Carefully, the group creeps as close to the camp as they dare, getting a glimpse of their destination through the trees, the east side of the ruins.

Though it was the intention to come in downwind so as to avoid the wolves barking to give away your presence, perhaps that might not have been the best of plans, at least for the sake of your noses.  Goblins stink.  And not in the manner of Volsh's relative indifference to regular bathing, no they honestly, truly, horribly, stink.

In the crumbled corner where a building once stood, a pack of five goblins are slumbering in the shade of the wall, an awning of vines, leaves, and women's dresses providing further shelter.  One more goblin is staying awake to tend the fire, toasting a slug on a stick.  The goblin is typical of his kind, a head almost too large for his body, little piggy eyes, a too-large mouth full of too many teeth, and enormous ears that stick out prominently on either side of his head.  He's wearing a small barrel as clothing, with a fine hat of three sparrows stuck together with pins and then tied to his head with a bright red ribbon.

Craning your necks and looking around, you can see a couple other goblins near some of the fallen columns, with their own awnings of forest gleanings and human clothing pressed into service, along with the occasional bit of canvas or a pelt.  Some of the goblins snort or wriggle in their sleep, and one is actually singing a little ditty about all the ways to eat a puppy.  ("Roasted and toasted and burnt and fried, smoked or salted or freshly died.  Catch 'em all wriggling and barking and nice, throw 'em in the stewpot with a fresh bunch of lice!")

It's catchy, if not appetizing.

In the middle of the ruins you can see the tall temple with its columned entrance.  The bulk of the goblin young cage is off to one side, and a throne of broken wagon wheels, old quarried stones, and flour sacks has been set up outside by the fireplace.  There's a young goblin in a leather tunic painted bright orange, a watermelon rind on his head, poking the flames and occasionally adding wood.

You cannot spot anyone that looks like the shaman from here, at least not from this distance.  Sir Aberlayne nods, and points off to the south, indicating she's ready to go.  She holds up five fingers, asking for a little time to get into position before Volsh makes with his distraction.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:49, Tue 15 July 2014.

_{"Perhaps we can eliminate this small group by the wall first? Or do you think we should do as first envisioned?"} Farian whispers to the others.

"It occurs to me that the first can easily become the second; the sounds of battle should attract the goblin's attention just as well as Volsh. Circumstances allowing, he may still get to perform whatever primal display of superiorty he chooses."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Fri 18 July 2014.

I agree.  If we cut down some of them in the mean time, all the better. Narthian whispers

Aver'e had spoken little that morning, and less as they moved through the forest, scouting in advance as much as possible, cautioning quiet at all times, and only nodding in reassurance to those whose eye he happened to meet.

At this last, he moves in closer, whispering "If we could take down all 5 before they could spread the alarm, that would work - otherwise, one target is as good as another.  Tho' if we can kill some who are sleeping without raising the alarm, so much the better."

"And I think we're getting close enough to split our groups?..."

"Agreed, we wait for a signal from you to let us know you are in place, say have the familiar fly above and let all know we are ready?"

"Absolutely," Bruenor says, drawing his own longbow in preparation

Sir Aberlayne frowns.  "Kill sleeping goblins?  I don't object to ambushing them, or taking them by surprise, but slaughtering them in their sleep is no better than what they do.  What if we were to throw in a smokestick to get them up without causing a huge ruckus?  Then we could ambush them still, but without killing them where they lie."

"Having to battle twenty is preferable to battling thirty Lady Aberlayne, don't you agree? It may not be honorable, but goblins have no honor. Why grant them a consideration they would deny you in your sleep? You need not participate in this portion of the, 'cleansing'. Please feel free to hold yourself in reserve for the actual battle."

Aver'e's eyes narrow a bit at the newly expressed concerns of the paladin.

"Sir Aberlayne - this is indeed neither the time nor place for new-found hesitation. At the guildhall I expressed this exact concern, and I noted your response - that against foes so vile as goblins, there is only one answer, that the best attack is one they don't see coming, and that if they were to try to stab you in the back, you didn't mind returning the favour.

"This is no more or less than that. Fight as you will, but leave us to do the same - I for one would not risk one honest life for any ten score of theirs, sleeping or no."

