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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    Default [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    (OOC thread here)

    Chapter I
    A Wintry Welcome


    The high-sided carts rattled along the rutted road, the bare trees to either side raising thickets of twigs like black, skeletal fingers against the clear sky. It had been a cloudless night, and the air was bitterly cold: the shadows of the Drakwald to either side seemed almost friendly, since the fathomless sprawl of the forest around the little caravan offered the only shelter from the wind. The carthorses plodded onwards with their great heads bowed, heavy hooves disturbing slicks of wet, dead leaves – the last leavings of autumn.

    There were two carts, and two coachmen. The one who had named himself simply as “Hans” was in the lead, a face as lined and sour as a pickled lemon set with a fixed determination on the road ahead. The second man had said his name was Jurgen Mettrinker – a red-faced, rough-skinned man with a black, bushy beard and eyebrows to match. He seemed of a friendlier disposition than his colleague, and was engaged in an enthusiastic attempt to get the group who were riding behind him to divulge some morsel of gossip.

    “You folks ever been to Delberz before?” the coachman asked. One of his passengers shook his head.
    “Big place. Bigger now, with all them folks what ran from the fighting. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”
    The man took a small swig from a flask at his belt.
    “Goin’ to get bigger still, too, if ol’ Kemperbad has his way. The Church has got a lot ridin’ on these here shipments, y’know. Well, ‘course you do, that’s why they hired you. Goin’ to be the biggest Temple to Sigmar for leagues around. Maybe even as far as Altdorf.” He took another swig. “Biggest piece o’ luck for them, the Baron gettin’ hitched. I suppose you folks would know about that?”
    Another shake of the head. Jurgen looked slightly disappointed.
    “Neurich, I heard her name was. Elena Neurich. Very pretty, but her blood weren’t blue, so the Baron’s chums got in a bit of a strop. That was, ‘till they heard her daddy were so rich he could practic’lly buy their fancy manors from under ‘em.” The coachman cackled. “In she comes with a dowry fit fer the Emperor’s daughter, and within a couple o’ weeks, the Baron’s givin’ it all to von Kemperbad’s cathedral, ‘cos she wants it so. ”
    Jurgen grinned widely.
    “It’s all the same with these high-class ladies, eh? Gettin’ married off to men twice their age, and as soon as the ring’s on their finger, they’ve conveniently found religion.” He paused for a moment, a tinge of caution creeping into his voice. “Not that I’m not a religious man meself, you understand. Say my prayers every day, like the priest says.”

    “Will you shut it, Jurgen?” muttered Hans, from the front. “I can’t hear myself think with your blethering.”
    “And a good thing that is too!” retorted Jurgen, merrily. “You’d be bored to death!”
    Hans seemed to stifle a snarl.
    “In case you ain’t noticed, Herr Mettrinker,” he said, carefully and slowly, “the reason you’ve got passengers to jabber to is ‘cos the last two shipments what came down this road have gone missing. So maybe you could lay off the bottle for ten minutes and keep your mind on the job?”
    Jurgen made a rude face at the man’s back, and took another, defiant swig from his flask. “Miserable bugger,” he muttered to himself under his breath. Lowering his voice, he turned to the passenger on his left.
    “Where’re you from, then?”

    Ahead, there was a sudden rustle – a swathe of fallen leaves exploded upwards in a cloud of dead vegetation, the thick rope that had been hidden beneath it pulling taut at chest-height across the road. The coarse hawser had been tied in irregular knots around a collection of sharpened branches and rusted iron spikes, presenting a wall of ugly points to the oncoming carts. Hans’ horse whinnied in alarm, turning aside and making the heavily-laden cart’s wheels slip briefly on the wet leaves – his reactions dulled, Jurgen nearly drove his own straight into its back, heaving hard on the reins at the last moment. The man’s torrent of curses was blotted out by a sound from the darkness of the trees – the braying of some wild beast, unsettlingly close.

