Doomstones (WFRPv2) IC

[Xsesiv]

OoC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=12624275#post12624275)


Doomstones

Introduction

Crossing the Border

Backertag, 8th Pflugzeit, 2512

Which means it's pretty late in Spring, so it's chilly and drizzly. It's livable, but a little miserable.

Your last job paid a good few crowns. So now here you are in Carroburg, a good-sized city in Middenland, just across the water from Altdorf. You've spent the last few days sitting around pleased with yourself after a little spending spree, maybe, or recovering from a week-long party.

As it is, you're paid for two meals a day, stabling, and private rooms in the Block and Axe, a cheap but nice old-fashioned pub, until the end of the week. Sooner or later, though the money will run out. It always does. So you'll have to find another job. The trouble is that nobody seems to be hiring. At the same time, you've noticed something. First, it was just a vague feeling you were being watched as you rolled around seeking work, and then you found out that people – southerners – have been asking questions about you. Then you began to see them yourself – people, flashily dressed people with strange accents, seem to be hanging around you, and they never seem to be there when you look again.

They've asked the landlord, scrawny, bald old Wolfgang Sigmarsson, where you come from, whether you're working, what sort of things you'd be up to doing, and how much your last job paid. He told you as much. They've asked prior employers in the city just how good you are with your weapons. They've asked your drinking buddies whether you're trustworthy.

Well, it's another evening. The rain's abated somewhat, it's cool and clear, and you're winding down with a few drinks in the common room of the Block and Axe after another fruitless day of seeking work. You've got the best table in the place; big, only very slightly wobbly and right next to the fire, with good access to the bar. It's not as if anyone's going to make a big deal about it, though; the group looks very tough.

There's one elf with shoulder-length blond hair and a longbow, looking somewhat frazzled; another elf, a female, in a dress that looks at one point to have been singed; yet another elf, another female, dressed in travelling gear and with a facial tattoo and another longbow; a relatively big, heavily scarred dwarf missing half of one finger; a giant of a man clinking with weapons and armour in blue and black, a tall, tough young man in mail… and oddly enough a dashing-looking gentleman in the robes of a Shallyan priest.

Plates cleared of Wolfgang's excellent sausage pudding lie all over the table, alongside empty glasses, tankards and goblets. Normally this would most likely be about the time you get down to the serious drinking before retiring to bed, but instead, today, an invitation arrives.

A street urchin who's clearly been paid a lot not to know anything, a pitiful, bony, dark-eyed little thing of nine or so years that could be a girl or a boy (you don't think you could begin to guess) with long, lank, colourless hair saturated with grease and filth, ragged clothes whose original colour can hardly be guessed (maybe a brownish grey), and dirty, bare feet, rushes into the inn door and across the common room, throws a sheet of parchment onto the middle of the table and rushes back out again. You can see his (or maybe her) grubby fingermarks all over the parchment, which landed face-up.


"Greetings, my friends, (the message written on it in purple ink and a clear, elegant hand reads,)
If it's not to any inconvenience to yourselves, would you kindly meet to me at eight bells in the High Peaks tavern, where you will be hearing something to our mutual advantage?"

It is signed hugely, exuberantly and with many loops: 'Baron Sigfried'. The Sigmarite temple bell across the way sounds at exactly that moment; ringing out the time as six bells.

OK, let's go. Time to introduce your characters and roleplay a little.

[Timeless]

Her almost empty glass in her hand, halfway to her mouth Eldril peers down at the stained note, holding it steady with her spare hand, reading it out aloud slowly

"Greetings, my friends, If it's not to any inconvenience to yourselves, would you kindly meet to me at eight bells in the High Peaks tavern, where you will be hearing something to our mutual advantage?"

before giving a disapproving sniff at the overdone signature.

"It's signed Baron Sigfried, rather extravagently so"

She takes another sip before setting her glass down and giving a cheerful smile.

"I guess that explains our recent watchers"

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

The bretonnian nobleman brushes a strand of hair away form his face staring Eldril, the young elven sorceress. He shook his head sadly as he sipped the poor quality serf swill that passed for ale here. How did this happen. A year a day following a mage and her unhuman kin. A dwarf and two peseants... It should not have been like that. Staring at the now empty glass he shook his head and put it down. Better the weak ale than strong wine. That was what had got him into this problem in the first place.

Looking at the others he nods at the words looking at his charge. "Well, we should see him. We may able to get some better quarters in a gentleman's house?" The words tinged with hope. "Not that this establishment is delightful", sarcasm dripping over the "delightful".

[GryffonDurime]

"You are a creature who will never be satisfied," Sebastian says to Maximus, his tone critical, but never unfriendly. "In our short acquaintance, I've never known someone to work so hard at producing his own suffering. And I know people who whip themselves bloody for fun," he adds, sipping at his tankard: ale, the weakest in the house, and the only thing he allowed himself. Water would have been strictly preferable from a theological perspective, but the young priest had a rule: when it came to cities, say no to any water that he hadn't taken from the spring personally.

Afterall, there was suffering, and then there was suffering.

"For my part, I say we pay the man a visit. I have had my fill of our comfort, and could do with a better employment of my time."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli listened impassively as Eldril read the missive aloud. As the others spoke, he quietly sipped his ale. He let the Shallyan have his say before interjecting, clanking his mug to the table noisily to get the group's attention.

"One of ta nobles asking for owr aid, andee's calling us friend this soon? Don't care fooer it one bit. 'E's got an anngle, tat's fooer shooer." Oorli drained his flagon dry, grimacing at both the lackluster flavor and the fact that he could clearly see the bottom of his mug. "Still, 'e's talking coin, an' we're running low on Karls. If noethin' else, we could prob'ly sqveeze 'im fooer drinks."

[littlebottom]

Erandol took another sip of his wine, it was cheap and ill tasting wine, but somewhat more palletable than the swill that most human taverns offer.

"So, perhaps not finding work so quickly has worked in our favour." Erandol suggests. "working for the Baron could get us some good coin. Not to mention the respect that comes with it." Erandol likes the idea somewhat more than the prospects of a few hours ago. "At the very least, we can find out what its all about, and why the barron wants such an... eclectic mix of individuals such as ourselves."

Erandol smiles slightly to himself, enjoying the prospect of his life having meaning again.

[Fearan]

Sitting near the fire with a clay cup of warmed wine, Dorian smiled. - Perhaps, herr doctor, his grace, the baron has mistaken us for travelling circus. Or maybe, he needs disposable pawns in some kind of sinister plan. Or maybe, just maybe, he wants to give us a honest clear job - it could easely be seen by the looks of his eyes, that Dorian joked. - By the way - he continued after a healthy drop from his cup - anybody recall something about our would-be employer? Sir Maximus, maybe you? Are there any blazons or seals on the letter for you to recognize?

[littlebottom]

- Perhaps, herr doctor, his grace, the baron has mistaken us for travelling circus. Or maybe, he needs disposable pawns in some kind of sinister plan. Or maybe, just maybe, he wants to give us a honest clear job - it could easely be seen by the looks of his eyes, that Dorian joked.

Erandol looks a bit more serious suddenly "Then that would be a mistake on his part, as we shall not be easily disposed." after a breif second he continues in a much more normal tone "Although, I wouldnt mind getting the chance to perform some surgury. Its been a while and you've got to keep your eye in... or remove it as the case may be." Erandol jokes.

[DrK]

Sir Maximus pushes most of his plate of uneaten peseant stodge away from him. Looking in surprise at Dorian, "I do not recognise the name or the heraldry" he mutters. "Why do you suspect this Baron, surely as a Baron he is a man of noble bearing, good breeding and honour."

"What say you my glorious employer..." he mutters sullenly looking at the elven wizard.

[Timeless]

Eldril starts preening herself, obsessively picking at her hair for a minute before she smiles back at Sir Maximus

"Well I see no reason not to make this gentlemans acquanitance at the very least"

"if we can ... ah yes... come to a mutually advantageous agreement, so much the better. I am not one to say no to a feather bed afterall"

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli snorts. "Fedders, bah. Joost gif me a blahnket un' a rooksahk fer a pilloew, un' I'll be coomfoortabuhl. But let's talk to the Baron un' fin' oht what soort of man he is."

[Fearan]

- I don't - Dorian answered with a sigh. Those knights will never understand - You're right, I'm in no position to accuse the noble man of anything. But I am in position to make jokes. And I will, if it doesn't offend you, oh my noble friend of good breeding

[Rizhail]

Lorandara remained silent for a time, listening to her comrades' banter while sipping cheap ale and enjoying the atmosphere of the tavern.

"Here's hoping this Baron offers a job that lets us spend more time out of town," she comments after it's obvious the group will hear the nobleman out. "Empire cities grow boring after a time."

[Xsesiv]

Though you've never been into the High Peaks tavern, you can't have missed it, so it's easy enough to head over in time for eight bells. It's on the high street, and is in fact more of a drinking club than a tavern. The building's two storeys tall and whitewashed immaculately. The seven-foot doorman, who's shaved one side of his head bald but left his hair long on the other side, glances you over and opens the entrance door, a heavy monstrosity of solid oak. He must be expecting you, because ordinarily no doorman worth his salt would let such a heavily-armed bunch in.

The indoors proves to be plushly but tastefully furnished, with red velvet cushions on carved mahogany and oak chairs, and an attractive, slim young barman with a groomed mane of black hair and beard is selling ale, wine and brandy over the bar. It seems that most if not all of the patrons are well-dressed and well-heeled southerners; Reiklanders and Wissenlanders, Tileans, Border Princelanders, Badlanders, some less identifiable, and there are even a couple of shady-looking Arabyans speaking in hushed tones in a corner as they sip strange and foreign drinks. The people here are speaking either dialects of Reikspiel ranging from easy to understand through to nigh-incomprehensible, or else foreign languages nobody here's ever heard before. In general, they look not at all put out at the shabby bunch that has just wandered in, glancing over but not even stopping their conversations.

