Immersive Ink

tombowings wrote:
Pelewin, pole axe in hand, makes his way to the gate, ready to defend the keep in case of an breach. If the gate opened, for whatever reason, he will charge onto the battlefield, coving with both his and goblin blood.

waysoftheearth wrote:
The Front Gate

danhem wrote:Ulric continues to focus his mind, blotting out the screams and the smell. He begins to speak the words of the Baleful Somnolence of Morpheus, targeting the fleeing mass of hobgoblins through the portcullis.

Not content with the carnage already wrought, Ulric brings forth into this World further sorcery to hinder the fleeing hobgobins, and (2d6+1=6) half a dozen of them drop into a baleful slumber as they run, collapsing into the cold, frosty mud without so much as a whimper!

The remainder -- including their Captain -- continue to retreat at pace, seemingly ignorant or careless of the plight of their comrades.

waysoftheearth wrote:
The Front Gate

Not a few moments later, Pelenwin and Dieter both join Gustave, Victor and Ulric at the front gate, where a fearsome air of threat lingers over Ulric, and his eyes blaze yet with sorcery...

waysoftheearth wrote:
On the Battlement

Upon the battlements Olaf, Koch, Wibert and Desmond all lean to in preparation to loose their missiles at the fleeing troops -- but to their great surprise half of their number seem to drop dead in flight! What devilry is this now?!

There can be no answers but they fire all the same (1d20; Olaf=12, Koch=4, Wibert=20!, Desmond=9)!

Koch flings a stone from his sling, but it flies wide and clatters harmlessly away, and Desmond's hurled rock doesn't nearly carry far enough. But Olaf puts his arrow into the Captain's back for (1dd=2) 2 hit points, and Wibert's aim is as true and ever (praise be to Pardrig's bow) (2dd=1,6) dropping another hobgoblin with a shaft punched through his broken neck for 6 hit points.

It seems that almost half the troop lie scattered in the mud, while the remainder are scurrying out to the very limits of a short bow's range.

Several of the wolf riders move up to cover the injured Captain with the bodies of their mounts and shields held up defensively as they continue their retreat...

"Pull it out!" you hear the Captain yelling, and then a roar of pain as one of his troopers yanks Olaf's arrow from his back.

waysoftheearth wrote:
The North West Stair

Meanwhile, Highbough is climbing the north-west stair...

heartless wrote:
"What a shoot, I love this bow", shouts Wibert happy to fall a hobgoblin in one shoot. "Now who is next?"

Wibert looks for an other target to shoot before they get away.

tonneau wrote:
Gustave grins broadly, cracking some of the layer of filth on his face.
"Now that was beautiful", he observes, glancing sidelong at Ulric.
He sheaths his blade and watches the wretches flee, "Truly", he continues, "I have not seen such poetry since I watched Lord Gloodlin chase his favourite philly across the Gungy moor in his undertrouser".

Professor P wrote:
KOCH curses his poor aim and reloads his sling waiting the next strike of the hobgoblins.

ehiker133 wrote:
Desmond looks for another large rock to drop. If an alert hobgoblin isn't available as a target, he'll drop it on a sleeping one.

mushgnome wrote:
When Highbough reaches the top of the stairs, he hisses with disgust to see the hobgoblins, his hated foe! He briefly considers running back downstairs and chasing after the leader--perhaps in my younger days--but wisely decides to man the battlements and throw a dagger if he sees anything moving within range.