    Emerging from the undergrowth with a crackle of twigs snapping underhoof, the creature loomed into view, a pale spectre beneath the shadows of the forest: its fur was a silky white, its unusual cleanliness a striking contrast to the filthy berdish axe the monster hefted in its disturbingly human hands, and the blackened, almost certainly looted mail tunic that hung around its ribcage. The sight of the caravan’s guards seemed to give it pause, its bestial face contorting in a yellow-fanged snarl – behind it, a smaller, almost child-like mutant was grimacing and capering in the shadow of its master, jabbing in the direction of the carts with a crude spear. Ahead, on either side of the road, horned shadows like the first beast were looming out of the trees, metal glinting in their hands.

    Seeing the weapons in the humans’ hands, the leader made up its mind – pointing its rusted blade towards the carts, it brayed a command to its followers before swinging forwards into the charge itself...
    Last edited by LCP; 2009-12-09 at 09:29 AM.

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    Ogre in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Ithelus sits in the wagon, enjoying the idle chatter of the driver, and wondering if the man was ever in a sober state. He fiddles with his dice and every now and then flicks a glance over to Illiiya.

    At the appearance of the beastmen Ithelus jumps with shock. 'My, he's a big one! Um... Doesn't look to friendly either!'
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Lothar's bearded face splits into a grin as the beasts charge forth and the other guards leap (mostly metaphorically) into action. "North," he mumbles around his pipe.

    He raises the gun he has been carrying in his lap, takes careful aim at the horned shadow on the right of the carts- the instant the thing steps into the mottled sunlight the Drakwald grudgingly allows, he fires. The crack is loud, an unmistakably human sound after the roaring of the lead-creature's command...

    Spoiler
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    Ranged Attack [Aim (Sharpshooter +20%)= BS 55 (1d100)[75]

    In case of damage (Impact weapon; roll twice and pick the highest): (1d10+4)[14]
    (1d10+4)[12]

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Raffy the Sparrowhawk

    The ridiculously tall youth with the stubbly face and the neck tattoo has been an alright companion. Not much of a talker in general, he has managed to keep evenings entertaining with songs, dances and various tumbling feats. For most of the day he's just been slumped in his seat looking bored and surly. His hat is even tilted down over his face as if he's sleeping.

    When the rope comes up and the creatures show themselves, he wastes no time. Without changing his posture, he pulls his blunderbuss with his right hand. Resting the gun across his lap he points its muzzle vaguely toward the closest Gor (the oner to the north) and pulls the trigger. The resulting explosion echoes from distant hills and reverberates through the smokey air. If the target isn't dead, it's likely deaf. But then, so is the Sparrowhawk.

    No sooner is the trigger pulled than the young man disappears from his seat. In the cloud of smoke, it's possible that no one saw him vault up and over the walls of the wagon.

    Spoiler
    Show

    Half action: fire at northeast Gor
    Half action: vault into the back of the wagon
    agility vs. 34 (1d100)[8]
    concealment (don't have skill, do have +10% for being in a rural area) (1d100)[93]
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Illiiya Jaelrae

    The slender elven woman had spent most of the trip in huddled silence, speaking to no one. She handled the cold well enough for someone of her delicate frame, but even still... she was shivering.

    Around her the air hung heavy, and she shivered, though not from the cold. The creature's braying cry set the spark in the nervous anticipation she had gnawing at her for the last half hour. She shrieked as the beast burst from the woods, and huddled down lower in the corner of the wagon.

    Spoiler
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    Illiiya isn't fierce. She's going to recoil in fear and hold action. If one of the beasts draws near the wagon, she'll lash out at it with her magic in a panic, but otherwise, she's very, very nervous about calling to the winds.

    Should one get close enough to attack her or Ithelus, she'll use magic dart on it.

    Casting roll: (1d10)[8], [roll]1d10[/roll]
    Damage: (if it works) (1d10+3)[4]

    If she has time to channel, she will, but I'm guessing since she's holding action and doing something reflexive, that she can't. So... fingers crossed!

    Edit: Crap! Typo! I can't fix that roll now. Should I roll in a new post or just use the 8?
    Last edited by BloodyAngel; 2009-12-09 at 12:03 PM.
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Ithelus frowns and pulls out his sickle and unsheathes it. He then places it on a stone next to him and draws a Throwing Knife, slightly cowering behind the wagon board. He looks to Illiiya, 'It'll be ok, don't worry. Our friends look tough.' At this range he is not much use, but he can at least be ready he hopes. 'My... what a big, er, scary big axe he has.'