A tall, thin page in uniform recognises you from across the room, downs the dregs of his ale, stands and opens a door in the back of the room, beckoning to you.

[Timeless]

Eldril giggles as they enter the High Peaks tavern, giving Sir Maximus a nudge from behind and speaking in a stage whisper "That doorman is even bigger than you."

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

Dressed only in a mail shirt under his fine clother robes and ermine lined travelling cloak Sir Maximus smiles as he enters. Immediately feeling more at home in the more plush surroundings he looks around, arrogance radiating from his body as he moves towards the back room following the elf. "A nice place. Much more fitting don't you think?" he asks the others.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli spares a glance for the massive bouncer. "If I happen oopan a Slayer, I knoow noow where 'e can foind a Joyant." He directs this to no one in particular, instead surveying the tavern.

Soft, fragile, and effete. These were words that he used to sum up the surroundings. The people were soft, the furnishings fragile, the servants effete. He turned up a lip as a grimace as he surveyed the wide array of Humanity within the tavern - their wide diversity was on display in such a manner that offended his Dwarfen sensibilities. Too many colors, not enough uniformity.

He noticed the page beckoning them towards the back. Without hesitation, he strode towards the man. "We're here," he said simply. "Tell yoour master we'll hear his tale."

[Xsesiv]

The page looks into Oorli's face, completely nonplussed; he clearly hasn't understood a word. He indicates the open door by his side.

Through the door can be seen a shortish, shaven-headed man in brightly-embroidered noble's garb, sitting at a heavy oak table with carvings of fruit and suchlike on the legs, flanked by two brawny men with black crew cuts who look to be identical twins and making short work of a large crystal decanter of red wine.

He looks up, notices Oorli and regards the group with cool blue-grey eyes. He opens his mouth and out comes a string of polite Reikspiel. He speaks haltingly, with a strong southern accent and constant grammatical mistakes, tripping over idioms frequently. This is clearly not his native tongue, but it's comprehensible enough.

"Friends, you arrive at last!" he calls. "My honour it is being to meet you, gentlemans and ladies. My name is called Baron Sigfried Pavlović." He inclines his head while rotating it on his neck, in a respectful sort of reduced ceremonial bow, but doesn't bother to get up. "A proposition of work for you, I have. Is most secret, but most well-paid. Come in, come in, and shut the door."

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian meanders through the tavern, keeping to the middle of the group--perfectly content to let others go first and last, the young priest is careful not to make too much noise with the blunted tip of his fine crozier, a solid staff of polished wood treated and blanched to perfect whiteness and studded at the tip with a small constellation of quartz.

"Friends is perhaps a bit familiar, your grace," he says as he enters, his smile already bright and potent. From any other mouth, what he says could seem like an insinuation of bad faith, but from Weiss, it is warm, gregarious, and genuine. "Friends have usually met. And they do not often stalk one another. Or hire others to stalk for them."

[Xsesiv]

Baron Sigfried doesn't seem bothered. He returns the smile with gusto. "Ah, you had then noticed our agents? Please accept my apologisings most humble for these, but we had wishes to be confident with your reputations. You maybe will come to forgive this unfortunate necessity now that you learn that fates of nations may hang off the balances."

He waits for the rest of the group to catch up and then empties the last glass's worth of wine in the decanter into his silver-chased goblet. There is a ringing clink as crystal meets crystal.

"Now, I am Imperial emissary of Vidovdan," he continues, watching the glass fill. "You know Vidovdan? No matter. Is kingdom in Border Princes. You only need of knowing that. Heir of Vidovdan throne, Prince Maximilian, had been staying here to study of late, but Maximilian younger brother Vuk just...what is word? Taked throne. Usurped. Prince younger brother usurped Vidovdan throne."

"Is vital that rightful heir am returning home at once! The brother know Maximilian location, is problem. Has almost certainly arranged to him be killed; this is your place," he says, sipping away at the wine all the while.

"We know you have none of the axes to be grinded within Border Princes. So. We are going south with big force and – how you say – a look-like. A false prince. We are going through main way through mountains, over Black Fire Pass. You, with Prince, you go this way."

By this time, he's finished the wine. He reaches into his pocket for a rumpled parchment map, labelled in a language nobody present can understand, and unrolls it. With a manicured finger unusually long and thin for his modest size, he indicates a formidable-looking pass through the Black Mountains, between what looks like Wissenland and the Border Princes.

"You go this way, through Winter Teeth Pass and down Yetzin Valley. I am knowing that way, is very good, is clear. Many Dwarfs. You come from there to Vidovdan. Meet with our force at border, and ride to capital."He grins.

"Money? Some now, much later. But we give you new equipment. What you want. We give you plenty food for trip, for you and for horses. You need new clothings? We buy you new clothings. You want weapons, armour, ammunitions? We buy you. You no have horse? We give you horse."

"This is my offer. You interested?"

[littlebottom]

Erandol is somewhat insulted by the poor use of reikspeil, but thinks twice, He himself was not perfect at one point. admittedly that point was a short lived with scholarly work to learn the language and learn it well.

"Well, i've no commitments to stay around here. If the others are willing, then so am I." Erandol says questioning the group as much as replying to the baron.

[GryffonDurime]

"However can I resist?" Sebastian asks, all flash and teeth and glinting eyes, "there will doubtlessly be suffering of all manner in need of my special ministration on the way..." He suddenly tenses, as if held fast in the grip of a sudden plan. Tell me, does Vidovdan have a Temple to Shallya?"

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

The Bretonnian gasps in horror at the thought of a king being usurped. "What sort of vile blaggard would seek to overthrow the rightful king. Of course we shall aid the rightful king."

He bows his head. "I Baron Maiximus swear my sword to this" before with a slight cough and in a quiet voice "As long as the lady mage wishes to go that way".

"May I see the map? I have maybe travelled some of these roads before"? he asks politely.

[Xsesiv]

Baron Sigfried rotates the map and shoves it at Sir Maximus. It's difficult to orient himself with the map marked in the language it is, but when he manages it, he sees that he's never been down the Yetzin Valley or Winter's Teeth Pass before.

"Vidovdan is a cosmopolitan. We have many people of faiths. Yes, there is large Shallyan temple in capital, and many shrines. But the rest of you: do accept?"

[Timeless]

Eldril pats Maximus' knee under the table, enjoying his discomfort before giving a brief smile and saying "I'm sure we can indulge your whims now and then my good baron."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli chewed on his mustache as the Baron related his plan. "Yoour oaffer is qvite generrous, Baron," he began in his slow baritone. "Provisions, gear, horses. All to protect yoour Prince. I woould verry mooch like to meet yoour Prince. Affter all, we'll be spending a great loong whhile oopon the road with him."

Something about the job sounded too good to Oorli - they had started with a strong opening for the negotation. That either meant Sigfried was inexperienced at bargaining or he'd hoped the group would be too desperate to turn away such a lucrative job. The Prince was the only wild card he could see thus far.

[Xsesiv]

"If you are agreeing, then you meet him tomorrow, for we leave as soon as we can. I wish not to tell of his locatings yet. But I can give you character reference. Prince Maximilian, he is study-ous, sensible, clever and personable. Appreciates art, sciences and tactics. A little young now, but some learning and he will be strong, fair ruler.

And will not be not long while, maybe a week or little less. Must be a hard ride to be there soon."

He probably decides that this is a good time to sweeten the deal, what with being unable to produce the Prince on request, and produces up-front cash, reaching beneath the table and pulling out a good-sized leather sack, which is clearly somewhat of a strain to lift. He dumps the sack onto the table and there is a loud bump with many quiet chinks mixed in.

He keeps a hand on the sack, protectively, and with the other motions to a bodyguard who produces a sheet of parchment and an inkpen with a bottle of ink, which he sets on the table. "Put what thing you want on paper. Make list."

He indicates the sack again, shaking it so that the coins inside jingle. "You get three times this when prince safely arrive in Vidovdan. If there will be trouble, and you help, you get even more. But — you must understand — is vital. Vital. You know? Is more important than —" he spreads his hands expansively, but slamming one immediately back onto the sack, "— my life. Is so vital. Is that vital. If you fail — but you will not fail — but if you fail, do not come on. Go back. Go home. Better yet, kill yourselves in shame."

[Fearan]

Dorian nodded, showing his approval of the venture. - All words needed were said, Your Grace. You made a fair proposal, and who am I to deny it?

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

"We will be honoured to ride with royalty" Sir Geoffrey nods. A suprised look at the leven mage as she touches his knee. A nervous smile and nod at his charge as she agrees as well.

"We shall need provisions, pack horses and tents and supplies of course?" he speaks. "maybe some servants to make the camp, but surely the Prince would travel with such anyway?"


OOC:


Sorry for forgetting about teh clothes.
Knight Errant came with a light horse, full mail and some stuff so I'll sell that and work out what to buy over the next couple of days if that's okay?

[Timeless]

"Well I could certainly use some new clothes, this dress seems to have got burnt somehow. A palfry would also be nice as would .. any old tomes that you might happen to have lying around. Not that I imagine such a fine and upstanding notable as yourself would have any such highly esoteric and often illegal books"

"Oh and a new bow, my last one was broken by some drunken lout in a tavern" she adds with a brief glance at Maximus.

[littlebottom]

"Maybe a good covered cart, so we look slightly less suspicious to the average onlooker, we will just look like a group of gaurds to an average caravan." Erandol suggests.

