AA's Kingmaker Part I: The Stolen Lands

[Winterfell]

Viktor rises from his chair, and bids the company farewell with a sharp nod. "By Abadar's will, tomorrow we will see this menace off," he says as he exits, armor clinking and fur cloak trailing behind him as he goes. The paladin pauses on the doorstep, eyes scanning the courtyard briefly in preparation for the morrow's battle. He spies Ilya on the wall, and climbs the ladder after him.

"Ilya," the Viktor says quietly, looking down at his charge with concern. He doesn't speak for a long moment, instead continuing to gaze at the other man. "Ilya, I know you're not worried about the morrow," he says, his voice still hushed. "Please, Ilya, this isn't a game. We've come this far. Be safe," the paladin finishes. He continues to stand close to the runaway prince, occasionally glancing down at Ilya but mostly simply looking in silence at the horizon with his brow furrowed.

Abadar, preserve him. Preserve us all.

[Blisstake]

Tiereas sits still, watching the sun set as he restlessly thinks about the excitement to be had the following day. Never had he been able to kill anyone before, though there were a few situations that came close.

The cold doesn't really bother him, but then again, neither does heat. If it weren't for the comments of his companions, he wouldn't even know that the weather was supposed to be cold. Just another part of being human, that he supposes he'll never figure out. After a few hours just thinking about blood and murder, Tireas goes to an unoccupied room to but his mind and body at rest.

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With resist 5 cold and fire, I imagine he might not know the difference between hot and cold unless it's extreme weather

[Oh My God]

Estanos remains with the couple and speaks with them awhile; though there may be practical information to be gained in increasing his local knowledge, his primary interest is simply in getting to know -them-.

Before it gets too late, however, Estanos will politely excuse himself and retire to his quarters. The first order of business there is setting up his small cage of birds upon a table of simple, rugged construction. Having achieved this, he undertakes to feed them, talking to the canaries in quiet, muted tones, words of friendship and encouragement.

The small chest is then dragged to the room as well, and the priest prepares for bed in his usual way. Reading from the The Birth, he takes down notes as thoughts come to him. It is not long before he sleeps, however; he must be up before dawn so that he can bathe himself, get dressed, and meet the sunrise. He doubts he'll have company, but pleasant surprises can and do occur. He smiles to himself, and slips in to slumber.

[ApatheticAbacus]

The night is clear and dark. Oleg's Post is cast in a pale white hue by the full moon that rises overhead, sitting large and luminous in the sky. One by one, candles are extinguished as the Post sleeps...

__________________________________

There is only a few dim rays of sun creeping through the simple frontier windows as you awaken, or are awakened by Svetlana, who knocks gently on the door to let you know that she has breakfast ready. "If people get hungry before a battle..."

Outside, light is starting to fill the night sky, filtering through the palisade's groves and cracks, though stars still twinkle overhead in the great expanse above you.

Oleg is in the courtyard, hauling boxes of 'tribute' into a pile, visible from the gates. "Dawn," he says as he sees you. "Got an hour, maybe two, 'fore they'll be here. Anything you want to do, now's the time."

[RocketMan]

Ilya yawns, blinking his eyes in the sun as Svetlana wakes the party. "I'll only be a moment," he calls after the departing woman. Closing his eyes again, he drifts off for perhaps five more minutes, savouring the first proper mattress in at least a week. The young man then rouses himself. He dresses carefully, wishing he had a mirror, and splashes some water on his face before joining Svetlana for breakfast, once again liberally complimenting her cooking.

After eating, Ilya returns to the courtyard. There's not much left to do but wait. Bounding up to the wall once more, he sits, humming a tune quietly in the chill morning air.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia is already awake by the time Svetlana calls at the door. She sits on her bed, a fur blanket draped over her shoulders, silently mouthing incantations as she peers down at a black tome lying in her lip. She is so still and quiet, except for her lips, that she seems more statue than woman. Under her robes, which she seems to wear constantly, her golden choker glimmers with red. I am ready.

