Goblin Sneak E14 The Goblin sneak hiding in the shadow stands up consuming ½ his movement speed and takes a deep breath aiming at Elki.
Attack Roll 1D20= (8)+4 = 11 Result Miss
The dart goes hurtling along the road missing Elki and harmlessly landing somewhere in the distance. The goblin sneak moves from E14 – B15 and uses his bonus action to hide.
stealth roll 1D20 = (7)+4 = 11
Anyone with a Passiver Perception above 11 can see him
The battle was heating up as goblins fired their first shots and her comrades started taking names and, in some cases, a beating. Elki puffed up her chest, striding round towards the goblin thinking itself so sneaky nearby. Hah! Would she show him. It was time to make her contribution to the team, one that would cement her worth as a member, something perhaps to use as an ice-breaker later on. She could imagine it now - "Great work killing them gobbos, Elki!" "Gosh oh gee whizz I sure was impressed with those crushing skills of yours!" "I will admire you forever, please marry me Elki!"
Her grin widening, she drew her mighty mace and slammed it down. "Oh, drats." she murmured, realising she'd missed completely as she felt the lack of a connect. She looked at the goblin and barked at it like a feral dog to instill fear, but it came out more like a puppie's yip.
Moves: Diagonally from E12 to B14 Hitting with Mace: (4)+2+1 = 7, Miss Intimidation: (6)+1 = 7
Goblin D19 Repositions from D19 to H20 passing through D20 on his path. The Goblin then takes a deep breath aiming his bow at the guy laying on the ground.
Having barely strung the horse-parts to himself, Bar moves to L19 attacks the Goblin Sneak with 2handed Great Axe. He hacks into the tree at 18L as circling the goblin sneak left him dizzy. Bar yells out in a confused rage. But to no avail.
The goblin sneak laughs. Bar is crying from the pain.
A glint. A cutting of air. Nothing more nothing less. Spotted from the corner of the eye. Heard on the wind as it came. But all too late.
He was right. His perception and deduction sharp, but his reaction slow at the draw. Agility and deftness was never quite his forte, did one really expect every street rat to be capable of leaping from rooftop to rooftop, parkouring all across the city like some would be assassin? No, the psion took refuge in the mind, in the Noosphere where his psyche leapt from one subject to another, gathering the knowledge of the ages. The memories of the world brain, a sphere of consciousness travelled by those who walk a higher realm. But what good is knowing it is a trap when just as he predicted, the simpleton amongst them ran in with an axe to cleave the head of a horse? Hacking, endless cleaving the sounds of the bait being taken and all that butchered meat wasted. It was a shame, but as the half-orc emerged a full mess of visera and gore, asking the genasi if he wanted any part of the spoils, the glint of an unnatural wasp stung the half-orc.
Yet there was no time to smirk in the superiority of his own intellect accurately predicting this result. For in the matter of moments the goblins pressed the assault, everything exploding into action as darts flew into the air. Maybe there would be an assassination yet, the genasi had dropped down to take cover, lying low from the shots blown. Their warrior having snuck over by the woodland stride, the cleric taking the other path as they crossed. Good, it was all positioned proper as he thought, taking the high vantage atop the cart, and yet what boon was given was also taken. As the psion realized the goblins had not been above killing the animals in tow, thus if they spooked or slew their beasts of burden, then this wagon would never reach their destination in time. Thus rein in hand he started to pull the lumbering beasts to turn, hopefully putting a distance between their living animals and the raiders.
Do you what sound a man makes, When an arrow punctures his flesh? When a shaft digs into his ribs? When a point piercings his lungs?
There was no pain at first. No feeling to it. Just a expiratory gasp, a subtle sigh. It was not some great cry of agony, no dramatic point of death, but a subtle exhale on the parting breath. This was the sound a man. It was the air leaving the lungs as they collapsed, forced out the change in pressure. Like a popped balloon, or more so one crushed by the forces at play, the lobes wilted away. Blood and air from the outside tunneling through the wound, filling the void of space. It was this soft forsaken cry which trumpeted the arrival of pain.
Then came the body's response. The heave, the wheeze, the breathlessness, as the sudden shock alerted the all slow brain to realize what had happened. The flank branded hot from the arrow half-embedded into the chest, from the sticking up and sliding between the ribs at just the right angle to make its way into the airy organ. The immediate action that followed would be the wince, tension and pressure applied to the flesh wound, wooden haft between the fingers to stabilize and reduce the bleeding. And though the brain itself was wracked with screams from nerve fibers on fire, the mind was focus on finding who it was that fired the shot. The direction and angle of entry, the ear and eyes tuning to the balance and sight of the poor unfortunate soul that had so foolishly attacked him.
And though it seemed the sudden disappearance of the flute-playing bard made a scantily-clad rogue appear from the scholar's dark carriage, to which certainly was not the scholar they had been travelling with unless those horns were for more than just impressing the ladies. Of such a question raises why the bard, who was perhaps nauseatingly pleasing to the eyes of men who were intoxicated by the company of such women, ducked inside the carriage to summon her possible protector? A mystery to be considered at another time, as first there was a lesson to be learned. And whatever spell was cast by the tiefling at the offending creature seemed to agonize and antagonize it some, burning away at the candle of rage as it Seethed with emotions at whatever was being shouted at it in some language uncaught by the psion under the distraction of an arrow embedded in one's chest.
