Continuing his turn, Rondald slashes his axe across his body and towards the curly haired pirate, a vicious downward stroke that aims true.  Rather than stepping away from the blow, the pirate steps closer, his blade flashing as he goes in for a killing blow.

But Ronald's axe is faster.

The blade cuts into the man's shoulder as he attempts to close the distance, tearing through muscle and snapping collarbone like a dry kindling.  Blood erupts in a torrent all over Rondald's chest and neck.  The curly haired man's face slackens instantly as the two bodies collide, and Rondald feels the knife point catch just above his hip before the man's wrist turns, causing the blade to swivel harmlessly to the side before it falls, clattering to the floor.  The pirate staggers back, his expression empty at he stares at the blood dripping down Rondald's jacket and beard before collapsing to the ground.

But the moment of victory is short lasted.

His shoulder turned to the other two, Rondald feels the whoosh of air rushing by his ear, a near miss by the man with the club.  But the man with the mace seems to be a little more skilled

Wham!

The thick steel ball crashes into Ronald's chest, and Rondald can distinctly hear the crackle of ribs as the breath is sucked from his lungs.  Rondald staggers backwards as the force of the blow spins his weight awkwardly onto his right foot.  He hauls his bloodied axe back in front of him, his eyes widening as he tries to appraise the two remaining foes.

OOC:  I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to adjudicate this round fairly.  Curly has fallen unconscious with a life-threatening wound to the torso and is out of the fight.  You have also suffered a moderate wound to the torso, and are now at half move and dodge.  In order to avoid getting struck by a major wound to the vitals (requiring a HT-5 stun roll as well as a consciousness roll), I had to use your hero point.  At least you are still standing, though things aren't particularly looking good.  'B' in the picture is the crossbow guy (not sure why I didn't use X), who last you checked is still laying down and messing with the crossbow.  Good luck.  One more round.  Note that your back is against the wall and you cannot retreat.

This is a difficult situation. Rondald needs to move to his right to get behind to bar, to reduce his restrictions, so he focuses on defending himself, avoiding the blows to get into a better position, evaluating his attackers as he does so.

Rondald steps slightly to the side, his chest heaving with pain as blood trickles down his left forearm and on to his crossbow.  Above all, Rondald wanted to keep the two men in front of him, letting anyone get behind him would invite disaster...

"You don't stand much of a chance mate."  The man with the club takes Rondald's hesitation for fear, brandishing his club openly as the two men follow Rondald's measured retreat.  "Drop the axe mate, give us the jewel, and you can walk out of here."

OOC:  Not much change in the combat map so I didn't repost it.  You have moved one hex (about a half a grid square) to the south, and repositioned yourself so that you can retreat.  The club wielder is still range 1, the mace bearer is still range 2 (as he followed you around in your retreat).

The man was probably right, but he did not have the jewel to hand over so he let he axe do the talking. Raising his axe and waiting until he was attacked next, he slashed at the torso of his next attacker, before retreating back to dodge any attacks, fighting the pain all the way.

"Heh, you may be right. But I don't have it to hand over..." The words came painfully.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 08:15, Thu 30 July 2020.

Fighting back the pain, Rondald raises his axe, waiting for the next blow.  The two men seem to take the momentary silence as a refusal, and the man with the mace steps forward, swinging the weapon down in another brutal swing.

Rondald is very nearly sure the thing is going to hit him... he cannot seem to move like normal with his breath causing a crushing ache with each inhale.  The mace seems to catch a bit of his shoulder, though it does not seem to slow, becoming vaporous for a moment and not so much as slowing as it passes straight past his body.

Rondald retorts, both in words and with his weapon, heaving his axe towards the man, though he jumps back, flinging his body out of the way of the blade.

The man with the club takes advantage of the moment to swing alongside of Rondald, forcing him to turn his back to the wall to keep both of them in sight...

OOC:  The man with the Mace is on your north side, while the man with the club is on the south.  You are still half move and dodge.  The goons have moved to either side of you.  You can keep both of them in your front hexes, though doing that puts your back against the wall, which cuts off your retreat option.

[Ugh. How did he get over the bar behind me so fast? I am trying to ensure they cannot...backing away from them and using the terrain to stop them from flanking me, and suddenly he is over the bar? Why did I go to such lengths to get here if he can get behind me so easily? What am I missing here?]

