Ignoring the scratch on his side, Aarnr kicks the severed head out of his way and steps over the freshly gutted orc at his feet as he lunges at the orc who had the temerity to attempt to stick him with its spear.  Ideally he'd be having a go at the one that hit him (fair's fair, after all), but the inconsiderate brute is already dead, so someone's got to pay !

Poor Bilfro he cursed
He missed second and first
Such woe
Bruised ego he nursed
A quarrel dispersed
At foe
To hope he at worst
Did naught but air burst
Not Co

Wage war he detests
Do face ill-timed guests
Such bore
He rather protests
Such gruesome requests
Of gore
He'd rather find rests
Among ample ... nests
Galore

Yes such was his heart
That he hid in the cart
Alone
He did not depart
Nor did fall apart
A groan
For where he took heart
A small smelly fart
Had flown

Fergus, feeling much better thanks to Eilieen's (and Zadastha's) healing, swings Valkyria at the distracted orc.  The weapon is lighter than he's used to, and the arc it describes is higher without a bit of weight to pull it down.

Luckily the orc is tall, and the sword manages to hit it, before sweeping across and down towards the second one.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:24, Fri 18 July 2014.

Colwyn searches for a new target.  "There yer is!"  A new arrow takes wing and flies from his bow.  The arrow soars through the air, quick as the darting swallow, and flies directly towards his intended victim.

"Got yer!" he chuckles, and then looks about, worried, as he sniffs the air, "'ere.  What in the bloody 'ells's that there stink?"

His eyes, in their desperate scanning of the area for some new foe, happen to alight on Bilfro's  rump, where it projects from behind a bale of cloth.

"Gods!  That's bein' foul!"

Ozzy stands swinging the sling, taking careful aim against one of the approaching shadows. At the moment of release, he gags on the foul stench of Bilfro Butt. The stone shoots off sideways, leaving the Halfling choking and eyes watering. He had been doused in Orc urine the day before, but even that was a scented garden compared to the stench overpowering his olfactory senses at the moment. " GAH! What did you eat?!" he yells, " If it weren't dead goin' in, it's certainly dead now!"

15:37, Fri 18 July 2014: Oswald Osbourne rolled 12 using 1d20+5 ((7)). Missed.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:11, Sat 19 July 2014.

Honil pauses in the midst of the battle to quickly see how his men are doing.  Not as well as he might have hoped, but at least as well as he would have expected.

"Rally lads, rally!  We'll have the better of them in a trice!"

And then he starts towards the nearest orc, his slim blade weaving a pattern of steel death before him...

Erista, wary of taking any more of Aarnr's fun away, looks around for another target.  But her gaze passes over a nearby wagon, where she is momentarily distracted by Bilfro, and, perhaps more to the point, Ozzy and Colwyn's reactions to Bilfro.  Giggling, she drops her stone, and has to pick it up and start over.

The battle rages on...

Erista, distracted by the events going on around her, loses her grip on a sling stone and drops it.  Luckily for her, everybody else is far too busy to notice her embarrassing error.

Continuing his spectacular run of bad luck, Ozzy manages to be in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time, and finds himself assailed by a most noxious foe.  Which causes his own attempt to hit one of the orcs to fly high and wide of the target.

Colwyn, has spent a considerable portion of his life in the less pleasant areas of Tsar.  Horror and foulness have been a normal part of his environment for as long as he can remember.  He is, therefore, largely able to ignore Bilfro's intestinal emissions, and pierce another orc through the heart.

The source of those emissions (that is to say, the person, rather than the specific organ) seems to be having no more luck than most of the people in his immediate vicinity.  His crossbow bolt vanishes into the twilight forest, leaving a certain owl to ponder whether or not it's too late to find a new master...

The orc facing Aarnr is a particularly large specimen, both in height and breadth.  It's face is a mass of ritual scars and it arms bear the marks of hot iron.  It grins at the man, showing yellowed teeth and blackened gums, then swings at him with a massive cleaver...