    Spoiler
    Show
    Not much Ithelus can do at this range, for the moment all he is doing is drawing a throwing knife to use next turn and then taking cover behind the lip of the wagon as much as he can, in case of ranged weaponry.
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Seth Adelbert

    Seth sighs and shakes his head. "I suppose it would've been too much to ask for a quiet trip" He then spurs on his horse with a hoarse cry and charges the leader, lance held forth eagerly

    Spoiler
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    Seth surveys the available targets, and charges with his lance at the leader (if still up, otherwise the guy next to him)

    Melee Attack: WS 35 (1d100)[15] (I don't know the effect of Specialist Weapon Group, and the online doc is loading too slowly at the moment; will edit with that info if it loads in the foreseeable future)

    In case of damage: (1d10+3)[12] (and again, I don't know demilance bonus damage, or if there's some sort of extra bonus for charge, anything. From this point onward, I will *leave* the document pre-loaded on my desktop so this doesn't happen again )



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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Horse:

    Spoiler
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    Melee Attack: WS 25 (1d100)[94]

    In case of damage: (1d10-1)[8]


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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    The bellow of the caravan’s blackpowder weapons filled the air: Lothar’s musket-ball chewed a spray of sawdust out of the tree-trunk to the left of his target, while the deafening blast of Raffy’s blunderbuss enveloped his own in a cloud of flying shrapnel. Blood running from a dozen cuts across its filthy hide, the mutant staggered back in a cloud of gunsmoke, shaking its head to clear the ringing in its ears.

    Taking advantage of the smoke, Raffy stood and swung himself into the back of the cart, trying to buy time to reload – the beast’s head snapped round at the movement, its bloodied snout twisting into a snarl as it hefted its rusted axe. With a roar, it sprung forwards, Hans standing up in the driver’s seat with a dagger trembling in his hand – the beastman’s leap was ill-judged, however, its balance still thrown by the blunderbuss’ blast. Horned head and bestial jaws smacked into the rim of the driver’s seat, and the beastman fell back into the mud of the road with a pained yelp.

    On the other side of the road, Seth was less lucky – the mail-armoured leader ploughed into him, the jagged edge of its two-handed axe gouging into the metal of the squire’s shield. The white-furred monstrosity brayed in pain as the human’s spear stabbed back in reply, piercing the chain links of its mail shirt – from the front, the second of its followers cannoned into Adelbert’s horse, a dull machete carving into the animal’s forequarters and making the creature rear and whinny in panic.

    Behind the two horned monsters, the little one scurried back along the road, keeping clear of the horse’s flailing hooves – more clearly visible now, it resembled a gamey human child, its skin covered with a thin layer of sharp, bristly fur. Little nubbins of horn pushed up from beneath the skin of its forehead, framing bloodshot eyes and needle teeth – catching sight of movement from the back of the wagon, it looked up at Ithelus, grinning and gripping its spear as it sensed prey that might be too weak to fight...
    Last edited by LCP; 2009-12-09 at 01:41 PM.

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Raffy the Sparrowhawk

    Raffy edges into the far corner of the wagon as he uses his teeth to pull the stopper out of his powderhorn. With deft precision he pours the black powder into the bell-shaped mouth of his hand cannon, measuring by eye.

    Spoiler
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    If possible I'd like to move 1 square south (to be farther from the nearby Gor)

    Reloading: round 1/3 complete
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

    You can grab it on Kindle or paperback.

    Proud to GM two Warhammer Adventures:


    Plays as Ulrich, Student of Law

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Ithelus gulps, things are getting close. 'Illiiya, stay safe, help Seth if you can, but don't get too close' He gulps slightly and fixes the childlike creature in his sights. He hesitates slight, but winces and forces himself to fling the knife at it.

    Spoiler
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    Half action to aim at the Ungor, then standard attack with throwing knife.

    Attack (1d100)[15] BS= 42 (+10=52)

    Damage if hit: (1d10-3)[2]
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Illiiya Jaelrae

    No! No! Go away! Illiiya yelled at the creature, scurrying to the other side of the wagon. Don't make me do it! It will find me! I don't want it to find me!