[GryffonDurime]

"We could always dress the lot of you up like pilgrims," the priest suggests, only half serious as he shoots a playful look to Sir Maximus. "Can't be that many brigands who'd waylay a Shallyan caravan. And the surprise they'd get when they find themselves beset by flame and sword...it's almost fun enough to be worth the blasphemy," he adds with a flourish.

[Rizhail]

"I second the suggestion of a covered cart. And plenty of extra provisions in case of poor weather or greenskin raids wouldn't hurt. And I'll require 3 score arrows, just in case," Lora commented while looking over the map the Baron had been using. "And not poor quality arrows, either; if a noble's guard wouldn't be willing to use them, I won't either."

She taps a finger to her lips for a moment, apparently deep in thought. "What's the chance you can get hold of a full set of that odd armor I've seen some Empire soldiers use? I believe it's called studded leather or some such."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli still didn't trust the Baron, but the welcome jingle of a sack full of coins was music to his ears. "I've got my axe, but I vouldn't be agaynst heavier armor. Leather and chain to fvill out vhat I've got, an' maybe some plate. 'Ell, gromril, while yoou're at it. Vhy not?" There's a certain dream-like quality when Oorli says gromril, like a pilgrim that had found the promised land.

[Xsesiv]

Baron Sigfried scribbles down the orders as they're made and then regards the list as a whole with the occasional smile or nod.

"Will all be done, we will buy as much as we can and the nearest thing to that we not, but I must insist on there for to be no carts. You must be going for to get to Vidovdan fastly with all of the hastes, and there is to be no time for slowing down from the carts. Would prefer to be no attacks but why hire guards otherwise of your such as much prowess."

He smiles politely, pushes the sack across the table and releases it, allowing whoever's prepared to take it to do so. "Remember how vital is this, yes? More than any one man, probably more than even a whole nation. So very vital. Now, noon tomorrow, you will leave," he finishes brightly. "Meet at courtyard of biggest townhouse on Königstrasse. It becomes late, I am sure you are want to be getting well rest for your journeyings tomorrow." He sits back placidly and the other bodyguard, producing a second decanter filled with wine from some deep pocket, hands it to him. Though the Baron doesn't explicitly bid you goodbye, it's fairly obvious that he wants your meeting to be at an end.

[littlebottom]

Erandol takes the coins saying "We will take them to one of our rooms, and count out the gold evenly, best not let the rabble see it on the way though." Erandol heads towards the door, but stops at the doorway incase any of them think he is doing a runner with the money.

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

THe young knight bows lows before turning to depart before looking at the elven mage. "Thank you lady for permitting this brave quest".


So selling (at 50%) the Knight Errants horse and Full Mail/equipment gives me
190 GC to spend...

Nobles Outfit 50GC
Backpack w/metal flask, waterskin, Blanket, Metal Cutlery, Tinnderbox, Mirror ~20GC total
Improve Sword to Best Quailty Sword 100GC

Assume rest was spent on wine and women

[littlebottom]

Erandol will count out and hand out the money fairly to all involved once they get back to someones room "...and done. Quite a haul i must say, and three times this when the job is done? Im concerned that this is the kind of job that may be impossible to complete if they are willing to offer so much if it is completed." some doubt clouds Erandols mind, maybe they were sending us with the dummy prince as a distraction for a hired hit? maybe they werent being truthful, its hard to tell if someones lying when they are not even speaking proper reikspeil.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

"I agree vith you, Erandool," Oorli says with his trademark gruffness. "Ve're making out like bandits so far, and ve haven't even left Carroberg nor seen the Prince. This Baron, he knows something that, if ve knew it, ve'd toorn oour backs on the whole thing. I'll take his mooney, and do his vork, but ve need to keep oour eyes peeled for whatever the catch on this job vill be."

[Xsesiv]

The sack of coins happens to contain exactly two hundred crowns. They just seem to keep coming.

Bezahltag, 9th Pflugzeit, 2512

dawns overcast.

After a breakfast of porridge with bacon in it, served by old Wolfgang, and gathering up all your gear, it's a simple enough business to walk over to the Königstrasse where the largest house, a veritable manor, stands out by virtue of its sheer immensity, being at least twice the size of every other house on the street — and this is an expensive street.

The cobbled courtyard is bustling with servants who are packing saddlebags filled with provisions onto eight horses; one for each of you (bar Sir Maximus, who's got his own), plus two more. The horses in question are fine, pure-blooded beasts, and Sir Maximus could tell anyone who asked that this type of horse is careful and nervous by nature, not a battle mount by any means. One set of saddlebags sits on the floor fully packed, and servants rush Sir Maximus' horse to attach them as he rides in.

In the middle of the square is a tall, black-haired man with an upper-class voice and a superior air, shouting orders to the servants in Reikspiel, but with a weaker version of whatever weird Border Princes accent your employer seems to have. Around him are a number of piles of equipment.

One contains threescore arrows in three quivers (not the best of the best, but still of very good quality) and a studded leather coat with a hood, with the skirt of the coat descending to the knees and a pair of studded boots. The coat's a little bulky for its intended user, being made for a human, but it's perfectly serviceable.

Another has a set of leather armour and another of chain, Dwarf-size, and a helmet, with a parchment note inside reading "Accept my apology, for we could not find any other plates of armour in the size of Dwarf". Some wonder who wrote that.

The third has a longbow, another sixty arrows, and a large bag which turns out to be full of seven or so dresses. Nothing particularly noble or elaborate, but nice enough. They're the kind of thing you'd see a rich burgher's unmarried daughter wearing. Slimming dresses, in green silk and blue velvet and suchlike.

"Don't drop the rations, Johann!" roars the tall man at a jumpy-looking young servant boy, who proceeds to do just that out of fear, dropping a leather saddlebag which must contain a month's worth of food onto the floor, narrowly avoiding a large puddle.

[Timeless]

Eldril walks into the courtyard slowly, smiling gently as she walks over to the flustered servant, bending over to pick up the bag that apparently contains some of the food and pass it up to the servant.

Having done so she saunters over to the bags and inspects their contents, at the third she pulls out a red and white dress.
" Ah this is my bag I think"

[littlebottom]

Erandol walks up to the convoy.

"A good start." Erandol looks the horses up and down, deciding that such horses proberbly would not have been bought if it was only a diversionary tactic. or atleast thats what Erandol tells himself.

"We should leave as soon as possible." Erandol states absolutely. "Is everyone here?" he continues.

[DrK]

Sir Geoffrey glances down at the bags merely checking that there is enough food before he pats Champion on the head and remains in the saddle as the others get ready.

THe horses seem reasonable. We should make it safely through the mountains if we are not attacked."

[Fearan]

- That's exactly the case, Sir Maximus - said Dorian with his usual carefree smile. - We are supposed to make safely through the mountains even if we will be attacked, and, by the way, I almost sure we will be - I've seen a lot of crows today.
The hunter talked of the coming dangerous endeavour, as it was just a trivial merry ride. He didn't ask anything from the Baron either, believing, that he had all equipement he needed.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli glances over to Eldril as she examines her dresses. "That either be yoour bag, or it be mine, and someone has some explaining to do."

The gruff Dwarf examined the suit of leathers and chain left for him by the Baron. It was the sort of workmanship he had come to accept from the Humans - no real care put into the forging, no intent to make the heavier armor last ages. The armorer couldn't have taken more than a year to make the leggings alone. How could the Imperials work with such inferior craftsmanship? How had their Empire lasted this long?

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers, so Oorli spent a good fifteen minutes donning his armor with his usual tact and grace. More than one curse in the harsh tongue of Khazalid escaped his lips, and at one point he was heard to mutter under his breath, "Loovely. My beard is stoock." After much production, he strode about, testing the weight of the armor on his back. He allowed one of the corners of his mouth to turn up in a smirk.

"It will serve," was all he said. He turned his attention to the pony the Baron's man had prepared for him, a sturdy dapple creature. The two faced off, and Oorli leaned in close to the animal. "Let's get something straight, yoou and I. I doon't want to ride yoou, and yoou don't want me riding yoou. I'll make yoou a deal - yoou don't throw me on this trip, and I don't give yoou to the Knight. Their kind adoores hoorseflesh, and not in the sense yoou're accustomed to." Oorli let his threat sink in for a moment, then attempted to mount the horse.

[Xsesiv]

Oorli's horse snorts in a disagreeable manner, but doesn't put up much of a fuss as it's mounted.

About this time, the front door to the townhouse opens, revealing a cloakroom full to bursting with expensive fur coats. Out of the door stride, chatting in whatever language is native to Vidovdan, Baron Sigfried and an attractive man in his early or mid-twenties.

He is of average height but with heavy muscles, a very straight back, and a bearing that makes him seem a foot taller. He's dressed in expensive travelling clothes under one of the fur coats, with a heavy silver circlet perched on his long black hair, a rapier and left-hand dagger buckled to a belt around his waist. Chainmail can be seen to be worked into the coat under the furs.

This is apparently the prince, for all the servants and the tall man bow respectfully to him.

[GryffonDurime]

The priest was attending to his horse--he'd lain claim to a beautiful blue roan beast with a sweet disposition and a well-tended mane. Sebastien's eyes widen at the sight of the Prince, seemingly taken aback. The priest tugs at the hems of his white robes, straightening his hair and taking his crozier in hand. "He's going to have the worst temperament ever," he whispers to his horse, shaking his head, "no one gets to be that handsome without some kind of damage."

The Shallyan offers his mount one last pat on the neck before making his way across the courtyard to present himself.

"Baron Siegfried. I take it that this is your prince?"

