Durin VII and the Reclaiming of Khazad-Dûm IC

[Obscuraphile]

The call has gone forth. The Deathless is born anew and a great host of all the surviving clans of the dwarves is mustering. All the might of that doughty people is gathered together under a single banner as it has not been since elder days. The many pillared halls of Khazad-dûm were named fair even by the lips of the elf queen Galadriel and so they will be again. Noble but foolhardy was the expedition of Balin, son of Fundin, who became Lord of Moria for a time, but such strength was not in the dwarves to retake their ancient halls then, and all perished. But the expedition of Durin VII will not meet the same ill fate.

The host travels with the blessings of the Men of Dale, the Men of Rohan, and even the King of the Reunited Realms come to pay homage and offer gifts. Swords are also pledged, but this is a task for dwarves alone. The elves have all passed out of the world or been left behind now, and none of their number is known in these days. Now the dwarves are the eldest race of the world and theirs is a burden great and heavy. Durin VII promises trade and lasting friendship, but will suffer no man within his halls while they yet linger under the sway of darkness.

Though the elves of Eryn Lasgalen have since departed or faded, and the men of Dale claimed dominion over the forest, the High King of the dwarves wishes not to dishonor the ancient rights of those people, and so Durin VII has taken his host south around the Wood of Greenleaves through the lands of the Dale and Rohan, by leave of the rulers there. As such, by and by he and his company come to the Dimrill Dale, called Azanulbizar of old, by way of the river Kibil-nâla, known as the silverlode in the tongues of men.

All the members of that great host of dwarves breathed deep the air of the valley and cast their gazes high to look upon the mountain ceiling of the halls of their forefathers. Bundushathûr in the north, Zirakzigil in the south, and the great peak Barazinbar in the west. These were called by the elves Fanuidhol, Celebdil, and Caradhras. High upon the brow of Celebdil stood Durin's Tower, like a crown resting upon the white head of an ancient king.

In the vale between the mighty peaks lay the mirror of the dwarves, Kheled-zâram, the mirrormere. Here it was in elder days that Durin the Deathless beheld his reflection in the water and the seven starred crown bestowed upon him by the heavens themselves. To here his long line has returned, before the failing of the world, to reclaim his ancient fastness. The great stone that bears their name stands by. Broken, cracked, and chipped, it has yet weathered all that the world can muster for it to bear and now the greatest artisans of the dwarves set to work restoring its ancient grandeur as each night Durin VII lays his head upon its base for a pillow.

---

"The time has come, my kin. All of our strength is gathered in this valley and that which was foretold shall come to pass. No longer shall our people live in exile from our ancient realm. Once before the Seven Houses of the Dwarves refused to fight for Khazad-Dûm, but now we are one. Feel the autumn chill in the air, my people. Feel it turn to winter's bite. Look to the sky. Mark both Sun and Moon. This day is Durin's Day. On this day not only does a new year begin, but a new age of our people. There stands the Dimrill Gate, its great doors cast down by strife of old, but they are yet strong and merely wait to be reseated on their ancient hinges. This is within our strength. Beyond lie the First Hall and the First Deep. These we will retake first and make our homes. This is within our strength. Then we will rebuild Durin's Bridge, shattered by Tharkûn when he cast down Durin's Bane, and retake each of the seven levels and seven deeps until no longer does a single foul creature inhabit the mansion of our fathers! This is within our strength!"

Gathered here are all the heroes and captains of Durin's Folk left in the world. Those foul remnants of Sauron's forces and Morgoth's before him will know no shelter from our wrath. The fires and forges of the dwarf fathers of old will be kindled and we will burn away the darkness from our halls. KHAZÂD, PREPARE FOR WAR!

[Mathias1313]

Arkul looks around at his assembled kin with pride and determination.
Finally I have purpose

Following the Kings speech, Arkul looks around to see if there are any Durin folk who have not yet gathered into groups.