She casts a heavily-lidded look around the room at her... companions. Yes, she supposes that the word is appropriate, if not altogether to her liking. Ilya, the one who I believe I have seen before. He seems of no great consequence, and altogether too pleased with where he is. Viktor. That one will doubtlessly be useful in the battle, in the same manner an ox ploughs a field. Swordsmen are all the same. Honour, courage, and witlessness.

The priest, foreign, probably a true believer. He has the qualities of one who is altogether good and holy. So noble and virtuous that it makes one sick to think about. That's not how a person is. It's how he ought to be, and when the distinction disappears it is a distasteful thing indeed.

The tiefling? Quiet. That generally speaks to competence in his trade. Loud men who make many promises seldom live to keep them. Watch and see what he does today.

Finished with her musings, and her magical preparations, she slowly eases herself into an upright position, grasping at her staff to lift herself. "I find myself not hungry," she says to Svetlana. Food tastes like ashes on the best of days, and before a battle, with her stomach churning, she doubts it will be any better.

[Winterfell]

Viktor wakes early - indeed, he has had trouble sleeping at all. He gets up silently, before his fellow travellers, except for the wizardess Zinovia, have awakened. The man walks silently across the room, and gets dressed in his simple attire, pulling on his trousers and his tunic. He glances down at his sleeping companions.

Estanos. The foreigner. Viktor doesn't like foreigners, but this one seems kind, if nothing else. We will see how he handles himself in battle, the warrior thinks.

Then there's the demonspawned, Tireas. I must remain vigilant, for I will not trust one of his kind easily.

And then Ilya. He sighs as he looks down at his prince sleeping peacefully. It seems cruel to have brought him here, cruel to thrust him into battle. Ilya had never fought, not for real, only hunting or duelling for fun. I will protect him, if it costs me my life.

The paladin's blue eyes rise to Zinovia, who stills so still that Viktor is momentarily concerned that she has died. "Wizardess," he says, his voice tinged with suspicion. "I know not what darkness dwells in your heart. But at this moment I care not, for you have vowed to protect the good people here." He turns to go, before swivelling his head and addressing Zinovia again. "Study your magics well, wizardess, for I fear we shall have need of them."

Viktor stalks from the guest building. He paces around the courtyard until Svetlana announces breakfast. He eats only a few bites before returning to his room to don his armor. When the bandits arrive, Viktor will be ready.

[Leviathan]

"We will," Zinovia replies simply to Viktor's words. She leaves the words hanging for a long time, her cold eyes studying the paladin. "We shall need your sword as well," she says at last.

No more need be said, and so she leaves to take up her position. As she waits, she murmurs under her breath a spell. She staggers slightly from the casting, while a curtain of force falls over her, shielding her from harm.

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Zinovia will cast mage armour on herself. It lasts for 1 hour, so she'll do it leaving enough time for it to still be functioning when the bandits arrive.

[Blisstake]

As the wizard and paladin have their short exchange, Tireas bolts awake, swiftly grabbing the dagger by his side. After a few short breaths, he realizes no one is under attack, and calms down, placing the knife back on his bed.

He might as well have been blushing if it weren't for his already-red skin.

"Oh. I was worried I slept too late. Apologies."

Without another word, he begins to put on his black leather armor, realizing there is going to be a conflict soon. When finished, he takes up Svetlana's offer on some food, and waits in position for the bandits to arrive.

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He didn't hear anything Zinovia or Viktor said.

[Oh My God]

Up well before dawn, Estanos needs no rousing; every day for over a decade he has risen early to give his goddess a proper greeting. Fetching water in a bucket, and finding a private spot in the corner of the micro-fort, the priest indulges in one of his eccentricities, lathers up with soap, and washes himself clean. One of the pillars of civilization in his mind; soap. The day that Estanos does not wash himself with soap is the day that all reason has fled the world. For breakfast, he eats simply; perhaps a few portions of bread. Cleansed, his clothing restored once more to perfect order, he feeds his canaries and heads out into the pre-dawn darkness.