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

Maximus looks down at the Prince, "An honour your majesty" he intones stiffly giving a mounted bow as he watches the Prince carefully. Eyes narrowing as he compares the pin thin rapier to the massive heavy broadsword at his own waist.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli raises an eyebrow - he'd expected the Prince to be soft and effete, like most of the Humans he'd met. This one seemed to wear armor naturally, and though his choice of weapons left a lot to be desired, he had the bearing of one that knew how to use them. Oorli says nothing, but nods to the Prince from atop his horse.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli raises an eyebrow - he'd expected the Prince to be soft and effete, like most of the Humans he'd met. This one seemed to wear armor naturally, and though his choice of weapons left a lot to be desired, he had the bearing of one that knew how to use them. Oorli says nothing, but nods to the Prince from atop his horse.

[Xsesiv]

"I am, Your Reverence," cuts in the Prince. It's probably more to do with the fact he seems to command more fluency in Reikspiel than any status issue, because besides a slight accent, he could almost be taken for a native speaker. "You may go now, Sigfried."

Sigfried bows and returns to the house with only a muttered "Is so very vital."

"Well, no point waiting for noon if we're all here," continues the Prince, and indicates the tall man. "This is Vaclav, my manservant, and he'll be coming with us. So, that's everyone. Let's get going, unless there are any questions?" and he vaults nimbly onto his horse, a great white beast.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

"I'm ready whenefer yoou are, Prince Maximillian." Oorli still had his doubts about this, but he hoped that, for once, maybe everything actually was as it seemed - this was the Prince, his brother wanted him dead, and their job was to make sure they made the ride to the petty fiefdom as quick as they could.

Somehow, he doubted it.

[littlebottom]

Ah, the prince has arrived, after looking at his stature, he is either really the prince, or a very, very good actor, this man just dripped with charisma. Erandol gives a quick bow to the prince, nodding as the prince suggests leaving, and follows his lead in mounting up.

Erandol opened a large breifcase that he usually carries, and looks through various vials, noting the level of the liquids contained inside, or the numbers of certain things like odd shaped or coloured flowers. "Perhaps a little low on some stuff, ill just pick it up as we go along" Erandol mutters to himself before closing the case and placing it inside an easily reached saddlebag.

Erandol gently kicks the horse into life, he begins moving slowly, trying to find the spot he wants in the group. not at the front, but not at the back and certainly not too close to the prince if possible. If the prince is the prime target here, Erandol wasnt one to dive in the way of an arrow, so he thought it best to leave that space for someone who might.

[Rizhail]

Lora gives the prince the once over, deciding that he at least looks like he can handle himself in a fight, and goes back to donning her new armor, pulling on her cloak and raising her hood and mask. Once finished with that, she quietly loads up her horse with her gear and the large stock of arrows she requested, silently pleased at the quantity and quality the Baron was able to procure on such short notice.

Mounting up, she nods in the prince's direction. "I am ready when the rest of you are," she calls cheerfully, excited to be traveling again.

[Timeless]

Changing swiftly into the red dress she had chosen, caring little for modesty, Eldril places her old dress into the pack before loading her saddlebags.

Whith that task complete she gives the prince a quick curtesy before climbing up onto her horse, sitting sidesaddle and walking it over to Lora .

[littlebottom]

Erandol raises an eyebrow at Eldril's lack of modesty, before generally looking in the other direction, somewhat flustered that someone could lack modesty even infront of royalty.

*Ahem* "If we are quite ready, we should make tracks." Erandol clearly restless to get going for one reason or another. Proberbly because he senses a foul air around this whole job, Erandol would rather not have any casulties on his watch, but the amount of gold on offer suggests that this job is the kind of job where avoiding casulties may be near impossible.

[Fearan]

Dorian made a rescpectful bow, when the prince arrived and got himself in the saddle. He really liked the idea of leaving immideatly - it would help confuse would be enemy spies. Still, he couldn't help seeing crows over this cortege. To distract himself from grim omens he made a few glances on changing sorceress - a lot more pleasing sight than any crows.

[Xsesiv]

The horses clop merrily down Carroburg's main street, out of the town gate, crossing a huge bridge, passing Altdorf, whose massive walls stretching into the distance either side continue to inspire awe, never mind the stench, and then starting hard cross-country through the Reikwald Forest.

There's little else to do that day but keep the horses at a trot. At about two bells, the Prince and Vaclav don't stop to eat, but eat a luncheon consisting of watered wine, biscuits, cheese, dried fruits and salted meat in the saddle, and clearly expect their guards to do the same.

The day goes without a hitch or hiccup. That evening, the sun begins to lower in the sky, as it its wont of an evening. A coaching inn hoves into view some way ahead, with the sign of a golden boar's head outside. It is tempting to go in and rest, but there are another two or three hours' travel to be had today. Neither the Prince nor Vaclav seem particularly inclined to stop.

[DrK]

THe long day is pleasing to the knight who has spent much of the past year in the saddle and is long accustomed to the weary muscles and jarred bones of a long ride.

He avoids the Prince as much as possible, not wanting to intrude and also tries to avoid looking at his elven charge too much. The lingering memory of pale flesh slipping under the red dress a distraction he could ill afford.

As the days goes on he rides up to the two borderland nobles.. "Milords, when do you wish to break for dinner and to set camp?"

With an answer in hand he falls back to the sorceress, still trying not to let his eyes linger. "We will have to organise a watch roster Lady Magus. We are in dangerous territory."

[littlebottom]

"We must push on, but we should look for a suitable place to stop before it gets dark." Erandol suggests. Erandol didnt like the prospect of staying up late on guard duty. but if it came down to it, he would volenteer himself if nessisary.

[Timeless]

"They wish to break soon then?" Eldril asks the Knight while staring up at the sky.

[Xsesiv]

As the days goes on he rides up to the two borderland nobles.. "Milords, when do you wish to break for dinner and to set camp?"

"I'm a prince, not a lord, but when it begins to get dark, good sir knight," answers the Prince, then returning to his conversation with Vaclav.

Not long later, while you're passing through an area with a small stream and clear of trees, it does begin to get dark, at which point the pair pull their horses to a stop. Vaclav produces two tents from saddlebags and sets about erecting them for himself and the Prince, and dinner is more of the rations. Though tasty, it will probably not take long to get sick of them.

Whatever guards are set, this night, too, passes with no danger, no difficulty and no distractions.

Konistag, 10th Pflugzeit, 2512

The sun rises grey through the mist. Vaclav rises and packs away his and his master's tents, and soon, after a breakfast of more rations and stream water the whole group's back on the road.

The environs soon turns to light woods, and not long after that the trees grow thick and dense. Riding formation tightens up.

"Tell me about yourselves, please," says the Prince, out of nowhere. "It'll while away the tedious hours of this trip, and my father sent me away to learn about human nature, so now that my education's been interrupted, I'll have to do the best I can." He smiles.

[littlebottom]

"I'm not sure i can help with the "human" part of that, but I shall oblige. I became interested in medicine at a reasonably young age, before too long i had left home, a bit lost, i wandered about as a traveler, finding myself in the empire, eventually i made my way to Altdorf, and happened across a kind old man who himself was a doktor, he took me in as his apprentice, i spent many years studying there and then into the university, i continued to study into medicine and somewhat into surgery too. Now i am a fully qualified Doktor, i found myself without a place to work though, but before long i settled in to being a Doktor for a small village not too far from altdorf. Not long ago i bumped into one of my past patients." Erandol gestures at the slightly younger lady elf in the fetching red dress. "And decided to follow her, find somewhere i belonged perhaps? somewhere i was more needed. not much else to say im afraid, my life has been my work, and my work, my life." It is also the most Erandol has ever said without breaking into his more monotonal matter-of-fact speach even once.

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian listens attentively to the Doktor, fascinated by him as a fellow initiate of the arts of medicine--albeit only a novice by comparison. He smiles at the prince when his turn comes, sighs, and begins. "I suppose there's not much to be said for myself, either. A noble birth, a less than noble exodus into the streets of Altdorf...and then the grace of Shallya. It has been my honor and my joy to serve the Mother of Tears as one of her order for years now, and it has been my delight to discover myself, in whatever small way, granted a measure of her graces," he says, a flash coming across his eyes, some divine spirit perhaps moving within him like an unseen comet. "Of course, it has of late been my charge to bring her mercy to...wherever it is adventurers would carry it. And perhaps now to your land as well."

[Xsesiv]

The Prince listens with interest to the two tales made thus far, but before anyone else can tell him their life story, a bunch of men has burst from the trees behind, yelling and dressed in tattered chainmail shirts and rags. At a glance, their number looks to be somewhere between about eight and the low teens, and after a quick head-count, yes, there are eleven of them. Six are on horseback; five of these have swords, the sixth a cudgel. Of the five running along on the ground, four have clubs and only one a sword. The foremost, on horseback and waving a sword, bellows "Charge!". All of them are running as fast as they can, meaning that the men on horseback are significantly ahead of those on foot.

The Prince and Vaclav trot their horses to the back of the party, drawing their rapiers.

Yes, this is a combat. You've got a free round's worth of actions before the bandits reach you.

Directing a horse's actions for the round is a half action unless you make a Ride Test, rendering it a free action. Doing nothing more than keeping the horse where it is is also a free action.

The bandits' Initiative is [roll0], the Prince's [roll1], and Vaclav's [roll2].

The Prince and Vaclav used their actions for the free round to direct their horses to the back of the group and ready their rapiers.

