Othniel's Ironfang Invasion I

[Othniel]

Night of the Iron Fangs

Our adventure begins in the town of Phaendar, nestled along the southern bank of the Marideth River, a stone’s throw from the Southern Fangwood Forest. Trade comes through the town over Phaendar Bridge, the only suitable place to traverse the swift, rapid-coursed river for 50 miles in either direction. The town of 400 residents rarely sees any excitement, making the Market Festival a major source of news, entertainment, and revenue. The 2-day affair, held once every 3 months, gathers farmers and herders from across the Nesmian Plains, as well as woodcutters from the nearby Fangwood and prospectors from the Hollow Hills, to trade for supplies and raw materials. Even traders from the “big city” of Tamran make their way to the event, swelling the town’s population to half again its normal size.

Phaendar’s Market Festival draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas, many solely to hear Aubrin the Green—the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric—recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. This night, she held forth at the Taproot, the town's single inn, known to the locals as "the Root." The Root was owned and run by Jet, a recent transplant to Phaendar of mixed Shoanti and Varisian descent with twin black braids, black eyes, and an iconic teal scarf worn around her waist. Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town.

“So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”

Jet heads into the back rooms to fulfill a request while crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, and eventually someone tops off Aubrin’s tankard and pushes her back into the center of the room.

“All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay, Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“

The front door explodes into splinters. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her. The terrified villagers assembled scream and run for cover. Some rush up stairs to hide while others head for the back rooms intent on escape through the back door.

Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying. Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone.

The first one through the door, a tall, squint-eyed brute, looks over the people gathered and leers. "All right, you lot! Drop any weapons you have and kick 'em over. You're working for the Ironfang Legion now," he says, trying to intimidate them into cooperation.

His accomplice, a shorter fellow with a scar over one eye, appears to be clutching a backpack bulging with items. "You'll cooperate, if you know what's good for you!" he shouts, trying to back up his comrade.

Spoiler: Roll Initiative!

Show

PCs' turn. Please place yourselves on the north or east side of the green line (in the main bar room only) and you may act!

Spoiler: Maps and Such

Show

Maps and Such

A: Oreld's Fine Shop
B: Phaendar Trading Company
C: Riverwood Shrine
D: Taproot Inn
E: Phaendar Bridge
F: Aiden's and Jocasa's Cabin
G: Veric's and Septimus' house
H: Ulva's Family's Farm

[Tychris1]

Ulva

The ginger cyclops watched the story with quiet excitement, her single green eye sharply focused on the retired Chernasardo Ranger. Normally she avoided the Market Festival every year, only attending on occasion when her family members forcibly dragged her in an attempt to socialize, and yet this year was different. She had always looked up to the local Caydenite cleric, figuratively that is, and would sit enraptured listening to her tales of heroism wistfully wishing she could attempt such feats herself. That she could stand before a crowd and hold them in the palm of her hand with a grand story of bravery, sacrifice, or hilarious circumstance. It was perhaps the best conclusion to the most terrifying day in her life when her farm and family were attacked by those savage Hobgoblins and Ulva Vansich of all people had the honor of being tended to by the Caydenite Cleric's own healing powers. The ex-Chernasardo Ranger had even gone farther than anyone else in town in terms of bridging Ulva's incredibly distant nature when she spotted the amazon standing around staring at the sky in the middle of the town and invited her to tell her the whole tale of that raid at the Market Festival.

That was a week ago to the day, plenty of time for Ulva to prepare herself and plan every word to say and how to say it, and yet she still found herself fumbling about in her hand and losing energy in the retelling of it to her practice audience of logs and rocks. She felt vulnerable, not only due to the great expectations she envisioned of Aubrin but also in recounting such a dark period. She could only manage to finish the tale by physically and silently emulating as much of it as she could. Dressing in the full stained regalia gave her a measure of confidence, enough so that she could muster the courage to try and tell her the story after Aubrin had finished this next one.

Or she would have had a massive foreign object not impaled the Caydenite Cleric.