    Spoiler
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    Illiiya will move to whichever side of the wagon the critter isn't on... and ready an action to blast it if it gets up here and attacks her or Ith. Again, with magic dart. (Hopefully, I'll get the rolls right this time)

    Casting roll! (1d10)[5] and (1d10)[2]
    Damage: (1d10+3)[9]

    Can spells Ulric's Fury? I can't recall. I doubt I'll roll a 10, but I'd like to know and how it works if they do. A Willpower roll? A second casting roll?[/roll]
    Last edited by BloodyAngel; 2009-12-09 at 03:18 PM.
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Seth starts to look a tad panicked; he's not entirely certain what Illiya's combat capabilities are, but she obviously wants no part of it. "HEY! HEY! ME! Yea, you dumb bastards, UP HERE!"

    Spoiler
    Show


    Attack: WS 35 (1d100)[36]
    Damage: (1d10+3)[10]

    Horse:

    Attack: Ws 25(1d100)[82]
    Damage: (1d10-1)[5]

    And ready parry

    Last edited by amgodtic; 2009-12-09 at 03:40 PM.

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    The Ungor hissed as the knife flashed across the open air between it and the cart, slicing a bloody line across its bony shoulder - fixed on Ithelus, its red eyes narrowed, looking for a way to exact its revenge. Slowly, its gaze shifted to the top of the muddy cartwheel, its bestial features taking on an almost calculating look.

    The white-furred beastman roared, whirling its axe over its head to strike up at the squire's neck - Seth ducked in the saddle, the great lump of iron whistling inches above his scalp as he fought to keep his whinnying horse in check.
    Last edited by LCP; 2009-12-09 at 04:12 PM.

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Grumbling curses, Lothar drops his firearm onto his seat and grabs up his kite shield. Jumping from the seat, he quickly hooks the shield onto his left arm and draws one of his swords in swift, practised movements and moves cautiously against the Gor currently shredding the young squire's horse.

    'Beastling! How's about a taste of manflesh?' he shouts, the shield close to his face, the sword ready to strike.

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    The beastman swung round, opening its fanged maw wide and roaring in Lothar’s face. The soldier grimaced at the spray of spittle and halitosis coming over the creature’s yellowed fangs – his moment of revulsion cost him dear, as the mutant’s cleaver-like blade came slicing in over the top of his raised shield, carving a bloody gash into his scalp and throwing him back against the cart. Head swimming, Lothar blinked furiously, trying to clear his eyes of the hot, stinging blood that was dribbling over his forehead – sensing victory, the monster brayed again, advancing on its prey. To his right, Seth stabbed viciously at the mail-armoured leader, but to no avail – the hulking beastman stepped back out of the path of the spear, readying its axe for another blow.

    Tensing its hairy legs, the Ungor scuttled towards Ithelus, swarming spider-like over the cartwheel to pull itself up over the wagon’s side – its toothily grinning face rose above the planking like some nightmarish jack-in the box, lifting its spear in its free hand to pin the elf to the cart’s floor. With a yell, Illiiya stretched out her hand, words she barely understood forcing their way free of her throat – there was a flash, a stink of burning hair, and the wiry monster toppled backward, landing with a distinct thud in the mud below. It was still alive, rolling back and forth with shrill screams as it clutched at the blistering skin of its face...
    Last edited by LCP; 2009-12-09 at 06:51 PM.

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Seth whips his head around at the sound of the axe blow, and gapes momentarily at the reversal; then resumes his verbal bombardment at his foes.

    Spoiler
    Show


    Attack (same target as before): WS 35 (1d100)[9]
    Damage: [roll]1d10+3[\roll]

    Horse:

    Attack (if possible, the beast on Lothar): WS 25 (1d100)[69]
    Damage: (1d10-1)[8]

    And ready parry (if at all possible, to protect Lothar; don't know if the rules allow for that.