[heretic]

Klorí

Klorí stands beside Arkul, one hand rubbing his beard and the other on the hilt of his long-handled mace, which rests on the ground before him. The spelunking dwarf is brown of hair and eye, standing just shade above four feet tall. He's on the thin side, for one of Durin's folk, but there's a lean strength to him, the result of hours of "humping boulder"--climbing sheer faces of rock.

Turning his head in a way that he thinks is discreet, Klorí dips a finger into a stained and visibly damp pouch on his belt, and tucks a wad of mud between his cheek and gums. The finger comes out with a squealing *pop* and Klorí's eyes go a bit dreamy as he contemplates the flavors.

Bituminous, I say. Bituminous, with a touch of lime and clay. Good for fuel, but not . . .

King Durin finishes his speech, interrupting Klorí's thoughts. When the crowd roars its approval, Klorí roars too, loosing a few specks of mud from his lip. Listening to dwarves talk is hard work, but it helped when the crowd all did something. It gave Klorí a good idea of what he should be doing. Mud is easy enough to understand, yet contains multitudes. Folk, whether they be dwarves or men, are clear as--well, they're clear as darkness or something you can't right see through.

Klorí turns to Arkul. "The King sure is good at talkin', huh?" He gives an amiable smile, hoping that it is appropriate for the occasion.

[Spiritus]

Nori stands beside his brother, Nain, nodding along to Durin's speech. At the mention of the Rhakhâs he feels his blood heat but tamps it down with the ease of long practice. Clechng and unclenching one fist rhythmically, he turns to his brother:
I'm glad your letter caught me in time. it would have shamed me to miss this.

[Dimers]

Dolinn

Dolinn Orcslayer is an exemplar of Durin's audience. The youth is kitted for battle and for exploration, and his eyes gleam more with each word of the king's oration. Never has a wounded bear given a roar more loud or passionate than Dolinn's answer to the call.

The dwarf himself is nondescript, but his armor and decorations mark him unmistakably. His plate is wrought in a style and hand unused for nigh two centuries, but polished and well maintained, its gleam revealing icons of the divine. And over that purity and shine, he wears grim tokens of combats past -- scraps of bone and flesh carefully preserved so that their presence might overawe other creatures of matching countenance.

The young one smiles with a fierce and honest joy to those around him.

Arkul looks around at his assembled kin with pride and determination.
Finally I have purpose

"A certainty. It will be a glorious expedition, rooting out vermin to give our people an inviolate home." With these words, Dolinn's tone suggests a more experienced man than does his modest beard.

Spoiler: I'm just sayin'.

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Writing this way is challenging.

[razorback]

Khuzum

Khuzum hustled, as he had for a fortnight, barely sleeping, as his legs kept a steady pace. Thrum, thrum, thrum... like a steady, unheard beat of a drummer drove him on. He had been far north, near an encampment within sight of Mount Gundaband, when he heard the call. He was part of a hunting party eradicating the wolves for some humans to set up a community. The pay was meager but honest.
Taking his leave after a few moments of thought, he gathered his gear and set forth that night. While he only saw a handful of people and was not accosted by any animals, it was like the wolves he had hunted were nipping at his heels the whole travel south. He made it to the assemblage the night before the great announcement, looking more the wild dwarf than he was, mud caked and bits of plants stuck in his clothes. While some looked askance at the uncouth northerner, others had made a similar or harder trip and greeted him as a brother, offering up a warm fire, food and drink. He relished in the company, gave thanks and pledges, as the night wore on.
As the great speech was given, Khuzum was stirred and a chant rose up KHAZÂD he joined in and the sound of dwarves was like a thunder that hadn't been heard on Middle Earth in many years.

[J-H]

Jorin

Jorin stands with the others - a typical dwarf, dark of hair, clad in heavy plate armor and with a shield and helm resting on his pack, and an axe at his side. He stands securely, trusting in the skills of his kin and distant kin, and in the gold resting in his pack, with which he might barter if any of the rumored master-works of old are found.