[Fearan]

At first, Dorian wanted to wait until the knight and the sorceress would answer to the Prince's question, and speak only then, but some thugs suddenly interrupted the routine and cause a total meshup. The young man only smiled cheerfully and while the bandits was charging said only - Let my deeds speak. He swiftly readied one of the crossbows and made a shot on the most talkative bandit, but looks like, he failed to ajust the aim according to the fact that he was mounted.
Dorian's Initiative is [roll0]. He takes a half action to ready his regular crossbow and makes a missle attack against screaming bandit. The attack is [roll1]. The damage is [roll2]. MISS

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastien gathers his wits and takes his crozier in hand, feeling a bit more confident with his symbol of office in hand--surely, no one could attack so obvious a symbol of the Mother of Mercy? Still, his nerves are little tested in combat, and his words weave a quick prayer to his lady, asking her favor and protection.


He's drawing his weapon and then trying to cast Blessing of Protection on himself against CN 7...[roll0].

Ugh. Combat.

[Timeless]

Moving swiftly with the grace common to her kin Eldril presses her hands together, eyes closing as she does so. A moment later her red hair scults itself into a regal crown which then bursts into flame. A brief wince as she opens her eyes betrays that all did not go well in casting the spell.

Initiative: 50+d10 - bodged the code so may as well just be 51.
Crown of fire (full action): [roll0][roll1][roll2]+1 (ingrediant, 1gc) target 8

Major chaos mannifestation: mind numb - magic reduced by 1 for 24 hours. Description of channelling too much power doesnt exactly match a double 1 but hey.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli looks slightly relieved at the sudden appearance of the brigands or assassins or whatever they were. He wasn't sure how much of his story to trust to the Prince and his man - he'd only just met the man, and he wasn't quite ready to open up to him. The ambush gave him just the excuse he needed.

First things first, thought Oorli. He dismounted his horse - what Dwarf would not fight on the hard earth if given half a chance? As he dropped to the ground, he grabbed his shield and prepared to deal with the oncoming cavalry charge.

[DrK]

Sir Geoffrey

The knight looks up in a mixture of suprise and annoyance as the bandits burst from the trees ahead, he had just been about to set into the lengthy tale of woe that had led to him being a penniliess wandering knight on the Empire's backroads.

Instead he draws his battered shield and pulls forth the sword of the Maxiumus family, an image of a rising dragon carved into the pommel before whipping round. "Milords, stay back and please stay safe" before he closes the visor on his helm and prepares to charge...


Are you sure about the ride rules? I thought you only neede ride checks for doing extreme things? As using your rule means I only have a 34% chance of being able to actuaklly charge?

[littlebottom]

This seems far more than a bandit attack, for starters, they have enough money to feed a horse.

Erandol stays where he is, unadept at horse riding as he is, he doubted he could do it while drawing his bow and knocking an arrow. He begins aiming at the oncomers, doubting he has time to get his aim in before they get close enough to engage.

Erandol will draw his bow, and load it, [roll0] +46 = 56 initiative

[Rizhail]

Lora raised a brow at the brazen attack by such a motley bunch. "They must be either desperate or well paid to be coming after us," she mumbled beneath her mask as she smoothly pulled up her bow and nocked an arrow, loosing it at the apparent leader of the attackers.


Initiative: [roll0]

Lora readies her bow, loads and fires (hooray for rapid reload)

Ballistic Skill: [roll1] vs. 52 (base BS, no modifiers for this attack)
Damage: [roll2], ignores 2 armor

Looks like the leader just took a nasty shot to the torso.

[Xsesiv]

"I'm a Prince, not a lord!" shouts the Prince, as the six bandits on horses smash into the front of the group. A crossbow bolt whistles past the leader as he charges Eldril swinging his sword, but he looks like he is having second thoughts about the whole venture as a longbow shaft punches through his mail and hits his sternum, bouncing off and spinning crazily through the air.

Another attacks Oorli on the ground, a third clashes with Maximus, another charges at Dorian. The fifth, who has the club, comes along to swing at Lora, and the sixth, as the first five engage much of the defence, manages to crash right through the middle to fight Prince Maximilian, finding himself jabbed at by Vaclav and the Prince's rapiers. Vaclav is little use, but the Prince's rapier pierces the bandit's flank, so that he screams and takes a swing at the Prince with his sword, which turns on his mail. Bits of loosened fur drift serenely to the ground.

The remaining five bandits are still charging along on foot, waving sword and club and yelling encouragement to each other.

Oorli's horse, free of control, flees the battle, whinnying in fear and cantering away down the road.


Bandit fighting Eldril: WP test vs Crown of Fire [roll0]
To-hit:[roll1]
Damage:[roll2]
Bandit fighting Oorli
To-hit:[roll3]
Damage:[roll4]
Bandit fighting Maximus
To-hit:[roll5]
Damage:[roll6]
Bandit fighting Dorian
To-hit:[roll7]
Damage:[roll8]
Bandit fighting Lora
To-hit:[roll9]
Damage:[roll10]


Resolutely but weakly, the bandit leader whacks Eldril in the right leg with his sword, and another gives Oorli a gentle hit in the left shoulder. Maximus is also hit in the left arm, but between plate and his own strength, he barely feels it. The other two bandits don't manage any telling blows.


NEW ROUND

[littlebottom]

Seeing that the man they have been entrusted to protect in trouble, Erandol aims and fires his arrow at the man fighting the prince. Hoping that in the fray the arrow doesnt go wildly into his allies.

aim and fire BS:44 +aim [roll0]
damage if hit [roll1]

[Timeless]

Eldril mutters a brief imprecation as the blade cuts the dress and draws a light fleshwound on her leg.

Closing her eyes briefly she tries to shut out the world for a moment and focus on drawing what power she can still maintain to her. Her eyes open 3 seconds later as she fails to harness the weakly blowing winds of magic around her. She then gives a slight sigh as her left hand deftly pulls a match from a open pocket sown onto her dress.

[roll0] - failed channeling [roll1][roll2] 5+1 (ingrediant - match - Flames of U'Zhul and forgot to do damage

Ignore so just fail channelling test and draw the match.

[DrK]

Vile blaggard! Maximus cursed before reared up in the saddle lashing at hid opponent driving him from the saddle.



Full attack vs 58
[roll0] damage [roll1]
[roll2] damage [roll3]

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

"Enoough!", cries Oorli, pulling his handaxe. "Yoou will regret yoour decision this day, foool!" Oorli swings his blade, but the horseman had already passed him by. He spat on the ground in disgust as he readied himself to take another strike at whomever passed by him next.


Mechanics:

Ready my axe, take a swing!

WS (vs 57): [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Blah. Not a good introduction for Oorli.

[GryffonDurime]

"Shallya preserve me," Sebastian whispers--or perhaps it is more of a whimper. The priest seems utterly overwhelmed, even as he attempts to reign his horse backwards and towards the prince. His horse refuses to move in any appreciable way, but there are signs of his Lady's presence--a whisper of a rainbow settles over him, fading into a golden mist. Overhead, one dove darts across the tree line. Shallya was watching, at the least.


Half action to reel my horse Princeward [roll0] vs a miserable 17. Also, he's gonna try Blessing of Protection one more time. [roll1] vs an equally miserable 7.

I can't believe I forgot to stock up on any ingredients :(

[Rizhail]

Incensed that a bandit had actually tried to strike her, Lora drew her blade in one hand and took a swipe at the man, trying to clear some room so she could get back to pelting his comrades with arrows.


Half action to draw the sword, half action to make a standard attack.

WS: [roll0] vs. 41
Damage: [roll1]

Also, how is it that EVERY SINGLE TIME I try to post in this thread, I get 500/503'd? It's infuriating.

[Fearan]

With a curse, Dorian lowered his crossbow and unsheathded the sword to protect himself against the bandit. And, unlike the arrow, his sword striked true
Halve action to ready a sword, half action to make a standart attack
Attack [roll0] against 43 - HIT to the left arm
Damage [roll1]

[Xsesiv]

An arrow fired by Erandol at the bandit fighting the Prince misses entirely, narrowly missing Vaclav's ear. Eldril pulls out a match. There is a nasty chunking noise as Maximus' longsword meets his aggressor's leg; he hisses through his teeth at the pain even as he swings back. Oorli misses his man, who retaliates, and Dorian chops into his bandit's arm, causing him to yell in pain and swing back. Lora cuts into her man's leg, also managing to cut through one of the straps of his saddle, dumping him unceremoniously off the horse to bang his shoulder painfully on the ground and clamber to his feet as his horse gallops away from the fight and into the forest.

The Prince jabs his rapier right into his bandit's mouth, forcing it out through the back of the man's jaw on the right side, breaking it and dislocating the fragment with a crack like a gunshot. Jaw hanging limply, the man screams, stunned with agony. The screams redouble when Vaclav shoves the point of his rapier into the man's groin. He falls immediately off his horse (which likewise flees), landing badly and twisting his foot in the fall, and lies there on the floor alternately yelling and whimpering softly.

Five bandits on foot join the fight; one each attacks Erandol and Sebastian; the others go, one each, for the three wealthiest-looking: Maximus, Vaclav and the Prince. Vaclav is hit in the arm by a club which he managed to parry most of the force of, but the prince gets hit solidly in the ribs and cries out in pain.


Bandit fighting Eldril:
To-hit:[roll0]
Damage:[roll1]
Bandit fighting Oorli:
To-hit:[roll2]
Damage:[roll3]
Bandit fighting Maximus 1
To-hit:[roll4]
Damage:[roll5]
Bandit fighting Maximus 2
To-hit:[roll6]
Damage:[roll7]
Bandit fighting Dorian
To-hit:[roll8]
Damage:[roll9]
Bandit fighting Erandol
To-hit:[roll10]
Damage:[roll11]
Bandit fighting Sebastian
To-hit:[roll12]
Damage:[roll13]
Bandit fighting Lora
Ride Test to land safely:[roll14]
Damage:[roll15]
(he attacks if he lands safely)To-hit:[roll16]
Damage:[roll17]


By some miracle, hardly any of the other bandits score a hit, and those two that do (the bandit fighting Oorli, and one of those fighting Maximus) don't manage to do any damage.


