The path before you opens up into a sylvan glade of breathtaking beauty. In this forest of unnatural beauty, this glade seems to be almost...painted? The browns are all of the colors are more themselves. Browns, more brown than you've ever seen.  The greens are nearly radiant.  Even the air itself seems strangely visible. As if you can see the currents in a fog, but unlike a fog you can additionally see straight through it. Birdsong always just seemed like a bunch of random tweeting, but now? Like an opera that's on the brink of moving you to tears.

Before you stand two humans—Lady Bronwyn and Baron Agwain— accompanied by a most unusual courtier: a gnome-like creature who you think is probably Delfargo. Lady Bronwyn is tall and proud, her creamy white skin is lost in a crisp white dress divided for riding that features an intertwining golden pattern around the edges.  You've seldom seen such designs, but associate them with the Moonshaes. Her lusterous dark hair is plated in braids which are then woven into a single large braid running down her back to her slim waist.  Baron Agwain is resplendent in lobstered steel plate and peers ahead with a hawk-like nose.  His right hand is on the hilt of his sheathed sword, and the other intertwined with Lady Bronwyn's.

With the aid of the Baitseller, Baron Agwain and Lady Bronwyn appear to be negotiating with the ghostly shape of a giant satyr, its feet planted and its eyes fixed firmly forward, like a sentinel. It's eyes shine with green light, and its skin gives the appearance stone carved with dim runes yet retains a supple and flexible as true skin.

Delfargo finishes a sentence "... you must take us! I've already had their coin!"

Suddenly, from over the hill come the howls of a pack of wolves. A moment later, they are revealed to be snarling goblin worg-riders, racing to attack the trio. The goblins on their backs laugh with hellish delight as they prepare to loose arrows.

Roll initiative and declare your actions.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:47, Sat 09 Apr 2022.

((ooc: How many worg-riders are there?))

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 1):

As soon as Heluvianal sees the Ghostly shape, he almost prostrates himself, remaining on his knees, then goes back onto his haunches.  It was as though he didn't see the Lady and the Baron, only one of his God like Spirits with its glowing eyes like it was alive and watching him.  He mutters a few words that only he and the forest spirits would hear

Then he notices the Lady and Baron, leaps to his feet like a squirrel hearing an enemy. Before he can say or do anything however, he hears the howls and knows that the glade is in trouble.  He prepares his bow to protect the Glade.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:57, Sat 09 Apr 2022.

5

"Goblins, on your flank!" Tolantra bellowed. Kicking her horse into motion, she surged forward. She wanted to get herself in between Branwen and the worg riders. At the same time, if possible, she wanted to give the goblins a clear shot at the baron. It was probably too much to hope that the goblins would kill him, but she was open to the simple solution if it presented itself.

((ooc: Initiative: 1d10 = 3
Move to get in front of Branwen, but leave a path open to the baron.
If the worg riders close to melee, I'll attack with my hammer. If they all stay out of range, I'll throw a hammer at the closest.
Attack: 1d20+6 = 21
Damage (bonus to damage): 1d4+11 = 15
(those numbers are for melee. If it's thrown, attack is 22 and damage is 14)))

Celadhel twisted in her saddle at Tolantra's shout. Bladesong was not particularly suited for mounted combat and for a moment she wanted to leap from her saddle and charge into the fray. But she wasn't certain how the worgs, with their faster movement, would spread themselves.

Besides, she had other ways to even the odds.

Dipping a hand into one of her pouches, she pulled a bit of sand free and tossed it into the air. Some quiet words in elven unleashed a wave of sleepiness at the goblins. She tried to center it on the ones who looked to be wanting to stay back in bowshot range.

((ooc: Initiative: 1d10 = 7
Cast sleep. Effects 4 hd of creatures.))

Round 1
The goblins begin by circling around the edge of the tree line around the clearing.  It is clear that they are talented riders, clutching javelins in their hands and laughing with wild abandon. On their shoulders they wear the jawless skulls of foes as pauldrons and black mantles of crow feathers bedeck their necks.

The Baron draws his steel and pushes Lady Bronwyn behind him to shield her as the javelins come raining in.

"Forget them!" Delfargo the Baitseller screams, "Let me through!" The Guardian Spirit must have given his assent for they both disappear into the mist and the nature of the hollow alters perceptibly to seem slightly less surreal.

Tolantra's hurled hammer  lands with a sickening crunch that causes a wave of nausea to pass over the party, even as a wave of death engulfs the recipient of the blow.

Heluvianal looses a pair of arrows. One, hastily aimed, disappears into the woods.  The other results in a plume of blood deep in the hide of a Worg. Significantly, while that arrow recently sent many a man to Myrkul's realm, the Worg barely misses a stride.

Then come the javelins. For all their skill as riders, goblins are still goblins.  Only one of the javelins comes close to landing, and it is painlessly deflected by the baron's lobstered steel plates.

Then magic fills the air.  Celadhel mutters some arcane syllables and casts a handful of sand at the attackers--two of them slump in their saddles and slide from their mounts in deep sleep.