His vision turned to the right, of where the roguish warrior had slunk off to, spotting the poorly hidden attacker, and then another engaging the girl. There must be more, there were more, as those deep chocolate eyes had spotted two in plain sight moments earlier and he had expected some movements flanking from the woods to their right. But now those eyes still widen in pain and shock surged with more than adrenaline but terrifying insight. Those abyssal pupils bore locked into that hideous cretin's eyes, staring deep into its sockets, boring a hole through with mere vision alone perhaps! But no, more horrific than daggers for deathstares were the connections being made, entangled waves of psionic energy like invisible tentacles lashing from the psion's head. If eyes could see what the mind has thought of, if words alone could adequate describe the terror that the lone goblin would experience as the target of its arrow became a thing that should not be!
And it was all in the mind of that sole goblin. However clever, or however dumb the creature was, the psion's vengeance was repaid in kind. As within a blink of its terrified eye, its body froze and jaw dropped, eyes rolled back and a earsplitting shriek became its last words. It was done, but not over, no for this very insult and injury, the goblin would not die a peaceful death. He recounted every sin against him, and gave the poor thing its due as the waves of psionic energy intensified, piercing its way through the softened mush the remains of the shattered psyche. And then in a gloriously gory finale, the goblin's head burst in a shower of skull and brains, eyeballs flying out as blood sprayed from the stump of its bleeding neck.
Retribution done, the psion slid down the wagon's seat slumped against the cover of against attacks from the northern flank. A tactical move hopefully though spotting the injuries of their warrior himself, he could turn his attention to that goblin later if it dared to face him after seeing what a bloody mess he made of its ally. And from the looks of it, perhaps what Kiki herself had done to its other friend. Resting his powerful head back against the wagon, grounded body leaning on the wood for his support, the arrow still embedded in his thorax confirmed these were the killers of those horses. And if their Lordsman was right, they have also killed this party's employer and his work contact. Best interrogate one of the goblins to find out, though a psychic interrogation may reveal his powers, if not the fantastically visceral display that may have matched the half-orc's wanton axing. Hopefully the others were finding themselves in better luck.
Still though... This punctured lung meant he would be a bit short on breath, alive but certainly every breath was like breathing fire. I need healing.
1) Action: Mind Thrust I6 goblin, Int vs 13 = 1d20 + 0 = (1) + 0 = Failed save. Damage = 1d10 + 2 = (9) + 2 = 11. Fatality. 2) Move: D7(ish) to E6, dismounting wagon and taking possible partial cover (half cover)?
Goblin D18 The goblin moves from d18 to d20 The goblin takes a steadying breath as he draws back on his short bow, taking careful aim at the half orc barbarian.
The goblin would let a smile cross he green features watching the arrow find it’s mark square in the centre of the behemoths chest. The sound of squelching through flesh and the look of shock that crossed the Barbarians eyes as he realised what had happened. His tongue darted out licking his lips, a force of habit that he had developed with his many hunts. Yes, this was a good day and they would find many riches on these travellers surely. So focused was he on the Half-orc that he had not even noticed the rest of the battle taking place. However what the Goblin had not expected was what Bar did next, with a surge of strength and prowess over battle the half orc stood back up nocking the arrow out with a swing of his giant hands. The goblin was suprised to see the half orc stand again after such a hit then he heard a bellow of rage escape from him as if he were unharmed at all by such a powerful attack. He then hurries back to his last location. Relocates D20 - D18
Cienna Rose A Few Days Piror – Present time
Cienna was sitting on a table at the Harpers headquarters in Neverwinter having a chat with the other members who weren’t on active duty. She was wearing her normal non-battle attire of a skimpy black outfit with a black garter on her leg. Her eyes watching everyone that came and go, paying attention most to those that approached the message board. A habit she had picked up since joining the enclave some time ago. She found the work as rewarding as her time spent serving in the Fairy armies. The weather was nice and she was looking forward to a good nights’ rest. It was during this moment that her riviere was shattered a man came running in reporting that a goblin horde was massing on the roads towards Phandalin and if something didn’t happen about them someone would get killed. Not normally the type of mission that Cienna would take for herself she relaxed back taking another drink from her small cup that she had beside her. That is when she heard that a caravan had set of the day prior heading in that exact same direction. Now she reacted flittering up into the air. She quickly agreed to take the mission for a payment of 10g which would be provided by the local trading post in Phandalin. She made some quick arrangements with the Enclave and gathered her armour and equipment. And headed downstairs to the stables where her faithful mount and companion swift strider was resting. “Come boy!” she said walking over and grabbing her gear from the hanging rack that had been put in specially for her. Swift strider stood and she placed his saddle on him and mounted up. “lets go boy, we got a rush to catch someone” she said spurring her faithful companion into action. He barked once before lurching forward on small legs racing faster than she could ever hope. “Double Pace” she would say the command word that she knew he was used to making him run at his full speed. Having been both trained in the army they would run further and harder than any