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    ...not sure why the dmg roll didn't work

    (1d10+3)[10]


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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    "Manann's blood and Shallya's tits, that hurt! You little..." Lothar's pain-filled voice trails off into various obscenities in Reikspeil and badly pronounced Kislevite. Blood pours from the scalp wound, creating a mask of red; he hefts his shield into place defensively, but his sword is beginning to waver.
    Last edited by goblinpaladin; 2009-12-10 at 04:27 AM. Reason: some rephrasing

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Raffy the Sparrowhawk

    The Sparrowhawk remains concealed within his nest. He has plugged the powderhorn again and simply drops it, trusting its shoulder strap to keep it close to hand. No sooner is it gone than the pouch of shot is in his hand. With his teeth he tears open a moderately sized paper packet and upends it over the muzzle of his gun. Dozens of lead balls skitter down. The wide, bell-like design of the blunderbuss makes it a simple matter to get the shot in quickly and easily.

    As always, he admires the cheap, low-grade ammunition as it falls into the gun. The sign of truly bad shot (such as this) is improper filing. Fresh lead balls come out of their clay mould with a little line around them caused by the seam in the mould itself. A good metallurge will file off the line, leaving a smooth spherical shot. But this was cheap shot with the lines still on - the imperfections are terrible for any kind of precise gun, but the 'buss is anything
    but precise.

    Raffy is sure that the lines increase the size and pain of the wounds the balls cause. They cause the flesh to rip more and the blood to come out faster. Plus, every time he relieves himself he makes sure to run his unwashed hands through a pouch of shot. He grins as he thinks about the filthy, bleeding Gor just outside the wagon.

    Spoiler
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    Reloading: round 2/3 complete
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

    You can grab it on Kindle or paperback.

    Proud to GM two Warhammer Adventures:


    Plays as Ulrich, Student of Law

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Illiiya Jaelrae

    Leave him alone! The elven woman will yell ina panic, the air around her suddenly growing cold. Shay'taan toren i' veshk!

    The winds swirled around her, literally... as the screeching of things unseen could be faintly heard behind the swirl and lash of the frigid air. Her eyes unfocused, as the words seemed to pour from her entirely on their own, and with one outstretched hand, they were loosed. The wind rushed across the wagon in a cacophony of faint, inhuman shrieks. It surged across the ungor, whipping around the creature even as it threw the beast from the wagon. For several agonizing seconds, the frigid winds whipped around it as it lay on the ground, the shrieking building to a maddened crescendo and bloody cuts and tears bursting open across the creature's body. It was as if a dozen tiny claws or tore at the beast, ripping it's flesh open in a score of shallow wounds.

    Illiiya stood in the wagon, watching the ungor's panicked attempt to fight back against whatever was hurting it to no avail. It could not even see the cause of the wounds... but it felt them. Hidden from him just beyond sight amidst the freezing winds.

    Run! Run away! Illiiya said to the beast, a bizarre mixture of pleading and demanding, Make me do this no more! Please...

    Spoiler
    Show
    That was the recap of Illiiya's magic dart. Cool stuff eh? For the rest of the game, it shall act like shrieking razor wind, hurting people by the combined damage of dozens and dozens of small cuts torn in them. That's about as badass and creepy as I can make a power that ultimately boils down to "id10+3" damage. Let me know if it's a bit too much.

    Also when her turn comes up THIS round.... she's standing up so she can see the ungor better... and readying an action to hurt it again if it doesn't abandon it's attack on the wagon. If it tries to get back up here, she'll reluctantly "dart" it again.

    If it comes up. Casting roll! [roll0] and [roll1]
    Damage: [roll2]

    I understand that Illiiya doesn't HAVE to use dark magic, but considering where she learned how to cast in the first place, I'd say it's more instinctive to her than not. It will probably take a lot of effort for her to learn to cast WITHOUT drawing on the Dhar. Plus, it makes her magic wildly powerful and very, very dangerous to use, which is pretty much appropriate for her. She's kinda terrified of her own magic... thinking that using it lets the "things" that haunt her in the dark see her.
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Ithelus snarls slightly at the obvious and very real distress that Illiiya is in. He grabs his sickle and with his resolve strengthened he launches himself over the side of the wagon, aiming to land feet first on the vile creature's face.

    Spoiler
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    Grabbing the sickle then vaulting onto the beastman.

    Agility test: (1d100)[42] (49)
    Last edited by Exeson; 2009-12-10 at 05:39 PM.
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Dropping lithely over the side of the cart, Ithelus landed cat-like in the mud of the road, the still-shrieking Ungor rolling out from under his descending boots – scrambling upright, it held its spearpoint out between itself and its attacker, suddenly much warier of its prey.