Tensing up and pushing back her seat, Ulva looked about and watched as the world slowed to a halt. Blood floated by in the air, sweat began to form at the tip of her brow, and everyone's horrified expressions congealed together into a disgusting choking wall of panic. Her teeth gnashed together, her eyes focused and pupils dilated, and finally time returned to normal as her hands clenched around her massive spear and her voice ripped itself out of her throat.

"NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Spoiler: Actions

Show

Charge H2!

Power Attack!:(1d20+7)[13]
Damage:(1d10+9)[16]
Crit:(1d20+7)[27]
Damage:(1d10+9)[18]

[PepperP.]

Veric had been hanging on Aubrin's every word as usual when the chaos erupted around him. He had jumped up and had his bow at the ready before he knew it and aimed it at the tall squint eyed brute.

Spoiler: Attack on H1

Show

(Favored enemy)

Attack
(1d20+7)[8]

Damage
(1d8+3)[9]

[Nefarion Xid]

"Isn't anyone in this town sober?" Septimus yelped, nearly toppling off the highback chair at the bar while fumbling for his crossbow and a bolt. "Everyone, out the back and get to the Trading Company! Straight there. Don't go home first, they should have weapons there. What in the Hells is happening?"

[TheDarkDM]

Aidan

The Market Festival was a stressful time for Aidan. While years had gone by with no sign of pursuit from Daggermark, the Festival was the ideal time for a stranger to infiltrate the town. He'd lurked around the edge of the festivities with a watchful eye, more than a little hopeful that this time something would go awry. His and his sister's continuing purgatory in sleepy Nirmathas wore on his sanity, and he longed for some confirmation that their cautious years had not been wasted. Still, as ever, there was no sign of trouble. No faces in the crowd that betrayed a more sinister purpose than country bumpkins looking to relive the tedium of their lives. It was with familiar disappointment that he had continued on to Vane Oreld's shop to get the man's order for the next month. It was rare that Oreld had need of much from the Fangwood, so established was the family's presence in town, but the man always had a few things no one else seemed willing to supply. In the back of his mind, Aidan feared that Vane traded with him out of pity.

His business concluded, Aidan had returned to the town square to find Jocasa, mingling with the locals in her strangely personable way. He had never understood what she saw in Phaendar, but he was happy when she was happy. He had intended to return home once they reunited, but had been powerless to resist as she decided instead to drag him to the Taproot. The Root was buzzing with people, of course, many drawn to the one-legged ranger that passed for a local celebrity. Though he was loathe to admit it, Aidan did enjoy the woman's tales, and with the aid of a tankard and a side of venison he was even beginning to warm to the evening.

Then the door exploded.

Standing to regard the two brutes, Aidan leveled his fork at the squint-eyed brute in the lead.

"I don't need weapons to kill vermin."

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the fork flying prongs-first towards the hobgoblin.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Throwing a fork!

Attack: (1d20+4)[22]
Damage: (1d4+1)[2]
Sneak Attack: (1d6)[2]

Crit: (1d20+4)[21]
Damage: (1d4+1)[2]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Torg Stone

Torg had spent much of the morning and afternoon doing what he always did during Phaendar's market festivals: tending to animals. Local farmers brought animals in various delicate conditions, be it illness or pregnancy, for the dwarven druid to examine. It was often messy and depressing work; Torg had put down a hunting hound showing early signs of rabies, and his forearms had been slick with placental cow's blood up to the elbow for three hours. He had finally got a chance to wash up and rest a bit, although he was never comfortable in a tavern environment.

He stoically nursed a cup of water, half-listening to the ex-ranger's tales. And then the chaos enveloped them.

Torg only half-processed the presence of the hobgoblins; numerous people were already attacking them regardless. Instead, the dwarf couldn't take his eyes off the horror of Aubrin impaled to the wall. He rushed to her side, speaking a soothing word in Druidic, trying to stop the bleeding if the woman was even still alive.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Torg would have cast Goodberry earlier in the day: (2d4)[3] berries.