wagon could possibly hope to make in a single day, still they had a full day and a half head start on her, she raced towards the target at the top speed that Swift strider could run only stopping when rest was required to preserve Swift Strider or herself for any possible encounters. The trip was fast and uneventful as she raced towards the Triboar trail. She noted by the tracks that she was gaining on them, several times and after entering the Triboar trail she noted they were no more than a couple of hours in front. Spurring Swift Strider to further action she hoped she would make it in time. As she rounded a bend she saw them, two wagons under heavy siege. “Come swift Strider they need our aid” she would say as they dashed towards the beleaguered party. Soon she beside the rearmost caravan and her faithful companion was panting heavily. “Rest buddy” she said dismounting and moving forward to standing beside a man who seemed to be incredibly hurt, with an arrow sticking out of his chest. She would touch his leg looking up at him before speaking “Pull out the arrow now” her voice filled with authority, the likes that many would not be used to coming from a small thing like her. The look of distrust that spread across the mans face told her more than words ever could. She would smile sweetly up at him before nodding and moving a piece of fabric from around her neck to reveal her Harpers sigil, a sign that she was one of them, and a good guy that can be trusted. If he knew it she did not know but instead he did as she had instructed. As he grabbed the shaft of the arrow she began to chant and the arcane energies around them began to constrict and twist into a healing flow. The wound would begin to nit itself back together sealing the recently opened wound. “I’m Cienna, a Battle Medic” she would say as she surveyed the healed wound, “good as new” she would comment before turning to survey the battles that were unfolding before her.
The Genasi had begun to think up of any potential strategies... We needed one alive, he figured. Their contacts may be dead, or kidnapped, or even may have escaped... and the only way to find out is to ask one of them.
Seethe watched as arrows flew towards him from the south. Having kept his head down, however, he managed to avoid the fire of them all. It actually surprised him still that the goblins choose to attack him. Do they not know that he is untouchable? This should be rather easy...
The Wizard watched all his allies form up. The Halruuan managed to effectively injure the opponents she was stalking, and while she only managed to kill one of hen, she bloodied the other enough to bring them down a couple notches. The Tiefling had rushed out of the cart and-... wait, we had a Tiefling? Well, either way, it effectively... belittled one of the goblins to near death. Seethe guessed that works, then. The Cleric tried her best! Yay. And everyone's favorite barbarian had missed his attacks on a downed goblin, as well...
And then there was the commoner. He had some sort of strange, sinister power. One of the goblins, the one who had attacked him, crumpled down on its knees, holding onto its head as if seeing some horrifying visions. Seethe deduced that this strange outburst came from his group's silent compatriot. With nothing but a look, he was able to completely devastate that goblin... something tells Seethe he will have to keep a close eye on this man, to figure out what sort of power he commanded.
Oh, yeah, and a fairy showed up out of nowhere on a dog and started working on the wounded. Lovely.
"Those who wish us harm this fight, Face my Magic Missiles' might!"
The Wizard waved his wand in the air, still staying on the ground as he casts his spell, three bolt-shaped missles lf force manifesting at the end of his wand. He pointed one at the bloodied goblin the Halruuan had been dealing with, a shot aimed directly for its temples with intentions to knock it out. The last two bolts had found their way into the goblin at Seethe's right flank, slamming into its chest and rupturing its lungs from the force alone. A painful death, well deserved for a dirty brigand.
"Keep that one alive! Tie him up when you can!" Seethe called to his roguish companion, taking a knee, but still staying on the ground to further avoid any attacks.
Seethe HP: 8/8 AC: 15
Seethe casts Magic Missile, sending one for the Goblin at j7 with aims to knock it unconscious, sending it out cold with the maximum damage output of 5. He sends the other two for the Goblin at his right, the bolts of magic ripping through it and slaying the poor thing, dealing 7 force damage.
"Nice puppy." Hymn knelt to scratch the dog as the last few goblins got cleaned up. He suspected that Ardiane would be gushing over the little hound, but he was satisfied just paying it a little attention. Its rider had gone off into battle already. It was a well-trained pooch to sit and wait like this. Hymn looked around for any goblins trying to make their escape.
Readied crossbow on any goblin moving within range
The goblin's sneer at Kiki's statement was less than reassuring. The battle continued on all sides of the rogue, and her peripheral registered a few attacks in the distance. Then the goblin leapt at her.
At first, for the briefest of moments, she thought he had missed. Then the pain erupted from the point of contact, a splurt of blood shooting forth. The twisted grin of sadistic pleasure gleamed in her attacker's eyes, sending a wave of fear through her. It was happening again. She would be useless; her friends would perish. She saw, interspersed with the trees and grass around her, a stony path and wooden gate. The twisted grin of a human, his dagger in her gut. Her friends all around, dead or bleeding out.
"Run, little girl. Run and remember the kindness I showed."
The vision was cut short by a blast of silver as it embedded into the goblin's gut, shoving it away to the ground. The wizard called for her to let it live, and Kiki raised her eyes to look at her savior. But he had already turned his attention to his own survival, ducking behind the carts next to the corgi.
... She would revisit that question later.