" I will be leading a prayer, for those who wish to join," he alerts his fellow adventurers, as well as Oleg and Svetlana. Having accomplished that, he heads up to the walkway on the wall facing the horizon which the sun is just starting to kiss. Off to the side, Estanos has done his best to ensure that those who do not wish to take part do not feel impinged upon, he waits for those (if any) who join him before him begins the following prayer.

With his arms raised to the sky, hands cupped as though to hold the purpling dome of the heavens, Estanos intones the following prayer, his cadence calling the favour of his goddess," Great Lady Dawnflower, turn your eyes once more upon this world and warm it with your smile. Grant us light sufficient to see the difficult decisions that we must make in this troubled and turbulent world, the courage to follow that path marked by your radiance, the path of truth and justice, the path we know to be right, and the compassion to forgive those who seek it for falling from this divine way of righteousness."

His hands fall to clasp each other over his chest, cradling the metaphorical seat of his soul. " Warm our hearts with your grace as we prove ourselves worthy of your gaze today in the heat of battle. The fiery furnace where the temper of our steel shall be tested and the mettle of our souls."

His left hand drops to his side, and the right rises, clenched in a fist, to his left shoulder in salute. The ending portion of the prayer sounds less extemporaneous, as though he were quoting some well-worn phrase, "Justice to the true, mercy to the weak, and a swift end to the irredeemable. In your name, peace shall prevail, Sarenrae."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Svetlana wanders over to Estanos as the priest begins his prayer to Sarenrae. Oleg sees his wife and briskly walks over too. "Never put much stock in strange gods," he says dourly. "But no harm in it either." He stands behind his wife, who remains silent, hanging on Estanos' every word for comfort, her head bowed low as the prayer begins. She is trembling gently. When the prayer is finished, Oleg places an arm comfortingly around her and leads her inside.

He returns a minute later, a hunting spear in hand and the plain look of a man who knows trouble is coming etched on his face. "Svetlana's inside, and I'm gonna head that way too. Don't want to make your job any harder protecting us, so I've got us shut in tight and all the doors locked." Oleg takes a long look over his home. "Good luck," he says simply, his voice neither hopeful nor defeated, but just that of a realist who understands the magnitude of what will happen. With that, he turns heading back to his home. A resounding thunk as a heavy wood bar drops in place in the house's door indicates that Oleg and Svetlana are safely ensconced.

As the sun climbs higher into the sky, the day brightens, a pale blue sky falling into place over plain of brown grass that stretches south to the Greenbelt's treeline. You take your positions, waiting in silence, with only the sound of the wind rushing through the Post.

From Ilya's position atop the palisade, he is afforded an unimpeded view of the surround, even crouched low to avoid being seen himself. A family of deer trot across the plains in the distance, near the treeline. And then, suddenly, they freeze, ears pricked, and bolt. From the thick pines of the Greenbelt, a column of horsemen emerge, snaking their way along the plains at a slow gallop. There are eleven in all, and as they get closer, it is clear that they are, without a doubt, the bandits.

Each man wears scruffy, unwashed clothes, leathers mostly, with green and brown cloaks flung over their backs. Most have beards or several days worth of stubble. At the head of the column is a huge man, who seems at least seven feet tall, with a thick neck and a square-jawed head covered by the hood of his cloak. Raucous laughter precedes them as they come to a halt in front of the fort, outside its gates.

"Marn, Tanner, Bol, stay with the horses. Don't want some damn pixie scaring them off. The rest of you, with me. Let's scare the piss out of Oleg." There comes the sound of men dismounting from their horses, accompanied by several whinnies and neighs. Then the bandits come sauntering through the gate, their huge leader in front. The rest follow in no semblance of order, guffawing and laughing crudely.