Torg will cast Stabilize on Aubrin.
Heal check to see if she's even still alive: (1d20+7)[25]

[Jade_Tarem]

Jocasa

The younger Kael adored the tales Aubrin would spin at the Market Festival, not caring a whit whether or not any of them were true. She'd waited all day, mingling with Nirmathas's top halitosis specialists just to make sure she could drag Aidan here and get a good seat. She'd held off on drinking anything too strong; it was a source of minor embarrassment to the elf that she was absolutely a cheap date, and she didn't want to black out before the entertainment really got going, nor did she want the evening to conclude with Aidan holding her hair while she 'accidentally' hurled into Rhyna's flower garden again (because seriously, screw Rhyna).

When the door exploded, Jocasa had made it about halfway through her first beer and was already slightly buzzed, but that didn't stop her from leaping to her feet and drawing her dagger. "Oh hells, not these guys again!" And then everything was on fire, people were screaming, Aidan was throwing silverware... well, it looked bad, and she was sure she'd start panicking as soon as the reality sunk in. At the moment, though, she was still moving on reflex.

[Othniel]

The Root

"Elf!" Squint-Eye hollared, his voice rising to a shriek. Despite his reaction, he chose to avoid moving past the more heavily-armed woman in front of him, leaving her for his compatriot. Instead, he shifted left and came at Veric with his longsword raised. The other hobgoblin dropped the bag he was holding and moved forward, swinging his blade at Ulva and ducking under the sudden opportunistic attack she attempted.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

H1 moves and attacks Veric: (1d20+4)[5]
Damage: (1d8+2)[8]

H2 moves forward, triggering an AoO, and attacks Ulva: (1d20+4)[23]
Damage: (1d8+2)[6]

PCs are up.

[TheDarkDM]

Aidan

Laughing in disturbing and mocking glee as the hobgoblins moved in to attack, Aidan drew his dagger and circled around the scar-faced second, ducking nimbly under his wild swing to come up on the other side of him.

[Tychris1]

Ulva

Crying out in pain, Ulva looked down at the gash in her side and took a step back. Her hand reflexively reached down to it, smearing the armored appendage in her own life water in an attempt to cover the wound, and it soon traveled along the shaft of her weapon as she thrust it towards the Hobgoblin across the table.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN WHATEVER PIT YOU CRAWLED OUT OF!"

Using a chair as leverage she stabbed the tip of her spear into the Hobgoblins side, sneering at the orange skinned mercenary "YOU THINK YOU CAN COME IN HERE AND BUST THE PLACE UP? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!"

Spoiler: Attack

Show

Attack:(1d20+6)[19]
Damage:(1d10+6)[10]
Crit:(1d20+6)[21]
Damage:(1d10+6)[9]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Torg Stone

By soil and stone, she lives.

Torg's brow was furrowed in dire concern as he gazed upon Aubrin's wounds. He applied pressure to stop the bleeding as best he could, then fished out a blackberry from a pocket at his belt, and put it in her mouth.
"Chew, lass. Swallow. We can't remove the shaft just yet."
The berry was infused with a bit of druidic magic, enough to start the healing process at least.

The dwarf unslung his shield, little more than a cross-section of tree trunk on a leather strap, putting up a wall of stout wood between himself, his injured charge, and the chaotic melee unfolding nearby.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Torg will ready his shield, and feed Aubrin a goodberry. That will heal her 1 hp, and provide a day's worth of nourishment. He'll offer her a shoulder to lean on as well.

[PepperP.]

Veric

Veric growled a curse as his hands shook and his shot veered wildly off course. Facing an actual enemy was a lot harder than they made it sound in stories. As the hobgoblin neared and took his own wild swing, Veric backed up until his foot hit Aubrin. The wretched creature was too close to use his bow now. His thoughts were a frantic mantra of curses as he dropped his bow and pulled his dagger in desperation.

Spoiler: Attack rolls

Show

Attack H1
(1d20+4)[13]
Damage
(1d4+3)[7]

[Jade_Tarem]

Jocasa

Following the sound of her brother's laughter, Jocasa moved to take her place in their usual tactic - outflank the enemy, and the first one to see an opening stabs something important.

Spoiler: Attack!

Show

Attack Roll: (1d20+5)[25] (Includes flanking)
Damage: (1d4+3)[7] + (1d6)[2] sneak attack.