Kiki gripped her blades and scanned the battle for a new target before skirting around the tree's branches to approach. The first attack was shaky, her blade piercing the bush nearby. No, this was not like last time. Even if she perished, her friends could handle themselves. They would carry on. Her left hand whipped forward, finding a weakpoint in the goblin's defenses and nicking his skin. Somehow it was enough for the goblin to collapse before her.
The blood from her wound flowed freely. She could feel the strength leaving her; her thoughts grew blurry and unfocused for a moment before she blinked away the cobwebs from her mind. She had no expectation of her own survival, much less glory. But she would fight until her final breath abandoned her.
Hopefully it would be enough.
Kiki moves to L9 and attacks the goblin at M10. If that goblin has moved to J11, Kiki will instead move to K10. Attack Roll: 1d20+5 = 7. Missed!
Bonus Action: Attack with Shortsword. Attack Roll: 1d20+5 = 18. Damage: 1d6 = 2 piercing damage (I don't think sneak applies, but 5 more dmg if it does).
The Goblin realized that his raiding party had been all but been wiped out and began to flee this would provoke the cleric that was standing beside him.
Elki Attack roll: 1D20 = (6)+3 =9 Result: Fail
Goblin moves from B15 to E23
Stealth Roll: 1D20 = (10)+4 =14 Result anyone with a passive above 14 may see him
The goblin is attempting to escape the battle field.
Elki was in her own little exuberent world when the cries of battle pierced her ears. She glanced away from the diminuitive creature before her and took a moment to take in the battle field. In the time it had taken her to chase the little guy down, her friends were in peril. She looked at the goblin, and back to her friends, and then to the goblin.
Elki sighed. No glory in battle today, perhaps. She had serious cleric-buisness to attend to. "Sorry, bub. You can attack my shins to make up for it." Instead, the goblin decided to make a wise attempt to flee. Taking Elki by surprise for a moment, she gave a half-hearted swing and watched it scamper off into the brush. Like she had the time to chase down a fleeing goblin (no matter how much fun that would be)
Hohum, this put a new slant on things. Were the goblins fleeing? Did she heal or did she continue to fight? Elki couldn't stand anyone dying on her watch. But then again, using a spell now might waste something that could be valuable later if the goblins were indeed leaving the battlefield... and what about prisoners? Things were all so complicated. Next time, she vowed, to stay close to someone rather then go off searching for goblin-murder-glory.
Deciding to live by the rule when in doubt boop things, Elki approached the next goblin lazily and decided to attempt to take it down. Her heart was clearly conflicted however, as she swung her mace and - for perhaps the third or forth time today - missed her damn oppurtunity.
Curses. The rogue would not be impressed. Nor would the nobleman, she had no doubt, but his opinion was not as important to her as his lustrous hair.
Movement: B14 --> D17 Attack: 1d20 + 3 = (6)+3 = 9 Miss at goblin D18 Be perplexed with life.
The Goblin sneak looking around seeing a friend to the north flee decided to make the best of his chances turning and fleeing himself.
Bar Attack roll: 1d20+5 = (16)+5 = 21 Attack Roll: 1d12+5 = (3)+5 = 8 Result: Death
As the goblin begins to turn and flee he feels the bight of the mighty battle axe that the Orc he had been facing down bite into his neck, as he feels his body begin to go week everything fades to black.
The eastern wind made the trees wave. The gentle beams of light tickled the skin of all living creatures in these woods. The whispers thrown in the wind went by unheard. A song woke up the midday sun. Colorful feathers of oceanblue hugged their fluffy babies gently. The woodland giants offered some time away from the blazing glory that was the sun. A humble stream began to kindly caress a few woolly bunny as it cooled itself. Completely in tune with nature, there was a fine toe-tipping. This set of footprints left behind, the smell of fresh air filled every lung. A hand stroked the finely shaped bark. The grass was a silk blanket on the sturdy ground. The floor that would gladly hug you and came along with you everywhere you went. The peace and serenity of the many hours would provide many generations of youthful wanderers with quiet and calm. Though this delightful place had many wonders, a falling star was the one that brought about the change that so few had expected to see. It were not horns that brushed the bushes. Nor was it fire spreading across the branches. Amongst the engulfing wall of greens that flourished with brightly colored flowers, there moved the face of a calm and relaxed goblin. His eyes seemed soothed as his hair was up straight. The open road and the horses on it smiled to him as he crossed it at a calm pace. All of heavens glory seemed to stare down to him. His nose tipped down. He rose up to heights beyond the place a goblin could ever hope to reach. Much to everyone’s surprise, there were 2 doomed eyes glaring from behind his pretty ears. The feathered ones took to silence. The wind fell from the sky. At the screech of the gobbler, all hope was lost. From sockets of deep dark valleys there came 2 raging swords. Eyes that pierced soul, heart and will. Their glances following and judging every move. They seemed to blink but once to let some lines of blood pass, opening with an unchanged resolve. It did not help that the goblins head was without a body. “It was bad that these eyes had turned to face me.” So thought the goblin. But the silence ensued by that voice… that was the worst. He broke a cold sweat.