Not waiting for response, he looks to the others.

"We are here, the enemy is nigh, no more discussion - we have a plan, luck to all."

With a nod to Haazheel and Narthian, he moves back up the trail a bit, to maneuver to the next trail, the one the three were to approach from.
]

"Send your bird skyward when you are in place wizard, then we will begin the assault."

Sir Aberlyane puts her hand on Averdante's arm.  "Even in the midst of peril and death, even when the distasteful becomes necessary, it is my oath and my conscience that guide me to voice what does not want to be heard.  Such things must be remembered, even if we cannot hold to the most perfect of ideals."  With that, she swings up on Valiant, and says to Dellas, "[Language unknown: Iv week a wawaalbe, rutpropre.  U aiwhel.]"  And then she will head out to the south to her group's position.

The barbarian listens attentively while regularly scanning the rear of their march.

When the group halts one last time and hammers out the last adjustment he does not say a word. He nods in agreement with Farian and Bruenor. And again nods at Averdante's words.

He follows a step behind his group as the party splits. "'Tis not my way, and I'd tend to agree with the lady knight" he offers in a low tone, his voice like far off tribal drums, "but you two are right. 'Tis a better approach than just waking 'em and allowing more to engage us."

Narthian moved silently to his appointed position.  He didn't exactly like attacking sleeping goblins but the other Elf had a point.  The more the merrier.

Haazheel noded to Farian when he suggested that Mystique will be the signal.
Then he followed Averdante to be in position for the battle according to the plan.
Regarding batlle ethics, the wizard didn't jump into the conversation. Evenif he respected the concerns of the Paladin to fight with honor rather than attacking asleep goblins, what he saw at the farmer house and the sight of the farmer's wife and daughter hiding in the well, afraid, made his mind. There are enemies one want to fight with honor but these goblins attacked defenseless people and for Haazheel, they don't deserve noble feelings from him.

Drogo listens to all the whispering with a tad of impatience as he is anxious to do battle and earn his pay and reputation. After the Lady spoke to him he slightly turned his head with a blush knowing that the others were right about the plan even though it was not honourable. "Sorry, but I have to agree with the others on this occasion. As they are asking for it for what they have done. It's a war and the rules are different now. They have to pay. The only other option is to tie them up in their sleep and bring them in for a trial or something." He then gets his crossbow out and readies himself for battle.

Farian readies to attack, _{"I will get as close as I dare to support you, but armored as I am, I can not sneak."}

Sir Aberlayne moves off with Drogo, ready to ride in once Volsh, Bruenor, Farian, and Dellas have begun their distraction.  Dellas takes a moment to tie up Honeybee here, hopefully far enough away to avoid her attracting attention, but close enough to run to her if they have to retreat.

Averdante, Narthian, Thunder, and Haazheel move off to the south so they can come in at a different angle to help cut off reinforcements.  Mystique flies up, making it known to Haazheel that all this bright sunlight is just not allowed and is far too bright and he's doing this as a favor, mind you.

Quietly as they can, everyone moves into position.  Haazheel steps on a twig once, loudly, and everyone freezes, but the goblins don't seem to notice.

Finally, Mystique flies down at Volsh, and he enters the camp boldly, though not screaming a war cry, Bruenor, Farian, and Dellas right behind him.

The goblin toasting a slug looks at Volsh almost curiously, as if he's not exactly sure what he's seeing.  He opens his toothy maw, taking a bit of the smoldering slug and looking as if he thinking about saying something, hand straying to the makeshift blade at his side (an ugly, broken blade smeared with dried blood) when Volsh's sword removes his head neatly.

The thunk of the cranium on the ground starts some of those in the shelter awake.  Eyes wide at the imposing and sun-blocking form of Volsh, they scramble for weapons: crude spears, knives, clubs, a... beehive?

Dellas runs up next, his hands held out in front of him, palms down, fingers splayed, and utters, "Ferzia!"  A sheet of flame spreads from his fingers, scorching all of the goblins inside the shelter, making some of them whine with pain.  Bruenor runs up next, his rapier skewering one in the heart, and Farian's mace slams down on the skull of a third.  The remaining two goblins, scorched and spattered with blood, grab onto each other.  Then the bolder of the two grabs the other one by the feet and swings him into Bruenor's face, where the goblin bites into his arm with the tenacity of a rat!