[Nefarion Xid]

Swinging around to hide behind the bar, Septimus squated down and took aim. He repeated his command to the unnamed civilians still gawking about, "Trading Company! It's the most defensible place in town!"

Spoiler: Crossbow

Show

(1d20-3)[15] shooting H2
(1d8)[8] damage

Diplomacy roll? (1d20+13)[32]

[Othniel]

The Root

"Wh...what?" One of the villagers seemed shocked out of his fear just long enough for Septimus words to register. He pulled the next to her feet and motioned for the other two to follow him as he moved toward the door to the back rooms. The four villagers rushed through the swinging door and were out of the immediate fight.

Meanwhile, Jocasa's well-placed dagger incensed her target, and he turned on her, swinging his longsword in a great sweep. His companion, slashed with two deep wounds, concentrated on Veric.

Aubrin's eyes fluttered open as she chewed the berry Torg thrust between her teeth and she let out a painful groan. "Keep...keep everyone together. Don't know...how many..."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

H1 attacks Veric: (1d20+4)[5]
Damage: [roll]1d8=2[/roll]

H2 attacks Jocasa: (1d20+4)[19]
Damage: [roll]1d8=2[/roll]

PCs are up.

[Tychris1]

Ulva

Continuing her assault, Ulva brought her spear up and brought it crashing back down towards the Hobgoblins jugular.

Spoiler: Attack

Show

H1
Attack:(1d20+6)[7]
Damage:(1d10+6)[8]

[Jade_Tarem]

Jocasa

Disappointed that the shanking didn't take, Jocasa tried again.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Attack: (1d20+5)[8]
Damage: (1d4+3)[7] + (1d6)[4]

[TheDarkDM]

Aidan

His laugh turning to a snarl as the hobgoblin narrowly missed his sister, Aidan lashed out with his dagger.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Sneak Attack!

Flank Attack: (1d20+6)[25]
Damage: (1d4+1)[4]
Sneak Attack: (1d6)[1]

Crit: (1d20+6)[13]
Damage: (1d4+1)[3]

[Nefarion Xid]

"Grab what you can in the kitchen, we'll go together," Septimus cautioned the fleeing patrons while setting another bolt in place as he moved through them to look out the back door.

"Can anyone else shoot? My father didn't love me, so among other character flaws, I can't shoot for ****!"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Torg Stone

Torg's strong arms wrap around Aubrin's waist as he helps her hobble to the rear of the tavern.
"Hush now. Save your strength."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Torg will help Aubrin; I'm calling it a double move at half speed. Adjust to compensate if that doesn't sound correct, Othniel.

[PepperP.]

Veric

"I would gladly shoot this godforsaken thing, if I had any freaking room to do so!" Veric snarled at his cousin, feeling a flush of shame at flubbing the one clear shot he did have in his panic. He grit his teeth and lashed out with the dagger yet again.

Spoiler: Attack H1

Show

Attack
(1d20+4)[19]
Damage
(1d4+3)[5]

[Othniel]

The Root

"Get back here!" the newest Hobgoblin snarled at Septimus as the sorcerer backed through the door. Moving up quickly, he pushed through and slashed at the sorcerer.

"Another one!" Aubrin yelled into Torg's ear.

Across the room, his compatriot maintained his assault on Jocasa.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Aubrin has a whopping movement speed of 10 until she heals up, FYI.

H2 Attack vs Jo: (1d20+4)[23]
Damage: (1d8+2)[7]

H3 Attack vs Septimus: (1d20+4)[9]
Damage: (1d8+2)[4]

[TheDarkDM]

Aidan

Aidan's face went pale as Jocasta was struck by the Hobgoblin's blade, though his shock did nothing to blunt the ferocity of his attack. If anything, the elf seemed to grow ever more feral and vicious, his battle cry sounding almost animalistic.

Spoiler: Sneak Attack!