“I better run.” Alas, no matter the attempts, it’s shaking knees refused. “I better fight!” But for some reason that crossbow had become very heavy. To its surprise the goblins arms were shaking. The sun was shining and there was a nice cool breeze. “Why can’t I feel it?” Frozen in place he stood, looking helplessly as he thought of the sounds he heard, the friends and how they were lost… Tears began to run down the goblins cheeks as he relived the entire battle. His heart was racing again. Every breath taking shorter. The pounding in its head became heavier with every passing moment of pure and prolonged agony. A terrible screaming voice shook him out of his dreams. “Surrounded? What?” His blurry vision now turned to the side, “Watermelons? What did watermelons have to do with…” His eyes widened as he turned his head back. “Stop there… There it was… a rigged watermelon! …and there!... another one…“ He began shaking his head left and right looking for a way out without passing watermelons. On every meter, on every foot, on every inch there the green watermelons. “But wait.. maybe they aren’t all green and mean?” As the goblin glanced over from behind the tree, standing there, he saw a big green blood-drenched monster that looked just like him. And seemingly right at him. “Much bigger this beast was…” He wanted to turn back to searching for an escape when he shortly and suddenly realized: “Oh god… that was… Steeve?” Turning once more at that horrific creature of overwhelming power, he nearly vomited. The crossbow left a gentle thump in the background as he covered his mouth. “This gargantuan creature had 2 bolts sticking out of his neck and was standing up high and mighty like nothing happened… was he immortal.. was that.. the blood of his enemies?” Ensnared by the vine like thoughts that had crept up on him, seemingly a salvations voice came to him: “Surrender now”… A relieving thought passed his mind.. “What if he was not hunted? What if this was a way out of the misery? No more poop-eating they had to do to survive?” It slightly calmed the creature as it saw a way out. “A way! No water melons there!” He bend over to pick up his crossbow. “And your head…!” From the corner of his eye he saw an axe as big as his body. “My head?” The brute continued “Won’t end up like this!!”. With the goblins attention completely focused on the blood covered warrior, the axe-wielder took hold of an ear with his canine teeth. He then tore off nearly half the goblins head… A stinging sense of phantom pain shocked through his ears. He rubbed his to check if everything was still on there. 2 short breaths of silence later, he slowly picked up his crossbow. With slightly shaking lifted hands he and his friend moved towards the cruel master standing a tree-line away from the open road. “We surrender!” They cried out. “Don’t kill us, please…” They dropped to their knees.
Moves to G20. (using an extra movement to act 'cool' as he walks over the rough terrain rocks)
The chance of getting out alive was too much for the remaining goblins to turn down, the orc had presented a very poignant example of what would happen to them should they continue to pursue this pointless endeavour. Casting down their weapons they walked into the middle of the road with their hands up as to show their complete surrender. “Daan hegaan, druuc'd mech an” the beasts would say in their own guttural speech not knowing the common tongue that so many other races used. It was surprising that they had been given the chance to surrender after so much blood shed had already occurred and they thought better than to continue to fight, after all a chance to survive is better than no chance at all. What could these strange people be guarding in those carts that there would be so many of them and so strong a force to protect them, so thought one of them before waiting to see what would happen to them.
END OF COMBAT
Upon inspecting all the corpses and taking the equipment from the surrendered goblins who wait patiently to be let go you find. Loot: 6 x Quiver with 20 arrows 6 x Short bow 12 x Stakes 8 x Leather Armor 7 Days Fried Spider rations Blow Gun 20 Darts Punch Dagger A vial of Poison. A net woven with leaves and twigs, large enough to cover a goblin Three beautifully crafted elven arrows A necklace made from the bones of a small animal you cannot identify
Did... did we win? Kiki stumbled forward from the brush as the goblins began running. The barbarian had commanded them to stop, and it looked as if they had given up. Kiki sighed in relief, although the exertion almost made her pass out. Damned goblins...
It took her a moment to understand what else she was seeing. One of the two horses seemed to be completely butchered, its head separated from its body. What kind of monster would do such a thing?! Obviously, the only people here capable of such vicious barbarism had to be the goblins. Kiki's eyes narrowed at the closest one before she turned away. She had been given a suggestion to tie up the unconscious goblin nearby, so she did so, relieving the goblin of its bow and quiver and emptying its pockets of any other loot in the meantime. She then dragged the goblin back to the rest of the group, plopping it down next to the butchered horse.
"We're not planning to babysit a group of goblins, are we?" Kiki asked. "I say the first person who gives us full information on the owners of these horses and where they are gets to live. The others... well, you did attack us, after all. Maybe next time you'll pick your targets more carefully. Oh, there won't be a next time, will there?" The rapier hung by Kiki's side, dripping with the blood of several goblins as she glared at those nearby. "I suggest you start talking."
Tying up a gobbie: 1d20+3 = (18)+3 = 21
Claimed Loot: 1 shortbow, 1 quiver with 20 arrows, 1 elven arrow. Requested Loot: Poison vial and the other two elven arrows if no one else uses a bow effectively.
Bar walked over to the living goblins. He would aggressively take off their weapons and armor. He would not pay much attention to the goblins loincloths. And would leave it them on, if they had any.
