silent presence leaves the paladin to find his own strength to fight the beast within.

"Good and simple pleasures await, my friend," Coatl says to Xorkath. "Shall we eat?"

[TempusCCK]

Gently guiding his mount, Jaron heads down the road, and into the town proper. Up ahead on the main road, a sign, bearing the symbol of a dragon. Jaron guided Mal up to the front of the building, eased himself down from the saddle, and moved for the door, but not without giving his trusty steed a gentle pat on the head.

[Cheesegear]

The door to the Timid Dragon opens with a small squeak of the hinges and a ring of a small bell above the door to alert unattentive workers that somebody has entered their establishment.

The place is rather well-lit, as the place has many windows to let the light in. Seeing as it's barely mid-morning - and there's a faire on - the tavern is completely empty of patrons, except for a man, slightly grubby and weary-eyed, sits with his head in his arms, slouched over one of the tables. Obviously sleeping off...Something.

Startled at the sound of the bell above the door, the man wakes up. Standing quickly and knocking the chair out from beneath him with the back of his kness. A seasoned barfighter's move for clearing the chair from tangling his steps. He reaches out reflesively over the table for something to grab. Coming up with nothing, as the table was empty, he turns a steely gaze towards Jaron.

"I haven't seen you in town before, what're you doing here? Last I checked, there was a faire on the Green? I'll have you know I've fought off bigger fellows than you..."

[Salvonus]

Xorkath


"Good and simple pleasures await, my friend," Coatl says to Xorkath. "Shall we eat?"

"Aye!" Xorkath responded with a hearty grin, fangs bared in a toothy smile. "I'll be happy to eat more than trail rations, for a change. Those pigs certainly smell good."

Making his way towards the spits with Coatl close behind, Xorkath inhaled deeply of the aroma of cooking pigflesh. Could do with a bit more in the way of spices, he thought, chuckling to himself. For the most part, it seemed like the majority of the Faire-goers would hardly care about the flavour of a meal, given the varied states of intoxication already present amongst the revelers. Xorkath couldn't complain - the food smelled decently cooked, and it was, after all, free; besides, he had a small pouch filled with spices to liven his food up a bit. It was a habit he'd picked up in his travels, a strange little quirk of his with delicious side effects.

Refusing a rather drunken man's enthusiastic offer of ale with a smile, Xorkath lined up with the rest waiting for food. His ears perked up at the faint sound of the Orcish tongue - this was not something he commonly heard around humans. Searching for the source of this unusual linguistic occurrence, Xorkath spotted a grey-cloaked frame unmistakably Orcish in nature. Nudging Coatl, Xorkath gestured towards the stranger, "Looks like there's another Orc not from around these parts... I wonder what might have brought him here."

Xorkath strained his ears to see if he could make out any of the Orc's conversation. The din of the Faire was too much for his senses, however, and all he heard was some drunk Orc explaining why one shouldn't stick cheese in gears.

(OOC: @lostsole: Sorry, when I saw your post, you hadn't edited in any dialogue yet. :smallwink:

By the way, does Coatl partake of alcohol? Not particularly important, but just one of those things that Xorkath would know by now.

[roll0]. Just a quick listen check for my own purposes, to give me an idea of Xorkath could make out anything of Munggo's conversation with the Elder.
... and that's nothing. Alright.)

[lostsole31]

Coatl breathes in the smell of cooking meat, enjoying the cooked "flavor" to the smell, but as with everything in these lands, it is missing one important ingredient.

Mythology Time! (Adults, please.)
In the beginning, after Kukulcan created the world and its creatures, he was so ecstatic on what he had done that he danced wildly and orgasmically. Where his seed fell, plants grew that represented the flavor and passion he wished his people to instill in their own lives. And so is the origin of that family of plants known as "peppers". To celebrate life, and Kukulcan's desire for feeling and living strongly, it is rare for any meal to pass by that doesn't include some manner of pepper - scores of kinds, prepared hundreds of ways.
[Yes, btw, this IS based on a thread of Meso-American myth; not a D&D pervert's ridiculous sperm-becomes-food-for-the-masses thread. Still, it is comical enough to us here that someone might appreciate it. :smallbiggrin:]

"I miss the serrano most," Coatl sighs. "That, and a nice sauce I know would have been wonderful." Still, when hungry, he eats ... and so he does.

OOC @ Salvonus:
Coatl has mentioned some bizarre foods, though some have sounded delicious. While he will drink - yes he will ("How about some firewater, chief?") - he usually only does so in quiet quarters. He has often mentioned a drink which, like peppers, he misses dearly. You see, there is a type of berry that grows in his land. The elder women take this berry, chew on it heartily, and then spit the juice into a large pot. The berry juice-saliva pot, when full, is sealed and allowed to ferment for a mere two months. The saliva helps the fermentation process advance extremely rapidly, along with some other secret ingredients, and makes for a potent drink.

The priests of the tribe (including himself at one point, albeit a junior member) will on special occasions imbibe a version of this elixir that has been fermenting for six months or more. That, mixed with the infusion of a certain flower and - you guessed it, peppers - make for a very powerful concoction that is used to see things that Kukulcan has hidden away that must be discerned.

A shot of spitberry. :smallsigh: Oh, to be home again.

A quick Spot/Listen check ([roll0]) to notice anything out of the ordinary beyond the orcs Xorkath noticed.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

Distracted by her own thoughts, a few minutes spent looking at the people here shows her nothing of any real interest, so Adrienna does the same as many other people, and goes to stand in line for the roast pig. The scents made her realize how long she had been eating just rations, or less enjoyable things.

Still, the thought of how greasy the pig would be made her glad for the things she still carried in her backpack. Except that they were, of necessity, back in her room at the Timid Dragon. No sense running around with a backpack full of things, not in town.

[roll0] Spot check, reveling nothing, clearly

[TempusCCK]

"Hold." Jaron calmly lifts his right hand to show that he meant no harm. He also quickly surveys the man before him, noticing that the chair he was sitting in now lays several feet across the floor. Neat trick that, Jaron would have to remember that in the future.

"My name is Jaron, I've just arrived. I was told at the gate that I might be able stable my horse and find some lodging here. Larrick... correct?"

[Paramour Pink]

Cherrina Random NPC Brunette With a Bow # 5

Among the crowd that was listening attentively to the mayor's speech was a brunette with a bow. She seemed to be a neatly unkempt woman. From her frizzy hair to her red tunic flecked with grim it seems as though dirt had painstakingly applied itself to her appearance. Despite the dirt putting her appearance down, she still seemingly stands tall at a few inches into five feet. The bag hoisted across her back is a tell-tale sign of a traveller that had only just arrived, instead of a guest that had already checked into the local inn. As the crowd disperses, her blue eyes looked around the town with an unassuming wonder.

On seeing the disturbing pair, the woman doesn't look away as many others do, as though having fully known about the sight of a man being dragged around by a bejewelled lease. She pouts though, glancing around, taking into consideration her options – and the various witnesses. The sight of a portly man that had given the rousing speech about their ancestors made her smile then. A hopeful smile was hoisted unto her face before the travelling woman took a calming breathe, and skipped over to the mayor and his entourage.

“Your mayorship, sir,” she began meekly, politely waiting for the important man to turn his attention to her. When he finally did, she bite her lip uncertainly. “Can I say that this is the most wonderful place – and I don't want to cause a fuss; I can tell you tried just so awful hard to make everything grand. But,” she paused reluctantly, glancing uncertainly towards where the Handler had just been, “the man that was dragging around another man. He's making everyone real uncomfortable, and I wouldn't want it to upset the children. Could you please tell that handling man to take his unpleasant business to a less public spot?”




Roll results.

Looking for information about the town and the Handler. In case what I'm requesting requires a diplomacy attempt for the mayor, rolling that too.

Diplomacy: [roll0]
Knowledge: Local [roll1]
Knowledge: History [roll2]




For the Fun of It, Spot Check DC 19 For Anyone:

You pick up on something point-blank wrong about this woman. Her skipping gait seems exaggerated, instead of carefree or happy, as though it was thrown on for show. Or perhaps that didn't strike you oddly – but her bounding steps that loosened a few strange strands of blue hair did. It's hard not to get the impression of a disguise from the otherwise convincing brown wig. If it's not her odd step, or the slight strands of inhuman hair trying to intermingle inconspicuously with brown, there's something that still tells you this is a manufactured appearance.

[lostsole31]

"Strange," murmurs Coatl to Xorkath. "That short, dirty, well-travelled woman talking to the mayor over there . . . disguise. Blue hair underneath."

[Cheesegear]

Larrick - for Jaron has guessed correctly - drops his guard. But still eyes Jaron cautiously. Larrick snorts. "Yeah, I'm Larrick. And that arm of yours means nothing, I once knew a man a few years back who could win a whole barfight with both hands tied behind his back. And a lot of men around these parts cut wood for a living. Some of 'em were orcs too! They ain't easy to beat." he indicates this by putting a hand about an inch above his arm. The sign for 'big muscles'.

"If you wanted to stable your horse, you should've come in from 'round back. I get all sorts in 'ere. I've even got me a Silver Draco. Err...You wont say I called her that, will you?" He moves across the room to pick up the chair that he'd knocked halfway across the room. Some people preferred the method of standing up, and picking up the chair and breaking it over the man's head in front of them. Still, Larrick wasn't a very strong man, but, he'd been in a few fights in his lifetime, and learned his limits. And he's obviously still alive today.

"I've only got a few rooms left because, y'know-" he waves his hand towards the outside "the Faire. A few people, mostly huntsman have their lodges in the woods. They come here, get a bit drunk and can't get home, so they take up a place here. Make a day of it. That sort of thing. Still, I've got rooms, and a stable out back."

[Cheesegear]

Coatl looks over at the juggling - and singing halfling. The halfling is in typical performer attire; Long, loose yellow trousers, a white long-sleeved shirt and a yellow vest. Typical of most halflings, he is not wearing shoes.

Coatl notices, that often, the halfling's knives (he is juggling five) will pass through his fingers. Not all of them, for he is clearly casting an illusion, but, every other knife is real, as he grabs it and throws it. The halfling is talented, to be sure, as he has not been picked up by anyone. But, then again, to be fair, most of his audience are children.

[lostsole31]

Coatl looks over in the direction of the halfling, smirking at: a) his excellent use of illusory and real objects and real talent to make his "super-juggling" seem even more real, and b) that given some care, there are those with the Gift that know how to thrive even in such conditions.

Would that he [Coatl] possessed a Gift so subtle.

Coatl, as is typical, silent nods casually to Xorkath that he is going off a little bit. The jungle-priest goes over to the halfling, but stands back aways so as not to be too imposing. After the halfling finishes a set, Coatl goes over and says - as he places a gold coin in his hat (or bowl, or shoe, or other collection point) - "Two knives dull. Three knives keen. Your talent is sharpest. A gold crown for your devotion."

Coatl neither says nor intimates anything else, for that is all that can pass between these two - lest the halfling otherwise say anything - for Coatl would not dare wish undesired ears to hear the conversation that both of them probably desperately wish to have but cannot.

Coatl returns to Xorkath's side, and as usual, keeps his eyes and ears open.

[Miraqariftsky]

Munggo

Munggo blinks at the elder's words. His gaze narrows ever so slowly and the cold morning air in front of his face sizzles into steam as he releases a hot sigh. The slightest sign of a snarl escapes his thick lips and more than half his formidable tusks protrude from the cool shadow of his cowls.

Catching himself, he closes his slavering maw and snorts and makes a long, guttural sigh and coughs. His voice, when he dips into the human tongue, is deep and rolls with an outlander's accent. "Rrrrkkhhhhmmm... hock-hock. Ah, so that man's mad and suffering because of nothing he's actually done to deserve it?"

While he speaks, his hand fishes about in a bag beneath the folds of his cloak. After a few moments, it comes out with a wad of newly-jerked strips of rabbit meat. The massive orc from the wastelands then kneels to the elder and leans in close. With the slightest hoarseness creeping into his deep voice, Munggo offers it to the elder with the words, "I... ack... am Munggo of the Twilight-Eyes tribe from far to the west of here. I have traveled far and am nothing but a humble warrior. Please accept this gift on behalf of my people..."

Munggo groans and closes his eyes, huffing and snorting as the beast within his heart growls, thrashing against the cage of his will. His voice then sinks into a whisper and says, "You are the wise man of this place, are you not? Have you... do you know what happens to men such as those who are not... leashed? You say they lose their minds as they gain power in that painful manner... which is evil, the magic in them or the people who hurt others for that magic?"

[TempusCCK]

"Interesting. Well, I can assure you that I mean no harm. I'll take a room and bring Mal around the back. Thank you very kindly."

Jaron, conversation concluded, heads back through the door through which he came. Around the back, he finds an empty stall for Mal and begins the process of unload a most of his valuables, unsaddling and brushing and watering the horse.

Today was going to be a fascinating day, Jaron decided as he worked the brushes through Mal's thin coat. A festival, a gathering of revelry unknown to the cloistered young Jaron. And to top it off, news that a Draconian was in town! Jaron had read much about Dragons and Dragonwrought and the various wars and events of the past. He even spoke and read Draconic fluently, but to actually meet and speak with a Draconian! It was a chance he could not pass up. He resolved that finding this Silver Draconian was on the top of his list of priorities.