Show

Flank Attack: (1d20+6)[7]
Damage: (1d4+1)[5]
Sneak Attack: (1d6)[6]

Crit: (1d20+6)[16]
Damage: (1d4+1)[2]

[Nefarion Xid]

"****!" Septimus cursed (more shrieked, really) skittering away from the hobgoblin. "They're out back too. Everything is bad!" Between his panicked rambling, he managed to spit out something in Azlanti and eject a bolt of brilliant red energy from his outstretched fingers.

Spoiler: Toppling Magic Missile vs H3

Show

(1d4+1)[2] force damage
(1d20+6)[21] trip

[Jade_Tarem]

Jocasa

The elf screamed when the sword caught her across the face. Blood ran down into one eye, blinding it temporarily. More out of desperation than any martial prowess, she kept up her frantic stabbing.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Attack: (1d20+5)[24]
Damage: (1d4+3)[4] + (1d6)[6]

[PepperP.]

Veric

Grunting with grim satisfaction as the hobgoblin in front of him finally went down, he ran to where he'd last heard Septimus shouting. Seeing yet another hobgoblin lying prone on the ground and with a leap and some help from the polished bar, he was sliding and over. He plunged his dagger down and prayed he struck true.

Spoiler: Attack

Show

"Dukes of Hazzard" over the bar
(1d20+4)[21]
Attack
(1d20+8)[24]
Damage
(1d4+3)[6]

[Tychris1]

Ulva

Dropping her polearm onto the ground, Ulva looked back at the commotion coming from the back and sprinted as fast as she could. Barging past Septimus, Jocasa, and then vaulting over the downed Hobgoblin she let forth a howl before leering over the downed goblinoid. As she swiftly loped through the Inn she withdrew her axe and shield in simultaneous fashion.

"Grrrr......"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Torg Stone

With the battle moved to the kitchen, Torg stopped his advance, holding his ground for the moment while supporting Aubrin. He whispered a word in Druidic, asking the spirits for guidance.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Torg will sit there and cast Guidance on himself.

[Othniel]

The Root

"You'll get yours!" the prone hobgoblin growled as he tried to stand, but all that came out was a gurgle as Ulva cut him down like so much winter wheat. Relative silence fell.

It was broken moments later by Aubrin speaking in a weak voice, “It... it sounds like there’s an army outside the door. How did they fall on us without being seen? These damn plains are so flat you can see an elk from two days off, let alone an army!” She winces and presses her hands against the bloody hole in her chest. “They sound large. Too large to fight on the ground like honest fools. We need to gather what we can, cross the bridge, and hide out in the Fangwood. I—I know a few secrets that may keep us safe. Should probably figure out how to take down the bridge while we’re at it, else they’ll just march themselves across before we have the chance to hide. Aubrin glanced around the room, as if counting faces. "Where's Jet?”

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Move action to stand, triggering three attacks of opportunity.
Assuming he survives those, he attacks! (1d20+4)[17]
Damage: (1d8+2)[8]

Spoiler: XP and Loot

Show

You gain a total of 200 XP each.

On the bodies of the three hobgoblins, you find the following:
3x Studded Leather Armor
3x Longsword
3x Light Steel Shield
3x Longbow
60 x Arrows

In the backpack dropped at the beginning of the fight, you find:
1x Masterwork backpack
1x Heavy crossbow (with 20 bolts and 10 masterwork bolts)
8x Clearly labeled Potions of Guidance
1x Wand
1x Scroll
Dried goat meat, sheep’s cheese, and a jug of sheep’s milk worth a total of 5 Provision Points.

Leaving out the back rooms because you haven't explored them yet. There is also upstairs.

[TheDarkDM]

Aidan

Retrieving the backpack dropped by the door, Aidan glided over to where the others stood, the savagery of moments ago falling away like mist before the sun. Listening intently to Aubrin, he frowned. Alone, he and Jo might have a chance, but he doubted his sister would abandon these...people. The ones who had leapt to the Root's defense seemed capable enough, but if they were going to survive in the wild for any length of time they'd need provisions. And strong hands to carry them.

"Surely she and the others can't have gone far. This vermin..."

He kicked the fallen hobgoblin.

"Would surely have followed easy prey."

Stepping past the gaggle, Aidan began to search the kitchen for some sign of what occurred.