The first two men Eilieen approaches are definitely beyond all hope.  The third still breathes, so she lays a hand on his chest and prays for Zadastha's intervention in keeping him alive until he can receive more aid.  As she straightens up, there is a sudden numbing pain in her shoulder, as an orcish club hammers into it from behind... 

Aarnr sidesteps the orc's attack easily, then slashes at the creature with his heavy blade.  The orc manages to partly block the attack, but only partly.  Black blood spills from a cut across its belly, but still it stands, spitting its defiance in the barbarian priest's face.

The golden hound continues to assist Fergus, only to vanish in a puff of equally golden smoke as the orc strikes it a telling blow...  Valkyria beheads the vile creature, even as a second opponent hacks at Fergus.  The enchanted weapon retaliates, gutting that orc, and eliciting a yell of triumph from the big man.

The caravan guards, reinvigorated by Honil's exhortation, press their attack.  One seeing Eilieen assisting his fallen comrades and herself attack from behind, rushes to her aid and drives his shortsword into the back of her attacker, slaying it instantly.  The others gang up on the remaing two orcs, and make short work of them...

Only Aarnr's large opponent still stands, snarling and cursing and beginning to foam at the mouth as it does battle with the man...

Combatant                Init
Erista                    24
Oswald Osbourne           23
Colwyn Akbar              21
Bilfro Gabbins            21
Honil                     21
Orcs                      16 (AC=14)
Eilieen                   13
Aarnr Foultongue           9
Fergus Andarson            5
Caravan Guards             4

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Hurt
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Oblivious to the carnage and horrible smells elsewhere (being far too engrossed in the carnage and horrible smells close by) the big priest is quite impressed that one of the orcs has finally managed to avoid being slain by a single blow.

"THOU PUKING, FLY-BITTEN VARLOT !" Aarnr congratulates the big hedge-pig, stepping back half a pace to get a good swing in with his sword so to mark the occasion properly.  "BOWBE, THOU SPLEENY, ILL-BREEDING GIGLET !  I FROGGIN' COMMEND THE SPIRIT OF THIS RUTTISH, FULL-GORGED CLACKDISH TO THEE !"

The large orc swings a mighty blow at Aarnr, who narrowly evades it, then splits the foul creature from crown to brisket with his own blade.  For a moment it blinks at him stupidly, its eyes not quite synchronised.

Then it drops its cleaver and, briefly, attempts to push the two halves of its head back together, before toppling over to lay dead on the bloody ground...

In the silence that follows, Eilieen can be heard moving about, endeavouring to heal the fallen...

Quick work she does - there's no time to spend seeking to bind wounds here, with people dying.  Instead, Eilieen moves from person to person, sealing injuries with prayers, keeping the men and women alive for more comprehensive, mundane treatment afterward.  Hardly glorious, her prayers now are merely muttered entreaties, sent as a swiftly as possible to the ears of Zadastha.

OOC - Sorry about my tardiness.  Eilieen will cast whatever necessary to keep everyone she can alive, and then return for further healing spells after if she has anything left.  If she runs out, it'll be the heal skill.

"Oh dear me, Hermonious Obidaia Mojo, what did you eat lately?  That is the worst one ever, so far.  Take this as an encouragement to not exceed this accomplishment, please."

"Not to say I don't appreciate you attempt to provide assist during the recent hostile engagement."

He pops his head out the back of the wagon in hope of catching a different kind of breeze, more fresh if you will, at least literally.

A mentally unhealthy eavesdropper, due to the close proximity it would require, might swear they hear mutterings from a pocket in the robes worn by the airing wizard.

Colwyn sighs with relief as the big orc finally admits that it can't carry on fighting with its head split all the way down to its ribs.  Then, "That were bein' good work.  Is any bugger bein' 'urt?" he calls out.

Honil replies from where he stands, surveying the carnage, "You may have noticed that a number of my guards were injured."  His tone, and expression, might best be described as "sour".