After he finishes his work in the Stables, Jaron returns to the Inn proper. Laden with his travel gear, including many of the things he normally kept on Mal. "Excuse me Mr. Larrick, could I be lead to my room now please?"

[Cheesegear]

Rusker looks from the brunette-haired woman to the pair from the Arcanum. Having been pointed out, the mayor, indeed realises that the mage and his guard are disturbing everyone from having a good time. The mayor narrows his eyes, mutters a quick "Thank you." to the woman who told him about the pair, and strides angrily towards the pair.

What the blazes do you think you're doing? You're ruining my faire by standing right out in the open! Keeping a man chained right in plain view! yells Rusker, right in the middle of the celebration.
"Last I heard, you're the one who requested that we be here." the Handler replies.
"Yes. But not like this! Get out of my sight! Go stand under a tree or something! Just...Stop being. In the middle. Of everything! You're ruining everything with your chained man. Gods! Just think about other people. Imagine what they think when they look at him!" the mayor hisses.

The handler narrows his eyes at the mayor, just for a second. But, then nods his acquiesence. And yanks on the chain connecting him to his prisoner.
The 'prisoner' speaks softly, but still loud enough so that those near him can hear; "I could burn this whole place to the ground given the chance...And nobody could stop me..."
"Shut up!" the handler says, fear in his voice.

Not thirty feet away, the Elder speaks to Munggo "Does that answer your question? I'd guess both."

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

Her meat in hand, Adrienna spots the mayor yelling at the chain holder, and can't help but grin. It takes her a moment to realize she is grinning, and quickly restores her normal, serene face, hoping no one noticed her somewhat toothy grin. It had been misinterpreted before, so she avoided doing it in public, with some degree of success. Usually.

In a somewhat vain attempt to cover her lapse, she says to herself "My, this pork is quite good. Far better than any field ration could ever hope to be. It is a good day to be here, clearly."

Still watching the crowd, she tries to track the movements of the brown haired woman she thought she saw talking to the mayor, but has no luck. Too many heads that color. People need more colors for their hair. Pink, perhaps, or maybe blue. Purple would be good, too!

[roll0] Not sure what skill to apply, and it shouldn't really succeed anyway, but I feel I should roll regardless. :smallbiggrin:

[Miraqariftsky]

Munggo, the Shakespearean Savage
((Makes me wish he has a polearm to make the pun worthwhile!))

Munggo bows once more and takes his leave
Of the elder wise, but not without
His name a-asking
That by blood and blade, word and wyrd
Both can on both call
In troubled time

He wanders off into the sea of humanity
His hard feet bearing him thither
But "yon" calls itself a feast

There he comes and tears off a chunk
Grisly, roasted, dripping fresh
Black, brown, red and white
Succulent the meat
With herbs, spice
Sewn therein

Of a sudden, a spirit takes him
Atween savage bites
Regards the porcine leg
As would a list'ning friend
Thereon he speaks
But whispers
In manner unbefitting
A barbarian of the wastes

"To kill or not to kill
That is the question
Whether tis nobler
To mindless suffer
The ravages of infernal
Torment
Or to take arms
Against a sea of perils
And, by opposing
End them
To wander, to fight
Ever on; and by a fight
We mean to struggle...
...for to lie and lay down
'Tis...
Gods, this FEAST IS GOOD!"

[TempusCCK]

After stopping by his room and dropping off his stuff, Jaron walked down to the fair, taking in the atmosphere, sincerely enjoying himself.

It didn't take him long to spot Ardrienna, the Silver Draconian, enjoying her meal among the other fairgoers. He approaches her, in typical straightforward manner, walks right up to her, and begins speaking to her in her native tongue, accompanying it with a wide sweeping bow, throwing his good hand out and keeping the other, injured arm, close.

"Greetings Draconian, my name is Jaron, and it is a pleasure to meet you. Perhaps, if you have nothing further drawing your attention, I would love to hear some more about Okarthel and your kin."


Edit-Need to pay more attention. Bleh.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

The sound of her native language, in a place like this, caught Adrienna off guard. Her nearly finished meal is fumbled, and falls to the ground, promptly forgotten. Her surprise lasts only a second though, changing to delight. She responds in Draconic "Well, this is a rare delight. It a pleasure to meet you, Jaron. I am called Adrienna, and I would be honoured..."

The smile flashes to concern, upon realizing the young human had a poorly bound shoulder. Without asking, she takes a look, and realizing there is still an arrow in the wound, she mutters a string of profanity softly. Returning to common, she asks (rather loudly) "What pothoc malai* made this mess? By the ten dragons, didn't they know anything about healing?"

She then looks him over, her voice going soft. "Wait, you have been to see a healer, haven't you? No, don't answer that, I suppose you haven't. Even someone with basic training could tie the bandage better than that. Unless they had an arrow through one shoulder, anyway. I can fix it, if you want. I am a healer by trade, so got lucky talking to me." She seems oblivious to the possibility that he sought her out because of her dragonwrought heritage.


*pothoc malai, stupid idiot in draconic, according to a nifty online translator. I'll likely be using that sire for more phrases, and will definitely be turning pothoc malai into a standard part of Adrienna's language. :smallsmile:

I guess you could say, the act of an idiot calling other people stupid idiots, amuses me. :smallbiggrin:

[TempusCCK]

Jaron, seeming not at all phased by the sudden concern of the Dragonwrought, and her very upfront shift in demeanor, simply smiles and allows Adrienna to continue her observation.

Still in Draconic, he laughs a bit and replies "The honor of being that stupid idiot falls to me, I thought only to cover the wound and keep it from moving, and could not remove the arrowhead myself... However, I would dearly like it removed, even after three days I find that I did not grow attached in the slightest." He finishes with a chuckle.

All in all, Jaron is quite amused by the situation, seeing the way Adrienna swept from one thing to another. He found that he liked her go-getter attitude, not to mention his insatisable curiousity to learn more about the Dragonwrought.

Mm, if you could post a link to that translator I'd be pretty interested.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

Giving the injury a slight, but painful, poke, Adrienn comments "Well, you might not have gotten attacked to it, but I think it is quite comfortable in there. Still, that's easy to fix. Still, I can do it the slow, painful, all natural way, or the much faster, just as painful, magically way, if you don't mind the touch of the divine. It won't cause reality to break, I promise." She looks willing to pop the arrowhead out here and now, then glances around, seeming to recall just where she is.

"Oh. Maybe we should move this inside. It could get a bit messy..."

Then, as if she hadn't commented, she attempts to remove the arrowhead anyway, with a minimum of effect, and likely a fair degree of pain.

http://draconic.twilightrealm.com/ for the translator. First result google fed me! :smallsmile:

[roll0] Wisdom check, for my own purposes.
[roll1] Heal check, should it be necessary, which it probably will be.
[roll2] Cure Light Wounds heal effect, for the edited post, where she probably goes ahead and removed that arrow anyway, depending on the Wisdom check. :smallwink:

[lostsole31]

Well fed, and happy to see someone with the courage to at least see that the handler and his ward were removed from public view, Coatl turns to Xorkath: "We should see about lodging before everyone else does. How about that inn there? I have only seen a few people come or go but it looks decent."

And wouldn't you know it, dharma states that he is pointing to the inn where some of the other PCs happen to be ...

[Salvonus]

Well fed, and happy to see someone with the courage to at least see that the handler and his ward were removed from public view, Coatl turns to Xorkath: "We should see about lodging before everyone else does. How about that inn there? I have only seen a few people come or go but it looks decent."

And wouldn't you know it, dharma states that he is pointing to the inn where some of the other PCs happen to be ...

Stomach pleased by the feast, however coarse the fare may have been, Xorkath was inclined to agree with his friend. A good rest in a decent inn was always best for making plans and getting one's thoughts together, at least in the Orc's experience. As much as he was enjoying the festive ambience, securing a room should certainly be top priority.

"Aye, looks decent enough. A place to put down my pack would be welcome, to say the least! Could use a hot bath, too, it's been a long time on the road and freezing springs hardly cut it." Xorkath responded cheerily, gesturing to the heavy wanderer's backpack still affixed to his shoulders. "Doesn't look like the type of place for a battle, so perhaps it's a good time to let my guard down and get out of this armour. Still... something I heard from the crowd has made me uneasy, so perhaps I'll keep protected."

A very subtle intonation in "heard from the crowd" would convey to Coatl that Xorkath is still a bit disturbed by his earlier episode. The Orc obviously doesn't know if his friend noticed it, so this is his way of letting him know without arousing the interest of passer-bys. The "crowd" is one of his code-words for that lovely little choir of voices - it makes the message seem more innocuous when surrounded by large groups of people, and Coatl certainly knows what it means.

As for "keep protected", it's really just a comfort thing. Xorkath often feels very emotionally and psychologically vulnerable after his episodes, and having a physical barrier just makes him feel a bit more secure. He's pretty used to wearing armour all the time, anyway, so the discomfort that comes with it is fairly marginal by now.

... Xorkath totally needs to buy, at some point, a Restful Crystal (MIC p. 26). Cheap, and I'd say (fluff-wise) that it would increase the overall comfort of the armour. He might stay in it for far too long, though. :smalltongue:

[TempusCCK]

"Ahh! Ahh.... Ow oww..." Jarons body stiffins as the Dragonwrought behind him digs into the muscle, removing the obstruction.

"Well, that was less than pleasant..." he began, the pain still rippling through his body, but any comment was further cut short as the soothing waves of the healing spell moved through his body, stealing away the pain, closing up the wound.

Jaron quickly turned about as the spell finished up, rotating his arm, feeling the healed flesh and testing his limits.. "Fascinating... I've heard of healing magicks, but that was a sensation all of it's own. Tell me, do all Draconians wield such power? Or are you special? What else can you do?"

Jaron, used to being able to shoot off a plethora of questions as such and recieve a concise answer, didn't even think twice about how those questions might burden the poor girl.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

The flurry of questions doesn't catch Adrienna off guard, but she does fail to answer them all. "Actually it's a fairly rare talent, though more common lately. I think it is one of the many gists our 'fathers' gave us, in remaking us in their image. As for what else I can do, not terribly much. I can sometimes protect people from attack by bad people, but that's about it. I'm new to this talent for healing. I think some of my brethren can even bring life to the dead, but I'm not capable of that. Yet."

She holds out the arrowhead to him. "You want to keep this? If you don't, I think I will. First arrow I've removed in the field. Special, in it's way."

[Cheesegear]

The rumbling starts, barely audible over the noise of the faire. And, given the intoxicated state of many of the revellers, it goes un-noticed. However, moments later, the rumbling builds to a crescendo as the guards on the walls give out a cry of alarm, some even shoot their crossbows at whatever is beyond the wall, but, now it's too late.

Beyond the wall, emerge two enourmous beasts made completely out of rock, of the very earth itself. The crossbow-bolts of the guardsmen on the walls merely bounce off the behemoths. The two earth-monsters raise what seems to be their fists, and smash into wall of Lyran. Rendering it to rubble and dust. The guardsmen on the walls...Dead. Crushed under their own stoneworks.

The Pact Is Complete, the message, merely felt rather than heard. As loud as a thunderstorm. Emanating, clearly from the two rock-monsters. However, as quickly as they appear, they begin melting into mud.

As the wall is torn down, somewhere beyond the wall a number of incendiary objects come hurtling towards Lyran, and smash into the ground. Exploding and igniting everything in their landing. Already, in the span of a few seconds, dozens of Lyran's denizens are dead.

"hya'Taaaack!" comes the call from beyond the wall as a series of flashes emerge between the stalls and tents of the faire. When the flash dissipates, the unmistakable forms of goblins are everywhere. Lyran is under attack!

http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e202/Cheesegear/C1-R1.jpg

I'm going to say that Coatl and Munggo kept their balance after the Earthquake (DC-15). How that happened is up to them. Everyone else is prone for the first round (you can still get up).

Scale 1sq. = 10ft.
The red dots are goblins
The grey dots are villagers (with or without class levels)
The brown smudges at the top appear as craters, full of mud. As the Earth Elementals had to form from something.
The red smudges are non-magical fire.
The blue dot near the pink and green (guess who?) is the Halfling
The bright red dot near dark red (guess who?) is the Orc Elder
The white dot below the yellow dot (guess who?) is the pair from the Arcanum
The blue and purple dots are together near bigger tent.

[Miraqariftsky]

Munggo

The greasy haunch drops in sudden shock
The grey-clad orc 'gainst the sturdy table braces
Fires erupt without, chaos creating
Fires erupt within, chaos beloving
When cease the shocks
And part the smokes
Then snarl the daemon-spawned goblins drear
Back at them all, Munggo growls
Fat-slick hands grip the oaken feast-board
And cries he then, with eagre voice
"Come, good elder, aid me here
Let us shove these foul fiends
To the fires whence they came!
Come, honoured elder, let live once more
In fire and steel, in blood and ash
The tales ye told of valour true!"

((Apologies for lack of quality. I'm sleepy. Extremely sleepy))

[lostsole31]

Coatl

With honed reflexes, as soon as Coatl feels the barest hint of something underfoot he hops to have his feet out farther and props his shield on the ground, bending slightly forward, so his body acts as a shock absorber to itself to not lose balance.

He quickly springs back to his full composure as fires and goblins swarm to the north and south. "My friend, demons live in your mind, but not your soul ... if we die here we will be rewarded. Hold off the north so I can clear an escape route for the villagers," he says to Xorkath.