"This shall be a dark yet glorious work. I've yet to fight a troll, but this already feels like coming home."

[samduke]

Rose
Standing off to the edge of the crowd listening to the words that were spoken. Thinking that it would be no small undertaking to go back to reclaim the birthright of her people. but she had her trusty companion and favorite bow and well crafted armor to match.

[Obscuraphile]

The cheers of the dwarves shake the very sides of Dimrill Dale and far above on the snow-capped mountains the roar of avalanches join their voices to those of Durin's Folk. Weapons are readied and lines are formed, and a stillness falls over the valley. A single sorrowful note, played on a trumpet echoes across the host and from the vanguard surrounded by the greyheads of the longbeard clan, Durin VII begins to sing.

The world world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone,
When Durin woke and walked alone.

The song spreads from the lips and throat of the high king, first to the kindred among his house and then to his people.

He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.

More trumpets join the first and music swells lending its strength to the raised voices of all the Khazâd. Almost of their own accord the dwarves begin to march. Their armored feet pound the rhythm of the song against the stones of the valley about which they sing.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty Kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

As the army passes up towards the broken doors of the Dimrill Gate the last light of the sun fades and motion can be seen in the great vault of the first hall. The small savage shapes of goblins scuttle about the trunk like legs of cave trolls who no longer need to hide for fear of the sun. Some of the younger dwarves hesitate with fear at the sight of the enemies arrayed against them, but the captains raise their voices ever louder and the courage of that song in this place is better armor for their souls than mithril would be for their bodies.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shown forever far and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was bladed and bound was hilt;
The delver mined the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale
And metel wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in horde.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The goblins quail and fall back but the trolls roar their challenge and form a line at the threshold of the hall, pounding their brute fists against the dirty, cracked marble floors that were once called fair by every being that saw them. The numbers of the swarthy bowlegged goblins in the great hall swell and resurge around the feet of the trolls. Behind them stand tall, man-shaped uruks in grim ranks.

The army of the dwarves fans out behind the vanguard, forming into great phalanxes with heroes in between ready to press their advantages where ever they can be found. Both sides know that the Gate is the first great obstacle. The dwarves need a foot hold and the forces of darkness need to break their spirits. As the dwarves settle into their formation the music fades and only the deep rolling voices of the Khazâd carry the tune.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

Spoiler: OoC

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This particular battle is unlikely to lend itself well to maps. The valley leading up the the door is broad enough for an army to move about in formation and relatively barren. The opening itself is dozens of yards wide and in front of it on the ground are two massive doors inscribed with runes of warding and prohibition. The hall beyond is high vaulted and huge with massive carved pillars to support the weight of the mountain above. For more information, just ask.

[heretic]

Klorí

Klorí hums along, not brave enough to chase the melody with his own voice. As they march, he takes care to leave his heavy pack with the baggage train.

When the time comes to give battle, Klorí finds himself on the extreme left flank. The spelunking dwarf is a capable climber and sneak. While he can hold his own in the thick of battle, his skills are a better fit for creeping about in the dark and bashing someone important on the back of the head.

His crampons scrape and spark as they skid over the hard stone.

---

OOC: I'll leave all my non-combat gear except for the oil, 100 feet of rope and grappling hook and climber's kit. The plan is to climb or hide somewhere and find an important target to sneakily hit, like sneak attacking a commander or something. I'm also not above leaping down to attack if the moment is ripe.

Anyone is free to join the sortie, as long as you can climb and hide.

[razorback]

Khuzum marches forward with pride, the first time in many a long year that he has been able to.
As the broken Dimrill Gate comes into view, his manner changes as old skills and instincts kick into place. The misbegotten get of the great enemy still lived... and still held Khazad-Dûm. His blood began to boil as he pulled his bow and was about to string it when he saw another group break off and begin to climb. Seeing the advantage of having a smaller group harrass the flanks from unusual positions, he rushes up and nods as he begins to climb with the group.