NEW ROUND

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The man that had decided to attack Oorli was typical for Humans - one or two good swings of a sword, and their arm gets tired. He was no match for a hardened Dwarf warrior. Of course, Oorli was hardly one of the Ironbreakers, but he was more than a match for this weakling. He gave out a mighty shout in Khazalid, and his axe danced in his hands. He slashed viciously at the man's head, then reversed his swing, biting into the man's leg. "Serves yoou right!"


Mechanics: Swift attack!
Attack/Damage 1 (TN 57): [roll0]/[roll1]
Attack/Damage 2 (TN 57): [roll2]/[roll3]

[Timeless]

The match flares and with a gesture the bandit who had attacked her is aflame as she herself is starts to shed light having made a fairly poor job of forming the spell, the excess energy bleeding off her.

[roll0] Channeling success - Just!
[roll1] [roll2] +1 readied match, TN 6. for Flames. +1 for success.

Damage 2+4=6. Minor chaos mannifestation:48 = wyrd light for 1 round.

Not that it made any difference last round but I think they need to roll WP for every attack action against me.

[DrK]

Sir Maximus

Beset by 2 of the cowardly curs Maximus circled around on his horse as he kept his lef side towards the mounted man whilst swinging down twice at the infantryman's head.

Glancing round he tried to keep track of the elven mage- a burning figure marking her place and the Prince, pleased to see the bandit dying on the ground by the 2 Lords of the Border Princes.


Attack the guy on the ground twice
- In WFRP do you get a bonus for attacking a guy on the ground from a mount?
[roll0] Vs 58 damage [roll1]
[roll2] Vs 58 damage [roll3]

Spend a fortune point if I miss [roll4] VS 58 damage as above for the missed one.

Parry if needed [roll5] VS 43
Dodge when needed [roll6] Vs 34

[littlebottom]

Erandol loads and fires another shot into his attacker, hoping the point blank range will mean that this arrow will actually hit its mark.

[roll0] missed:smallannoyed:
[roll1]

[Fearan]

Dorian presseed on the attack, hoping to deal with his target in minimun time, to be able to return to shooting.


Swift attack
[roll0], [roll1] - hit to the head
[roll2], [roll3] - miss

Dodge if needed [roll4] - oops, better not be hit

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian alights as the brigand swings at him, unconsciously responding in kind: his gleaming white crozier sings through the air for the man. As lax as he was about a great many of Shallya's rites, this seemed to pain the priest--violence. In the end, with adventurers, it was always violence. He would have to find some proper penance for himself.

Assuming, of course, that he survived.


Attack against the dude who attacked me (and they need to succeed a WP test to hit me, incidentally):
[roll0] vs 46; damage if it hits [roll1]

[Rizhail]

"Your mount was wiser than you, human," Lora said, sounding almost bored as she repeatedly struck at the now dismounted bandit. If the fellow wouldn't back off on his own to leave her room to loose arrows, she would remove him as a threat.


Full action: Swift attack (Attacks: 2)

Attack 1: [roll0] vs. 41 (41 base WS, no modifiers)
Damage 1: [roll1]

Attack 2: [roll2] vs. 41 (41 base WS, no modifiers)
Damage 2: [roll3]

[Xsesiv]

The blast of fire Eldril fired at her bandit engulfs his chest, putting his rags and the braids of his thick brown beard on fire. Shrieking, he drops the sword in his hand in order to use both hands to slap furiously at the flames. Both horses in the vicinity are startled and rear. The bandit falls off his, manages to twist in midair and almost to land on his feet, but his knee turns inwards and he drops to the floor, still ablaze. He slaps furiously at the flames as a nasty burning-meat smell fills the air and his horse flees the combat. His rags have by now almost burnt off; his chainmail is blackened by the flames and indeed, so seems to be his chest.

Oorli takes a quick one-two set of swings at his bandit. Oorli first lashes out just as the bandit bends down to take his own swing, which lets Oorli catch him in the head with the flat of the axe. This dazes him for the second it takes to chop into his shin. The axe chips his shinbone but then skates off, nonetheless peeling away a vast strip of flesh, exposing the bone almost from knee to ankle. The bandit spits an oath as his boot begins to fill up with blood, instinctively dropping his sword to clutch at his shin, shouting a second oath the instant after the sword has left his hand, as he realises what he has done. The sword skewers into the poor soil.

Lora slashes her bandit in the arm, but it's only a flesh wound. Sir Maximus first slashes his man on foot across the side of the head, clipping away a silver earring and almost chopping off his ear, then he hacks at him once again with the longsword, hitting him across the bridge of the nose, chipping the bone to the depth of the brigand's eyes and cutting into both of them. The bandit yells out a blood-curdling scream, unlike any sound anyone here recalls having heard a human make before. He proceeds to do nothing but crumple to the ground, helpless with pain, blood from the cut in his nose and humour from his ruined eyes dripping down his face. He makes a noise somewhat like a cat being boiled alive in a whistling kettle.

The prince attacks his man, but is now beginning to panic so that his swing goes wide. Vaclav, however, manages to skewer his bandit in the hip, down to the bone. The red trench one second later becomes a massive gaping wound as Vaclav savagely rips the rapier out, prompting yet another bellow of agony to join the cacophony of clashing steel, screams, yells, threats, curses and insults. More blood pours forth than it would seem possible to be contained in a human's body.

"Fall back," yells out the one fighting Maximus on the horse, over the general noise, "fall back!" and proceeds to lead the retreat. The men, whether on horseback or on foot, follow, scattering into the forest with the exceptions of the blinded one and the one who's just taken rapiers to his jaw and groin, both of whom are on the floor in heaps of howls and sobs, in little condition to be doing anything much, and the one more preoccupied with screeching and putting out his blazing clothes.


Eldril's horse, and that of the bandit she was fighting, are so terrified by the sudden fire burst that they rear; Ride Test for Eldril and the bandit or be thrown, suffering damage as per a three-yard fall.
Bandit: Hard Ride Test (these things are more difficult when you're on fire) [roll0]
Attempt to beat out the flames:[roll1]
Damage from fall:[roll2]
Damage from flames:[roll3]

[littlebottom]

Erandol gets off his horse and rushes over to the injured prince, "Your injured, allow me to tend to the wound" He also turns to the rest of the group "Tie up the surviving thugs, ill tend to their wounds last."

Assuming the prince allows Erandol to tend to his wounds, he will do so to the best of his ability. heal [roll0]
[roll1]

If someone else is injured and needs a heal
[roll2]
[roll3]

and extra heals for the bandits
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Xsesiv]

The Prince, wincing, removes his mail-and-fur coat, his leather jerkin and his tunic, and Erandol can see that he's got bone-deep bruises where the bandit hit him, and possibly a chipped rib or two. There's little to be done but strap it up so it can heal properly and deal with the pain, which is nothing a rub with an painkilling ointment wouldn't sort out.

As regards the other bandits, if they are tied up they can offer little resistance in the meantime, preferring to mewl in agony. The one who has had his eyes punctured is obviously never going to regain his sight again and at the moment all that can be done is control the bleeding and sew up the gashes. The remains of eyes in his sockets will certainly get infected, the infection will probably spread to the brain, and if that happens he will undoubtedly go delirious.

The one with a dislocated and broken jaw needs it set and then popped back into place, as well as treatment for bleeding and closing a stab wound in a rather sensitive area. Part of his tongue is missing and nowhere to be seen and unless he is exceptionally resilient the encounter will probably leave him sterile.

The bandit on fire can't be reached in time. The flames slowly scorch through the musculature of his chest, roasting his lungs. He coughs blood and serum until he can cough no more, and it's then that he dies.

[littlebottom]

Erandol sighs and bows his head slightly for a moment for the loss a patient, before attempting to not get too hung up over it, he was after all attempting to kill his allies. "I dont think we can get much information out of our friend here." Erandol motions to the man who was stabbed in the mouth "He proberbly wont be able to talk cohearantly for a long while, or maybe ever." Erandol then motions to the man with the lost eye "He is our best chance of information, if theres any to be had."

[DrK]

"COWARDS!" Maximus bellows at the fleeing bandits shaking his head at such abject villiany. Before turning to the party, careful to keep Champion and himself between the forest edge and his companions.

"Lady Magus are you injured?" he asks, concern for his oath bound charge the first to garner attention before turning to the Prince, "And you highness. Apologies that we could not stop the scum reaching you". His concern for the wound is slight, a nobleman should be able to fight, a noblemwomen (or elf for that matter) less so.

Looking down at the wounded. He pulls a distasteful face at the burning one that is slowly writhing and choking on his own burned lungs before glancing down at the one by his horse's hooves. Slipping from the saddle in a clatter of steel plate he leans by the bandit, carefully cleaning the sword blade on the downed man's cloths before speaking to him quietly....
"Tell us of who your master is and who sent you here and I will hasten your passage to the Gardens of Morr. If you do not speak we will leave you here bound as food for the vile beasts of the forest". The threat given in a cool arrogant almost uncaring tone.

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian finds himself playing assistant to Erandol: what little he knew of the art of healing couldn't match the skill of the good doktor. He busied himself with the littler matters: attending the poultices and bandages, preparing the equipment. It was a role he'd often played at the Temple.