With that, and a brief prayer to Kukulcan to preserve the living and dead as appropriate and to give him aid in battle, he shouts to the villagers ... "Death comes swiftly to those who do not heed my words! Follow me south and I shall try to break the ranks of the goblins. Or stay and hide in buildings and burn alive all!"

Intimidate roll: [roll0]
Coatl then starts to lead a "charge" southwards, moving thirty feet due south. He calls out to the goblin pack immediately southwards (to entice them to him, the poor, deluded, fool): "Come, come, you twisted, aborted sacks of rotting flesh! Brave me, if you dare!"

Not sure what's appropriate ... but not actually trying to intimidate the goblins, but to seem like I want to be intimidating that it's worth attacking me, so ...
Bluff: [roll1]
Intimidate: [roll2]

That done, I ready my standard action to cast (defensively) [I]burning hands on as many goblins as I can get in my cone when they come.
To cast defensively, as I will surely have to let some come within melee range to blast more ... [roll3]
15-ft. cone, Reflex DC 17 ... Fire damage w/ warmage edge = [roll4]

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

"Woah!" The shaking of the ground catches Armina totally off guard, and she finds herself on the ground, looking around, slightly confused. The appearance of goblins straightens her out, though.

Struggling to her feet, she realizes she landed right on top of the pork she dropped earlier. "Well, isn't that just so mean! Ugh, do you have any idea how hard it is to get grease stains out of clothes? I'm going to be scrubbing these all day tomorrow, never mind all the goblin blood that will be there shortly. No manners, I swear!"

She looks ready to slash any goblin that tries to get close to her as she yells "Everyone run away! Before these ugly creatures eat your faces!"

Readying an attack with her remaining standard action, slash at the first goblin that comes near her.
[roll0] attack, should it be needed.
[roll1] damage, if she hits.
[roll2] bluff or intimidate, whichever gets the people running.

[Salvonus]

Xorkath

The earthquake came as Xorkath was in mid-stride, walking purposefully towards the inn to make inquiries about procuring a room. The shuddering earth swept him off his feet, laying him prone upon the still-quaking ground. His well-armoured hip thudded against the ground as he landed, causing him to wince momentarily - it was but a minor injury, however, and he quickly ignored it. More pressing concerns had arisen.

Bringing himself to his feet, the Orc rapidly glanced around, taking stock of the situation. Burning buildings, goblin hordes, earth elementals... "K'taksi!" he whispered to himself.

Move Action: Get up from prone.
I'm not going to translate what Xorkath said. :smalltongue:

His friend still on his feet and quicker to regain composure, Xorkath turned towards Coatl as he spoke, "My friend, demons live in your mind, but not your soul ... if we die here we will be rewarded. Hold off the north so I can clear an escape route for the villagers."

"Stay safe, friend. We shall be reunited soon. Now, with a steady mind, go! I will buy as much time as I can, this I pledge." Xorkath responded.

With Coatl clearing a path for the villagers, Xorkath turned a steely gaze to the goblins pouring through the breach. Whispering a silent prayer to Drothgar, he moved himself into the path of the oncoming horde - they would not pass by him, he vowed.

As the villagers fled, Xorkath dashed a slight distance towards the goblins, drawing his battleaxe and shield as he moved. His Greataxe might by his favoured weapon, but, at this time, holding off the Goblins for as long as possible was the objective. As long as no goblin blades pierced his armour, he would survive... He hoped.

Not having time to ready himself to strike any oncoming foe, Xorkath instead braced himself for impact. He did not bother to speak to the savage goblins bearing down on him - there was no point, nothing to be gained. All he could do was stand at the ready, sheltered behind his immense shield and awaiting the inevitable charge.

As he stared down the horde, his thoughts turned briefly to his friend and brother."I know not if you shall see me in the afterlife, Coatl. I hold no confidence in the sanctity of my own soul," Xorkath whispered sadly to himself.

Mentally chastising himself, Xorkath quickly shifted psychological states, immediately dispelling doubt from his mind - he could not afford to be crippled by fear and sorrow. There was no time for such emotions - concentration was key, for he needed to defend himself from the goblins rapidly pouring through the breach in the wall.

Standard Action (used like a Move action): Moves 5 ft. north, 5 ft. west. (10 ft. Move).
Free Action (as part of Move action): Draw Battleaxe.
Free Action (as part of Move action): Draw Shield.

Fine. This is apparently impossible... Unfortunately, I missed that houserule.

If I can draw both a Battleaxe and Shield with one Standard action, then Xorkath takes a 5 ft. step West (please tell me the stupid villagers can get behind him...) and does his draw action.

If I can't... Well, the same 5 ft. step and he'll simply draw his Greataxe.

Combat Status:
Xorkath (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=95421)
Male Lawful Good Orc Paladin, Level 3, Init +0, HP 31/31, DR None, Speed 20 ft.
AC 19, Touch 10, Flat-footed 19, Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +5, Base Attack Bonus 3, Action Points N/A
(Not Equipped) Masterwork Greataxe (-) +9 (1d12+6, x3)
(Equipped) Masterwork Battleaxe (-) +8 (1d8+4, x3)
(Not Equipped) Composite Longbow +4 (100) +3 (1d8+4, x3)
(Equipped) Half-Plate, (Equipped) Heavy Wooden Shield (+7 Armor, +2 Shield)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 11, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 15, Cha 9
Condition None

[TempusCCK]

"Blast!" exclaims Jaron as he lays face first on the ground. He rolls over somewhat dazed at the sudden drop. However it doesn't take him long to get to his feet.

Quickly, Jaron takes a look around, spotting the Goblins, reaches both of his hands to his left side, his right hand drawing from it's thin leather shealth his blade, what fencers called an epee, similar in make and function to a rapier, but with a more curving blade, more suitable for slashing attacks.

His left hand pulls from the hook situated on the outside of his blades sheath a small round piece of wood bound in metal, with a single handle sticking out of the back, his buckler. He drops into a balanced stance, his blade laying with it's flat against the edge of his buckler, pointing toward the nearest group of Goblins.

Move action to stand, move action to draw weapons via The Divine Cheese's +4 BAB draw weapons for free during a move action houserule.

Since I won't be running, spot check.

Spot 1d20+4



In Draconic:"Adrienna, we should go now, back through the tent, and around... "

[Paramour Pink]

Cherrina Random NPC Brunette With a Bow # 5

The brunette rose to her feet. She didn't want to draw the attention of the goblins without aid, saying to the crowd nearby while she readied her bow, "They're more of you than there are goblins, and the outlanders are surrounded!"

She gestured to the group on the other side of the people as she took aim, hoping someone was mobilizing the same effort on that side, of that they might become encouraged if she succedded pushing the people beside her.
"Remind the intruders that you're the demonslayers at heart; let history repeat itself!"

[Cheesegear]

The Halfling performer, agile as ever, stays on his feet while the children fall down as the Earth Elementals cause shudders in the ground they were borne from. The Halfling glances to the goblins, glances to the children. There wasn't really a descision made in the Halfling's mind, as there was only one choice; Charge. With his daggers in hand, he leapts towards the goblins. "This isn't happening again! You bastards!" one goblin dodges his first dagger, while the goblin, unaccostemed to fighting beserk halflings wasn't looking for the second dagger that skewered him in the neck. "This is for Iss'Lalee!" the halfling can be heard screaming.

Seeing Xorkath and his strange man-servant take control so quickly, and so confindently, the villagers huddled like cold sheep between the two saviours.
The goblins, seeing an unarmed an unarmoured man protecting so many villagers quickly gather and charge the group. However, the loincloth man - Coatl - is more than he seems, as a few mystical words and outstrected hands reveal an arc of fire that burn the first goblin rank. The others, seeing three of their number die so quickly, move forwards warily, shields up in case of another blast of fire.

Jaron the dashing rogue, draws his sword and prepares to fight, and together, with Adrienna, noble Dragonwrought, stands against the goblin rush. Adrienna lashes out with her claws, catching the goblin's shield. She'll have to sharpen her nails again sometime soon, they can't even cut through wood! The goblins lay about Adrienna, but their weapons barely scrape her, thanks to her amazing draconic scales.

The Elder, his weapon in hand. Turns to the adolescents and shouts "This is our home! Stand and fight. For glory fades, but honour is forever! Defend your home!" the orc children seem to reel, only for a moment, as the Orc ancestral memory (or is it a dream?) of fires and battle, and a leader marching tall, axe in hand, bellowing the charge. The orc children leap into the goblin group. The human children, for whatever reason - peer pressure? Not wanting to be left out? - also enter the fray. But, these were only children, and they were goblins. Whilst a few strikes were lucky, the goblins leapt into the group of teenagers willingly and gleefully, easy kills like this weren't everyday.

The Elder turns to Munggo "Haha! Another comrade at arms! I am Ruutgren, and I say we make Drothgar the Mighty proud of his children! as he easily lifts the nearest table and hands the end to Munggo. "And now...Now we live." he smiles, as he references that an Orc is not living unless he is fighting. Between Munggo and Ruutgren the table was an easy lift and they charged forwards into the melee. "Raaarrrgh!" screams Ruutgren as the table hits goblins. Two of the goblins dart out of the way, and one pummels Ruutgren with his morningstar, causing Ruutgren to grunt in pain and drop his end of the table. While another, scores another minor gash on Munggo's leg.

Factoring in Cherrina's aura; Munggo takes 1 damage.
Munggo can also trigger rage. From the 'acestral' memory/dream. Or from being in the middle of combat, or maybe even the fact that a goblin even dare attack him.
As I said; You can't rage for no reason.

Mayor Ruskger, fearful and terrified runs towards the pair from the Arcanum, still sitting casually under the tree. "What are you doing!? Why aren't you fighting!? Help us you fools!"
The Handler, pursed his lips "I thought you didn't want us here? he asked, false innocence in his voice. "But, if you insist." he pauses for just a moment. And the bright stones in the leash connecting the Handler to his Ward, shimmer and sparkle, and then slowly fade to an obsidian black.
The Ward, suddenly sits bolt upright, as if woken abruptly from sleep. "Are you afraid? I would be." he says, as flames leap from deep in throat, his eyes seem to cry tears of fire, and his brown hair suddenly ignites into dancing flames. His hands glow with arcane radiance, as he stands, he turns to Ruskger, his head quite literally on fire, and the radiating heat already turning Ruskger's healthy skin red. In a voice not his own, cold, unemotional. The Ward, states; "...And now. Now they die."

And yet the fires the rage and grow.

[lostsole31]

Coatl (when it is his turn) moves diagonally forward and to the right [on the map, that would be diagonally down to the left] and lines up his next spell again to get as many goblins as possible. He bravely steps right up to and faces the goblin on that left-top section, not wanting to 'waste' the spell by missing a goblin due to cowardice, and then lets loose with another searing wave of flame.

Cast defensively, Concentration: [roll0]
Fire damage: [roll1], Ref DC 17 - 1/2 damage

[I won't roll Intimidate again, because I don't believe "try again" really works in this instance ...]

Coatl continues to exhort the villagers to use his trailblazing maneuver as a means to make a break out of the village.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

To Jaron, in Draconic, Adrienna says "Retreat if you must. My scales will protect me for a time, and in that time, many people will escape. I will retreat myself, once the innocents are safer. If you do, make sure you grab my things from the Timid Dragon! I wouldn't want to lose my glaive, and there are things in my backpack that would be devastating to lose, and perhaps worse if the ended up in the wrong hands. However, if you are willing to fight for a while, I wouldn't complain." She grins as he swipes away at the enemy.

Full attack:
[roll0] Claw 1 [roll1] damage
[roll2] Claw 2 [roll3] damage
[roll4] Bite [roll5] damage

:smallfrown: Bad random number generator! :smallannoyed:

[TempusCCK]

Two Tumble Checks to Flank the Goblin to the South of Adrienna, DC 15 to avoid attacks of opportunity.

Tumble Check to Move Through the Threatened Area to the East of the Goblin:
[roll0]

Tumble Check to move to the flanking position on the other side of the Goblin:
[roll1]

Jaron, moving as Adrienna begins to speak, realizes the the woman is surrounded and is engaging, and quickly leaps into action. Starting behind the Draconian, he shuffles quickly forward, placing his buckler flat against the ground, he uses it as a platform to handspring nimbly through the area to the east of the Goblin on Adrienna's lower flank, hopefully avoiding a nasty attack.

When he resumes his footing, he immediately dips a shoulder to the ground, executing a low sideways roll that will bring him up with the Goblin between himself and the Dragonwrought. Spinning his body around, he leads with the edge of his rapier, the end of the motion bringing the small shield around perfectly to block his body. The shield lifts, only for a moment, to present a small opening that will allow Jarons foot to snap out at the monster and then recede back in, balancing his stance and his defense.

[roll2]-Rapier attack [roll3]-Damage

[roll4]-Unarmed attack [roll5] + [roll0]-Damage

[TempusCCK]

OOC- Awesome, you can't use the preview feature with this roller either, what fun!

Tumble 1

[roll1] Tumble 2

[roll2] Attack 1, [roll3] Damage

[roll4] Attack 2, [roll]1d3+1d6 damage

[Miraqariftsky]

Munggo's maw flows slick with spit and his throat vile with bile... the scent of blood in the air driving him to the brink of madness. The sounds of strife, the blessed bounds of battle seem like music in his ears.