"Oleg, you crafty son of a whore," the big man jeers as he sees the pile of goods laid out in the courtyard. "Boys, you pack this stuff up. I'm gonna pay our friend a visit and remind him that it's polite to say hello to his guests."

The bandits, except for the three assigned to hold onto the horses, are all inside. The time to strike is now...

Surprise Round

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You've got a standard action each, plus free actions.

Your plan is dependent on some people acting before others, so, for speed's sake, if you want to perform such an action, state in your spoiler that you will perform yours after X performs theirs. Mainly this goes for Zinovia and Viktor, I think.

Map

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L=Bandit leader, the huge man.
B1-10=the bandits.
Your character is your first name's initial in your speech colour.

The map from the AP shows the gate as closed. It is in fact open, and the squares that would be there are traversable.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia listens to the bandit leader order his men about, and then taunt Oleg. She feels something stir within her, and begin to consume her. But it is not righteous anger at the treatment of these good people. It is her magic, bubbling up, filling her, ready to be unleashed. Words are useless here. She steps forward, raising her hands, pointing her thin white fingers towards her foes. A jet of searing flame bursts from them as she speaks her spell, rushing outwards to engulf the bandits.

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Once Viktor moves anywhere, Zinovia will take a 5 foot step to the south and then launch her burning hands southward. This means it will hit B5, B6, and B7, according to the diagram.

Damage: (4d4+1)[13]. Reflex DC18 for half damage.

[Oh My God]

Estanos worries not; they have prepared for this. The Everlight hangs in the sky overhead, watching all. Good will triumph. Evil will be extinguished. Bandits that express remorse will be granted mercy. Those that do not will be granted release of another sort.

Once 'events' begin, he clutches his simple symbol of Sarenrae and begins to cast a spell. " Shield the strong, guard the guardian, defend the world," intones Estanos, placing a hand on the shoulder of the paladin, imparting the blessings of a foreign goddess upon him. Shocking!

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Protection from Evil on Viktor. Here's hoping the bandits aren't morally gray. <_<

[Blisstake]

His left hand drops to his side, and the right rises, clenched in a fist, to his left shoulder in salute. The ending portion of the prayer sounds less extemporaneous, as though he were quoting some well-worn phrase, "Justice to the true, mercy to the weak, and a swift end to the irredeemable. In your name, peace shall prevail, Sarenrae."

Tireas listens to the prayer with feigned interest, and replies, "Thank you, Father... Priest... Brother? Estanos for the uplifting prayer. Hopefully these are the irredeemable, as I am quite eager for battle at the moment."

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Can't see the map from this computer for some reason, so I'll have my course of action up in a bit, either edited on to here or in another post.

[Blisstake]

As the bandits pass, Tireas notices the large man in front, evidently their leader, and thinks about just how unfortunate it would be if the bandit didn't have any useable weapons for the fight to come.

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Using Shatter DC 15 Will on any weapon I can see being wielded by the large man. As a spell like ability, this requires no action, words, or any sort of movement, leaving Tireas hidden.

If this is not possible, or there are no weapons visible, Tireas will instead throw a shuriken at B8.

(1d20+2)[15] vs Flat Footed
(1d2+4)[5] + (1d6)[6] damage

[RocketMan]

Ilya watches the bandits arrive, peeking over the palisade wall occasionally to mark their progress and relay it down to the others. Stringing his bow as he hears approaching voices, he knocks an arrow. "Let's see how they deal with this," Ilya whispers to himself, muttering an incantation, leaving a shimmering, opalescent veneer over the ground beneath a pair of bandits.

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Casting Grease on the 10-foot radius on B8 and B9. Reflex Save DC 14.

[Winterfell]

As the bandits enter the fort, Viktor leaps out from his hiding place, armor shining, shield raised and sword unsheathed. The paladin leaps towards the gate, vowing to seal it to prevent those inside from escaping.

"You shall not escape justice this day, marauders," he cries as he shoves the door shut. "Your crimes end now."