But at the knight's threat, the young priest balked, kneeling beside the eyeless bandit. "To think valor could blacken the heart so," Sebastian says, setting his hands gently on the bound man's temples. "Lady of Mercy, Mother of Tears, let your anodyne graces fall upon this man now, free his blood from taint, his flesh from agony, and his mind from fear." His hands grow lighter, wreathed in a mist of faint golden light. Drops of blood fall from his unopened palms and land in the bandit's wounds, sizzling like raindrops against hot stone. Where they fall, bruises soften and cuts close--not enough to save his eyes, but enough to shore up the doktor's work.

The prayer concluded, Sebastian stands, addressing the bandit. "I have seen men blinded before, and the loneliness of that existence, the difficulty. But my order has taken in such wretches before--and the speechless," he adds to the man with the broken jaw. "We live to set this world at peace, to heal the broken. Perhaps you would like us to help? But first, the good knight's questions should be heeded."


Magic roll to cast Blessing of Healing on eyesore just to get him on our side a bit more: [roll0] vs 5.

Followed by a Charm attempt on our bandits to secure helpfulness.
[roll1] vs 67

[Xsesiv]

"Nobody sent us," chokes the newly-eyeless bandit, between sobs. "We're in rags, do we look like assassins?"

"Ugggn," agrees his friend, in a high-pitched tone.

"You just looked rich, and we need money to survive. We were expecting you just to surrender under weight of numbers without any fuss."

"Shall we move on?" calls the Prince from his horse.

[DrK]

Maximus looks down on the fallen man and listens to the garbled blood chocked explanation. "Yes Milord. We can move on. This wretch can be left here to reap the rewards of his vile lifestyle".

He walks across to help the elven maiden into her saddle before resuming his own saddle and drawing out lance and shield lest the bandits try their luck again.

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian sighs, pulls a sheet of paper from his satchel, and rips a small sheet of it, scribbling a few words.

"Take this and go, if you can," he says, handing it to the man with the dislocated jaw. "Bring him with you. If the both of you present yourselves, with that scrip, to a Temple of Shallya, you'll receive what little mercy is mine to give you. But it must be the both of you."

With that, the priest returns to his blue roan stallion and struggles his way back into the saddle.

[Xsesiv]

The two bandits drag themselves away down the road, the blinded one supporting the other, who's rolled his ankle, while being directed by him.

The Prince doesn't ask anyone else to tell their story. Maybe he's in too much pain and wants to concentrate on riding, or maybe he's taken offence to being hit by a bandit. The trees eventually thin out, and though the roads are not excellent, you make up lost time quickly enough by keeping the horses at a quick trot.

Coaching inns and settlements along trade roads tend to be spaced roughly a day's travel apart for obvious reasons, but due to the speed you're travelling at and the added progress you made last night, it's just past lunchtime when you pass a small village with a tavern. Ignoring it in favour of the rest of the day's travel, you continue along the road.

As the sky just begins to darken and you begin to look for somewhere to stay, you come across a disgustingly unpleasant sight: the remains of a village. The number of wooden buildings was probably somewhere above ten and below twenty, but they are all destroyed to such an extent that it's hard to tell, smashed into splinters and most of the splinters burnt to charcoal and ash. The village stockade has suffered a similar fate, torn apart and chopped to bits.

Twenty or thirty corpses lie on the ground, covered in sundry wounds. Some of the more vicious include a man chopped almost in two through the ribs whose body has folded over the remaining few inches of meat, and a woman who appears to have had the top of her head smashed in so hard her brain matter is leaking out of her nostrils.

The majority are humans dressed in peasant's garb, but two are Orcs, dressed in nothing but warpaint and with tattoos. They seem to have been cornered and cut down with many small wounds from farm implements. The bodies aren't badly decayed at all; the whole incident seems to have happened sometime within the last few days. Dozens or hundreds of crows, rooks and ravens flap overhead, hop around, squawk at each other and peck at the eyes and wounds of the dead.

The Prince and Vaclav sniff and look away with distaste, not stopping.

Succeed on a Will Power Test, or gain an Insanity Point.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli spits on the ground as they leave the two bleeding and dying bandits. To himself, and in Khazalid, he mutters, "Damned humans. Bunch oof animals, they are. The beasts oof the foorest will claim these men, and that is if they are very fortunate. If Beastmen chance upon them, then they will wish the knight had granted them mercy." Despite this, Oorli does not kill the two.

Aloud, and in his heavily accented Reikspiel, he wondered, "Noow, where in the hell has my hoorse goone too?" He began to check around for hoofprints that would lead him to his wayward steed. After a time (and through a series of misadventures that the rest of the group would later call "The Curious Incident of the Horse in the Mire"), they were on their way.

[littlebottom]

willpower: [roll0]

Erandol recoils at the scene largely due to the image of the fateful battle in conjours up, anatomically speaking, he is used to the sight of some really nasty wounds but this was carnage.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

[roll0]
Add 1 IP to Oorli's total!


As Oorli took in the sight of carnage around him, he swore in the harsh language of the Dwafs. He'd seen his share of bloodshed, but this was cruelty unbridled, and it sickened his stomach. "Oorcs. Second cruellest race in the Old World. Best keep oour eyes peeled, oor we'll be next upon their plate." He followed the Prince's lead, and guided his horse onwards.

[DrK]

As Sebastien gives the bandit the written admisssion to a hospice Maximus comments coldly that "You offer a mercy they would not have offered you had the positions been reserved Master Sebastien.

Do you really think they will reach a hospice safely? You say I am harsh but is the life of a cripple or random death at the hands of savage beasts on the road any kinder than a quick and merciful rush into Morr's embrace?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silent for much of the ride he leaves his helmet face shield down and lance and shield slung as he takes a position on the edge of the group riding beside Eldril.

As they near the village he touches spurs slightly to be in advance of the others. At the sight of so many bodies he wrinkles his nose in distaste but the sight of the two orc bodies has him whirl round searching the woods and buildings.

Roll willpower test [roll0] VS ~40 I think

THe sight sends slight shivers through him. Unpleseant memories of orc sacked villages in the Baronies of home. But "Only peasants" he mutters quietly to himself searching around for more danger.

"Shall we move on a little further milord before we break for camp. If we stay here we risk creatures of dark and wrong nature being drawn to the bodies.

[Fearan]

As Dorian gazed upon the massacre scene, the look on his face was filled with disgust and... fear, perhaps.
- Like I said - we will be attacked. Now we can assume, by whom. Those poor bandit souls didn't count - he tryed to joke but his voice waverered - even the seasoned hunter had hard times to ceep calm, whaching over such battlefield. The tenets of Morr teach us, that noone must be left unburied, or else they'll rise as vile undead. Could we at least inform the priest in the next village? Assuming, of course, there will be a next village

[Timeless]

Eldril stares at the dead strewn around the remains of the dead and gives a shudder before she starts to sing a soft elven melody for the dead.

Looping her reins about the remains of a pallisade stake she dismounts and walks from body to body, kneeling by each and pressing her hands against them for a few moments as she sings before stepping back - the body ablaze.

Fifteen minutes later she is done and cleans her hands on a small patch of survivng grass.

Walking slowly back to her horse she calls to Dorian "Neither my peoples custom, or yours. Yet I could not leave them. Now though the fires may well attract attention unwelcome, we should leave with all haste"

[Xsesiv]

"For the...I can't recall how many times, stop calling me 'my lord'. I'm a Prince. But I agree, we should move along with haste. It will be dark soon, but we can get in another five miles or so, I'm sure."

The prince is correct, and you manage to move along some way before it becomes too dark to continue, and you pitch camp.

That night's sleep doesn't come easy. The death and destruction of the day were bad enough, and the howling of wolves come to scavenge the corpses are most unhelpful.

Angestag, 11th Pflugzeit, 2512

The next morning, though, it's easy enough to get up, because hailstones the size of clanks are dropping from the sky. After a very quick striking of camp, you leave the Winter's Teeth Pass and enter the Yetzin Valley along the trade road that morning. The going is slow today, so going by the map and the progress you've made thus far, at this rate it will be a few days at least before you reach the border.

Some hours later, you see a column of smoke rising into the air, and later, rounding a corner, come across small encampment; three small tents with a campfire in the middle and horses tethered nearby. Six or seven riders begin to mount up as they notice you. One rides out towards your group – a round-faced little man, wirily-muscled, with lank, greasy dark hair in curtains about his face and a thin beard. The Prince recognises him, and rides ahead towards him.

"I greet you, Severin! How come you here?"

"Well met, by fortune! Sigfried sent word by crow to your friend Dalmatin. We came to ride with you," calls the newcomer, whose name is apparently Severin. His voice is high-pitched, with a hoarse quality.

They embrace.

Severin turns towards you. "Your work is done, sirs. With all due respect, you can return home now."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli eyes these men suspiciously. "That weren't the deal. Oour deal with the Baroon was to escoort the young loord too Vidovdan. I think that we'll be cooming aloong too until we finally crooss the boorder and coomplete oour coontract, with all due respect." The Dwarf didn't care for this sudden convenience so soon after the ambush and Orc massacre, and his pleasantry towards this Severin dripped with insincerity.

[DrK]

Maximus nods in agreement with the doughty dwarf. A suspicion rising about these rough looking serfs. Hs hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his blade.

"My dwarven friend speaks the truth. We are sworn to travel as far as Vidovdan". His words said he nods to the Prince. "The Baron was insistent that we escort his highness all the way."