Eilieen, meanwhile continues to assess the fallen.  Of the eleven guards who had originally joined the fray, three are, apparently, deceased.  Three more are down, but still breathing, and four are standing, but with various injuries.  Only one seems to have survived the battle entirely unscathed - the one who had come to Eilieen's aid at the very end...

"I shall, of course, see that the families of the dead get the wage for this trip, and the wergeld that was promised when they signed up." Honil declares, with a sad shake of his head.  "The Tradeway grows less and less safe of late."

Nearby, the drivers are returning, emerging from hiding.

Aarnr nods pleasantly to the riven orc, and proceeds to gather up the spoils of victory ...

... a nagging doubt.  Something Colwyn said.

The big priest turns about, surveying the battlefield.  Lots of dead orcs, good.  A few dead guards and some about to join them.  And Eilieen running around frantically ...

Ah.

Reluctantly leaving Colwyn to see to the rifling of the corpses, Aarnr trudges over to the fallen to assist the priestess in wrestling with the gods to release their death-grip on the fading spirits of the fallen.

"BOWBE, THOU WIMPLED, KNOTTY-PATED FLAX-WENCH ..."

OOC: Healing spells for the barely alive for starters, then follow Eilieen's example  :>

"My thanks," Eilieen whispers to the guard who protected her - a momentary respite from her hurried work.  "You saved me, and saved them as well."  This said with a flick of the hand at the wounded she treats.

Ignoring the dull pain in her shoulder, she continues to heal those in need, expending all of her spells in order to bring the men back to consciousness.  Aarnr's choice to join her does not go unnoticed - how could it? - and she spares him a grateful look as he exhorts Bowbe to lend a healing hand.

Deal with the downed first, then assist the 'only' injured...Fergus being one of those.

Between them, Aarnr and Eilieen manage to get the fallen guards back on their feet again, and Fergus, too, is soon back to full health, though his clothes look the worse for wear.

The dead guards are loaded into one of the wagons, and covered with their own blankets.  Honil explains that they will be returned to their families when the caravan reaches Bard's Gate, who will see to it that they get funerals appropriate to their beliefs.  Again, he mentions contracts, and that the families will receuve compensation to help pay for the funerals, and see them through their time of grief.

Some of his men, meanwhile, are restoring the camp, and dragging the bodies of the orcs away into the forest to be eaten by scavengers.  But only after Aarnr has taken what meagre pickings he can from them. 

By the time full night falls, things look almost normal around the camp, except for the various blood stains...

Ozzy finds a nice place near the fire for his bedroll. It had been a long day filled with triumphs and tragedy. He spends some time sharpening his daggers and javelins, humming a small tune as he does so. He takes careful inventory of his remaining sling bullets, then after a quick cleaning of his chain armor (not too much gore to deal with when missing countless shots) he settles down for a quick snore before his next watch. The little bard stays quiet for the most part, concentrating on the songs forming in his head as he drifts off to sleep.

Dislodging himself from the wagon, once ascertained no foe remain, Bilfro sighs heavily, shaking his head slowly.

"'tis a shameful waste, doing battle, loss of lives.  At best what comes out of it, is the lives saved by those dead, oft for no reason beyond survival.  Such a waste..."

"War.  War never changes.  We kill, we die.  And what for?"

With a heavy heart and feet alike he offers what little assistance he can with the dearly departed, at least those not being Orcs.  At the moment he is sort of all Orc'd out, what with his, in his mind, still recent stay at Orc Resort and Spa.

Aarnr shakes his head.  Bilfro would seem to be spouting nonsense once more, save that the wizened wizard never seems to stop.

"How else does thou strive for glory and the notice of the gods ?  Death is not the worst that can befall thee ... better that thou be remembered and they deeds praised than die a straw death and thee be forgotten utterly."

"It is only in staring down death that thou can be truly alive."

"Thou should be proud of thy wound," the priest tells Eilieen.  "Indeed so should all of us be."

"And the spoils !" If the lure of legend does not suffice, then surely the thought of treasures earned will rouse the spirits of even the most crestfallen.