"You want to live? You stay near Bar!" He pointed at himself. "Do what Bar tells you." Sadly for most people listening this would end up sounding more or less like: "Marna suka? Bar rec! Doucka reguk Bar meros!" In Bars anger, he did not translate it to common.
His next activity would include the 2 goblins gathering the corpses and removing the various weapons, tools and materials upon bars instruction. They would place them all unto a big pile (as would be Bars instruction to the goblins and his custom). He would angrily direct himself to the rest of the group:
"This is the loot pile. Anyone wants something? take it!"
He would kick one of the goblins to sit him down next to the bound up one. The unkicked one he would command to pick up the bone necklace and would command it specifically to bow as he offered it to Bar. Bar would then angrily overlooked the goblin. His idea was that the Goblin(who he would later name Ealr Adementine II) would put it into his necklace of 'minion-names'.
Sadly for the other goblins, there would only be one that Bar would not lose empathy for the next time he had a good nights rest. But for now, they would be useful.
"I keep the rest!" Was his final angry exclamation. As he would point the goblin to be seated.
After Bar's hopefully serving goblins would have gathered the corpses of the dead, Bar would take his Axe-O-Meter to the corpses. Clearly within sight of the living ones, if they looked. In the beginning, his ongoing rage would still hold the upperhand. He turned some of the goblins into little piles of smashed goblin. Gradually he became more and more calm. His cuts became more precise as his rage started to wear off. He gathered some of the goblins parts. But ultimately only 2 goblin skulls survived the onslaught. Needless to say he could never collect a liver someone's rapier has been through or a skull off of an exploded head. Whatever else he didn't partially cover himself in as he turned it to mash, he put in his bag.
5 rolls for survival. 1d20+2(for each) "4,7,10,13,22" (=> 22 from a nat 20 :D) Result: 2 goblin heads gathered.
Just after this moment, Bar walked past M. Bar would stop, put on an angry face, turn M to face him and lift him a few feet off the ground. "You! I know what you did! You can't just explode a head like that! There's a skull in there!" Surprised at M's wordless reaction, Bar would proceed: "What do you have to say for yourself, minion!?" A few seconds would have passed. "Huh, speechless. That's what i thought!" He would drop M back, without propper warning. "Until further notice, you report to Seethe for your instructions!" He pointed at M's nose. The saliva and bad morning breath that would come with the words were far from pleasant. In the corner of his eye, Bar noticed a black spot. Barely looking, he identified Kiki. "And you too!" His thick finger pointing towards the young lady. Keeping himself and his finger at least one rapier distance from her at all times.
Sounds: Ruck nah Manook, huck rookah! Translation: "This will become your food, if I didn't kick you." After his motivational speech of food to goblins, he would use his tinderbox to get a fire going. He would take some of the first horse's smashed parts and put them on one of the stakes. All to hopefully feed the goblins without having to touch them. Marshmallowling "Horse on stick." Having tried to cook the dish and served it to the goblin minions, he would tell the minions there would be more for later.
The other horse would be Bar's favorite piece of work to date. "Master Seethe! There something you still wanted with this?" Bar pointed at the horse-corpse. After hearing Seethe's answer, a smile appeared on the half-orks face. His new minions would now hopefully stretch out parts of the beast as Bar would swing carefully at each part. It might result in a nicely harvested horse. Harvesting a horse-skull, 4 legbones and 2 shoulderblades: Radius, humerus, scapula. The horse-steaks he would gather, he would cook and keep them for later. All else that wasn't ruined by time, days worth of rot, little green fingers or cleavage, he would take with him.
-Emptying the living goblins.(Except for loincloths) -Collecting loot and throwing it on a pile. "Everyone take what they want, i keep the rest."(taking the bone-necklage) -Talking to goblins.(And translating most people say from orkish to common, from common to orkish) -Making room on his necklace for one extra goblin. -Mutilates and harvests goblins. survival check. 5d20+2 => 4,7,10,13,22 => 1nat20 -Talking to M and yelling to kiki from a safe distance. Message conveyed: Subject to Seethe and kill more without hitting skulls and livers/spleens.(Essentially) -Cooking horsemeat for feeding goblins using stake. -Mutilates and harvests second horse. survival check. 1d20+2 => 19 -tries to take most of the loot in the process.
Hymn stretched, hooked his bow on his belt and stood next to Kiki. "Pardon, my fearsome and beautiful compatriot, but did the big green thug just declare himself our leader or theirs?" Admittedly, he didn't much care who was in charge. He'd been paid, and the caravan with all his stuff in was alright. All he needed was a warm bed for the night, and he was a happy man.
Again, he stretched, more to show off his bare chest and flat stomach than any muscle stiffness. He watched the half-orc shout at the entourage of goblins and briefly considered borrowing the face of a hobgoblin he had seen in chains once, just to contest for the right for servants. But no, these were goblins. They were all sorts of headache, especially if a nilbog possessed one of them. Let the thug have them.
