(027) Some Country Air

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
(1d6)

Highbough casts one eye quickly to the patchy, overcast sky and notes with some satisfaction that the gentle breeze, when it huffs is blowing out of the south-west, meaning it is coming from over the Goblins' left-shoulders as they ride north along the river toward you. Small mercies.

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
In fact, the riders are moving at an amble rather than a trot. Olaf risks peering between two rocks at them for a moment and sees that the black Worgs are are sticking their longs snouts into every crevice and the Hobgoblin riders seems to be searching the terrain about them.

Those on the opposite bank are doing much the same, though they might be marginally ahead of those on this side.

As they close the gap, Olaf catches broken bits of their conversation that carries to him on the wind...

"...waste ov' a good night..." complains one voice,"...luggin' your stinkin' hide about..." growls another, "...ta git outa this brite..." another is saying.

They must only be a dozen paces over the rise now. Olaf holds his breath...

[waysoftheearth]

ehiker133 wrote:

Desmond readies his dog whistle but Mondes grabs it from between his lips, "Gimme that, you clutz," he hisses, placing it in his own mouth.

Desmond glares at Mondes and thinks to himself, "When we're done with these wargs, I'm gonna punch you in the noggin, Noggin."

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
Olaf watches with baited breath as first one warg, then a second, and several more lope easily by -- the nearest merely 20ft from him.

Their huge heads are slung low, sniffing intently at the rocky ground as they go, the hobgoblin riders less interested in the terrain and more interested in their own bickering chatter.

"...Rudguz'll be spittin' blood, I tell ya..." says one, "...long as it ain't mine, I could care less..." says another with a harsh laugh. "Pays ta be Cap'in, 'ey Cap..?" laughs another.

One of the wargs jerks its head suspiciously toward Olaf all of a sudden. But before anything comes of it, the Hobgoblins spy Gustave's split sack of coin.

"Hold up, wot 'av we 'ere?" says a Hobgoblin.

They head keenly toward the sack...

[waysoftheearth]

danhem wrote:
Ulric will wait until the hobgoblins have assembled around the treasure and then cast the Somnolence at the center-most goblin.

[waysoftheearth]

mushgnome wrote:
Highbough waits until the ambush is sprung, then throws his spear at the nearest warg target.

[waysoftheearth]

eris wrote:
After the rest engage, Olaf will leap up and fall upon the goblins and wargs from the rear.

[waysoftheearth]

tonneau wrote:
Gustave hunts for a sizable pebble with which to scone one of the rogues. Should none be available he steels himself for more dirty work up close.

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
The Worgs have their snouts all intently among the rocks as they encounter the manifold scents of the company members, while the Hobgoblin troops are swiftly off their mounts and greedily to the sack of spilled treasure.

Surprise is rolled (1d6=5) and it is a superb ruse.

The Goblins and Worgs look up in shock as the ambush is sprung!

Desmond doofs Mondes over the back of the head, and grabs the whistle as it falls from his mouth, and blows on it as hard and long as he can. The Worgs both nearest, and those two score yards across yonder stream raise their great heads, ears pricked, and immediately turn toward him, searching...

At the same moment Highbough casts his spear (1d20=8), Gustave hurls a rock(1d20=6), and Wibert lets fly an arrow from Padrig's shortbow (1d20=11), but only Wibert's missile flies true (1dd=5) punching through a Hobgoblin's neck for 5 hit points.

And just a moment after this hail Dieter, Pelenwin and Olaf all rush out of hiding and crash into the enemy with axe and blade swinging (3d20=15,16,10), and all three Men deliver grievous strokes! Grim faced Dieter hews his surprised foe mightily for (2dd=2,5) 7 hit points, dashing off its head at one stroke. Pelenwin heaves home his executioner's pole-axe for (3dd=2,3,6) 6 hit points, almost splitting his foe in two, and Olaf attacks from behind (2dd=1,3) and runs through the Goblin shot in the neck by Wibert for a further 5 hit points, gutting it before ripping his blackened sword free in a slew of foul gore.

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
All the while Ulric has been straining his tongue, recanting the sorcerous syllables of the Baleful Somnolence of Morpheus, uttering harsh hissing and spitting Draconic words that no Man's tongue was made for.

The hairs on the nape of his neck rise as his skin prickles and his eyes shine with a copper fire as his sorcery is unleashed!

(2d6=2,6)

The heads of the three remaining Hobgoblins seem to fall back upon their shoulders and they tumble listlessly to the ground amid the slaughter!

But there are only three of them, and the magic must affect 9 HD of creatures.

Pelenwin is nearest to the epicentre and affected next. (Saving throw; 1d20=16, 15, 18, 13) Amazingly the bold Templar saves 3 times (3 HD worth of magic), but succumbs at the 4th HD, and falls atop his slain foe.

Dieter and Olaf are greater than 1 HD and so are resistant. Throw for who is next nearest (1=Ulric, 2=Gustave, 3=Wibert, 4=Highbough, 5=Desmond, 6=Mondes; 1d6=1).

The magic courses unstoppable from Ulric's throat, now so violently that it threatens to consume him amid its torrential flow... (Saving throw; 1d20=20!) Ulric fights valiantly for control, but the magic isn't done yet (1 HD more of creatures must be affected) (Ulric saves again 1d20=6) and this time he cannot resist its power. Ulric too drops listless, like a stone.

And the sorcery is done.