"See ..." Aarnr shows the coin he has garnered, and the not-too-badly-damaged chain-linked shirt ... and the shiny blue stone.  "A fine offering to Bowbe !"

Apart from Aarnr, who seems quite cheerful after the fight, the mood around the fire is largely subdued.  Some of the guards have an air of relief about them, glad to have survived the encounter, but the loss of friends and allies has left others feeling thoughtful and quiet.

Honil moves about, talking to his men individually, checking on their condition.  As he moves away, he pats each on the shoulder and thanks him for his efforts in the defence of the camp.  Guard shifts he leaves them to arrange for themselves, which results in the appearance of a set of dice, and a slight raising of spirits as some have better luck than others in the assignment of watches.

Colwyn pays polite attention as Aarnr shows the spoils.  Pointing to the gem, "That there's bein' a nice bit of blue quartz.  Reckon as 'ow it's likely bein' worth a 'andful of gold.  Only Erista's 'and mind ye."

"Just mine?" Erista perks up as, for a moment, Colwyn seems to be giving her Aarnr's stone -- a transaction involving a minor quirk of property rights that Colwyn seems just the sort to be able to work out later.  Then she realizes what he means, and, holding her hand out, flexes her fingers as if holding a pile of coins, trying to pretend that's all she meant, too.  "Yeah, not too much.  It's pretty, though."  She looks at it a moment longer, and then up (and up) at Aarnr.  "Hey, Aarnr, could I borrow it?"

"Proud, yes."  Eilieen offers a wan smile back at Aarnr.  "Proud to have survived, in any case."  But she does perk up a touch.  "Glad am I for your assistance with the healing, Aarnr.  That was well done."  She ponders for a moment, considering what might be better taken by the other priest.  "As was your dealing with the orcs.  You were a terror out there, dominating the battlefield as you did."

After examining the treasure - giving some polite oohs and aahs - Eilieen sits by the fire, exhausted by her activities and her sorrow at the guards' deaths.  She glances up now and then as people walk by, but otherwise remains fairly quiet.  At some point, though, she looks into the deepening dark and frowns.

"We are all taking watches, are we not?" she inquires.  "I volunteer for the early morning watch.  It will give me time to think."

Aarnr agreeably (or maybe he's just feeling pleased after the recent battle) tosses the gem over to Erista.  "Yours, 'less Bowbe comes to fight thee for it," he tells her.

"They were but orcs," the priest reassures Eilieen, modestly.  "Now, the merchant's swords may be thanking Bowbe and Zadastha, but thou has neglected thine own wound, be it bravely earned.  Thou will feel fobbin' better with that shoulder mended ... I still have strength enough after my exertions to demand that satisfaction from Bowbe !"

If the priestess doesn't object, he'll shout down Bowbe's assistance for her.

As to watches ... Aarnr much prefers the middle stint, reasoning that if an attack's to come, that is the most likely time.

"Blue quartz I's reckonin'." Colwyn says helpfully, as Erista receives the small gem.  "Not bein' worth so much as a diamond, like, but ye'll be gettin a bit of gold fer it, if'n yer's decidin' to be floggin' it in Bard's Gate, or some place."

Aarnr calls on Bowbe to aid Eilieen and, incidentally (all unknown to anybody around the fire), terrifies a badger out in the forest.  The creature decides it's had enough foraging for one night, and heads off as fast as its stubby little legs can carry it.  The savage priest lays a hand on Eilieens shoulder, and there is a brief pulse of warmth.

"Ah, my thanks to you, Aarnr, for dragging aid from Bowbe."  Eilieen sighs as the heat washes away the vast majority of the ache, leaving only a lingering tingling to prove the wound ever existed.  "Pleased am I that my actions have brought satisfaction.  I gladly hand the middle-night watch to you, secure your blade will grant us safety."

With that taken care of, and her stomach no longer in need of filling, Eilieen turns to her evening prayers.  Unlike Aarnr, these frighten no badgers.

Indeed, one might expect a flight of songbirds to flitter down and perch on her shoulders.