Deciding the fight was over, Cas put Hymn away, shifting back into her natural form. Not quite as tall as Hymn, nor as muscled, she watched the black-clad human's height seemingly increase by an inch. She was rather pretty, in the same way the glow off a knifeblade catching the light was pretty. "You do look quite fearsome like that," Cas continued where Hymn had left off. Have you worked for a Guild of thieves?"
A fairy riding a dog. Coming from the west along the road. A friend? Or another nuisance to deal with? She was small enough to perhaps over take but, not in his injured condition. Though in suspicion the psion did subtly reach for his dagger hidden in his left sleeve. It was until the small creature attended to his side, and revealed a Harper's emblem. Ah yes the Harpers. One of the more amiable factions within Neverwinter, gatherers of information throughout Faerûn, keepers of the status quo in the shadows. And best of all aided the weak, the poor, and the powerless. Not all who delved in the dark were bad or sneaks, ill-trusted perhaps, but the Harpers had earned his approval, and vice versa. This fairy in particular seemed familiar enough, perhaps their paths may have crossed in the past, and after her introduction, the mute lowered his hesitation and grasped arrow shaft. Bracing himself for the pain once more, his collapsed lung draining the oxygen from the air as best it could, a final inhale before pulling the damned arrow out. A process that winced the mute's body with his inability to scream out as the bloody metal was ejected from the flesh wound. Then the healing words soothed his bleeding flank, the weave woven around as flesh and organ were restored by magic. With a silent nod acknowledging her work, a finger pointed out at Kiki's direction, for the rogue look a little worse for wear herself moments ago, as she ducked into the pursuit of killing every last one of these buggers... It should be fairly obvious to a trained healer that the psion was a mute.
But it seemed just as the man recovered, literally catching his breath as his lung began to balloon back up into a healthier state, the battle was over. Goblins picked off one by one and their Barbarian raging enough to scare the two or so remaining into submission. Killing a chicken to scare the monkey. And the Goblins gathered themselves, dragging their dead one by one and piling up the belongings of their former adversaries and friends. A rather interesting sight to behold much to the psion' amusement, it seemed he was correct about the barbarian, in such a simple man's mind, might made right. And in lieu of benevolence, ruled over his newfound minions with strictest authority. A bit of power and suddenly the true viciousness comes out. Bathed in blood of his own and the goblins, the green giant looked less than jolly, but taking to hacking away the gruesome trophies of goblin skulls, the man looked fine.
That was until Bar decided to confront him about the lack of collectable skull from the Goblin who had crumbled before the psion's vengeance. An overload of psionic power clearly too much for such primitive brain to handle that it burst. Lifted from his recovered state as the man looked around the battlefield, boots grimed with goblin guts from the rampage that was Bar, a large hand taking him by the collar. To which the immediate reaction was to unsheathe the hidden knife from his sleeve, pressing the blade against the orc's bare flesh, letting the steel edge run across as a warning of how close it was. A bit of knifeplay perhaps, tip threatening to pierce the half-orc's chest should he press them any close together. For the monster's breath was still rank, and is body smelled even more foul. If words wouldn't get through to that idiot's skull, then perhaps sinking a sharp knife would for all the sudden aggression. Did the barbarian even stop to consider a thing called personal space? Or that he was expecting words to come from a mute?
Regardless it seemed it was over, and scuffing off his shoulders and cuff the silent member returned the knife to his sleeve, hidden once more for a quick draw such as this. Daggers of the mind did enough, but sometimes it took something more readily observed, a knife to the throat or to cut off some unfortunate man's chances of children. It would be for the better, as their children did nothing to offend him, but to take them in after killing their sire? There was a twisted irony in that. All that aside, the psion silently peered through the looted remains, taking a curious vambrace which with a conceal blade and examining the mechanism cleverly tinkered to create a spring-loaded dagger. Another to add to his collection of weapons a street boy would use. Rolling up a sleeve and strapping on the new weaponry, giving his wrist a few flicks and a press to extend and react the blade at will. This was worth the setback they had in terms of time keeping. Their party numbered Seven now, as the psion observed the tiefling morph back into the bard making idle conversation with Kiki who hopefully the fairy had gotten a chance to heal. A polymorpher? It seems the bard had some secrets after all, and wore another mask just like he did. Regardless, the psion rejoin the main group, with his ever silent presence as they discussed the fate of the goblins rather openly in front of them.
There was no reason to keep the goblins all alive. They did after all try to kill them, why should a surrender be taken when they were vastly out numbered? No one strikes me down with impunity, and a snake thread upon shall strike the heel of the creature that insulted it. But then again, he really cared not to deal with that unwashed orc again, who wasted another horse for the sake of food. Ah, there were some fried spiders, rations perhaps he could offer the goblins these picking a few in hand. Spiders, a meal compared to what he had eaten, not as good as rat, but certainly more palatable than slugs. They needed more information, these were according to Seethe, the horses of their employer and his guard. A guard that failed at his job presumably, to which the psion would find himself eager to interrogate one of the two conscious goblins remaining who quivered in fear attending to Bar and his offerings of horse meat. Ah horse meat, another street rat delicacy.