[littlebottom]

"I see. Then i cannot allow you to travel with us and the prince, for that makes us a large party, and much less inconspicuous with your presence. you should ride as if a seperate party slightly ahead perhaps and warn of upcoming danger, but ultimately, we as a group will be traveling with the prince reguardless." Erandol didnt like the fact that this "secret" journy was known all too well by this stranger, then asking the princes personal guard to leave. if anything he should appreciate strength in numbers. Erandols duty was currently to the prince, this severin could perhaps be accidently gotten rid of with some small effort.

[Xsesiv]

"You would ask my bosom friend and his guard to ride ahead like servants?" asks the Prince, horrified. He says something to Severin in their language, and Severin replies briefly and nods. "There, I told him you were to be paid at the border, he hadn't realised. No, ride with us to the border and collect your payment by all means, but we will not be separated. I have much to discuss with Severin, and I will not listen to argument."

He kicks his horse ahead, talking animatedly to Severin in a foregin language. Severin's guard's horses trot a little way ahead. Vaclav turns to you, beckons and follows, looking sour.

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian goads his stallion onward, approaching the prince at a trot, his features animated with a kind of fire that the priests of every god--even the Mother of Tears--were known to kindle within themselves.

"Your grace, you ride to take back a throne, to--what? See yourself crowned and enthroned, invested with sovereignty? The life you are about to undertake is burdensome, and demands sacrifice in the name of prudence. Let this be the first of many such uncomfortable tasks you undertake in the name of Vidovdan. The doctor's suggestion was a good one. A prudent one. The sort of judgment that a king must make even when a prince would rather not. I can only ask you to see the reason behind this. They would not ride before you as servants, but as honor guards. For your safety, and you kingdom."


I liked Erandol's idea!

Charm vs 67
[roll0]

[Xsesiv]

The Prince pointedly ignores Sebastian, and the day progresses tensely. Severin and the prince chat animatedly in their own language, while Vaclav looks progressively more sour.

As night falls, the group's now on the edge of a forest, the shadows of the trees stretching out a good way. A few miles away are a bunch of particularly dramatic, splintered-looking dark peaks of staggering immensity and unfathomable age. The sun sets gloriously behind them as the tents are set up.

Severin talks to his men, and after some time, he comes over to explain in his husky voice: he has been setting guard rotas. "Me and my men are going to take six two-hour watches, overlapping by an hour, that'll give us eight hours. More than enough time for a good night's sleep," he announces fluently but with a thick accent. He smirks. "You're apparently uneasy around strangers, so if you want to take a place on the rota or set your own, I won't be offended."

The Prince and Vaclav crawl into their tents and all but one of Severin's men get into their bedrolls; Severin's men sleep close together, all on one side of the fire that one of them has lit.

[Fearan]

From the moment of meeting those suspicious "friends" of the Prince, Dorian was rather quiet and kept a smile on his face as if saying "Like what I told you about set-ups and sinister plans". When the cortege stopped for the night, he offered to his teamamtes.
How about I take the second watch? You know, my sight is rather good, so it'll be the best, for night is dark and full of terror

[littlebottom]

Erandol turns to severin after his comment "Yes, well, if you stub your toe on watch you know where to find me." Erandol would rather stay out of the guard rota if possible.

[GryffonDurime]

"The Lady go with you," Sebastian offers feebly, still clearly defeated by the Prince's resistance to his words, his counsel. The priest sets himself, saying a few muttered prayers.

[DrK]

Sir Maximus watches the new riders sourly most of the day not speaking too much but filled with suspicion.

As the campsite is drawn up he moves slowly to talk with Oorli and Eldril. "I do not trust these newcomers. I shall keep careful watch over you tonight." The warning meant for Oorli, the concern for the Elven mage that is his charge.

After tending to the horse he sees if the dwarf, Eldril and Sebastian want to take some shifts tonight to watch both the forest and their new friends.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli nods in agreement with the knight. "Severin's men coome tooo quickly, and tooo coonveniently. Maybe Severin is leading the Prince intoo a trap. Maybe he'll slit his throoat this evening. I preferred it when all of the threats came froom ooutside the grooup."

Oorli stands and stretches. "I can see far better than moost oof yoou at night. I'll take the secoond shift as well, when the night is at its loongest and darkest."

[Xsesiv]

Just before dawn, everyone is half-woken up by Vaclav, who crashes sleepily out of his tent into the forest to relieve himself. As he returns, the Prince stirs, and Vaclav cheerily calls out something that most likely translates as "Good morning, Your Highness," as he enters his tent. Severin's men then get up, leaving Severin himself on the ground asleep, and go for their horses.

Vaclav exits the Prince's tent, his hands red, and rushes for the horses himself.

It's at that moment that the Orcs attack. It’s nothing subtle. War-cries start about thirty yards outside the camp, and you can clearly see that at least ten naked Orcs dressed in warpaint are approaching in a pack. "WAAAGH!!" they holler out, whirring their choppas around their heads in a most unfriendly manner and charging towards you as fast as their bow legs can take them.

Another combat, I'm afraid. But again, you've got a free round.

[littlebottom]

Erandol gets up in a hurry, drawing and loading his bow. "gah, couldn't they have waited till after brekfast?"

[Rizhail]

Lora was at first merely annoyed at being awoken early by a clumsy human stumbling through the brush. Her skills and elven heritage combined meant she had held one of the midnight watches, and losing sleep because others couldn't be arsed to be careful was irritating.

Her annoyance turned to murderous fury when Vaclav left the tent, hands stained red. Did we really just lose our charge to this bumbling imbecile!?

The charging greenskins proved a worthy distraction, however, and the shadow warrior pulled up her bow, nocking and loosing an arrow at the leading orc in one swift motion.


Half action to ready the bow, free action to load it, half action to shoot it once.

[roll0] vs. 52 (assuming no range/size modifiers or anything of that nature)

[DrK]

Maximus had watched the drunken Vaclav stagger away as he sttod in the shadow of a tree. While it had been kind of those non-hmans to do the deep hours of the night the early hours had not been fun either and he could feel and hear the rust forming on the plate as the dew had settled on him. Much scrubbing would be required at the end of this day. Maybe the doctor could double as a page he thought idly to himself.

As the crashing of Vaclac occurred he could shook his head sadly before the scream of "WAAAGH" resounded over the camp. Damn he thought Where did they come from. Shameful that I did not see them!

"To arms, Orcs, to arms!" he gives cry to the warning even as races to his horse, in the chaos he is too busy looking for Eldril to notice Vaclav leavin the tent.


WIth dwarf and elf for the night time watches, if no-one objects I've had Maximus take the depressung 4-6am shift.

Initiative [roll0]
Move to the horse and mount up.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli was just settling down to sleep after his midnight watch when everything went to Hell. The familiar cry of Greenskins sent his blood boiling, and he scrambled to his feet. "By Gruungni's Beard, OORCS! Soomeoone, prootect the puurse!" His focus was directed so strongly towards the Orcs that he failed to notice Vaclav literally leaving the Prince's tent red-handed, and chalked up Severin's men's departure as "typical Human cowardice." He grabbed his shield from his belt, and prepared to end the lives of several worthless Greenskins this night.


Mechanics:
Stand up, ready shield! If (when) one of them hits, parry.

[GryffonDurime]

Sebastian, all thumbs as always with matters of war, rushes towards the Prince's tent the instant Vaclav emerges with hands stained. The doktor was the better healer, but he was all the quicker--if there was anything left to save.


I don't know if Seb's anywhere near the tent, but if he can make it, he wants to see if there's any hope of saving the Prince. If he can get there in time enough to act, he's going to try and throw on a Blessing of Healing.

Also, why did I not buy a whole bunch of holly :(?

[roll0] vs 5

[Xsesiv]

Sebastian reaches the Prince's tent to find him, his neck the centre of a puddle of frothy blood, lying limp as his heart vainly struggles to pump blood to his brain, and as he watches, the Prince gives up the ghost. The Orcs reach the horses with Vaclav and Severin's men riding them, and Sir Maximus as well as he mounts up. Seven of them fight the mounted men, the remaining three rush past, one of them hit fairly squarely by Lorandara's arrow. Pretty much everyone else merely stands up and pulls out their weapon. The remaining three Orcs don't manage to reach anyone else this round.

Vaclav manages to neatly dispatch his Orc with the slash to the throat that appears to be his signature move, and one southerner is hit by his Orc hard enough to drive him from his horse, which flees, but beyond slight flesh wounds none of the other fighters make any headway.

[roll0] Orc's attack vs. Maximus
[roll1] Damage

[DrK]

"Cursed Greenskins!" MAximus grunts as he chops down twice with as much force as he can muster.

"Mage... Get on your horse and retreat. I shall protect you until you are clear then I shall follow.


Full attack the orc
[roll0] TN 58 Damage [roll1]
[roll2] TN 58 Damage [roll3]

Parry [roll4] TN 43
Dodge [roll5] TN ~35ish

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Oorli reaches for his axe, then bolts after the Orc as fast as his legs can propel him, a battlecry upon his lips. He slashes at the filthy creature, hoping to cleave open its skull with a vicious overhand cut.


Mechanics:
Ready my axe as a free action, then Charge the Orc. Attack (57 base + 10 for charge + 5 for GBF, 72% total): [roll0]
HEADSHOT!
Damage: [roll1]

[littlebottom]

Erandol fires his arrow into the nearest threat, then reloads getting ready to fire another.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[GryffonDurime]

Unworthy unworthy unworthy, a voice echoes in Sebastian's head, though he doesn't have time enough to unravel whether his lady means himself or the Prince. He swallows hard, whispers the quickest death rite of Shallya that he knew, and then took up the Prince's blade, entering the fray, guarded and nervous.


I'm assuming the Prince's weapon is still around; if not, assume that Seb's just going to grab his quarterstaff. Either way, he's just going to be Defensive.