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Strength check to close the gate: (1d20+4)[14]

[ApatheticAbacus]

One moment, the bandits are arrogant, ready to extort, rob, and terrify a poor couple. The next, they are ambushed, taken unawares from all sides before they have time even to react.

Zinovia begins the attack, stepping forth from her hiding place wordlessly, a gout of flame bursting from her hands. Three bandits are caught in the blaze before they know what is happening. Two of these fly backwards away from the wizardess, their dead bodies ablaze. The third leaps out of the way, yet still screams in pain as his skin is seared by the close call.

Estanos touches Viktor on the shoulder, his symbol of the Dawnflower in hand. The paladin is imbued and infused with some small portion of Sarenrae's strength and glory, warding him from evil. So protected, Viktor rushes towards the gates, arms and armour glinting in the morning sun. He grasps the huge gate, throwing all of his weight backwards, tugging them closed. They shut tight, a bar dropping automatically into place with a thud.

Tireas' demonic abilities manifest themselves as the rogue spies the huge leader's deadliest weapon, a recurved longbow that seems as though only one of considerable strength could hope to draw it back. With a mere thought that provides no hint of his presence, the tiefling wills the bow to break. And it does, cracking cleanly in half with a sudden rending noise, and then clattering to the ground.

Ilya's spell coats the ground with an oily sheen. The startled bandits standing upon it unknowingly do not long keep their footing. As they spin to confront their attacks, two of them slip and crash to the ground.

The bandits shout warnings and begin to comprehend their situation as the gates slam shut behind them. But they are still off balance and unprepared, a weakness you can exploit.

Round 1

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You've won initiative, so go ahead and post a full round.

Map

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The gates are now shut, and do impede movement.

B8 and B9 are prone in Grease. The square below (east on the map) each bandit on the map also has grease on it.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia revels in her victory, letting out a triumphant "ha!" She presses the attack, pushing aside the nausea that wells up inside her from her expenditure of energy. The hand that does not grip her staff points into the courtyard and conjures up a bolt of silvery arcana that sails unerringly towards one of the bandits by the closed gate.

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Casting magic missile on B10. Damage: (2d4+3)[6]

[Oh My God]

Estanos hurries forward, hopefully taking Zinovia's position as she takes a five foot step back. Once he's in place, he raises one hand to the sky, and places the other once more on Viktor's shoulder.

" Guide his blade, Sarenrae!"

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Guidance on Viktor, granting him a +1 to his next attack.

I'm going to be touching Viktor a -lot- this campaign, I think.

[Winterfell]

With the gate now shut, Viktor turns, sword raised, towards the bandits. "This is what your evil as wrought!" he yells as he runs towards one of the bandits approaching Oleg's house, oblivious to the risk this puts him in. Reaching it, the paladin slashes at it with his bastard sword.

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Charging (if possible) to power attack B4, taking AOOs as needed. This will set me up to SMITE the leader next round.

Attack roll: (1d20+9)[27] (subtract 2 if the charge failed)
Damage roll: (1d10+6)[10]

Status:
HP 12
AC 17 (19 vs. evil) (or 19/21 if the charge failed)

[Blisstake]

"Surprise!"

Tireas jumps out of his hiding spot, sword in both hands, slicing maniacally at the closest bandit to him.

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Running up to B10 and stabbing him.

(1d20+5)[19] vs Flat Footed
Damage: (1d8+6)[12] + (1d6)[1] sneak attack damage
(Bonus from the song brings this to 20 to hit, and 14 damage)

HP: 8/8
AC: 15
F: +0, R: +4, W: +3
Ki: N/A

[RocketMan]

On the wall, Ilya seeks to bolster his allies. Lowering his bow, the prince begins to sing. The tune is an old Issian war hymn, telling the tale of a great battle long ago. Yet this is no ordinary song, rather it is enchanted with Ilya's magic. The steady beat of his song sweeps down from the wall, inspiring those fighting below.

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Activate Inspire Courage. +1 on saves against charm and fear, and +1 on attack and damage rolls.