"Eat." The Psychic invitation to one of the two conscious goblins. Some spider rations given, alongside the charred horsemeat. The silent man had a voice, one that resounded in the mind as he folded his legs and sat down, taking a horse-kebab casually with eyes watching the two goblins keenly. To those not privy to the mental connection made with the goblin kicked by Bar, it would seem like a normal exchange, goblin being offered food. It was either a small kindness towards ones prisoners, or a last meal before more heads exploded. If indeed they caught on to his psychic powers, but for now it seemed charade worked, at least with Bar. "She will kill you if you do not prove to be useful. There are three of you, it is either you, the one beside you, or the one tied up. Take us to the dwarf safely and she will spare you. Do we have a deal?" Chocolate eyes watching the goblin eat, no signs of any communication between them, but the telepathic link there, as if there was an understanding between the two somehow being communicated as the psion ate his horse meat as well.
Beckoning the wizard over and the cleric to join them, as well as the fairy had she not secretly left with that dog of hers. And if not, the good-natured man would offer the tired dog a bite of his kebab before taking another of his own along with a few scratches to the dog's ear should it not bite him. But turn on the man who counted every wrong against him, and you would end up like the poor goblin with bits of skull and brain scattered in the wind. Let that be a suggestion to the goblin he was currently offering a deal with. Cross him, and suffer a terrible death, perhaps one that would make you stop breathing so that you too may feel the fire burning up your lungs and your body going into respiratory shock.
Claimed Loot: 1 punch dagger, 2 days spider rations. Action: Switch Psychic Focus from Psychic Assault to Telepathic Contact for Telepathy Check: Persuasion on kicked goblin: 1d20 + 4 = 12 + 4 = 16
Elki watched the goblin scamper off into the forest as she swung her mace over her shoulder. Her comrades had rounded up the rest of the survivors, tying them together, making a loot pile and brutalising horses and goblin corpses for skulls.
Wait what.
The cleric approached the road as she slipped her shield onto her back and holstered her weapon. Her simple armour glinted in the light, not a spot of viscera decorating it. The half-orc continued to make light work of his... art... form?
"Wow, that's simply vile." Elki stated, her expression somewhere between revulsion and morbid fascination, her tone of voice more awe-filled then anything else. Blood splattered against her cheek and down her scale mail, and she quickly took a 90 degree turn and marched over to the caravan to find her booze.
"kell, kar Douckak reguk Bar merosk. Geksi zevbek. Zeb kar tir don kurt, kar zik nir rekil." Elki warned the goblins as she walked by, casting a well-meaning, strained smile to the orc. It translated something along the lines of, "yes, you do what Bar says. Guy's crazy. But if you follow his words, you might live well. " She was surprised to see the orc talking with such a childish dialect. Not that her orc was the most refined (was it possible to speak orc in a delicate way?) but she could get her point across, at least. She planned on finding out what was going on his orcish just as soon as she had a long, stiff drink.
Now that Elki was finally this side of the battlefield, she could finally get a good look at her comrades. Yep. They were all looking like they did some real good fighting today. Real fancy battle-hardened folks... good thing Elki did her part. Mm-hm, she was so proud of herself today.
That was when she noticed the rogue. "holy Bahamut balls, Kiki you're supposed to kill the goblins not dress yourself in your own blood." Elki rushed over, looking the girl up and down, before pressing a gentle hand to her head while she murmured something softly and flicked her other wrist.
"That should keep you going." Elki said satisfied, taking a small step back. She glanced to the new guy. "Oh hi there, when'd you arrive?"
She'll probably yank that blowgun later and a couple of stakes, but right now she just wants booze. On way to caravan, detour near Kiki/new guy she didn't see shift. Cure Wounds: 3 + 2 = 5 on Kiki
Kiki remained at her post in front of the goblins, even as the barbarian began his butchering spree. She watched with a look of disgust evident on her face, obviously reconsidering her earlier conclusion as to the demise of the horse. She said nothing as the barbarian hacked away, collecting his meat and bones. The people here sure had some odd customs.
However, as the barbarian spouted his anger at M, her hand tightened its grip on her rapier. He then turned his wrath to her, which immediately brought the rapier up to point at the half-orc's nose. "I may not understand your customs, Barbarian, but I do know my own country's proper etiquette. I am in no one's charge but my own. I suggest you do not dispute that, for I will fight to my death to preserve my freedom, and that of those who have kept me safe." Her eyes narrowed as she stared down the half-orc that towered over her. She kept her blade at the ready, but thankfully the barbarian had not yet decided to approach.
The bard that had sidled alongside her changed his shape, momentarily catching Kiki off guard. She had heard of shapechangers before, but had never yet encountered one. "Fearsome may be the intention, but I am no Guild member as of yet," she replied, still not taking her eyes from the hulking green man before her. "The Thieves' Guild of Halruaa was a good place to go if you wished your thieving days to end. They would recruit you for dangerous missions, send you first into a den of traps, and when the mountain collapsed on you, they would take your gear and leave, laughing the whole way until they could find a new thief. I prefer 'rogue' as my title."
Kiki felt a gentle hand on her head as healing energy flowed into her. "Thanks a million," Kiki muttered. "I think half of that blood was my own, though. Sorry for making you waste a spell on me."
1x Thank
