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"TO ARMS!" Neshi yells out as he leaps up to engage the sudden threat. Food forgotten, he rips his khopesh free of its hasp and brandishes it wildly at the snarling, green-skinned hobgoblins.
He strides toward them, yelling curses and whirling his sword to draw the foes' attention away from the grievously wounded Chuck. "Ha-garakk! Come to me, thou vile craven knaves! Come unto me, blighted spawn of Seth! Come unto me and meet thy doom!” Faint starlight glints off the curving blade as again and again it slashes through the air, like a bold silver serpent challenging the coming jackals.
Neshi kneels by the wounded Chuck and places his hand on the spurting wound. He feels the warm blood flowing, the small face growing pallid. Nobody dies on my watch! He stabs his sword into the ground and then grasps his holy symbol. “Holy Horus, I beg of thy healing for this pilgrim, unjustly wounded”
(Exchanging Create Water for a Cure Light Wounds: (1d8+1)[3])
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Hey, you. Yes, you. Come on. SMILE.
((Ah, clever way to show the positions. Much obliged. My mediocre initiative roll is in my previous post, and I don't know exactly what I'm going to do until it's my turn. Also, to streamline, you might just want to roll initiatives for people who might take a while to respond. That's just my opinion, though. Oh, and what about Zimdo? Anyway, as for now, here's another free action!))
Regaining his composure, Martin jokes to Neshi in the heat of battle, "Well, I guess this is the best way to learn about hobgoblins!"
Last edited by ByeLindgren : 07-03-2007 at 02:16 AM.
((Well, assuming none of the hobbos drop (and no one is foolish enough to stand in the way of a sorcerer) I can describe my action now and roll later.))
Martin sees the cluster of hobgoblins in front of him and quickly formulates the best course of action. He attempts to cast color spray, leaving himself open for one of the hobgoblins to strike. If successful, an intense rainbow spray shoots from Martin's hands, briefly engulfing five of the hobgoblins. Afterwards, he moves twenty feet directly away from the hobgoblins.
Spoiler
Area of effect, as per DMG 15 foot cone:
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In case you need to resolve this while I'm not here, Martin's AC is 13. His concentration modifier is +7, assuming he takes damage and needs to roll to see if the spell fizzles. Finally, the DC for the spell is 14, and its effects are described here.
Last edited by ByeLindgren : 07-03-2007 at 02:50 AM.
((OOC: Hey chief de-trick! Sorry again, if I step on your prerogative here. Artistic license is nice, sometimes)
"Ho, Martin! Thanks for the advice earlier, but apparently, I have met and fought their kind before... except that they were called the 'Masaw-mosid'" Neshi calls to Martin.
Tink! Tak-tak! Zzzzg-TINGGG!
Neshi whirls his khopesh and one of his adversaries' blades merely slips off his tricky, curved blade. The foul creature snarls and readies another blow. On his other side, another hobgoblin batters his shield with brutal blows. A masterstroke from the third scrapes down the length of his sword, sending up a shower of sparks before they lock hilts and Neshi pushes him away.
Neshi does not rue challenging the hobgoblins to attacking only him for by doing so, he shields his comrades from the danger. The dark-skinned warrior suddenly pivots, throwing his weight into a brutal backhanded stroke aimed at the legs of the hobgoblin nearest Martin.
Trip attack: (1d20+7)[25]
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Hey, you. Yes, you. Come on. SMILE.
((OOC: sorry guys, sleeping! Daiy's been awake the whole time!))
Upon the attack of Chuck, Daiy stood up and withdrew her sword 'Damn, just cleaned this thing too'
She charges into the fray of hobgoblins, noticing Neshi healing the gnome.
Charge
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The innane blabbing of the strange little gnome was getting on Yorrick's nerves.
The little creature had an obsession with battle, it seemed. Like an insane little lemming, the bizarre character of this "Chuck" seemed focused solely around combat. Yorrick knew better than to be sparring at a time like this; the warrior would need his strength for the battles ahead. While keeping one's skills sharp was important, and Yorrick did such a thing frequently before resting for the night, it was better to drill onself rather than hold back while sparring.
"It's difficult to hold back when you're carrying a greatsword!" he thought, silently chuckling to himself. "While control is important, it's pointless to be practicing using the flat of the blade; the point of a slashing weapon is to cut, not bludgeon!"