[ApatheticAbacus]

The bandits begin to recover from their initial shock, but they are hit again, hard, as they do so.

Zinovia's magic missile slams into the chest of a black-bearded thug, sending him staggering backwards with a grunt of pain. The grunt turns into a gasp as the air evacuates his lungs. The sound of flesh tearing is audible as Tireas' sword emerges from his chest, splattering blood over the ground at the bandit's feet. The man slips, dead, off the sword, crumpling.

Estanos' blessing fortified and strengthens Viktor as the paladin charges forward. One of the bandits, his clothing scorched from Zinovia's earlier blast of flame, manages to slash at him as he rushes by. But the shoddily-crafted blade and the bandit's less-than skilled blow deflects off the paladin's cuirass. Now Viktor is on top of his target. The unfortunate villain manages to parry once, but the paladin quickly corrects his strike, slashing across the man's abdomen with a backhanded strike. With a gurgle, the bandit dies.

Ilya's music floods the battlefield, bolstering his companions with tales of valour at arms infused with ancient bardic secrets. Sword arms are strengthened and stout hearts beat all the stronger.

The bandit leader roars, enraged by Oleg's 'treachery.' "Kill 'em all, boys! And then we'll hang Oleg from his own bloody wall!" He reaches back for his longbow, only to curse as he finds it shattered. Instead, his fist curls around the hilt of his knife. He draws the blade, wickedly curved and serrated, and charges at Viktor. The vicious attack whistles past Viktor's face, deflected by some divine providence that comes in the form of a golden light. If not for the huge thug's evil heart and Estanos' warding prayer, the paladin would have a deep wound.

One of the bandits who still stands by the gates gives a long look, then rushes to grasp the wooden bar that has been recently sealed. His arms straining with the weight, he attempts to lift it up. Not as strong as Viktor, it takes him far more effort and time to haul the bar out of place. But he manages it. "Give us a hand, boys," he calls to his mates outside. "Some upstarts need a killin'!" He draws his short iron sword, assuming a defensive position.

Heeding his words, the bandits who have remained outside the gates rush up to them. One of them starts to pull, dragging the wooden doors open. The two others run into the Post with weapons drawn. "I got 'im, boss!" shouts one, a callow youth with a sprinkle of stubble. He leaps at Viktor from behind, but the attack catches on the paladin's shield.

The other, an older man with a trio of long, raking scars running across his face, sizes up Tireas. His sword comes on guard cautiously. "Let's see what you got, demon!" He follows his words with a series of slashes. Tireas deftly deflects the first few, but the bandit's blade gets past him, cutting across his ribs. "Not much."

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Tireas takes 3 damage.

The two hapless bandits who have slipped in Ilya's grease spell get to their feet. One of the pair raises his bow, drawing back an arrow. With one eye shut tight, he lifts his aim up the wall to Ilya's position. The arrow thuds into the palisade over the bard's shoulder. The other attempts to stand, daringly risking Tireas' counter-strike in doing so. The tiefling does not waste the opportunity. With the aid of Ilya's song, he brings his blade downward onto the bandit as he begins to rise, execution style. It becomes very difficult to rise without a head.

Round 2

Map

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The bandits with names in white don't have any special status. It was hard to see them when it was in black, is all.

The square is the grease effect.

The gate is now open (again).

[Winterfell]

"You have come here to do evil, bandit, but your reign of terror ends. May the Protector of the First Vault bring you to justice!" Viktor cries. His sword ignites with gold flame as he brings it down upon the bandit leader.

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Smite Evil and Power Attack on the leader.

Attack roll: (1d20+10)[22]
Damage: (1d10+8)[14]

Status:
HP 12
AC 19 (21 vs. evil)

[Oh My God]

Up goes Estanos' hand, clutching the symbol of Sarenrae, as high as he can reach with it. " Sarenrae! Sarenrae! Grant us your light!" The sun chooses this moment to finally crest the wall, spilling the fullness of its brilliance into the shadowed courtyard. With this radiance comes a crashing tidal wave of divine presence, filling the fort with its quiet majesty.