[GameOfChampions]

Thrakomli

Thrakomli bounces the haft of his axe against his palm as the King gives his speech, he had unloaded everything but the necessary gear (read battle gear) onto Dain before coming to the battlefield. He was leaving his loyal pig companion back at base camp, the big hunk o' bacon had sensed something in the air and had snuffled him good with his massive snout before leaving to root around for something to eat. 'He's a good piggy.'

Thrakomli's eyes mist up a bit as his king delivers his speech and as the song begins to rise up after he starts to belt out the story of Durins people, his people, with all the pride and volume the spike covered dwarf could summon. He pushes and shoves his way through the waves of dwarfs to reach the front rank where he makes sure the last straps of his familial dented scarred grey spiked plate-mail are in place. Then he hefts the axe of his father and begins the march into the mines of Moria, feeling the weight of history as he passes through and sees the crawling goblins, the massive trolls, and the cruel urruks.

Just as the lines begin to close he calls out the charge "Charge sons of Durin! Charge Longbeards! Charge soldiers of Erebor!"

Thrakomli starts his charge, building up his speed until he was a terrifying ball of metal and death. He does not look back to see if any are following, trusting his kinsfolk courage in the face of this old enemy. As he charges into battle he starts up another song, just for himself as he stares down the enemy, not bothering to build up to the roar that the army had achieved and starting as loud as he could. He brings out an old favorite of Erebor, a memory of the failure of the enemy in front of him and the success of Dwarves taking back their homland. The King Beneath the Mountain.

The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.

The woods shall wave on mountains
And grass beneath the sun;
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the rivers golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,
The lakes shall shine and burn,
All sorrow fail and sadness
At the Mountain-king’s return!

Thrakomli roars as he belts out the poem, swinging his axe a few times in concert with the song, as he eyes the closest troll and makes his way into the battle; axe swinging with vengeance, voice roaring in rage, muscles bunching with effort, and heart full of pride.

Spoiler

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I will see your Song of Durin and raise you King Under the Mountain.

All right so Thrakomli is going to be leading from the front, leading a charge of any dwarf brave enough to go with him and target the biggest meanest trolls out there. He will start his rage when he starts his charge to get the troll. Hes also going to attempt to intimidate the troll when he enters his rage with the intimidating rage feat.

I can also do a preform check for the song if you want? Its mostly fluff.

[Dimers]

Dolinn

Dolinn gladly joins the rush toward the heart of the action. He claims no martial mastery or special endurance, but the weapon he wields has a reach like any troll's arm, and he knows he can use it well enough to confuse and dismay the simple-minded wretches. And with an army at his back Dolinn need not fear taking less than a mortal blow. Retreat will be possible if needed.

The young one sings in support of those ahead while he treads sturdily toward the first clash of the campaign.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm with Bonebreaker. Or, rather, a bit behind. He can have the glory of the first hit. Probably taking it, but you never know, maybe dealing it. I'll just be back here with my reach weapon performing mild debuffs.

[Spiritus]

Nori

Faster than his brethren, Nori quickly catches up to Thrakomli in the vanguard, and feels the rage of the beast overtaking him. The roar that springs from is throat is more a bear's than a Dwarf's.

Come and die, Orcs! Taste the axes of Durin's Folk!

Spoiler: OOC

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When I get close enough, I rage and use Feral Trance, and charge whichever Troll Thrakomli is aiming at. That should give me two claw attacks and +2 damage on everything. Let's see how they like that!

[Mathias1313]

ArKul

Flexing his solid corded muscles, he looks around wildly seeming to get caught up in the fervor of the battle chants and song. Seeing everyone start to march forward turning into a charge, Arkul picks out Thrakomli in the vanguard rushing towards the Hated. He charges forth with an animalistic cry as he skinwalks into a large muscled Ram. His cry continues as he quickly makes his way to Thrakomli side.