He walked away from the hyperactive gnome wordlessly. The little fellow seemed quite desperate to prove himself and, while Yorrick could sympathize with that, he'd be better off conserving his energy for a day of marching. He didn't like rebuking the smaller warrior like that, but he knew it was for the best; any knocks and bruises from sparring would be felt in the morning, and they'd likely need all their strength for the trials ahead. He promised himself, however, that he'd give the gnome the fight he was so keen on when they got back to civilization; provided they all survived.
He pulled his bedroll out from his pack, the effort from lifting cloth construct weighing a bit on Yorrick's tired and still-aching muscles. He spread it on the ground nearby to where he'd dropped his pack earlier, a patch of soft, springy ground that would give him a decent rest. "No need to be uncomfortable; a good rest is always important." he thought, no qualms in his mind about choosing the best spot to sleep rather than prove some sort of toughness. Someone... someone had told him that once, Yorrick was sure of it. Somewhere in his past. Some sort of march in some far-off land.
Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he settled into his nightime routine. He drew his sword, feeling the weight of the blade. He bowed to his imaginary opponent, tonight some strangely-garbed warrior from a far-off land. "Heh, looks a bit like that Neshi fellow. Must be invading my subconcious."
Put all thoughts aside. Focus on the breathing. In, one, two, three; hold, one, two, three; release, one, two, three. His mind calm and his body relaxed, he began. Short, shallow slashes, in quick succession. To the arm; then, to the chest; then, to the legs. Swings, now. Chest; arm; leg; repeat.
"That was too wide!" he groaned to himself. He still had a long way to go to being any sort of master of the blade.
His training was interrupted by a loud shout. "HOBGOBLINS!"; the cry rang throughout the camp, jarring Yorrick out his practice mindset and sending the blood coursing through his veins. The shout raised his hackles, and he tensed up, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening.
"No, no, calmness is key. Fluid motions. Relaxed shoulders." he rebuked himself. Relax. Breathe. "Okay, now I'm ready."
With a shout, he began to sprint in the direction of the cry.
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Spoiler
Yorrick's position (based on Daiy's position):
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The one attacked is the one directly before me, in Bold.
Action:
Charge (+2 to Attack, -2 to AC for next round)
Attack roll: (1d20+10)[30]
Threat roll if 19 or 20 (Critical damage x2): (1d20+10)[30]
If a hit: (2d6+8)[18] (Strength bonus of 5 * 1-1/2 for two handed, rounded up)
Since we have a critical, 36 damage... Wow. Overkill.
Yorrick raced towards the battlefield, seeing his allies already engaged in combat. The spellslinger appeared to be readying himself for some of his arcane tricks, the overly talkative gnome had sustained heavy wounds, and the foreigner was wielding his strange sickle-sword, the blade still managing to catch a few rays of the setting sun. The sky was blood red that eve, a fitting environment for the combat ahead. The sight of the sickle-sword in action staggered Yorrick for a moment, making him pause his mad dash. Why did the sight seem... so familiar? He had not faced hobgoblins in his earlier travels, and he had never seen the sickle-sword before.
He turned his attention back to the scene before him. Quick thinking was necessary; distractions were unneeded. He loosened his shoulders as he surveyed the situation. The two other warriors seemed to have the initial three attackers held at bay; the four javelin-slingers appeared to be the only ones unimpeded at the moment. Choosing to distract those four, hopefully buying time for the wounded gnome and the spellslinger to act without impediment, he picked a target, the closest one to him, and began to charge.
"FOR EFER-NIM!" he called, conscious thought pushed back and his battle-memory taking over.
The grey-skinned goblinoid had fear written all over its face as the charging warrior beared down upon it. It had no time to react as the blade came swinging towards it. There was no clash against shield or armor, no parry; there was no sound, only the swishing of the blade through the air.
Then, it connected. Cleanly, the massive blade cleaved through the neck of the hobgoblin. The life left its eyes instantly, as the force of the blade carried the separated head far from the body. The creature had stood no chance; for the strike was as true as it could be, that of a veteran of many wars rather than that of a relatively inexperienced wandering warrior. Perhaps it was the hidden memories, the buried warrior within; either way, the cut was true, and the lifeless, decapitated body toppled away from Yorrick, landing on the ground with a thud.