The blood pounds in his temples and rushes like fire from a mountain's gullet through the grey-clad orc's muscles. Sloshing through the dumped food, he bares his tusks and grins madly as he and Ruutgren barge into the milling goblins, throwing them back like ninepins.

The elder's end of the heavy table drops. Unable to support the whole thing from just his end, Munggo growls deep in his throat and heaves, hurling it away as it falls flat to the ground, the quivering table-legs looking like the legs of a fresh-stuck boar that had been ridden to death.

Suddenly, the incomprehensible horrors of his black age of torment comes undone, the cloying and insidious corruption of it all suddenly shrinking back from a yell that comes from nowhere. No... from within... But where? Who? Who is this mighty one that dares to defy the daemonic masters? The clarion calls, the defiant cries, the unified roaring of his people... his people...

Reacting from reflex, he drops to one knee as a morningstar passes harmlessly where his solar plexus had once been and then leaps to his feet, drawing the curved sword from its scabbard on its back in one fluid motion. The right hand bears the blade, holding it far from his body and behind as he skips nimbly back as two of the goblins rush in, snarling and spitting, swinging their morningstars with what small skill they could muster.

One head of ill-forged iron smashes into one of the table's legs, shattering it into mere splinters while another whooshes through the air at waist-height, one of its spikes drawing a line of blood across his thigh. As the goblin straightens from the strike, Munggo's left fist comes crashing across in...

[Miraqariftsky]

((Sorreh! Forgot the rolls!))


Not yet raging... no yet... not yet...

@V: Left hook!
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Salvonus]

"K'raktasa, k'taksi, k'taksi..." Xorkath swore under his breath as the halfling performer launched himself at the goblins - as skilled as the fool seemed in fighting, he was moving into a battle of un-winnable odds! The hulking warrior could count over a dozen of the goblin warriors - surely, the halfling would be swarmed and killed if he fought so recklessly! How reckless, too, to leave those children unprotected... The foolish performer, no matter his emotions and intentions, would surely perish if he was unaided - and then what? The villagers would be swarmed - if the dagger-wielder had any desire to save the villagers, getting himself killed in the process would certainly not help matters.

Regardless, Xorkath could not leave a man to die alone in protection of the defenceless. A quick glance to the south revealed that Coatl was able to handle that threat quite well; a glance to the east revealed a group of villagers beginning to congregate between the weak defensive barrier of his own flesh and Coatl's magic. Xorkath knew he could not let down those looking for salvation; and, yet, the halfling needed to be saved as well. Knowing he had little more than a split-second with which to evaluate his options, Xorkath sprang into action.

Shouting to the congregated villagers and children to the south-west, Xorkath made his best effort to project a commanding, yet friendly presence. "Move to join your fellows under the protection of my servant!" he shouted, "I will buffer the goblin advance and stand between you and them - do not stray from the protection of myself and my servant! Should I fall, follow his commands exactly - he will lead you to safety!"

Strengthening his resolve, Xorkath began to dash forward into the fray. Yes, it was potentially suicidal, he knew, but without the halfling to block the path towards the other group of villagers, Xorkath needed to shift his position to hinder any advance. If the goblins were distracted by him - as well they should be, for he was an armed threat and the villagers were relatively defenceless - then he would buy time for Coatl to clear the path and lead the innocents to safety. Xorkath knew, however, that he could not act as rashly as the foolish halfling - he had to be calculated, defensive, in order to prevent the swarm of goblins from killing him. Thus, the orcish warrior did not charge headlong at the goblins; instead, his dash was calculated, well-paced to allow him to maintain a solid footing.

Suddenly, too soon, he was almost face-to-face with the despicable horde. Those who would kill townsfolk for no good reason - he had no respect for them, no incentive to cushion his blows. As much as he wished to be merciful, he knew that holding back would only hinder his cause. These creatures... they reminded him too much of the Kinslayer. Of himself. Yes, he should have mercy for everyone, he should not kill if he did not need to - but this was a necessity. These creatures would be vile, opportunistic slayers of children if Xorkath could not stop them. Rage began to bubble up in his heart, a low growl reverberating in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to rip their flesh into shreds, to beat their bodies senseless and torture them slowly to death. Yes, yes, yes! Blood and carnage, strife and war! They were irredeemably evil, demonic creatures for whom there was no hope! Xorkath began to cackle as he thought of the ways in which he desired to see them suffer. He wished he had his cruel greataxe drawn, so that he could cleave their heads 'twixt and 'twain, to hear their screams. Perhaps he could simply drop his shield, use his battleaxe in both of his hand, put killing power behind his blows.

A low murmur began to run through his head. It was indecipherable chanting, but Xorkath knew what it wanted. It wanted blood. He would oblige. He felt his grip loosening on his shield, he felt himself preparing to smite down his opposition with bloody force. After all, was this not pious justice? Was it not just evil and good in this world? Was there not ever chance for redemption? A grinning face, then a full body appeared in his mind's eye - that of his own visage, of Kinslayer from days past. A seductive demoness, human in form except for indescribable eyes of pure hatred, was clinging to his other self. She smiled at him - on the surface, it was kind, friendly, understanding. He felt compelled to listen to her - she spoke mind-to-mind, her lips not moving. She communicated wordlessly, only in concepts - the joy of violence, the rejoicing of carnage, the art of destruction.

Xorkath reached the goblins. He dropped his axe. He dropped his shield. He simply lunged into the fray. He had grown claws, long, lovely, deliciously wicked claws. He tore apart the throat of one goblin. Bit into the neck of another. Decapitated one with fear in its eyes. He laughed. This was FUN. This was what he lived for.

A wail reached Xorkath's ears - that of a child, one of the villagers for whom this ordeal had become too much. Xorkath realised that he was still dashing towards the goblins - his mental journey had taken place seemingly outside of time, the visions of delicious destruction had merely been a fantasy conjured up by an ever-healing psyche. As he felt his feet propel himself forward, Xorkath glanced to the side - he saw a young child rooted to the ground in fear, an older one thankfully picking up the near-infant as he fled to the barrier of protection between Xorkath and Coatl. Smiling slightly at how clichéd his return to sanity was, Xorkath was nonetheless thankful for the reality check. His mind was clear, now, his purpose established. As much as he wished to tear apart as many of these goblins as he could and feel the sweet release of death, he knew it was not possible. He had a duty, one that he loved - a duty to protect those in need, an obligation to aid those who could not help themselves.

For the second time that day, Xorkath banished thoughts of carnage from his mind, his calculating battle-sense graciously taking over. He fortified his mind against further assault, reaching a sense of inner serenity as he built psychological barriers to prevent his concentration from slipping again. He knew these visions would not trouble him again on this day - his purpose had been reaffirmed, the quest of his own salvation re-enshrined. Most of all, he remembered that it was not battle he loved, but instead the simple act of doing good unselfishly. Nothing else had given him such satisfaction in his life. It was somewhat ironic that he did good through killing others, but such was the nature of his circumstance - these people needed a protector, and he would oblige.

After a seeming eternity, he reached the domain of his enemies. He could smell their vile stench, see the murderous intent in their eyes. Still, he stayed his hand, not wishing to charge in off-balance and risk leaving his charges without their defender. The towering orc drew majestically drew up to his full height, not wishing to lose any battle-alertness from a hunched-over posture. In a split-second, he took up his stance - shield in front, reading to defend, axe in the back, ready to strike. He sacrificed the accuracy of his blows for the ability to defend himself better - to do otherwise would be foolhardy. Prepared for an onslaught, he took a mighty swipe at the closest goblin, hoping to fell the monster before it could attack him.

Even as he swung at the vile creature, Xorkath shouted out to the halfling. "Come back and fight side-by-side with me, good halfling! Vengeance is one thing, but these villagers need our aid - if we fight together, we shall survive longer and buy them more time! Do not think only of your own quest and pursue death recklessly - think of those we must defend!"


Fighting defensively, so my attack bonus is reduced to +4 and my AC is increased to 21. Please don't get a lucky 20, Cheesy. :smalltongue:

Move action: Go north in basically a straight line. Seems to shut off the goblin approach, as long as those villagers listen to Xorkath.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[roll2] (If needed - they really should listen to Xorkath...)
[roll3] (As above, although more likely to be needed.)

Okay, I REALLY need to run to class - sorry, I'll hopefully be on later to do more stuff with my other games! (Since a lot of you are in them, I thought I'd give a heads-up about that. :smallsmile:)

PLEASE POST

I'll deal with any typos and text colouring later. I have only a few minutes to get to class, now. :smalltongue:

Dealt with typos and colouring! :smallbiggrin:


Xorkath (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=95421)
Male Lawful Good Orc Paladin, Level 3, Init +0, HP 31/31, DR None, Speed 20 ft.
AC 21, Touch 12, Flat-footed 19, Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +5, Base Attack Bonus 3, Action Points N/A
(Not Equipped) Masterwork Greataxe (-) +9 (1d12+6, x3)
(Equipped) Masterwork Battleaxe (-) +4 (+8) (1d8+4, x3)
(Not Equipped) Composite Longbow +4 (100) +3 (1d8+4, x3)
(Equipped) Half-Plate, (Equipped) Heavy Wooden Shield (+7 Armor, +2 Shield, +2 Dodge)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 11, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 15, Cha 9
Condition None

[Paramour Pink]

Cherrina Random NPC Brunette With a Bow # 5

Now standing and certain of herself, she eyed the goblin mass with disdain. They had stupidly earned themselves a position of potentially being flanked, and a eagle-edged glance told her they were being lead by their senses instead of having any clear sense of leadership.

Unorganized rabble.

The brunette drew her bow and put arrow to it like lyrics to music, the action adriot and easy as she shot an arrow into the group of goblins.

Very noice post Sal(ly).

On my front, I'm a bit confused about what to do really (combat newbie :P), or where I am in relation to everyone, honestly. The map hasn't moved at my corner, and I wasn't mentioned in Cheesegear's write-up of the last post. I'll dump that down to my disguise being so great that the Random NPC Brunette With a Bow # 5 faded into the crowd.

So, "I attack a goblin. Any goblin."

Attack roll:
Damage roll: [roll]1d20+1d8+2

[Cheesegear]

Jaron, the nimble rogue snaps out with his foot, catching the goblin in the stomach, the goblin is clearly damaged from the harsh kick to his abdomen, he drops his weapon, and lets out a strange moan as he crumbles to the ground like a sack of ill-kept manure. While the goblin isn't dead, he clearly isn't getting up anytime soon.

The once joyous halfling bard, now a whirling engine of fury, begins to sing a battle-song. Full of what other races can only know as 'Halfling Rage'. While the Orcs' fury and battle-rage is uncontrollable and wild, the Halflings' battle-lust is cold, calculating. Pre-meditated.
Iss'Llalee, the city of pyres,
the shining spires, the goblins brought fires.
We sought the justice the Gods forgot
We paid the price the others would not.

Xorkath is under the effect of Inspire Courage

Cherrina, her aim flies towards the goblin that she aimed for, her shaft flying straight and true. At the last second, barely perceptible, her target lifts his shield with such speed and agility that can only be borne from reflex and luck, rather than any sort of trained skill.

Ruutgren, the Orc Elder and battle-hardened warrior raised his two-headed axe; His ancestral weapon, his ancient symbol of all it meant to be 'Orc'. And the goblin, that foolish creature that had hit him from behind. That disgusting, wretched honourless demonkin; At that moment, it knew its doom. As Ruutgren, the Orc behemoth brought his axe in a glittering sweeping arc, the blades - polished to a sheen, as befits an Orcish weapon - reflected the firelight. The goblin saw the fires of the Abyss in that reflection, and he knew his mortality. The head of the axe was brought in neatly at the goblin's shoulder, and it's head arced in the air, spraying blood and gore in all directions.
"Oooorargh!" roared Ruutgren as his mighty blow carved straight through his small opponent and cleaved into the next goblin, the axe burying itself neatly in the second goblin's torso. Ruutgren raised his axe with the goblin body attached, dripping blood and innards all over the axe haft and spaying forth onto Ruutgren's arms.

Coatl the mage, unarmed, moved forwards towards the goblins. And muttered a prayer (which the men of Duraq called a 'spell') and brought forth his hands again, a second time and sprayed the goblins with Kukuclan's (whom the men of Duraq called 'Furien') light. The fire spewed wide and incinerated all but two of the goblins, who leapt onto the unarmed Coatl and tried to attack him. But, being nimble, Coatl easily dodged their swings.

Adrienna - like Coatl - was unarmed. But, still attacked with the claws that her 'fathers' had given her. To no avail. As the goblin in front her was small and quick nimbly dodged her blows. And snickered as her brought his morningstar at Adrienna's middle-section. It connected with a thud. But, Adrienna, noble Dragonwrought, grinned back at the foolish goblin. It would take more than a morningstar to get past her thick scales.
A second goblin too, brought his weapon to bear, and, if previous experience was an example, Adrienna brought her arm in to block the weapon. Previous experience proved useful, as the thud again, made no impact on the Daughter of the Silvers.

Munggo's fist goes soaring over his small opponent's head. As the goblin ducks and weaves, he brings his crude weapon to bear once again on Munggo and strikes him again where he can reach - Munggo's legs. While the second goblin sizing Munggo as an oppoent feebly swings his weapon where Munggo was, obviously, to no effect.