Rondald fights stubbornly on, knowing that he really has no option, despite their words. He lashes out angrily, but his defences suffer...

Ronald heaves his axe again, biting on the inside of his cheek which swims in blood in an effort to control the pain.  The blade strikes true this time, smashing into the mace holder's sternum which erupts in a shower of frothy hot ick.

Halfway through his own swing, the man with the mace falters, staggering back as his blow just barely misses hitting Rondald in the shoulder.  The man falls to the ground, coughing violently as a trickle of red rises to his lips.  His mace falls to the side, though he staggers to an elbow in an effort to get back to his feet.

"Noooo!"

The shout comes from just over Rondald's right side, and he is just too late looking over.

Wham!

The club slams across the bottom of Rondald's jaw, cracking the bone and sending an explosion of stars across Rondald's vision.  Rondald staggers backwards, willing himself with his all to keep his senses, and to stay on his feet...

OOC:  You hit the mace wielder with a major wound to the torso, which knocked him off his feet and sent his weapon to the floor.  He seems to be still conscious, but he is badly injured, and may not be so for long.  You have also suffered a moderate wound to the head which has put you into -HP.  You need to roll 2 times vs. HT, label the first one Stun and the second one Conscious.  Fit gives you +1 to both rolls.  If you fail the stun roll, you lose your footing and both your weapons (crossbow too).  If you fail by 5 or more you fall unconscious.  If you fail the conscious roll, you also fall unconscious.  Even if you succeed both rolls, you are at -4 next turn due to shock.  The good news however is that you can now retreat away from the club man, assuming you make all of your other rolls.  Good luck.

Rondald staggers, the force of the club blurring his vision, but sheer determination keeps him up on his feet. Knowing where the blow came from, he lashes out while he can, swinging the axe in what he hopes to be an unexpected determined attack, blood now streaming over him as he staggers to keep going...
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:58, Tue 04 Aug 2020.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rondald notices the man with the mace fall limp from his attempts to get up off the floor.  He has little extra power to process that information though, as he still has his hands full with the last of the Brigands.

"Die!"  The man with the club shrieks, lashing out with his weapon in an overhand swing that smashes into Rondald's collarbone, cracking the bone and causing Rondald to stagger with pain, though somehow he keeps from falling.

Rondald retorts, lashing out with his axe, though the man just barely manages to dance back from the strike, leaving Rondald reeling from his many wounds.

OOC:  You've taken another Moderate wound to the torso and your injuries are catching up with you quickly.  Roll vs. HT again to maintain consciousness.  You will also have another -4 shock penalty next turn due to the blow.  The club man just barely managed to dodge your attack.  There has been no sign of Terri yet...

Rondald is struggling against the pain, but holds himself by sheer determination. The pain is mounting and each breath becoming a challenge, but he refuses to let them win. These are pirates...he cannot allow them to best him in the middle of a city! How is this even possible... but he knows the answer to that. Cities are the perfect place for criminals to hide. He longed for the simplicity of the open sea...

But reality dragged him back to the sea of blood from this open wounds...streaming through his clothes. In the back of his mind, he worries about the coward with the crossbow, but for now, he focusses his efforts on the club wielder in front of him, slashing out once again at his chest. If he could just take out this one, and stay up long enough to deal with the coward that stabbed his wife...
This message was last edited by the player at 09:33, Wed 05 Aug 2020.

Rondald is a sturdy man.

Despite his relatively thinner frame, he is tall and muscled, as strong as an carthorse, and as stubborn as one.  Rondald is capable of taking more punishment than most.  Indeed, blows that would cause others broken bones or permanent injury often gave Rondald nothing more than a bad bruise.

However, bruises build up, and Rondald it doesn't take much introspection to realize that he is suffering the worst combined injury he has ever sustained in his life.

Thwack!  The blow redoubles off of Rondald's axe arm, his body too slow to dodge nearly anything any more.

Rondald retorts, his axe cleaving the air just ahead of the man, his nimble leap backwards preventing the undoubtedly massive damage that Rondald was about to inflict.  The man's hair begins to stick to his forehead, the sweat gleaming as his own breath comes in deep gasps.

His chest heaving, his body aching everywhere, Rondald glares at his foe, willing him to go down.