His balance slightly off after the charge, he recovered as best he could in anticipation of the inevitable counterattack.
looking toward neshi the gnome says "Thank you. then you see his pupils disappear as he looks to his enemies.
for the first action like before initatives
Spoiler
I use surge which counts as a free action i get +20feet and a +2 to AC as a haste bonus which it makes my AC a 21.it lasts 7 rounds.
I charge the hob closest to me with my quarter staff spinng i bring it up under neath him to hit (1d20+4)[21] if hit damage (1d6+3)[5]
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"Ok so what did you get to hit?" "I rolled a 1 again..." "That is your sixth one!!" "It's not me it's the sword, it's a cursed magic item!!"
Oops initative for next round is (1d20+3)[18] damn forgot to mention i get a +1 to gobliniods so i do 1 more point of damage
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"Ok so what did you get to hit?" "I rolled a 1 again..." "That is your sixth one!!" "It's not me it's the sword, it's a cursed magic item!!"
"FOR EFER-NIM!" he screamed, conscious thought pushed back and his battle-memory taking over.
The scream cut through the twilit air as surely as the warrior's greatsword clove through his opponent's scrawny neck.
By the thousand hells! Could it be...?
Neshi shakes his head, unwilling to dream. He focuses on the swinging swords of his three assailants but is inable to hold back the flood of memories from seemingly yesterday and yesteryear. He grinds his teeth in resistance but to no avail.
And yet he takes up the battle-cry, "EFER-NIM! HOLD 'TIL DEATH! FOR EFER-NIM!"
A sudden fire courses through his veins, bringing new strength to his sinews amd courage to his heart. A thousand images fleet before his eyes... his last glimpse of his home city of Efer-nem, the last stand in the Roaring Ravine, his anointment as a cleric of Horakhe, the departure of his friend, Khur-kol and the fire that ripped him from his beloved...
His features contort for the briefest of moments and then resolve into the cold calm of the captain of old. He raps out orders that come swift into a commanding warrior's mind. "Kh... Yorrick, hit the rear! Daiy, right flank! Zimdo, Martin, Loge! Stay back and support with slings and bows!"
Glancing down at the still-bleeding gnome, he yells, "Chuck, geddahells outta here, damnit! Yer injured! Get back to the support squadron!"
He flashes a hateful, triumphant grin at the hobgoblin he'd tripped and spits at his feeble attempts to rise to his feet once more. Neshi turns his attention to his adversaries who still stand. I didn't join the Scorpions for nothing... these masaw-mosid are fierce fighters and wicked warriors but are possessed of a certain pride that can be wounded...
Calling upon his previous training in the famed Scorpion Scout company, he clashes his sword against his shield. He then thrusts his shield arm back, exposing his chest to them, daring them to strike then thumps his chest with his fist. Speaking in the language of his assailants, he roars at them, "Had-mokkar!" He grins and spits at them. "Gavakk P'dral vad dar Mok! du-Qa Yed-narraj!"
Spoiler
Goblin-Common Translation: "Whoreson jackals! Your ancestors are worthless bags of bones and your swords are rusty!"
__________________
Hey, you. Yes, you. Come on. SMILE.
while in mid swing and about to hit the hob in te side chuck says"My freind you will never learn that i dont leave freinds in the heart of battle i so dearly desire. So i shall Fight to my best and may the god s be with you and may this hobgoblin get the worst in the firey depths of hell as we kill his brethren. Still looking as if he were relaxed as ever he seems to move faster and his hits seem to be more cordinated as if he seems to be knowing what he is doing when fighting hobgoblins. For the strangest reason his speed has increased and he can easily dodge out of the way of things. "Hobgoblins are strict and disciplined you must start to get them away from eachother. alone they fall and together they stay strong. think of it like an army, then you shal be winning the good fight. By the way i guess this is my sparing partner.As he slams his staff into the hobgoblins side.
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"Ok so what did you get to hit?" "I rolled a 1 again..." "That is your sixth one!!" "It's not me it's the sword, it's a cursed magic item!!"
ok that hurt a plenty but you gotta stop rolling 21's becuase thats like your 3rd one. microwaved dice derek, lol jk. ok so im going first i'll hit the hobgoblin back and hopefully kill him. damn modified hobs. (1d20+4)[5]
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"Ok so what did you get to hit?" "I rolled a 1 again..." "That is your sixth one!!" "It's not me it's the sword, it's a cursed magic item!!"