Munggo takes a whole of 2 damage (that includes Cherrina's aura already)

Xorkath, brother to battle, watched as the goblins levelled their aim as he moved forward. Being no stranger to missile weapons, Xorkath had his shield up when the javelins came, hard and fast, they just clattered on his shield. But, maybe it was luck, or, maybe since Xorkath was moving forward the target trajectory was changed, two jevelins struck true, and stuck fast in Xorkath's impressive figure. One lodged in at Xorkath's right shoulder - the side his shield is not on - and one that would have plunked into the ground had Xorkath been that one bit slower managed to score and lodge firmly in his shin - running straight to the bone. Xorkath, however, was an Orc, and no stranger to pain, and went forward bringing his axe down on a goblins' head as a woodsman might when cutting firewood. The goblin's head split like a melon right down the middle.

Xorkath takes six damage

Two other goblins threw their javelins at the villagers that Xorkath had tried to protect. Slaying both villagers. The rear groups of goblins moved in towards Lyran, pelting their javelins at the unprotected villagers. The group of adolescents close to Munggo and Ruutgren, their charge slowed, their tactics seems less effective. Only 'winning' in the sense that there were more young men alive than goblins.

The Battlemage from the Schola Arcanum begins casting a spell. The blaze and fire surrounding him becoming brighter, the radiance of his power almost blinding. The Warder, his eyes widen in shock "No! There are innocents here!"
The Battlemage scowls, and the burning within - and without - him seem to fade. And, almost lazily, uncaringly, goes through the motions of a different spell and the words spoken carelessly - almost like he doesn't want to cast the spell. Three bolts of purple-ish light strike forth as the Battlemage points towards one of the goblins and as the goblin gets struck by the bolts he falls and dies.

The fires, having burned the tents seem to slow their progress through the green.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

Snarling in disgust at her performance so far, Adrienna mutters to herself "By the fathers, I am so out of practise with their gifts. I've been too dependant on my glaive, clearly." With a shrug, she lashes out again, not so much in anger, but out of the need to protect the humans.

"Foolish Goblins, you should run now, you cannot prevail against the might of a dragonwrought! You are nothing more than rabbits to me!"

[roll0] Claw one tohit, for [roll1] damage.
[roll2] Claw two tohit, for [roll3] damage.
[roll4] Bite tohit, for [roll5] damage.

[Miraqariftsky]

Another spiked iron ball smashes against Munggo's ironclad shin. Something snaps inside him, the pain of the injury overwhelming what little defenses his self-control has.

"WAAAAAGGHHH!"

The orcish outlander then throws back his head and heaves an earth-pounding roar at the unweeping heavens, spitting defiance at the calamity unfolding around him. Gripping his curved sword in both hands, the blood in his arms now burning with an all-consuming fury, he brings it across in a savage arc...



Raging... bout of rage will last seven turns.
[roll0] Power Attack -2/+4
[roll1]

[lostsole31]

Coatl looks at the two goblins that have survived his conflagration and failed to strike him successully.

"I do not enjoy slaying you, little ones. But in defense of these people I will scour your bones with my magic, unless you are seized by a random fit of reason. You should go," Coatl says flatly but with confidence.

Concentration, to cast defensively: [roll0]
Cast acid splash on the goblin to his right (the one furthest from the building nearby): ranged touch attack hits AC [roll1] and does [roll2] acid damage.

Coatl then looks at the remaining golin and says, this time narrowing his gaze intently on the lone goblin with a cruel smile and his voice dropping a register, "No, really. You should go."
Intimidate check to adjust reaction, modified with a -10 because it's rushed, but a +4 due to size difference. The idea is to scare the little bugger to run off and save his own hide, as his buddies all just got flayed within 15 seconds by one man. Any chance for a DM adjustment as it's in this guy's best interests?: [roll3]

[TempusCCK]

Springing lightly away from the fallen Goblin , Jaron shifts to the left.
"I believe we've delayed long enough, there are six more not far away, and everyone else has moved south." Moving with the flow and and ebb of the battle, Jaron repeats the performance that dispatched the last foe, throwing his arm forward in a quick, perfectly executed lunge. With another kick quickly following.

[roll0] Rapier Hit [roll1] Damage
[roll2] Kick to hit [roll3] Damage

It is no act of cowardice that is driving Jaron to get away, the Dragonwrought, while impressive with her magics, had yet to even score a hit on the weak, poorly trained Goblins, while having taken a few blows. While she seemed completely unfazed, it didn't still didn't bode well for the rest of the combat, especially not with a dozen more Goblins bearing down on them.

"There seems to be some allies down the way as well..."

[TempusCCK]

Critical Confirmation: [roll0]

[Paramour Pink]

The woman continues to shoot into the goblin crowd.



Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[Salvonus]

With his primal instincts tamed, there was no joy for Xorkath in this battle. His time for seeing violence as a flowing, pseudo-musical expression was long gone. It was naive, in a way, to take pleasure from maiming enemies - yes, evidently it wasn't such an innocent thing to do, but there was a certain childish unawareness in not realising the consequences of taking another's life. Thus, when the goblin before him toppled to the ground, Xorkath merely looked on in sadness as he fended off the strikes of the ravaging horde. It was not, persay, the type of sadness that was crippling in its magnitude; Xorkath's emotional state was more akin to a sorrowful detachment from the realities of his murderous blow. To let the death of a "nameless" goblin to impact his will to fight on would simply be counter-productive at this point. Thus, Xorkath soldiered on, his quasi-detachment shielding his sanity from guilt over the felling of his enemy - he clung desperately to the ideas of pure Good and Evil as a cushion for his conscience, even as he loathed his moral weakness in stooping to black-and-white morality.

Even the anguished cries of the two slain villagers did not alter his feelings about the dirty task of dispatching of Goblins. If anything, the death of the two villagers simply added to his sorrow, while, at the same time, strengthening his resolve and convictions. Even as he cursed himself for not showing emotion, he had to keep his outward detachment; the Orc was not a fighter who relied on raw, primitive rage to guide him through battle, but instead through tactics and determination. Thus, Xorkath soldiered on with no change in tempo, despite his failure as a defender of the innocents - guilt could be felt later, and likely would, but, for now, he had to concentrate on protecting the rest of them.

The pain in Xorkath's right shoulder and shin was immense, the projectiles still lodged firmly in his flesh. Chinks in his armour - surely, he needed to find better protection than his mere Half-Plate afforded. Xorkath's shoulder felt on fire as his axe-arm swung violently at a nearby Goblin, aiming to decapitate the vile creature just like his fellow. He kept the same stance as before, sacrificing the accuracy of his blows for the near-precognitive ability to dodge all but the nastiest of the Goblin's blows. Even as the song of the Halfling inexplicably caused Xorkath's heart to surge, the Paladin held himself back, tempering potentially powerful blows in favour of cautious defence.

Throughout all of this, Xorkath remained speechless. What purpose could bloodthirsty, bestial shouts and yelps ever serve? They were the domain of Kinslayer, of Orcs with a primal bent; not of an initiate of righteousness, a student on the path to potential salvation.


Standard Action: Attack the nearest Goblin (preferably, for purposes of roleplay, one of the ones that threw a javelin at the villagers.
[roll0] (+4 Str, +3 BAB, +1 Masterwork, -4 Total Defence, +1 Inspire Courage)
[roll1] (+4 Str, +1 IC)

Move Action: Uh, none.

[Cheesegear]

The halfling bard continues to fight the goblins, darting and slashing with his twin daggers at the goblins.
Iss'Llalee, the city of pyres
And Piper rose from the situation most dire
and in the darkness, we cowered from disaster
and She rose to fight until the morning after.
The Halfling's dagger pierces the throat of one goblin. As the halfling stares in it's eyes with grim determination.

Adrienna slashes and bites the goblin in front of her. One hit scoring the goblin across the face. Her claws dig into it's face and scrape horizontally. Giving a neat set of gouges across it's eyes. But, there are still two goblins still attacking her. One, retries his tired tactic of 'hit it hard enough, eventually it wall down', and, fails. Another goblin, slightly smarter than it's brethren strikes at Adrienna's knees. 'Hack the joints', another common goblin tactic. This one, works.

Xorkath spins and neatly slices off a goblin's arm. Preventing it from throwing another javelin at the running villagers. And Coatl, standing with the villagers points a finger at a goblin, and the acid comes forth from the finger like a fountain, and splashes onto the goblin. The goblin screams in pain as the magical acid melts his skin, and clothes. His face a distorted horror as he mewls and cries and slumps to the ground.
The second goblin nearest Coatl, watches as his comrade, quite literally melts and screams. Looks towards the unarmed man who commands fire and drops his morningstar and runs in the opposite direction. Far away from the acid-spewing man.

Ruutgren and Munggo have similar success. The roaring of two battleraging Orcs seems to have an effect on the goblins. As Ruutgren, one half of his axe still attatched to the - dead - goblin, proceeds to beat the remaining goblins with their own fallen.
Munggo, breathes deep, and lets forth a might roar. And brings down his mighty falchion onto the goblin who had so foolishly attacked him. Recreating Xorkath's feat from earler, Munggo cuts the goblin's head in twain, and then continues through the goblin's torso, and finally out of the goblin's groin.
The last goblin left, facing the two awesome Orcs alone, covered in the prevoious goblin's blood and insides, and seeing that his...Friend? Split neatly in two finally gives up and runs...Only to come face-to-face with more of the Arcanist's magic missiles.

Jaron darts behind the closest goblin. However, the goblin had seen this same tactic used on his battle brother, not five seconds ago. The goblin, predicting Jaron's same moves easily, thrusts out with his morningstar. Catching Jaron's leg as it came in for a kick, Jaron loses his balance momentarily, as he swiftly brings his sword in to catch the goblin underneath his chin. The rapier neatly piercing his throat, a burst of blood sprays out onto the ground as Jaron withdraws his weapon from the juggular vein.

Missile weapons proving uneffective for Cherrina, the Tiefling in disguise, as once again, she shoots her missile weapon, only for the arrow to be caught by another goblin's shield. Still, Cherrina's confidence and her calm demeanor, has the villagers rallying. As they each bend to pick up rocks and sticks, some even ball their fists, ready to take the goblins in hand-to-hand combat.

The goblins moving through Lyran's ruined wall continue to throw their missile weapons, and peircing the villagers with their wooden javelins.

The adolescents fighting with the goblins have not fared at all well. The goblins having butchered them all. Only one stands, and is frightened and crying while a trio of goblins prepare to strike her down.
Mayor Ruskger - from the safety of behind Cherrina - yells for someone to go to her rescue.
"Somebody save my daughter!"

The fires are growing smaller. Strange, since the fire is burning on grasslands. It should be spreading. Not...Coalescing.

[Miraqariftsky]

Gristly blood slow from the fang of steel, drips
Foes' fluids still hot from bloody execution
Steams on skin and steel

Fain would he
Have stooped,
Severed heads
And rended limbs
So precious taken,
Ravenous devoured

But the Misbegotten One looks
Leftward, the unhallowed sun
And there gapes aghast

The throng of valiant youths, untimely slain
Lies thither in a mad mangled heap
Lifeblood seeping into the
Land they loved

Memories unmade
Do sudden surface
Carnage's chaos and blazing bloodlust
Now do their forms so swiftly shift
And roar as revenge

Forth he leaps, flying free
Of limbs cruel hewn
Like a lance
His fang of steel he thrusts
And unheeding of flesh,
Slashes it up
And out...


[roll0]
[roll1]

[lostsole31]

COATL

"Now, all of you, listen!" Coatl calls to both nearby crowds. "Tarry here no longer. A powerful force used great magics to conjure the stone creatures, so the goblins are not all there is to be ... make no mistake!"

Coatl does a quick scan at the two groups to size up/find a good leader(s) for the groups ...
Sense Motive (to size up likely candidates, see Complete Adventurer on this use of Sense Motive): [roll0]
... "You, and you, lead these people out of here!" Coatl points to the open area to the east-southeast as he says this. "To stay is to invite death. Lead them to the nearby forest. If you know of any nearby town or safe haven, head there and report what you have seen. I shall fight on here to help others, but you must see to your people's safety now. Go with Furien."
Intimidate [roll1] ... or Diplomacy [roll2], as appropriate.

As that is finished, Coatl hustles (double-move, not run, 60' total) northwards to help his friend Xorkath while still moving slowly enough to survey things as he goes and maintains defensiveness in case of unseen/undetected opponents. He pays a particular eye on the fires which are receding oddly to see if he can notice anything about the odd behavior ...
K:Nature, since knowledge of the natural world - like elemental fire - may clue him in to what has eluded everyone else thus far: [roll3]

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

As the goblin manages to draw blood, Adrienna mutters "Hey! Pothoc malai, that tickles!"

With a glance at the scene around her, she can only nod at Jaron's suggestion. "Yes, we must fall back and protect those who haven't run." Her face shows worry, though. There are so many of them, and we aren't killing them very quickly. At this rate, someone is going to need to save us...

She slashes a claw at one of her attackers, before pulling back to the south, into the other group of goblins.

[roll0] to hit the wounded goblin for [roll1] damage, before moving into the group of 6 goblins to the south (in front of the one farthest west)

She is too concerned about the goblins and people to really clue in that something is up with the flames.