OOC:  Another moderate injury this turn and you are close to dipping to -HP.  Roll again vs. HT for consciousness with fit bonuses.

Rondald's body is too damaged to get a reply out. Words were too expensive at this time anyway. He has been pounded more than any man should be, but he fought on. Sick of taking the damage, he watched for his opponents blow, dodging it with skill as he deftly avoided the blow and once again brought his axe into line with the enemy. He willed the bugger to take the hit...
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:08, Sat 08 Aug 2020.

Just when all seems lost, Rondald finds the reserves within himself to keep going.

Gritting his teeth together with fierce determination, Rondald flings himself out of the way of the club, this time avoiding the blow completely.  His foe seemed to have put a little too much into the blow as well, for he stumbles past Rondald, exposed for a moment to Rondald's axe.  Seizing the moment, Rondald sweeps his axe down, looking to slice the man clean through the ribs and chest!

At the last moment, panicked the man stumbles backwards, barely avoiding the blow as it catches the on his shirt, slicing open a fold in the cloth fabric, though causing no injury.  The man's forehead is now slicked with sweat, Rondald too is breathing heavy, though he feels the moment at least has gone to him.

Just one lucky hit.  He thought.  That was all he needed.

OOC:  A much needed good round for you!  The crit success gives you a much needed hero point as well as putting your attacker in an awkward position.  He did still manage to make his defense this turn though.  More rolls.  We'll do 2 combat turns this time, so make 2 rolls, labeled conscious 1 and conscious 2.  Also please make a roll vs. HT (+fit) for the drawn out nature of the fight, if you fail, you lose a fatigue point.  If you fail either of the conscious rolls, I recommend using your hero point there, but you are welcome to use it however you wish.

"I fight like you when I am nearly dead! You pray no-one else comes..."

It was a struggle just to speak, the wounds were terrible and the pain intense, but he stubbornly held on, as if his spirit, which could not be held down by his injuries, held him up.

Since the club wielder had passed him, he was no longer with his back to the door where the crossbow coward was. That was good, for in the back of his mind that worried him considerably. But right now, this mongrel HAD. TO. GO. DOWN. He gritted his teeth and swung at the cowards body, trying to time it so that the axe would hit him before he succumbed to his injuries...he knew it was only a matter of time.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:16, Sun 09 Aug 2020.

Rondald lashes his axe out, taking advantage of his opponent's momentary disorientation to switch sides behind the desk, putting his back to the front door so that he can see if the stable man with the crossbow tries to sneak out of the back room.

Somehow, amazingly, the man wriggles out of the way again.  Rondald smashes his axe forward again, trying to catch the man by surprise, though yet again the man stumbles out of the way of the blade.

Finally regaining his composure, the man flings his club in a back-armed swing, which Rondald just barely manages to evade as the club whisks just under his chin as he steps hastily back.

The man is sweating profusely now.  Though still uninjured, the short fight seems to have taken much out of him.  His back cranes with effort, leaning into the fight as if seeking to end it just as quickly as Rondald...

OOC:  Used your recent hero point on your first failed dodge roll.  As your second dodge roll passed, I didn't have to go on to the other re-rolls you had used.  You weren't actually facing the back door at the beginning of your post, but it was easy enough to slowly make your way around given your crit success on the dodge last turn.  Roll again vs. HT for consciousness, just one more second of action.

Careful to avoid the blow, this time Rondald waits until his opponent swings. He did not have to feign exhaustion, or injury, unfortunately. Instead of raising his axe, he waits with it low down, swinging it up as if in defence, but ducking back at the last second as he swings the axe up into the ribcage...

If he could just hold on...

Rondald attempts some trickery, keeping his axe low as if using it to parry, though instead he flings it in an upward arc, attempting to split the man open through his solar plexus.  Though the man is utterly gassed, winded to near exhaustion, he manages to just get out of the way, the blade just barely missing its quarry.

The odd attack leaves Rondald somewhat exposed... though he had not expected it.  His vision is momentarily obscured by his forearm and elbow.  He feels the club swing more than seeing it, he moves his body, though it is not fast enough.

Thwack!

The club smashes again into the thick of Rondald's tricep - The pain of his various injuries combining in a swelling ache all over his body.  He longs for this all to be over, to just score the winning hit.  But the feat keeps just evading his grasp.

