The figure below gives a yelp as the arrow strikes him squarely in the chest, and collapses backward, his dagger clattering to the ground as he clutches at the arrow protruding from him.

Aerendir becomes aware of a second figure below, that of Calvorn, who, partway through approaching the figure from behind, sword drawn, has paused to glance up at Aerendir. He nods, reluctantly impressed as he signals for the pair of guards by the stable to join him in dragging the injured assassin to the tavern.

From his position, the agent is unable to see the the army of warriors approaching the town.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 31 using 1d20+17. Hide.
Calvorn Areldan rolled 26 using 1d20+17. Move Silently.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

"Nod? Wake Tyronius, and tell him Aerendir says he'd better stop sleeping and start putting his full-plate on, because there's an army of thugs approaching. Once you have done that, barricade the door to this room," Aerendir orders. "I will hold you personally responsible if anyone gets inside. Understood?"

With this curt command, Aerendir climbs out the window, pulling himself up towards the roof for a better vantage point from which to watch the combat below, and target his fire.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 16 using 1d20+10.  Balance Check (to balance on roof).
Aerendir rolled 15 using 1d20+13. Climb Check (to get on roof).
Aerendir rolled 23 using 1d20+13.  Second climb check.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

Nod, still not entirely awake, blinks at the empty window for a moment. Then he gives a start, leaps up, trips over footstool in front of his chair with a curse, rises and stumbles to the door and out into the corridor.

"Tyronius?" he calls hoarsely, "Tyronius? I think you need to put on your full plate..."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:13, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

The door bursts open before he has finished speaking and Tyronius stands before him. He is fully dressed in his plate mail, and, judging by the sweat on his brow and the sword in his hand, appears to have been doing some exercise.

"What is it?" he demands, stretching one of his legs as he speaks.

"Army of thugs," Nod says, flinching back at how quickly the door opens, "Aerendir said I need to barricade the door."

Tyronius raises a skeptical eyebrow. He brushes past the minstrel and into Marabir's room.

"Aerendir, what is the meaning of-" he breaks off as he glances around the empty room, his eyes narrowing at the open window. He strides over to this window, and peers out into the darkened streets below. He frowns, not seeming to see anything.

"Aerendir?" he calls in a voice soft enough to avoid waking the sleeping village below.

OOC: Prince Tyronius Carendil rolled 13 using 1d20+7. Spot.

There is no reply from Aerendir, who is now perched on the roof, taking aim down into the streets below.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 42 using 1d20+22.  Spot Check.

"What is happening?" asks Marabir, who appears to have woken, and sits up, wincing as he clutches his side.

"You stay there," Tyronius replies curtly, pointing a stern finger at his brother as he strides past the bewildered Nod and into the corridor once more.

Marabir, who seems to have improved a little after a night, more or less, of quiet sleep, seems to be in no mood to humour his brother's instruction. He continues to pull himself up, uneasily, and hobbles over to the window. He pants as he peers out, leaning against the window frame. He also does not appear to see anything, and pushes himself away from the frame as he makes his way across the room.

"Pass me my sword," he winces to Nod.

"Um, I think Aerendir said he wanted me to, er, barricade the door..." Nod says hesitantly searches through the pile of cloaks and baggage to retrieve the prince's weapon.

"Indeed," replies Marabir as unsheathes the blade and tosses aside the scabbard, "Well, you'll have plenty of time to do that after I'm outside."

Nod doesn't quite seem to feel this satisfies the spirit of Aerendir's instructions, but technically the ranger didn't say anything about Marabir remaining in the room, so he makes no effort to argue.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

Tyronius, meanwhile, has almost crashed into Calvorn on the staircase to the taproom.

"What is happening?" he demands.

"An assassin, I believe," Calvorn replies quickly as he turns to lead the prince down the remaining stairs, "Aerendir shot him in the courtyard. He's injured, but alive."

Meanwhile, outside, the army which stealthily approaches the town has swelled to at least fifty men. They appear to be well armed, carrying a variety of swords, crossbows, maces and spears. Many are masked or wear helmets which cover their features. The foremost men have by this time passed through the gate and are within reliable shooting distance from Aerendir's position atop the tavern roof.

Aerendir takes aim at the thugs and fires.

OOC: Aerendir dealt 25 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Aerendir dealt 25 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Aerendir dealt 13 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

With cries three of the men collapse. The rest, realising they have been spotted and deciding there is no point in trying to remain hidden any longer, give a shout as they break into a charge toward the tavern. Answering bolts from crossbows are fired back at Aerendir, though only one well aimed bolt from a burly man in the crowd below comes close to striking the elf.

OOC: Galnor Veldorn dealt 20 points of vitality damage to Aerendir.
This message was last updated by the player at 12:11, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

"Son of a curn," Aerendir curses, as he barely rolls to the side, before resuming his fire.

A couple more of the men fall to Aerendir's well aimed shots before they reach the tavern and proceed to charge in. Hearing their cries, Prince Tyronius and the men with him stand ready to meet them, swords drawn.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 23 using 1d20+7. Initiative.
Caladormists rolled 20 using 1d20. Initiative.
Prince Tyronius Carendil rolled 19 using 1d20+2. Initiative.
Galnor Veldorn rolled 17 using 1d20+5. Initiative.
Prince Marabir rolled 14 using 1d20. Initiative.
Thanian Man-At-Arms rolled 10 using 1d20. Initiative.

The first of the attackers to enter finds one of Calvorn's arrows in his throat as he crashes forward with a garbled gasp. The ranger, crouched behind the cover of an overturned table, swiftly fits another arrow to his bow as he prepares to fire once more.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan dealt 18 points of wound damage to Caladormist.

The attackers swarm forward, engaging the men-at-arms inside throughout the taproom as a chaotic skirmish ensues. Windows are shattered and tables and chairs snapped and splintered as swords, spears, bolts and arrows flash in all directions.

Alphard the barman, roused by the commotion, emerges briefly from a door leading down to the kitchen area, takes one look at the chaos, and closes it hurriedly. The sharp-eared hear the lock click a moment later.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:39, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

Tyronius easily dodges the blows of the first two men to reach him, slashing the first across the chest and impaling the second. The men behind hastily come to a halt, circling the prince warily, weapons held at the ready.

OOC: Prince Tyronius Carendil dealt 25 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Prince Tyronius Carendil dealt 32 points of vitality damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.
Prince Tyronius Carendil dealt 15 points of wound damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.