[TempusCCK]

"Blasted demonspawn!" exclaims Jaron as he quickly removes his blade from the throat of the Goblin who had injured him. He quickly moved behind the other, putting it between Adrienna and himself as she scored her first kill of the battle.

"Ah ha!"

Adding some panache to his attack, Jaron leaps up, executing a spinning roundhouse kick. A not-so tricky manuever for those skilled in unarmed combat, but probably something that the Goblins would not be expecting...

Jump check, just to see how impressive my manuever is: [roll0]

Attack Roll: [roll1]

Damage: [roll2] [roll3] Sweet sweet flank...

"Watch out for the fire, there is something sinister about it... Surely it is the proxy of these Goblins foul leaders!" Jaron calls out to Adrienna as he follows her in hasty retreat South.

Knowledge History check: [roll4]

[Paramour Pink]

The woman read the situation as casually as a scholar reads a scroll. Balled fists, burning eyes, makeshift projectiles all meant there was a chance to motivate and mobilize. A smirk almost arrived on her impassive face until keen eyes suddenly creased in worry. She slung the bow over her torso, analytic thoughts telling her it would do little as they stumbled across a morbid revelation.

Too many targets, all focused on the captive, and not enough time to kill them.

We can't save her.

“You heard the mayor,” she yelled quickly, a hint of desperation hindering her voice, “Charge!”

But we have to try.

She lead the way for anyone that might follow, ignoring the part of her mind that urged her to think on the upcoming tactical incompetence she planned on doing. Her strong thighs pumping, brown leather boots slamming across the former fair grounds with all the subtly of a single-minded Minotaur focused purely upon her target. Common sense completely ignored, ever closer to the goblins, she attempted a bull-rush to barge past anyone in the way, and scoop up the little girl.

The woman doubted the goblins could be stopped in time, and so the archer intended to take the mayor's daughter as far out of goblin reach as possible, trying to angle her body in a shielding attempt to take the attacks she was inviting them to offer. If it was a success, she would stop before hitting the wall or the fire, and place herself between the child and goblins.


Auras:

Hardy Soldiers still in play.

Motivate Charisma swapped out for Over the Top.

Cherrina won't be benefiting from it, but someone else might.


Rolls & Actions:



Move action spent on putting away the bow to free up her hands.

Standard Action on a bullrush attempt.

Bullrush Strength Check: [roll0]


Explanation:


They're a lot of things that can go wrong with this bullrush attempt, but I really don't think attacking blindly is the answer here.

The chances of getting to the fight, distracting the goblins, hitting them, and then actually killing or knocking all three of them unconscious, in one round no less, sounds unlikely to me. Even if the crowd does help.

On the other hand, they probably only need one hit on the little girl, and that's it. They'd still have two others free to fight off the crowd. Even if the locals decided to help charge and swarm, the goblins might act out of spite anyway, as they probably have the Evil alignment making it a possibility. It'd make an angry crowd charge against them a complete failure, even if we do overcome this particular group of goblins a round or two later.

Officially for a bullrush, “you attempt to push an opponent straight back instead of damaging him.” I'm essentially going to do that, but instead re-writing it slightly as “using a bullrush attempt to scoop up the child and carry her away from the goblins”.

The +6 Strength modifier is +2 from my strength score, and +4 because I assume that I'm a Medium adult, whereas she's a child, and so Smaller than me. That, and I assume the little girl won't actually resist me trying to pluck her out of danger. :smallsmile:

Unless the mayor's daughter is just frantically swinging at anyone that approaches, which is possible, considering being surrounding by goblins and all. :smalleek:

[Salvonus]

Comforted by Coatl's success in punching a hole in the goblin horde for the villagers to flee through, Xorkath allowed his focus to shift completely to the battle in front of him. Confident that Coatl would be there soon to aid him, Xorkath decided to continue fighting in a defensive stance - his friend's mastery of the arcane was far more effective for dispatching large groups of unworthy opponents such as these goblins, so it would surely be wiser to conserve his energy and health by fighting cautiously. The towering Orc did not sacrifice offence completely, however, and he once again lashed out with his axe, seeking to punish his assailants with the cruel axe-head.

Eh... I don't have much to write this time, sorry.
[roll0]
[roll1]

Damn. :smalltongue: That was useless! On the bright side, fighting normally would have made no difference anyway... So no harm from that.

[Miraqariftsky]

All he sees is scarlet sin
And in sweet sorrows
Of revenge, rejoices
Against raging wrath
An isle of reason rallies
And gods unhearing ask
Whither flows battle's tide
Where now the sanguine spills
The swords that struck,
Screams that sang
Eyes obscured
With mist so red
Suddenly gape when...

[Cheesegear]

Another barrage of four incendiary catapault-boulders soar through the air over Lyran, this time, arcing towards the town-proper. Maybe whoever is aiming the artillery moved them forward? Or, perhaps adjusted their aim. Either way, Lyran is burning.

The Halfling, too tied up to keep singing, slashes at his enemies with his sharp-edged implements. Again, missing the first swing, to connect with the second swing. Perhaps he does this on purpose? The goblins, now accostomed to his fighting style and seeming ability to move faster than should be possible, the goblins have, instead, taken the Brute Force approach on the Halfling, rather than co-ordination. A number of blows land on the Halfling, felling him to his knees. But, the Halfling, stoic in his ever-hatred of all things goblinoid, still fights. Just as the halfling heroine - and Ascended Mortal - Piper did at the Burning of Iss'Llalee.

Xorkath, however, standing near the Halfling, fares far better. As none of the goblins land a single threatening blow. Whilst at the same time, the goblins dodge Xorkath's mighty swings. Using swarm tactics, the small crafty goblins easily circle around and behind Xorkath.

Coatl, Xorkath's loyal companion, urges the villagers to head into the forest. Is he crazy? That's where the goblins came from...Not to mention those exploding boulders. The man Coatl points to, happens to be a seasoned man, instead, of heading into the forest, the man barks a command to set up a water-chain to put the fires out in the town.

Munggo, the rager, heads into the direction of the lone girl, standing against three goblins. And runs headlong into the dirty demonspawn, and carves into two of the goblins, whilst one strikes for the girl, Munggo, shields her with his body (by accident?) and takes the blow. Munggo, the mighty Orc, merely shrugs off the blow. As Cherinna and her group of rallied villagers wade into the girl and Munggo, and, quite literally trample the last goblin. The pitiful creature cries out in pain, and is suddenly silenced as a villager stomps his boot into the goblin's skull, making a sickening thwick sound.

Ruutgren, gives a smile and a nod to Munggo, as he heads off in the opposite direction, darting between the tents to help those two fighters Adrienna and Jaron...Speaking of them, nimble Jaron easily dodges the goblin's blows, but, he is too busy moving out of the way of the blugeoning attacks to land any solid blows of his own. Adrienna, has better luck with her current opponent, this time taking the runty goblin out of action with a swipe from her claws. Still, a mighty Dragonwrought fighting a goblin, its to be expected, really. Still, one measly goblin lands a solid blow. Having found the Dragonwrought's weakness; The joints.

Adrienna takes 2 damage

The mage from the Schola Arcanum widens his eyes in shock, as the fires begin shrinking for no discernible reason. The whole area is grassland...The fires should get bigger...Not smaller. Only Mikael knows what will happen in Lyran...When the 'doomballs' begin to shrink.
He yells one warning, not having any close targets.
"Everyone get away from the fires! Do it! Now!"

[TempusCCK]

Seeing that Adrienna has left the battle, Jaron quickly follows. Rolling backwards to avoid any attacks from three remaining Goblins. Heading due south, the nimble swordsman easily covers the last twenty feet between himself and the group of Goblins near to the tents in a dead sprint. Using the momentum of his sudden rush, Jaron twirls his blade in a tiny circle and thrusts hard towards the Goblin's vital midsection.

Indeed, the somewhat sheltered Rogue felt a great surge of adrenaline in his body. He had sparred before, and even been engaged in a few scuffles by overly confident caravan guards, but Jaron thought himself a true hero in this fight. Standing tall next to the warriors of old, helping to defeat true evil. It was thrilling to say the least, not to mention a good deal of fun, despite the small wound. He had just met a very kind Dragon lady who could take care of that for him, assuming they both survived the battle...


To the Gods that in all their majesty, govern the rolling of the dice, I offer this prayer to you. Aid me in my endeavors as you aid loyal N.R.C.M!

Tumble check to avoid attack of opportunity: [roll0]

Tumble Covers 10 feet of movement, charge at double movement rate for the rest the Move Action.

Attack Roll: [roll1]

Damage: [roll2]

[lostsole31]

Coatl, somewhat open in his position sees that Xorkath took his decision about being patient and using defensive tactics with his hornets. Coatl looks at (Pink? the pink dot in the NNE part of the map with Xorkath?), looking for a goblin that might not be 'engaged in melee' (cause it looks like they are just milling about the area) and targets that goblin first; otherwise, Coatl targets any near (her?) position with a ray of frost.
Coatl takes a 5-foot step back ONLY if he is currently threatened so he doesn't have to futz with casting defensively and targets as above with ray of frost ... Attack: [roll0], damage = [roll1] cold.

"You!" Coatl calls out to (Pink Blob), "Get back-to-back with the half-orc to minimize attackers against both of you ... and fight with defense in mind!

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

A frown crosses the Dragonwrought's face at all the carnage these goblins have caused. For the first time, she lashes out in something vaguely related to anger, though it is more than just anger. Righteous fury would be closer, a need to punish those who would kill when there is no need.

"Die, foul corruptions! May you burn forever with your evil masters!"

Since she appears to be some distance from the goblins, she charges, attempting to Smite Evil as well.
[roll0] (extra +2 for charge, and +4 for Smite Evil) to hit for [roll1] damage.

[Miraqariftsky]

Off, two heads do fly,
Gore, trailing in their wake
Steel and sinew away do pry
Foes' foul souls and relief
For innocents does make
However brief

The hue and cry he hears
The call to craven flee so brashly jeers
Looks he about, keen eyes darting hither and yon
Tormented mind, seeking enlightenment's dawn

Half-tempted he be, by common sense
That though orc he be, he be not so dense
Not to know that water quenches flame...


Int/Wis check to decipher what's going on with the strange balls of fire...
[roll0]

Probable actions:
Sheathe sword, grab a barrel and hurl it.

[Cheesegear]

:Round 5:
Finally, the strange moving fire finishes it's coalescing, and, out of the rising ash and harsh smoke, emerge man-sized shapes of fire, moving and swaying as they follow the path of whatever might serve as the best fuel source. Luckily, for everyone involved, the fire elementals in the green only had grass to burn. Gods only knew what would happen in a minute or two given that another four 'doomballs' had been sent over the wall into the town of Lyran itself.

The Halfling, and Xorkath, one a fierce warrior, the other a noble Orc, again hack and slash their way into their goblin combatants. But, still, their number seems without limit. Luckily for Xorkath, his amour and heavy, stout shield protect him from the worst of their blows. The Halfling, unarmoured, relying mostly on his agility to dodge the goblins' blows is not so lucky, he scores a hit on one goblin, but another goblin gives his head heavy strike, sending the hafling dazed, to the ground. With the Halfling down, the goblins move in for the easy kill. One goblin aims a strike at the fallen halfling, but, all of a sudden, the goblins' arm separates from the shoulder in a flood of blood, as the morningstar drops to the ground. The goblin falls, clutching his useless stump, as Xorkath's axe, dripping with blood, moves swiftly to parry another goblin's blow. The Halfling silently thanks Xorkath with a determined nod, and rolls out just as a third goblin's weapon strikes the ground where the Halfling's head used to be.

Blue Halfling is about to die! Blue Halfling needs food. Badly.

Ruutgren, warrior-born Orc wades into the lesser goblins, swinging his double-headed axe wildly. Hitting absoutely nothing, as he begins to tire of the fight, his swings aren't quite what they were when he was beside his kinsman, Munggo. Jaron and Adrienna attempt to go to Ruutgren's assistance, but, they too have a hard time of landing solid blows against the devious and numerous goblins. Being in the fray, is not without cost, as, once again, a goblin strike Adrienna, but, the ensuing damage is hardly noticable.

Adrienna takes 1 damage

Coatl, attempts to use to use a freezing ray against the goblins, but, for whatever reason - perhaps unused to using his deity's opposed element - the ray misses wildly. Whilst Cherrina, the devilish archer, aims a shaft directly at the lone goblin, out before her, striking the goblin solidly in the chest. Felling it easily.

The goblins, wicked little bastards, begin sizing up the younglings as easy targets. Having been abandoned by both the Halfling and Xorkath, the Paladin. The villagers closest to Cherrina and Munggo, with the mayor in their midst, suddenly realise what will happen in a few mintues. The mayor, Ruskger, attempts to organise the villagers into a bucket-chain, perhaps to put out the fires before more elementals can arrive.

The Battlemage from the Arcanum, changes his tactic, and the fiery conflagaration surrounding him begins to hiss and steam, as the grass beneath his feat begin to form tiny icicles, whilst the man himself, turns a deathly pale, as the air around him begins to solidfy and form droplets of ice in his hair. The man's now-blue lips, utter a phrase and spear, made entirely of ice, rockets forth from his connected palms, at the oncoming elemental.