    There was a terrified yell of “Help!” from somewhere behind them – both combatants looked round to see Jurgen running down the road, heading away from the caravan as fast as his legs could carry him. Its stomach rumbling, the Ungor shot one last craven glance at Ithelus before turning and bounding after the man – the Elf lunged at the fleeing beast, the blade of his sickle hooking across the back of the thing’s bestial leg. Muscle parted beneath metal, the sickle’s edge tearing across bone – the creature collapsed with a hideous howl, blood fountaining from the wound as it rolled and thrashed in the dirt. Within seconds, its movements had stilled, its corpse still twitching slightly as the blood pumping from its mangled leg turned the mud of the road red.

    To Ithelus’ left, the Bestigor howled as Seth’s spear stabbed into its shoulder, piercing its rusted mail again – blood running from its wounds, it swung its cumbrous weapon in attempted retribution, the squire’s horse prancing back out of the path of the blow. Backed against the trapped carthorses, Lothar huddled behind his shield, his assailant’s blows clattering from the scarred metal – the soldier flicked his head in frustration, trying to clear the dripping blood from his eyes once again.

    On the other side of the road, the victim of Raffy’s first shot had hauled itself to its hooves – with a hungry snarl, it gripped the edge of the driver’s seat, heaving itself up onto the grubby planks. Seeing his chance, Hans lunged – the monster saw him coming, ducking under the dagger’s wild swing and propelling itself forwards with horns lowered. The coachman gave an agonised scream as the curved spikes of bone gouged into his gut, blood drenching his tunic – just barely keeping his feet, he staggered back, clutching the edge of the cart with one hand as he held out his dagger towards the beast with the other. Braying in triumph, the beastman advanced on the wounded man, the penned horses behind it tossing their heads and rearing in terror at its presence...
    Last edited by LCP; 2009-12-10 at 05:28 PM.

  24. - Top - End - #24
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Exeson's Avatar

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Ithelus cries out slightly at the sight of the blood. A lot of blood. He barely manages to hold back his stomachs contents and the blood squirted out of the high-pressure artery. So much blood. Ithelus whips round to focus on something else, anything else. He focus on the Gor leader and curses, before rushing forward, swinging him sickle.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Charge attack at the Gor leader. (A pretty risky move I know, but hey, looks like things are getting a bit risky.)

    (1d100)[86] WS = (35+10 = 45)
    Damage if hit : (1d10+3)[10]
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  25. - Top - End - #25
    Halfling in the Playground
     
    BardGuy

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    The accumulating injuries weighing on his mind, Seth's taunts and barks dwindle to half-hearted moans and cries of frustration, rage and fear. He continues to assail the leader, in a frenzied attempt to get through to the one threatening Lothar

    Spoiler
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    Continue to full attack the same guy

    WS 35: (1d100)[83]
    Damage: (1d10+4)[11]

    Horsse:

    WS 25: (1d100)[94]
    Damage: (1d10-1)[6]

    Aaaand ready parry.

    Last edited by amgodtic; 2009-12-10 at 06:38 PM.

  26. - Top - End - #26
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Raffy the Sparrowhawk

    Raffy's pouch of shot is closed once again. With a simple blunted stick he rams the shot down the barrel, tamping it tight against the charge and makes sure he sees a puff of black powder spray out of the breech. He crams his match into the flint and ***** the hammer.

    Hearing Hans' scream from the front, Raffy curses to himself. Why didn't he run? Goddamn brave peasants. It doesn't occur to him that he is technically a peasant - brave or not - as well. He thinks of himself as a burger and that's that.

    "Run for it, Hans!" he bellows, and leaps up onto the front wall of the wagon.

    Spoiler
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    Finished reloading - 3/3

    I presume I can't shoot this round? Even if not, may I leap up onto the wall of the wagon so I am looking down at the beast? I'm hoping to at least draw its attack away from Hans, even if I myself cannot attack till next round.

    agility 34: (1d100)[99]

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  27. - Top - End - #27
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Blood pours down the former soldier's face as he tries to find footing to avoid the repeated slashes of the mutant's rusted cleaver. Pressed against the terrified carthorses, he had no room to maneuver and is forced to do little more than cower behind his shield as the grunting, hairy creature batters at his shield. The entire world narrowing to a translucent red haze, Lothar finds it increasingly difficult to block the thing's strikes.