Olaf invokes the dominion of the Earthmother over the beasts of the Earth and wrests control of the mind of one of the riderless Worg and sets it to attack the wounded member of its pack.

Edrie takes a page from Celadhel and mimics her spell causing another rider to slip from his mount.

A single rider, undamaged and unbowed seems to be reconsidering his options at the conclusion of the first exchange.

What do you do? Declare your actions and roll initiative.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 6):

Switching targets as he sees another Worg attack the one he hit, he targets the remaining Goblin still riding and looses a searing strike.

Hit Goblin still Riding, if kill on first shot, target wounded Worg with second shot.
Initiative = rolled 9 using 1d10.
Attack1: Bow = rolled 18 using 1d20+4.
Damage1: Bow = rolled 11 using 1d8+7.
Attack2: Bow = rolled 14 using 1d20+4.
Damage2: Bow = rolled 8 using 1d8+7.

Edit: +1 Attack using charted table (making it a 19 and a 15 to hit)
This message was last edited by the player at 00:37, Wed 20 Apr 2022.

Since she hadn't been able to get herself between the baron and Bronwyn, Tolantra pulled her horse up and let it come to a stop. No sense putting herself directly between the baron and the goblins. No sense getting down from the horse, either. If the baron got sufficiently distracted, she might be able to swing in and grab Bronwyn.

So instead, she grabbed the short bow that was resting it its case along the horse's flank and a pair of arrows. If the goblins were going to stand off and shoot at people, she was happy to oblige. She aimed at an unwounded worg; she hoped to get them killed before they could hurt their horses.

((ooc: Initiative: 2
2 bow attacks on an unwounded worg (DM's choice)
1d20+4 = 5
1d20+4 = 17
Damage: 1d8+5 = 13))

Celadhel took in the battle with a glance and then hesitated. Her skill was with a sword, and with magic that was swiftly depleted. There wasn't a good way for her to come to grips with the goblins, at least not without leaving herself open to being swarmed in return. So she drew her sword, moved her horse a little in front of the rest of the group, and waited.

((ooc: No action this round, unless a goblin or worg comes within attack range, in which case swing at it.))

Heluvianal ends the combat before the Goblin can decide on a course of action.  Olaf and Edrie draw knives and begin slitting the throats of slumbering goblins.  The Worgs, bey to hail the new leader of their Pack--Olaf's charmed Warg who made quick of the bloodied Long Tooth--disappear into the woods, having no inherent interests in the goings on there.  Their participation was always transactional, based on the wishes and rewards of their now dead riders.

A tense stand off descends on the glade. Weapons were drawn in common defense against a foe. Now no foes remain, but neither blade nor hammer have found their rest.

There is a wordless battle of positioning, with Tol trying to approach Lady Bronwyn and Baron Agwain Delantar, well practiced in duelling, mirrors those movements to remain between the dwarf warrior and the fair Lady.

Both Baron and Lady seem exhausted from the circumstances of the day.  It is Baron Agwain that breaks the silence. His voice is a ringing tenor, born to command.

"Well done, guardsmen.  You have protected your Lady against those that would do her harm. Your duty is discharged, and she is in our care and will remain so.  Athgard Keep is strongly fortified by my retainers and personal guards. We will commend you to our cousin, the Duke, at the next Council of Man."

He does not lower his sword nor remove his eyes from Tol's.

"No." Tolantra's voice was flat, unyielding. She kept her hand on her hammer, but didn't pull it free. "You and your men murdered Daggerford guards and fled the scene. You will return with us to town and face the Duke's justice."

He had also, of course, abducted Bronwyn. But since that lady was currently within blade length of the baron, and Tolantra didn't know whether she had been charmed or otherwise influenced, she figured it was safer to stick to the more obvious wrong-doing.

Baron Agwain begins to sputter, but Lady Bronwyn places a hand on his shoulder and speaks over him.  "You serve the Duke's justice? Good. I am the Duke's sister, Bronwyn, the Lady of Daggerford.  I have stood at court and issued the Duke's justice when he could not be bothered to decide matters himself. You wear the symbols of my house on your tabard. Do you recognize my authority?" Her eyes are calm pools.

"Methinks the lady is enspelled." Olaf grumbles. "How else should the flower of Daggerford's garden be so willingly plucked by unwashed hands and out of season?"

"That is far from clear, Olaf. Though there is something amiss here." Edrie nibbled her lower lip and pinched her chin between her thumb and forefinger.

The lithe bladesinger pushes forward, "We are known to you, Lady Bronwyn--and you to us. Baron, there are few laws of men which my father, Lord Elorfindar, gives credibility. But all the gods of elves and men recognize the demands of hospitality.  Had you been in my house as my guest, slain my guardsmen and stolen my sister, your death would be the price demanded."

She raises an immaculate eyebrow to a sharp arch, "How shall I keep faith with my father's liege lord if I fail to take the price from your flesh?"

Her blade gleams in the glade, it's edge thirsty.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:35, Thu 21 Apr 2022.