Spoiler: OOC

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Arkul takes on his predator form as he charges forth changing stats to:
STR = 24 / AC= 15 / Move = 50ft

[fallensavior]

Durgin

Durgin, not being one for singing, listens to the king's song, then at the end lifts his hammer toward the sky with one hand while letting out a mighty cheer.

"Huzzzaahh!!!"

Then he downs the rest of his ale with the other hand, tosses the cup over his shoulder, and charges toward the line of battle, picking out a troll at the front and center to wallop.

[rax]

Dwór

Dwór stands among his fellow dwarves, some familiar, most strangers, and listens to the king's speech. As the king breaks into song, Dwór joins in, quietly at first, then ever louder and joyfully as the rest of the host joins in. Ah, father, it's a shame you're missing this. But I'll do us proud, I swear it!

When the host enters the great hall, Dwór is among the few archers in Durin's army. As the front rank begins its charge, the archers draw and loose as fast as they can, sending volleys of arrows arching over their fellows to fall among the trolls, uruks and goblins. Once the melee is joined, they spread out and start looking for clear shots. Towering over their foes, the trolls make the easiest targets, and Dwór soon draws a bead on one.

Spoiler: Actions

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Dwór will move as necessary to get a clear shot at a troll. He'll try and avoid firing directly into an ongoing melee since he doesn't have the Precise Shot feat yet. Of course, if there are no clear shots, he'll take his chances and shoot anyway.

[samduke]

Rose joins up with Dwór taking shots where she can moving when able to keep up the volley

[J-H]

Jorin

Jorin looks for the meanest-looking troll or orc in the enemy lines, and moves to meet it, his shield and axe held high. "Hold the line and crush them!"

"BARUK KHAZAD! KHAZAD AI-MENU!"

[3SecondCultist]

Kanna

The journey of the great host has been the longest, most exciting experience of Kanna's life, and they have only just arrived at the place that is called Dimrill Dale. Setting out from Erebor - the only home she has ever known - was terrifying at first. The sun is blinding, and the spaces far too open for her liking. Most of the nights on the way have been spent in trenches and little caves of her own making. However, before her lies a sight that may yet have been worth the making of it. The stark and craggy peaks of the Misty Mountains stand before their company, as grand and imposing as any god. In her head she names the peaks before others can claim the privilege: Zirakzigil, Bundushathûr, and the summit of Barazinbar. All of these are markers, the living history of her people. And there, lying in its shadow, is a perfect surface of black glass. Kheled-zâram, the loremaster thinks to herself. The Mirrormere. As the dwarven host gathers and she listens along with her kin to their fair king's speech, she cannot help but think of the tale of the great Balin, famed compatriot of Thorin Oakenshield and original reclaimer of the pit now called Moria, who fell upon its banks to an orc's arrow. It is a part of the lake's history that the king has omitted in the telling.

And then comes the darkness of the East Gate, and Khazad-Dum swallows them. The bones of the dead break under their feet, and a black host stands ahead. The foul spawnlings of the Enemy seem to know no limit to their number, even the large cave trolls - called olog in the Black Speech, though she would not dare utter that name - stand strong before their vanguard. King Durin's song and the clarion call of the dwarven trumpets rings into the deepness, and the battle is joined! Kanna remembers tales that her father told her of the Battle of Azanulbizar, the climactic moment of the War of Dwarves and Orcs. She wonders whether they will all die retaking these halls, and if they do whether the next effort will write similar songs about them.

Therefore, although there is music in her heart, Kanna can not bring herself to belt out the words of her kin. Besides, her place is not for singing. The verses and kennings of ages gone by hold little interest for her, despite the stirring of old cares that have once been worn down. Instead, the lorekeeper sees two dwarves of their company - she has already learned their names and recorded their family trees, for posterity - begin to break off from the rest of the group in order to engage in what looks like a quiet sortie that could involve some sort of climb, as Klorí son of Kloín carries rope and other assorted tools for such an action. Realistically assessing her strengths and weaknesses, Kanna decides in that moment that they may yet need a third company member. Shouldering her pack, the russet-haired dwarf woman follows in the footsteps of the other two scouts. Perhaps my skills will be of better use to them than in the vanguard.