Fire Elemental takes [roll0] +25% extra. 24 damage. Wow. One more well-placed shot would kill it. 'Man-sized' gives you a hint as to what to look up in the MM :smallwink:
FE's Fort Save: [roll1]...Aced

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

On seeing the fires turn into elementals, Adrienna looks worried for the first time. "This isn't good. We are up against an army, and we are not winning," she comments, as much to herself as anyone nearby. Hoping to make it easier to escape, she strikes at the nearby goblins once more, preparing to head south in a few seconds.


[roll0] Smiting claw, for (0 but I should roll on the really off chance I actually hit) [roll1] damage
[roll2] tohit with second claw, for [roll3]
[roll4] tohit with bite, for [roll5]

[lostsole31]

"My friend," Coatl calls to Xorkath, "continue as you have been. These new warriors will help succor your stand. I need to go face the fire creatures."

Coatl turns and moves towards the closest elemental, just enough to get him in range for throwing a lesser orb of cold.
I don't know the range of the map here, so hopefully just using a move action will be enough so I can cast. Max range for me is 30 ft. If the nearest FE is 'fresh' then it will be a lesser orb of cold; if it is the one the arcanum mage hit, then it will simply be a ray of frost:
Ranged Touch attack = [roll0]
If lesser orb of cold, then it does [roll1] x 1.5 damage ... wow, must be a glancing blow. Did 12 points of damage total vs fire creature.
If ray of frost, then it does [roll2] x 1.5 damage ... would do 9 points of damage to fire creature.

[TempusCCK]

"Damn..." was all the dashing Jaron could utter when Adrienna's comments drew his attention to his back. He quickly looked while parrying a Goblin attack, and goes back to the fight before him.

In a quick two strike maneuver, Jaron thrusts out with his blade, follows quickly with a knee, and plants his foot, once again using his agility to navigate the battlefield.
"Well Gentlemen, it has been a wonderful time, however, I must bid you farewell! Fair Lady! Noble Orc! May I ask that you accompany me southwards to aid in the defense of the fleeing citizenry?"

[roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3]

Standard Action: [roll4] and [roll5]

Move action: Tumble once again to avoid AoO [roll6]



Jaron plants himself between the two, out of range of any Goblin attacks and of the highly dangerous elementals, for the moment.

[Miraqariftsky]

Shadowed memories
Of bloody torment
And dreaming agonies
Unto the tow'ring orc are bent

For a mite he quails
But seizing a barrel,
Brimming with heaven's tears
With might he rails
To send back to hell
Th' closest daemon of fires and fears



Er... I'm not sure what to roll here, sir. Be my last post in 'round a week... maybe.

[Paramour Pink]

Bright blue eyes radiated dull scepticism when the archer considered the man and the retreat plan. Her eyebrows furrowed as she aimed an arrow at the newly formed fire elemental that had been bashed with a water barrel. She shot at the creature. Wooden arrows and fire elementals, she thought grimly. This isn't a battle I care to fight. But we need only weaken it until it loses form! She shook her head.

“Better idea,” she responded sharply. “You forget those orders and aid us in our fight, or join the water-chains. If that thing is left unchecked, it'll turn the barns into tinder, and we'll have a fire elemental the size of that earlier earth elemental on our hands.”



Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[Cheesegear]

Adrienna, beginning to get tired, swats a goblin with her claws. A glowing radiance around her claws melts the goblin's flesh as her Draconic claws rake the goblin's face and send it screaming to the ground. While Jaron near her, disengages the goblins with easy finesse, the goblins unable to catch the nimble acrobat, and try to catch the thief as he heads towards the town of Lyran.

Ruutgren, beside the Silver Dragonwrought disengages from the goblins, taking the blugeoning attacks from the goblins as he turned his back on the foul honourless vermin. As he sprinted towards the Fire Elemental emerging beside him, and strikes the elemental, what effect the Orc Elder's axe had on the Elemental is indeterminative, but the Elemental brings a fiery lash down the Elder, the smell of burned flesh becoming noticeable quickly. This attack only seems to enrage Ruutgren further.

Munggo the Barbarian, rushes forth, picking up a water barrel along the way. Perhaps a previous life was speaking to him, Fire Elementals fear water? Maybe it was just his daemonic heritage pointing him towards the path of success? In any case, Munggo hefted the barrel, and hurled it towards the Fire Elemental, the barrel missed, landing barely to the side of the Elemental, however, the splash effect as the barrel broke upon impact with the ground, covered the Firey creature in the life-sustaining liquid. Steam billowed off the elemental as a hissing wailing echoed forth from whatever vocal or oral passages that it had, as the daemon leapt towards Munggo. A fiery appendage lashed out at the Orc and seared the Barbarian's flesh.

Munggo takes 6 damage

Cherrina sights down the flight of her arrow, and lets fly. However, due to the shifting and swirling nature of the Fire Elemental before her, the arrow merely passes through the flames, and, in the process, getting burned to a cinder, causing no real damage.

Xorkath, too busy by the goblins, and the down - but not out - halfling at his feet, has his mind occupied by the goblins as he strikes another one down, as the Halfling beside him keeps singing the battle-hymn of the Halflings. The Fall of Iss'Lalee, the rise of Piper the Mad. Fighting for the morning after. Where there is hope, there is victory.

Coatl, clever man that he is, switches from Kukuclan's ever-cleansing flame, to launch an orb of frost - much as the Arcanist before him - at the Elemental near the huddled children. With the hiss of steam rising, the two points of unshifting yellow light insdie the elemental turn towards the blessed Coatl, and, emanating from the Elemental, comes a gutteral hiss. The sound a snake would make if it could growl. Having brought attention away from the timid children, Coatl watches as the unsanctioned elemental comes barreling towards him.

With the Elementals fully materialised, something seems to halt the golbins in their ferocity, each seems to stand stock-still, and, abrubtly, burst into flames. The reaction of the Fire Elementals is obvious, whilst not regenerating their wounds, as such, they seem to intesify in their heat. The goblins scream and, in a barrage of flaling limbs and screaming, the goblins terrified, from shock, or pain, collapse to the ground, rolling on the ground to put out the fire that had spontaneously caught on them.

Jaron takes 4 'splash' damage from the closest goblin caught on fire

The Arcanist again, launches another lance made of solid ice at the elemental.

[roll0] +25% - 16 Damage
Fort Save: [roll1]

With this second lance impacting with the elemental, the elemental erupts in a torrent of steam and disappates into the the air, a sound, mixed between a wail and a roar pierce the ears of all near the elemental. The Arcanist grins as his prowess is shown to all. A vainglorious tint in his voice, the Battlemage decrees; "One down. Three to go."

With the goblins aflame and screaming, the villages are mostly safe to retreat into the village, finding water and blankets and other fire-preventatives to stop the next batch of elementals erupting in the village.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna

The rush from finally taking down another of her multitude of enemies lasts for only a moment, as the other goblins burst into flames around her. Adrienna instinctively jumps back a small amount from the flames, a reaction due as much to her draconic nature as her human. Blasted creatures! Using flames like that!

With the goblins finally gone, she assesses the situation and decides she can do more in a support role now. Running after the Orc, she lightly touches his shoulder, and healing energy flows into his body. "Friend Orc, if you can wound the creature of flames, I will do what I can to keep you in the fight."

Though the Elemental is still a ways away, Adrienna feels the twinge of fear, for the first time this day. She isn't about to give in to it, but that doesn't make it go away. But should one look into her normally calm eyes, one might see that twinge. The fear isn't new, but it's not something Adrienna has ever liked, nor is it something she can ever make go away, even though she doesn't share her Father's weakness to the flames...


Move action, follow Ruutgren, end up standing behind him.
Standard action, cast Cure Light Wounds, healing [roll0] damage. (+4 more for Cha, yay healer! Boo for typing things out while distracted!)

[lostsole31]

Coatl, having drawn the elemental away from the children towards himself, moves 30' towards Xorkath and yells, "Incoming!"

Coatl then spins around and readies an action to shoot a ray of frost at the elemental once it is again within range.
Attack Roll = [roll0]
Damage = [roll1] x 1.5 for fire creature = who cares, I missed.

[TempusCCK]

When evading, there are two commonly accepted measures. The Juke, and the Jive. Many, the uneducated on the manner, would say there is no difference, that it is just a form of alliteration that describes evading in a manner that is humorous. These people, however, would be very wrong. For the skilled eye, the juke and the jive are such completely different maneuvers that it is only natural that they be separated. The question, for the skilled, is not whether the juke and the jive exist, it is the application of juking when you need to, and jiving when the jive is necessary. Jaron, knowing the difference, simple chose wrong, he did not anticipate the way that the Goblin would tumble in such a manner when it started on fire. So, in short, Jaron simply juked when he should have jived...

After taking his nasty burn, he watched as the Orc and the Dragonwrought both stepped up to engage in combat with the living bits of fire, completely ignoring his, (in his own mind) brilliant idea of moving south to defend the town. With four of these living flame creatures running up on the group, and his two wounds adding up quite a bit, Jaron was not readily going to engage in combat with this demon magic.

Instead, he decided to take another route, he headed to the west, meeting up the with the group of civilians, hustling them as best he could to the south, away from the elementals and the mages that now suddenly seemed to be jumping out of the woodwork. "Go, run now, Flee, to the South, take up arms and buckets of water to save your town!"

[Paramour Pink]

Just An NPC.

The woman flinched on seeing her arrow consumed by the sentient vortex of fire and malice. She tried to make reason out of the burning mass, trying to predict where to pre-emptively aim to actually injure the creature. Her blues eyes were unblinking, judging if it's very being had any pattern or path. In seconds she thought she found one. The fire elemental's innards swirled to the left. Her eyes narrowed in anticipation. They weaved right; her bowstring became taut. A minor spark signalled it was about to compact into the centre: she fired.



Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[Cheesegear]

Xorkath spins from the fiery goblins, as the last of them screeches a gutteral cry and flails madly on the ground. The fire splashing off of Xorkath's armour like water, Xorkath ran towards his friend and 'manservant' Coatl. Coatl fires off a Ray of Frost at the charging elemental, but his aim veers off to the right.
The elemental, comes roaring, seething and hissing towards Coatl, undulating wildly as the flames that held it together were barely maintaining coherancy.

A tendril of flame lashed out at Coatl...Or, it would have. Had the mighty Paladin Xorkath not intercepted the elemental's path. Xorkath took the tendril of fire on his shield, doing minimal damage (to Xorkath, at least. Those burn marks would probably have to be polished out). Xorkath returned his own mighty blow, hacking at the daemon's 'central' fire. Xorkath scores a clean hit, as his axe makes contact with whatever solid mass is inside the fire. Still, as a daemonic elemental from the abyss, its hardly slowed.

Ruutgren grins at Adrienna, as his wounds are healed."You're a good'un to have around! If you can keep me alive...Then I can fight! FOR THE HORDE!" he roars as he rushes the fire elemental. In between strokes of his twin-bladed axe, "Just...Stay...Behind...Me. he wheezes. "I'm too old for this."

Jaron leaps into the masse of villagers, it really wouldnt've mattered what he said. Jaron seemed in charge in the inferno, and the villagers were only all too ready to follow his instructions. Get to water. Stop the fire. Standard drill, really. Fires weren't uncommon. Sometimes you had to wonder; Just how stupid was the average idiot?

The third elemental still alive, deftly hops out of the puddle of water caused by Munggo's splashing barrel, the daemonic elemental moves towards Munggo, but, a swift shaft from Cherrina's bow soars towards the daemon, and wounds it. The elemental, lapses momentarily as it shakes off the blow...Enough time for Munggo the Barbarian to come leaping in at the monster. "Raaaaaargh!"
The bellow echoes throughout the green, as the Barbarian, wild with rage at seeing his daemonic 'cousins' once again stalk the world or Duraq. Munggo crashes headlong into the elemental, grabbing whatever solid hold he could find on the ignan beast, and careens full-force into it.
The inferno catches on Munggo's leathers, but, he doesn't even feel it. As the connecting crash-tackle sends both Munggo and the Elemental into the puddle of water on the ground.
In the inferno, Munngo barely makes out the darker shape of a form in the glare. Munggo grabs this with one huge Orcish hand. And slams it into the puddle, straddling the beast, Munggo's skin and flesh is search by the fiery rage. But, Munggo screaming, keeps his hold on the being's 'head', and keeps it face-down in the water.
Steam billows all around them, as the fire is slowly extinguished. The boiling steam literally melting the flesh from Munggo's bones. These were elementals from the Abyss. And they played for keeps.
The noise of Munggo's rage, and the hissing steam and wailing of the melting elemental seemed to merge into one ear-piercing dirge...And, at once, the flames went out.

...And there was Munggo. His body smouldering in muddy water. Would anyone remember his sacrifice on this day...Maybe? Time would tell.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna grins as the old Orc charges forward, though the painful scream from the other Orc distracts her from following right away. But she knows bravery and self-sacrifice when she hears it, and will honor his loss later. Catching up with the Old One, she channels more of her healing power into him, to keep him going, wishing she could channel some of her youth instead. The great ones, they always die too soon, while they are still needed. Would that I could have kept the other alive, but I didn't know. There was no time. I will not fail this one.

Attempt to calculate how injured Ruutgren is (heal check [roll0], if necessary), then casting Cure Minor Wounds for 5, or Cure Light Wounds for [roll1]. If there is doubt, she will choose overkill, and burn the CLW.