"Just die!"  The man shouts, his head and hair now thick with sweat, his face reddened from exertion.

OOC:  Ugh.  Unfortunately your foe scored a crit success on his attack which prevented you from even attempting a defense.  So unfortunately your dodge roll did not count.  This most recent hit puts you below -HP.  Roll a couple of HT rolls for me, the first labeled Survival, the second labeled Conscious.  Note that your consciousness rolls are now at HT-1 (you still get normal fit bonuses).

"After you, asshole!" Rondald growled, but the pain was clear. He was not sure how long he could keep going. Staying up through sheer determination, he again swung his axe at the damn prick that just would not take a damn hit!

Just goddamn take a hit...   even thinking was a challenge now. He was running on instinct...
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:20, Wed 12 Aug 2020.

The man with the club lashes out at Rondald again, though Rondald dodges the attack easily, the blood thumping within his veins keeping him alert and mobile despite the pain.

Rondald lashes back with his axe though the damned pirate again leaps backwards, the blade missing by only a few cursed inches.  Unlike before however, the pirate does not immediately close the distance, but holds his club ready, his chest slightly forward in a defensive posture.  He lets the distance remain, giving Rondald the chance to take the initiative.

OOC:  Range has built to 2.  You are still about halfway up the desk.  Roll again vs. HT-1 for consciousness.  One more round.

Rondald takes the opportunity to step back, forcing the man to have to move even further, readying his attack for the inevitable assault he expected. The man was getting tired, and despite his own injuries, he sensed he had a chance, praying his enemy made a mistake, and looking to give him every opportunity to do so.

But it still seemed impossible without some backup. Then there was the coward that started it all...
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:24, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

Seeing the gap between the two of them widening, the man bearing the club grins and steps forward, his forehead and hair still slicked with the sweat that is drips from his cheeks.  After the momentary distance, the gap closes back to about two paces, just close enough for the club swing to be coming within a moment...

Through the lull in the fighting, Rondald can hear a meaty clunk, like a heavy footfall or a stumble coming from the kitchen, where the stable man had been...

OOC:  Though you had a momentary gap of 3 hexes, you are back to 2 with your opponent's step maneuver.  Another roll vs. HT-1 please for consciousness.  There isn't a chair on your side of the desk, though there are a few on the other side, though climbing over seems like it would be difficult at the moment.  Also note that you only have one more hex to retreat before putting your back against a few piles of debris against the wall.

Rondald takes advantage of the breather. Stepping forward wearily, he deftly dodges the expected blow before responding with his own axe to the body, hoping for once he will not anticipate it...that clunk in the kitchen worried him, but for now he kept the guy in front of him between the door and himself...

He kept wondering when Terri would arrive with the cavalry, but he realised it could be half an hour away. He would have to do this himself...he fought on stubbornly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:45, Mon 17 Aug 2020.

Rondald forces himself to breathe, forces his body to suffer the pain and stay resolute.  He steps forward, noting the slightest slip of his foot in a growing puddle of hot, sticky blood.

The man's attack does come, a sort of hip-swing that redirects at the last moment, attempting to get the better of Rondald's defenses, though the aim is bad, and it misses the sailor without even the need to move himself much.

Rondald counters, swinging his axe, though like a rat, the man scurries backwards just in time, the axe catching only a loop of his belt which bursts open with force!

OOC:  You have moved north one half square on the previous map, with no other changes.  You haven't heard anything else from the kitchen, though it has only been a second.  One more round and another roll against HT-1.

Rondald steps forward, and the surging blackness that he was tryng to avoid comes as he collapses forward, striking out with his axe as he falls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:19, Tue 18 Aug 2020.

Stepping forward, his intent to finally deal the fatal blow to the club man in front of him.  However, somewhere in the step, his strength fails him...  He feels his knee buckle beneath his body.  The arm that swings the club falters and he feels himself stumble forward, barely gripping on to the ragged edges of consciousness.

The club man does not recognize the moment, and he hurls his club hard towards the mass of Rondald's falling body.

In the last ragged glimpse of consciousness Rondald has, he vaguely comprehends the blurred form of another body making its way from the kitchen, a club smashing into his collarbone, and the wonderful feeling of succumbing to the pain... of letting everything go.

Then everything fades to blissful darkness.