Spoiler: OOC

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Kanna will join the climbing / stealth team, since she's got good modifiers and some pitons (but no rope or grappling hook yet). She also doesn't have any ranged weaponry to speak of, but she can definitely protect the team should they get into trouble.

[Obscuraphile]

With the ringing blast of dwarven trumpets and the foul blare of orcish horns battle is joined. The great lines push against each other searching for strengths and weaknesses. The spears and axes of the dwarves turn black with foul blood and, despite their valor, orcish blades taste the vital fluid of the Khazad. The deep basso of Dwarvish captains bolster their kin and shore up their lines as shields lock together with the tenacity of stone. The mountains themselves could form no more imposing a barrier than the shield wall of Durin's Folk this day.

But so too, never has a cornered wolf fought more savagely than the orcs of Moria. Their bows creak and their black arrows hiss. The great grey trolls with their scaled skin and knotted fists drive forward into Dwarvish lines, heedless of spear or axe, and all the while a foul chant goes up from the collected host of evil. "Nazg, Nazg, Nazg!"

Spoiler: Climbing Team

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Klorí, Khuzum, and Kanna make their way slowly upwards, unseen for the moment.
OoC: Climb Checks from everybody, as well as spot checks to locate orcish captains/determine where your advantage might be put to best use

Spoiler: Archers

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Dwór and Rose take up positions in the small archer corps behind the shield wall. Within the corps pairs and trios of dwarves direct showers of arrows where they seem to do the most good, either providing relief or sowing discord as the situation demands
OoC: Go ahead and make attack roll and damage rolls. You can target regular orcs and goblins, counter fire the goblin archers, shoot at a troll, or you can even try to officer snipe with a spot check.

Spoiler: Against the Troll

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A clearing in the battle quickly forms around a great armored troll. It roars its fury and slams dwarves aside with a massive, crude warhammer. The rank and file raise spear and shield to keep it at bay as Thrakomli, Dolinn, Nori, ArKul, Durgin, and Jorin wade in to slay the beast.
OoC: You are at the center of a ring of dwarvish spears, keeping the troll contained and additional orcs out of the fight. Please roll your attacks, assume any conditions you need to make the mechanics work out, e.g. you have lanes and distance for charging if you so desire. Also please roll initiative. The first proper round will begin after everyone has made their opening attack, provided the troll is still standing Feel free to populate the clearing with anything you find thematically necessary to the fight: dead bodies, large boulders, etc.

Spoiler: OoC Everybody

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Sorry if this feels clunky. I realize that I should have called for opening rolls at the same time people declared their actions in order to avoid this repeat of previous events. My bad. I'll endeavor to avoid such blunders in the future. No promises though.

[Spiritus]

Nori leaps off of a boulder about 15 feet in front of the troll, aiming to drive his clawed fingers into it's eyes.
Die, beast!

Spoiler: ooc

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Jump (1d20+14)[30]

Okay, I've got three Unarmed Strikes:
(1d20+9)[25]
(1d20+9)[22]
(1d20+9)[13]
And the Bite
(1d20+6)[15]

And Damage:
(1d8+8)[14]
(1d8+8)[16]
(1d8+5)[6]
(1d6+6)[8]

Since I'm in both Whirling Frenzy and Feral Trance, My AC is currently at 22, 26 against the Trolls.

[Spiritus]

Spoiler: OOC

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Intiative: (1d20+6)[26]
Guess I'm eating the AoO.

[J-H]

Jorin

The troll swings its oversized club in huge arcs. Jorin rushes in from the side, hoping the troll hasn't spotted it yet.

Spoiler

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Do I get to avoid an AOO while closing if I win initiative?
Init (1d20)[16]
Axe attack (1d20+9)[21] for (1d10+5)[7] damage including +2 damage vs giants
AC 21, 25 vs giants

[Mathias1313]

Arkul

In his muscled Ram form he goes charging head first into the beast.