((Uh, don't the hobbos get separate saves? Also, as part of my action, I moved out of range. I'm guessing that was part of the attack of opportunity))
Martin reels from the hit and staggers to a retreat (as part of the last action).
As for this action, Martin mutters to himself "It's time to be brave...," wheels around the rest of the way behind the hobgoblins and casts another color spray.
Spoiler
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I think I'm showing it right. Basically, I affect all the hobgoblins, and there's a square in between the closest hobbo and Martin.
Last edited by ByeLindgren : 07-03-2007 at 01:51 PM.
Chuck goes to attack and looks like he is going to kill the hobgoblin. He jumps in the air and extends his foot but he is unbalanced making him fall and break his outstretched leg.
Daiy laughs as the goblin's javelin clangs off of her Greatsword. She yells with a smile,"That all you got? Bring it on bitch!" Startled to hear the language of the enemy spout from her friend's lips, spared a quick glance in his direction. Seeing the three goblins prepared to attack Neshi and herself, she put her all into the next attack.
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Flanking with Neshi, she goes after the same goblin as before. "You want a piece of this?" She sends a confident look to Neshi, flashing a huge grin at him, then turning back to the Goblin, "I eat babes like you for breakfast!" She raises her weapon, bringing it down with confident might!
The hobgoblin directly in front of Neshi lunges forward in a streak of grey and green. Neshi is unable to parry or dodge in time and his opponent's well-crafted blade darts forward in a vicious arc and clangs violently against Neshi's helmet, jarring him for a moment into dizziness.
The next moment he recovers and grins unsettlingly at his foe and barks "Uv guvvar-dak rum'det!"
His foe staggers aghast and retorts, "E'mat guvvar-dak'ka Lek'ri dunreh sn'Amuh!"
"D'na lau'l hatt ovrep Kelwi!" Neshi brags and laughs deep and bold.
The hobgoblin snarls and sputters, "Lek'ri ke'ouy! Stug em grah!" Upon the last word, he hacks up a throatful of phlegm and spits it, missing Neshi's face but hitting his shield instead.
Neshi looks down at the sigil of his beloved thus despoiled and he snarls in rage. "You spat on my shield..." He brings down his khopesh, intending to split his foe from chops to nave. "YED!"
He feels the resistance of a suit of strong chain-mesh, of mayhap flesh... and was that spurting blood, or was it spittle that spattered against his breastplate? Neshi paid no heed, lost in rage as he is, at the sacrilege of Sekhmet-Ankhutar's sigil...
In the split-second when his blade left the hobgoblin's flesh, his training. Two foes bleeding be better'n one foe not breathing
But then, he hesitates, his chivalry warring against itself. Neshi ponders whether better it would be to protect the lady or protect the small man. One glance at Daiyanissa, encased in armor and wielding a massive sword with the greatest of ease and than a look at the small, bleeding form of Chuck, armed only with a staff and his bare fists, decides the matter for him.
Neshi winks at the paladin and mouths "Forgive me" and then he spins to the right, hacking at the flank of the hobgoblin attacking Chuck. Must protect the weak
He catches himself after the second strike and looks up. Neshi staggers back, barely deflecting the counterattacks of two angry hobgoblins.
"O-ffal!", he curses at his own clumsiness.
OOC NOTES:
Spoiler
Attacks: (1d20+5)[8] if hit, damage: (1d8+5)[8]. If first hobgoblin dies, Cleaving-Power-Attack against hobgoblin attacking Chuck: (1d20+3)[9] if hit, damage: (1d8+7)[10]
Goblin-Common Translations:
"Thy great-grandsire was a pot-drummer!"
"My great-grandsire killed a hundred humans!"
"That makes him equal to me? Tchah!"
"I'll kill ye! I'll have yer guts for garters!"
"DIE!"
*Hey, nothing wrong with in-fight banter, right?
__________________
Hey, you. Yes, you. Come on. SMILE.
((OOC: BOO YEAH! And I am posting my next move in case im not here for it in the morning))
((Oki Doki Lindgren! I switched Gobs))
Spoiler
Happy to down another possible injury cause, Daiy goes to help Neshi and Chuck. (5 ft step) Moving towards the Farthest goblin from the group,
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She attacks the goblin that has been fighting, to distract it away from Neshi's attempts at protecting Chuck. She swings her greatsword at it's shoulder, to take on the attacks it would spend.