The lambent light brings with it a momentary swell of hope in the hearts of the heroes; a hope that is balanced by the edge of wrath the brigands can feel in its embrace. Justice is calling, and she is not pleased.

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Channeling positive energy, excluding the leader and up to two bandits who are already injured (I'm pretty sure only the one who got scorched and lived is still on his feet, but there you go). Throwing down a mass heal to restore HP to Tireas, you say? Yes!

(1d6)[4]

[RocketMan]

Ducking the arrow fired at him, Ilya continues his song as he knocks back an arrow in his ornate hunting bow. "Next time you should aim more carefully," the young man taunts his attacker on the ground. "Why don't I show you how one ought to shoot an arrow?" In quick succession, the bard fires off two shots.

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Free action to maintain Bardic Music. Rapid Shot to fire two attacks at B9.

Attack #1: (1d20+5)[7]
Damage #1: (1d6+2)[8]

Attack #2: (1d20+5)[10]
Damage #2: (1d6+2)[5]

[Leviathan]

Zinovia watches dispassionately as the boy bandit runs at Viktor from behind. She laughs at his futile, clumsy attack as one would laugh at a court jester or some amusement one sees by the wayside. But it does not stop her from raising one black-gloved hand and making a clenching gesture. His mind is subject to a wailing scream that only he can hear.

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Ear-piercing scream on B1 (who I assume is the boy described in the post). (2d6+1)[5] damage and dazed. DC18 fort for half damage and no daze.

[Blisstake]

"I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up," Tireas responds to the bandit that dared to insult him, slashing across the ruffian's chest "I can't hear you over the sound of your organs being sliced in half."

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Attacking the guy who hit me.

22 to hit, and 9 to damage from the OOC thread

[ApatheticAbacus]

Viktor's flaming bastard sword comes crashing down on the bandit leader. The massive man is forced down to his knees by the blow, a gaping wound opening at his shoulder as he roars in pain. The young bandit who tried to flank Viktor, meanwhile, is left stunned and shrieking from Zinovia's magic.

Tireas' wound knits together mere seconds after it appears, thanks to the power of Sarenrae that comes pouring across the courtyard in a majestic wave. Tireas then proves an able swordsman. His opponent's insult is rewarded by a painful death, the tiefling's long blade cutting through flesh and bone. The scarred bandit has barely enough time to blink, uncomprehending, as he dies.

Where Tireas proves his opponent's mockery to be a sham, Ilya has less luck. The prince's taunts belie the fact that his own shots bounce of the bloodstained dirt of Oleg's Post without ever making contact with the bandit. But the bard's song still lingers on the air, inspiring his friends.

The bandits now are starting to look worried. Their numbers are dropping fast and they have yet to take down a single enemy. "What do we do, Happs?" one of the bandits calls to the huge man. The leader, Happs, staggers to his feet. "Kill 'em all! Fast!" He jabs at Viktor again with his dagger. This time his weapon manages to find a crack in the paladin's defences, sticking between the armour's plates, and coming out wet with blood.

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Viktor takes 5 damage.

The boy who flanks Viktor is stunned, unable to do anything, let alone fight, as shrill screams fill his head. But one of the other bandits, who stands beside him, jumps towards Estanos, catching the cleric in tight quarters between the wall and the Post's guest quarters. He catches the foreign priest across the arm with a wild stab.

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Estanos takes 4 damage.

The remaining two bandits - one who still stands just outside the opened gates, and the other who wobbles shakily atop Ilya's grease spell - look at each other, then at Tireas, who has just slaughtered two of their friends. Both pull back their bows and fire. One of the shots grazes the tiefling's shoulder, but the other misses entirely, fired without aiming. The bandit who still stands outside the gates begins to slowly back away from the fighting.

Round 3

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B1 is dazed.