    He mutters a barely audible and not entirely gentle prayer to Shallya (for the blood flow to stall) and to Ranald (that the creature would slip and break a kneecap).

    "Get this thing off me! It'd be real nice!" he calls, his voice distorted by effort.

  28. - Top - End - #28
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    BloodyAngel's Avatar

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Illiiya Jaelrae

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    I'm not certain if Illiiya's up yet, but I'm going to post her eventual action before I go to sleep. If it's Illiiya's turn, she will do this immediately!


    Illiiya looked about the scene, oddly less phased by the blood and carnage than one might expect. Her own spells scared her more. The beast things would kill her... but the dark "things" that she could feel watching her made her shudder. Even now she could feel as if something lurked behind her... though she hadn't the will to turn and face it. Her allies fought desperately, and she feared that without her interference, one of them may soon die. Nervously, she choked down her terror, and began to speak.

    All in my head. All in my head. All in my head. All in my head. All in my head. All in my head. She muttered to herself, desperately trying to convince herself of it... as if speaking the mantra enough would make it truth.

    With shaking hands, she reached to the sky... calling out to the winds again as she prayed to any god that would hear her that things that flitted at the corners of her vision took no notice of her.

    Spoiler
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    Moving in the wagon to where she can see the Gor trying to kill Lothar if she has to.
    If she can see him from here, Channelling instead! (1d100)[91] (51) Casting Roll! (1d10)[4] or (1d10)[2] (+1 if I can channel and I succeed at it)

    Magic "dart" damage: (1d10+3)[6]

    Edit: Nope. Spell fail either way. More fluff!


    She chanted her spell, feeling the winds swirl and gather. Try though she might to focus, she could feel them there. They were watching her... eager... waiting for her to falter. For a moment she felt the kiss of fire across her skin, and heard the shrieking of untold horrors around her as she sky began to fade to red as blood. In a panic, she froze... halting her spell midway through and faltering in her incantation to crouch in the wagon with her arms curled over her head, recoiling from the horrible things waiting for her.

    No! No more! Please! Make it stop! She muttered, her voice shaky and strained, It hurts... It hurts...
    Last edited by BloodyAngel; 2009-12-11 at 04:26 AM.
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  29. - Top - End - #29
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    The white-furred beastman snarled as Ithelus careered wildly into its side, sickle flailing – the grimy haft of its axe slammed up, battering the curved blade aside. Shrieking something in its own guttural tongue, it turned its attention to the elf. Ithelus howled in pain as the axe’s wicked edge gouged into the meat of his arm, sending him staggering back with blood drenching his shredded sleeve.

    On the other side of the road, Hans looked up at the shout of his name – remembering the first blast of the youth’s blunderbuss, he made a half-hearted feint to the left before dropping backwards off the edge of the cart, the beastman before him braying in frustration as its axe slashed against thin air. Leaping off the edge of the driver’s seat, it turned to its right, seeing the carter trapped against the rearing horses of the second wagon – with something uncannily like a human grin, it lunged, Hans turning in time to catch its descending wrist with both hands. Muscles bulged beneath the thing’s matted fur, the glinting axe-blade edging down...

    The bloodied Bestigor avoided Seth’s stabbing spear again, its horned head turning between its mounted prey and the bleeding Ithelus – on its right, its brother kept up its furious assault on Lothar, splinters flying from the soldier’s shield as the thing’s rusted blade hammered down again and again. Praying it did not have the wits to change tack, Lothar backed up as far as he could, shield arm still held high.

  30. - Top - End - #30
    Halfling in the Playground
     
    BardGuy

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    Default Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

    Seth continues his desperate assault, it being the soundest strategic decision.

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    Not much to say; this is really all Seth can do

    Attack: WS 35 (not counting any "flanking" modifiers) (1d100)[45]
    Damage: (1d10+4)[5]

    Horse:

    Attack: WS 25 (Also flanking...?) (1d100)[45]
    Damage: (1d10-1)[3]


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