Spoiler: OOC

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My Initiative is (1d20+1)[10]
I'll perform a charge action, so...
To hit (1d20+13)[31]
Damage if it hits= (1d6+11)[16]
This will make my AC = 13 until my next action

[rax]

Dwór

Sighting a nearby great troll advancing on the dwarven line, Dwór draws and looses his bow twice in quick succession.

Spoiler: Actions

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Full round action: Rapid Shot with bow including Point Blank Shot (1d20+9)[28] and (1d20+9)[21]
Damage (1d8+4)[6] and (1d8+4)[10]
Special: An enemy hit by Dwór is considered flanked by him when adjudicating allies' attacks. This lasts until the allies have attacked or until the start of Dwór's next turn.

Crit confirmation if necessary (1d20+9)[24] and (1d20+9)[11]
Extra crit damage if necessary (2d8+8)[19] and (2d8+8)[17]

AC 18 (+4 from chain shirt, +1 from buckler, +3 from Dex)
HP 41/41

[heretic]

Klorí runs at the wall and jumps, clinging to the wall and scuttling upwards like some cave beetle. If he is outpacing his peers, he will consider securing a piton and rope for them if necessary.

---

Rolls in OOC

Jump: 12 (adds 3 feet of climbing for Leaping Climber)
Climb: 31 (if 10 feet climbed in one action, add another +10 feet for Speedy Ascent)
Spot: 19

[fallensavior]

Durgin

Durgin charges in, whirling his maul around in an arc at the haft of the troll's warhammer.

"ISHKHAQWI AI DURUGNUL!"

Spoiler: Actions

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Free action: activate Whirling Frenzy rage (+4 Str, +2 AC, +2 reflex, one extra attack at full BAB, -2 to all attacks.)
Full round action: Charge (+2 to hit, -2 AC), with Pounce
Power Attack for 1
Attack #1: Sunder attempt opposed attack roll - (d20+15)[23] damage - (d10+11)[20](ignores hardness of 20 or less)

Spoiler: If the sunder misses or the warhammer doesn't break

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Attack #2: Sunder attempt opposed attack roll - (d20+15)[16] damage - (d10+11)[21](ignores hardness of 20 or less)

Spoiler: If the troll's weapon is sundered

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Attack #2: opposed attack roll - (d20+7)[12] damage - (d10+11)[15]
Crit confirmation opposed attack roll - (d20+7)[24] crit damage - (d10+11)[13]

[razorback]

Khuzum follows the others up the facing, grabbing and huffing to get purchase on the rocky wall. Grunting for the exertion, he gains a handing though it takes him quite a bit longer than the others.
Spying out across the engagement, he looks at the one who took the lead as he approaches Klorí. "I am Khuzum Il Gdruk, son of Khurdurm. What is your plan? I am fairly good with the bow and the chain." the gruff dwarf says.

[GameOfChampions]

Thrakomli

Thrak angles in his move so that he is coming in towards the side of the troll while several of the dwarves with him charge the troll head on. He swings his axe with more force then precision, relying on the size of his enemy to help him hit rather then his own aim.

As he swings he locks his gaze with the next nearest troll, the brutal snarling face carved into his helmet echoing with his war cry as he makes a silent promise to the next troll 'You're next.'

Spoiler

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Initiative: (1d20+2)[22]

My AC is 20 normally and 24 against the troll

Thrakomli will move in to the side of the troll and attack it. Normal move no charge. He will activate his rage during his move and use Intimidating Rage on the nearest troll that is not the one they are attacking.

Attack: (1d20+8)[26] subtracted 5 from the attack to put into damage from power attack (+2 from the strength bonus from rage, +1 from the masterwork bonus and the +2 from flanking)

Damage: (1d10+10)[11]

Intimidate to demoralize troll: (1d20+9)[28]