She yells over at Neshi and Chuck, "Hey! How you guys doing over there? I guess we don't get that one last nice relaxing night i had expected, eh?" Her Northern accent thickening in the heat of the battle. She flips her sword around threateningly towards the Goblins, playing with them. Still in a playful mood she grinned over to Yorrick, "Come on babe! You're missing out on all the fun" She pointedly looked at him with a cocky grin. Making a second attack she swings around and slices at the goblin's head.
"By the Loyal Fury Himself, I Smite thee to the 5th layer of the demon pits!"
((Allow me to correct myself: I'm doing something which might knock any or all of them unconscious, so you might have to describe your action after mine takes effect. I guess we're waiting on Yorrick, though.))
Last edited by ByeLindgren : 07-04-2007 at 12:37 AM.
Note to Daiy: Full round attack is not -2 to AC, as far as I know. You don't get any extra attacks from full round attack anyway, since your attack bonus isn't high enough.
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Technical bit:
5-foot step forward (free action)
Full-round attack on Hobgoblin in bold:
Attack roll: (1d20+8)[27]
Threat roll (if 19 or 20): (1d20+8)[10]
Damage roll (if hit): (2d6+8)[12]
The javelin came hurtling towards Yorrick. Spiraling through the air, it whistled as it bore down upon him. Caught off-guard after his charge, he knew he could not react in time. He braced himself for the impact, preparing himself to take the full brunt of the blow, mentally readying himself to fight through the pain.
The javelin, indeed, struck Yorrick. As it hurtled towards earth, it's trajectory placed it right in line with Yorrick's chest. As time slowed in anticipation of the hit, sudden realization dawned on Yorrick; he was wearing armor. A tentative smirk grew into a wide grin as the javelin bounced off his well-protected torso.
Still a tad off-guard, the second attack was nonetheless anticipated. The hobgoblin, perhaps intimidated by the rapidly souring situation the raiding party was finding itself in, had thrown the javelin shakily. It hurtled through the air, worrying Yorrick for a mere moment before burying itself in the ground at his feet. His grin turned to laughter as the thrill of battle overtook him. They had command of this situation, the adventurers did, he was sure of that. The flow of the battle was in their favour, and it was only a matter of time before the grey humanoids were slaughtered or fleeing.
He silenced his laughter and turned his intent towards the hobgoblin before him. This fellow had been the calmer of the two, and his had been the projectile that had concerned Yorrick. He would soon know fear, Yorrick pledged, and inched forward towards him. His feet moving in synchronized fashion, a single beat instead of a drawn out step, he was in striking range within instants.
"EFER-NIM! HOLD 'TIL DEATH! FOR EFER-NIM!"
Yorrick's heartbeat quickened. Where had he heard that before? From his own lips? From another's? It seemed so distant, this Efer-nim, and yet so close. A firestorm of doubt filled Yorrick's heart, taken aback by the foreigner's strange cry.
"Kh... Yorrick, hit the rear!"
The flames were quenched in an instant, and his battle-training took over once more. "Aye, Captain!" he cried, not knowing why. It did not matter now; this was the battlefield, and there was no time for thinking. There was only Yorrick and his opponent. That was all.
He swung as he lunged forward, using his hips to power his strike as best he could. He felt the satisfying crunch of a well-placed hit, and he knew that he'd struck true. As his massive sword connected with the side of the grey-green goblinoid, the look on its faced changed rapidly to one of shock, and then to one of horror. It could see its death on the horizon; like any creature connected to nature, it knew when its time had come. Greatsword met armor; greatsword emerged the better of the two. As it tore through the leather, it cleaved into the flesh underneath. A grievous wound sustained, the blade traveling inches into the hobgoblin's side, it stumbled, staggered by the force of the blow.
"BY EFER-NIM, NEVER BACK DOWN! FORWARD EFER-NIM!" Yorrick screamed, the thrill of combat infecting his spirit with excitement and energy, his subconscious taking over in the symphony of battle. The crescendo was not far off; this much he knew. As the hobgoblin writhed before him, and appeared close to toppling, he stood ready and on guard, prepared to face down the remainder of the hobgoblins.
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