Post
by waysoftheearth » Mon Jun 21, 2010 12:38 pm
waysoftheearth wrote:
Taines holds the two bound Hobgoblin captives down, neer too gently, with a muddy boot up one's face and the flat of his heavy axe blade upon the other's. Ulric mutters something unrecognisable, but does not act rashly or otherwise, as Mads strides over to a fallen Hobgoblin and picks up the fellow's black spear. It is a crude looking weapon; the haft is thick, black and hardly straight, and there are vicious barbs about its serrated, metal dagger-head.
Meanwhile Olaf grasps his up-ended sword hilt in both hands as he hops lightly to a sleeping Hobgoblin and plunges the blade deeply through the fellow's rib-cage. There is an awful crunch as his sword grinds through mail, bone and gristle -- the hapless solider chokes on his own shriek as he thrashes to wakefulness for one searing moment, then gurgles out his last breath. His sleeping fellow (1d6=3) does not rouse despite the imminent danger...
Meanwhile the central contest for the field clamours on violently.
(Initiative is rolled; Dieter 1d6=3(+1), Crystin 1d6=1, The Captain 1d6=5, The Boson 1d6=6. Caine will attack last as he first has to move into position. Flewellen will dally until after Caine and/or Olaf have joined the attack)
"I'll eat yer filthy Elfin tongue!" seethes the Boson at Crystin's taunt as he pummels at her with renewed spite. He punches at her with his fat knuckles, and batters aside her feint counter-strike with his shield and vicious lashing of his razor whip...
"Har har!" smirks the Captain at Dieter, crashing his black mace against the fighting-Man's shield, and then evading Dieter's wild slash with a hasty side-step. "I'll finish you this time!" he sneers, sensing an advantage and thrashing his mace first left, then right at Dieter's dented helm (1d20=11), but Dieter dodges right, and then deflects the head blow with a ringing clash of his blade.
At the very same moment, Crystin is pushed wide by the vulgar Boson's superior strength. He reacts instantly and his arm proves too quick and strong (1d20=17). His razor whip rents the Elf-maiden for (1dd=4) 5 hit points -- tearing apart her supple leather collar and slashing open her pale throat in an awful red splatter. Crystin gasps, her eyes wide and staring as she staggers to her knees. "Girrrl, hmmph!" snorts the Boson cruelly, and rips his whip back as Crystin tumbles into the mud with a clatter.
Dieter responds furiously, valiantly deflecting whatever blow the Captain offers, and stabbing and slashing furiously (1d20=12) driving the big Hobgoblin back a step or two, but neither fighter can pierce the defense of the other.
But totally unbeknown to either of the preoccupied Hobgoblin fighters, Caine sidles silently up behind them, panther-like as he readies his strike -- a gleaming, down-turned blade in each hand his lethal fangs. He looks past the Boson's invitingly fat and unarmoured back, and instead springs at the Captain (1d20=14), plunging his knife blade deep into the trapezoidal region of the warrior's thick, muscular neck with lethal accuracy for (2dd=4,6) 6 hit points! "Arghhed! Treachery!!" roars the Captain, staggerred by the devious blow, but somehow managing to fling Caine aside all the same -- the Man's knife still stuck in his back.
[f=32]
Golgildir the Elf Medium (MV 12", AC 9, HD 1, hp 1/1, AL N) great cloak,
lantern; spells: color spray; scrolls: sleep, sleep, charm person
Hirelings: Georges;
torch[/f]
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