[Paramour Pink]

A pulse of hope hit her when she saw that a well-timed shot could injure the fire elemental. She had already began readying another shot, only to arch a sceptical brow as the orc grappled and brawled with the burning beast. Not sure how to hit her target without injuring the savage saint, she watched as they smashed and slammed each other until all that remained of his heroism or its hatred was scolded bone and smouldering flesh. Lowering her bow, she shut her eyes and sighed. And turned her back on the scene.

The woman went west and north, stopping only as she came across a dragonwrought woman and another orc, this one elderly. She readied her bow again at the fire elemental they were against. Analyse, aim, attack.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[TempusCCK]

"Anyone, man, woman, or child! If you are strong enough to carry a bucket, ensure that no further flames spread on the town! And where the hell is the Watch?!"

Jaron, by all appearances, seemed to be quite shaken, but deep down he was giggling just a tiny bit. Even though many wounded lay on the field, Jaron truly felt like a hero, an adventurer. His next move, however, was to save the town. He held no doubt that he could survive if the town became overrun, but he would not let these people die if he could help it.

These balls of fire were being shot, probably from some sort of Siege Engine. Jaron's understanding of such mechanics was slight, but his practice with disarming simple traps should be sufficient to allow him to gum up the works if he needed to. A gear is a gear, right?

Most assuredly that kind of equipment would carry a heavy guard, meaning the clever Jaron would need some bruisers. Heavy lifters. He worked his way around the field, toward the most successful concentration of warriors. The Battlemage, his handler, and the nearby duo of fighters, Xorkath and Coatl. Not wanting to interrupt in the middle of battle, he merely waits.

Just consider it a double move at max speed to get to Xorkath and Coatl and then Jaron will be waiting.

[lostsole31]

Ever the tactician, Coatl mulls for a split second over the decision that combat is now more difficult because while his friend is the necessary shield in-between them both, the fire creature would be that much harder to hit and it is fast and wily as it is. I could cast true strike first, he thinks, but there is more combat to come and that would be a waste of needed energy as this battle becomes more protracted. No, I will draw it away from Xorkath towards me so it will be easier to strike with one spell.

Coatl backs up ten feet and calls, "Xorkath, withdraw to me in full defense so I have a clear shot at the fire creature. Believe me, it will pursue you or it will come around to pursue me but it will not come all the way around behind me ... so either way you will still get to attack it, and maybe even twice if it goes after me, the greater danger to it!"
10' move is a move action.

Coatl readies lesser orb of cold to throw at the fire creature once it is no longer 'in melee' with Xorkath (i.e., > 5' distance).

It is important for Xorkath to use the withdraw action so as not to provoke an AOO from the creature. He may use the standard action available (which cannot be used to attack) for a total defense action.

Ranged touch attack w/ orb: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] x 1.5 = 19 cold damage!

[Salvonus]

Sorry, couldn't access boards.

Pure roll-play post, as I have no time right now. I'll edit this post at a later time to make it all nice and pretty.

Free Action: 5 ft. step (not provoking AoOs) away from the elemental. (Keeping in between the Elemental and Coatl, however.)
Ready Standard Action: When the Elemental comes back into reach, Xorkath will strike at it while Fighting Defensively.

[roll0]
[roll1]
AC: 21

A 5 ft. step removes Xorkath from "melee" with the elemental (no longer threatening each other), so that should trigger Coatl's readied action.

[Cheesegear]

As the last fire elemental fizzles out, it's form and function fizzled out from too much spent on the material plane, not to mention Coatl's Orb of Cold effectively dousing the beast. The survivors take stock of the ruined green.

The Halfling, his hands glowing with a faint yellow aura, slowly shakes his head as he touches his hands to himself. His wounds knitting and stitching together faster than any normal healing process would normally allow.
"Well, that takes care of 'em. I guess we have to go take out those catapaults now, eh?"
Picking up his daggers from the ground, the halfling wipes the daggers clean of blood on his other leather vest, sheathes them, and sprints off through the muddy ruins of the wall, into the forest in the directtion of the Catapault's fiery barrage. "I'll see you in there!"

Ruutgren, the Orc Elder, having dispatched another Fire Elemental, turns to Adrienna, the Silver Draconian, and clasps her shoulder "Thank you Dragonwrought. It's been a long time since I fought alongside your kind. I'm glad to see that your race's aptitude for battle has not faded over the years...Now, I have to go see if I can still save what's left of my town."
Ruutgren turns, and, at a slow pace that would belittle the emergency, jogs into town.

The cries of the Watchmen inside the town proper can be heard, as Fire Elementals begin to take form in the town itself, but, now the Watch, organising the villagers, know how to stop them. Perhaps the Watch will be more effective in the town than they were on the green.

The Warden, with his Battlemage, growls under his breath, and the bright, shining stones set into his leash-and-collar turn to a dark obsidian, and the power and majesty and the firey radiance begins to fade from the Battlemage.
"But, there's still work to be done! Let. Me. Free!" cries the Battlemage, clawing at the collar.
"No. We're done here. We need to tell Karth what's happened."
"Fool! The town is still burning.
Without warning, the Warden pulls the truncheon from his belt loop, and cracks the Battlemage in the back of the head. "I said, we're done here. This town is no longer our problem." with that, the Warden jerks on the leash and forces the Battlemage to follow him into the town.

[lostsole31]

Coatl looks at his best friend, "Xorkath, well axed, my brother. I would go into town to finish the job, but I fear that in helping to defend this town I have finally tipped my hand. I will not interfere with that warden's carrying out his legal duties, but I recognize that my presence and use of Kukulcan's Gift [magic] in this battle will not go unreported.

"Shall we do like the halfling and sorty to defeat the catapults? I must admit, however, that I am beginning to get headaches and feel the sting in my nose."As Coatl's magic begins to be depleted, or more properly, as his channeling of magic takes its toll on his body, he begins to suffer headaches. After a critical amount of magic has been cast, he begins to suffer a mild nosebleed (does no damage and is not profuse) and migraines to show that his body can channel no more.

[Salvonus]

Coatl looks at his best friend, "Xorkath, well axed, my brother. I would go into town to finish the job, but I fear that in helping to defend this town I have finally tipped my hand. I will not interfere with that warden's carrying out his legal duties, but I recognize that my presence and use of Kukulcan's Gift [magic] in this battle will not go unreported.

"Shall we do like the halfling and sorty to defeat the catapults? I must admit, however, that I am beginning to get headaches and feel the sting in my nose."As Coatl's magic begins to be depleted, or more properly, as his channeling of magic takes its toll on his body, he begins to suffer headaches. After a critical amount of magic has been cast, he begins to suffer a mild nosebleed (does no damage and is not profuse) and migraines to show that his body can channel no more.

"Aye, we should do so promptly! Be on your guard, brother; I fear that we may encounter further resistance," Xorkath responded. "How much of Kukulcan's Gift remains within you this day, my weary brother? Should your access to such energies become too depleted... Well, we don't want to take risks unless there is no alternative."

Not bothering to clean his axe, Xorkath merely tightened his grip on the instrument of war. Copious amounts of blood from slain goblin enemies had been burnt on to the cruel head of the weapon due to striking the fiery core of the elementals. This was a matter for later, however, and the Orc began to run in the direction of the forest, following closely behind the Halfling.

"As for the Warden's false Law... There is little we can do about that right now," Xorkath bitterly muttered to himself.

[Dreamshifter]

Seeing others from the fight heading into the woods, Adrienna moves to follow them. "Wait for me!" She runs, trying to catch up, despite already being behind and being much slower. "Have you sustained many wounds? I can heal them, if it is needed."

[lostsole31]

"Only another couple good spells before my body no longer has the strength to channel and my mind becomes too frayed," Coatl responds to Xorkath. "After that, maybe one or two very weak spells before I am completely enervated."

"I am unharmed, lady ..." Coatl begins to respond to Adrienna before he turns and actually sees her. After a slight look of confusion, and what may be a slight blush of embarassment, he quickly resumes control of his temporarily disarmed posture and voice and continues with a hidden strength, but having trouble taking his eyes off of Adrienna ... then realizing this and taking his eyes too purposefully from her ... only to be drawn back to looking at her as he speaks. "But I haven't much magic left before my poor skill at arms and an obsidian club are all I can offer to the fray."

He seems to have the faintest trouble breathing as he speaks to her.

Description:Unlike Xorkath and Adrienna, Coatl is just as human as the majority of the villagers; despite this, he looks more foreign and out of place than either of these two.

Coatl, for ease of description is from a culture not unlike the Aztecs, though in this case he would be more of one from a village than an Aztec city (think of the protaganist's home tribe from Mel Gibson's APOCALYPTO). This is the down and dirty, but we continue...

Coatl stands a full six feet high (a bit taller among his people), but possesses a figure that is not that of a warrior but solid nonetheless. His arms are not impressive, though not spindly. He has a good figure with moderate definition, yet has this peculiar pot belly. His eyes are black, and his long jet hair reaches just past the shoulders and is tied into an elaborate ponytail. His high forehead and cheekbones, aquiline nose, and solid jaw make a ruggedly handsome (though definitely exotic) man.

Coatl wears a mithral chain shirt, gleaming and delicately crafted - though definitely not fitting to the rest of his accoutrements, making one believe that this is an item he gained after leaving wherever his home might be. He carries a light shield of black wood with a bas relief of some type of flying serpent with wings in a highly stylized, almost blocky look. The serpent's scales are painted nearly every color of the rainbow and the wings are painted a sky blue. Beyond the shirt and shield, however, he wears only sandals, a loin cloth, and two pouches. Around his neck are large wooden 'beads' the size of a man's thumb with blocky, squared, stylized little figures all around a plant-fiber necklace strung through them.

He does not currently wield a weapon, but you have seen him cast magic so that comes as no surprise. However, the weapons at his side/back are a light crossbow (w/ 2 cases, and very unfitting to him, like his mithral shirt), a dagger with a wooden handle, a sickle of metal slightly darker than normal steel, and an imperfectly straight shaft - possibly a club - that appears to be made wholly of a black, glassy substance.

Currently, there is the faintest ring of blood around his nostrils ... not dripping, but the slightest 'border' if you will.

[Dreamshifter]

Adrienna grins, clearly use to getting a reaction out of people (if not usually that particular reaction). "You did great fighting those creatures of flame, and saved many lives. I barely managed to distract the goblins, and I can't imagine facing the creatures of flame. At least not without my glaive." She spares a worried glance for the village. "I hope it's still intact. Anyway, I'm Adrienna Silverwing. Yeah, I know, incredibly creative last name, isn't it? Clearly, my father needs to work on his imagination. Anyway, I take it you are heading for the catapults that started all this? I'd like to help, if you'd have me."

She glances around again, looking at the field of battle. "Hmm, I wonder where Jaron wandered off to? His help could be useful as well. Say, I don't suppose either of you knew whoever it was how drowned the creature of flames? I'd like to ensure his name is remembered, if possible. Though, that can wait until after, I suppose. Such bravery." A look crosses her face, part concern, part... something else.

I'd offer more of a description, but I'm terrible at them. :smallfrown:

[lostsole31]

"I am Coatl, servant to the Mighty Xorkath," to which Coatl bows to you and defers to the half-orc to answer the lady's question, if at least to remember his place again ... or at least, his perceived place.

[Paramour Pink]

Still An NPC ( :smalltongue: )

Reaching behind her, the brunette glided fingers over the feather fletchings, gaining a rough count of however many arrows remained in her quiver. She hesitated to join a small warband that went ahead of her, seeing how many people were already dead, dying, or desperate to help them. The woman looked around at those still alive. She was going to thrust the responsibility and the chance to fulfil it unto a stranger. The only important trait was someone – a child, a soldier, anyone – that wanted to help the injured and looked to have a steady hand.

Approaching the person confidently, she stopped long enough only to have them take into stock that she was looking purposefully at them.

“From now until the last drop of this healing potion,” the woman plucked the only thing her raggedy backpack still held, a glass vial filled with slightly shimmering green liquid, “you're Lyran's auxiliary medic.”

She took their hand and placed the item into it, allowing no argument, staring seriously enough into their eyes so the person might understand she had chosen them out of anyone else.

“Your mission is simple but significant: offer nothing more than a sip to stabilize the dying. The potion is potent enough that you shouldn't need to give anyone anymore than that. I'll be back to help you after stopping the sedge weapons. Be quick, be frugal, and best of luck to you.”

Regardless of result, the archer wordlessly turned away and went hastily to catch up with the mismatched group that had gone ahead of her. The small troop had assembled itself and were clearly on the warpath, their priority to stop the assault, her intent to assist them.



Rolls:



Sense Motive to find someone trustworthy and caring to help the injured (I'm handing over a potion that costs 300 gold pieces to a complete stranger; I want someone that's not cruel enough to run off with it) : [roll0]

If I need to convince this person to step out of their grief, or overcome any self doubt, and accept their sudden “recruitment” as Lyran's medic, here's a Diplomacy roll: [roll1]

The roll currently includes the Motivate Charisma minor aura.

Just to be clear, I'm giving my Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds to the "Lyran medic".

[Dreamshifter]

"Well, we should get moving. I doubt the enemy will wait for us for much longer. I do wish we had more than the three of us, though. Still, it will have to serve."

Adrienna starts off in the direction she thinks is right, then pauses for a moment. "Uhm, it is this way, isn't it?"