---

In the south, Averdante, Haazheel, Narthian, and Thunder can see the goblin at the campfire in their quadrant cock one of his oversized ears and look to the north, where Volsh and the others should be starting their attack.  You think you can see a bit more smoke coming from that direction...

--

Back behind the others, Sir Aberlayne and Drogo delay, waiting until the screaming starts to be the relief cavalry.

OOC:  Usually you guys do your own attacks and damage, because I don't always know what you're going to do, but in the interest of expediency, I moved things along this time.  South Group (Avery, Haazheel, and Narthian), what 'cha doing?

08:09, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 8 using 1d20. Initiative.

Readies action to attack again.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:32, Mon 21 July 2014.

09:51, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Initiative.

Bruenor recoils slightly from the goblins' attack before performing a guarded strike, attempting to finish off the creature while keeping his person protected from further injury.

OOC: If Bruenor is hit again, he will use his combat expertise feat to take -1 attack for +1 AC on his turn. Regardless, he will attack the goblin who hit him, if possible, rolling a 13 with modifiers (so, a twelve with the feat).
This message was last edited by the player at 14:11, Mon 21 July 2014.

Farian, seeing there are goblins still moving, brings his mace down on the head of another!

11:25, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 4 using 1d8+2. damage.
11:25, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 20 using 1d20+2. to hit.

20:20, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 5 using 1d20+2. Initiative.



Volsh is shown some of his companions’ skill as the motherless demons fall around them. Seeing that only two remain of the outlying group, Volsh turns his attention to the center of the encampment; the temple. He steps over the low wall to give himself more room. His eyes scanning for any that would come as an answer to the commotion.

The barbarian waits. Calm and focused are his senses. He ignores the remaining goblins at this encampment. Volsh inhales ‘til his girth is greater than an ale keg.

 
“Come filth, and meet your death!” He barks in a deafening roar. [Language unknown: “Sheom’n entamehis as ch antredyinven oussanthintiund diar re alivpl!”]



OOC: Volsh will stay attentive and strike at any goblin that is quick enough to get at him this round, otherwise he will defer.

21:06, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 13 using 1d20+4. Attack Roll (Longsword).
21:07, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 9 using 1d8+3. Damage (Longsword).

On the Southeastern Side of the Ruins

Dellas looks surprised at himself for actually hitting all the goblins, and swallows hard as Volsh detaches a head, Bruenor and Farian killing their chosen targets with dispatch.

With an excess of enthusiasm, and not wanting to catch his comrades in a sheet of flame, Dellas takes his short, heavy club and attempts to swipe at the goblin who bit Bruenor.  He swings wildly, missing by a mile, but his weasel familiar Vish springs onto the goblin's face and bites him on the nose, clinging with the tenacity of a limpet.  The goblin shrieks in agony.

Clutching his nose and the weasel, the goblin tries to grab onto Vish, but just misses.

The remaining goblin begins to laugh heartily at his friend's mishap, clutching his belly and roaring his mirth.

Farian brings his mace down hard on the laughing one's head, ending his humor forever as he collapses to the earth with a cracked skull.

Bruenor is more careful this time, but with the goblin that attacked him rolling around with a weasel on his face, he's able to strike him hard through the ribs, slaying him neatly.



--

On the Northeastern Side of the Ruins

At the same time the rest of the group is using fire, sword, and mace to dispatch goblins, Averdante, Haazheel, Narthian, and Thunder are using a little more stealth with the same.

Averdante sneaks in from the northeastern path, heading towards the firepit at the remaining corner wall, while Haazheel, Mystique, Narthian, and Thunder try to sneak around to come in on the west side of the same firepit to prevent escapers from scrambling to the temple and alerting the shaman.

Averdante slips around the corner of the wall very quietly, peering to see a goblin feeding the fire with several sticks and some corncobs.  He looks around at his sleeping brethren, napping under an awning of petticoats, canvas scraps, and badly tanned hides, and gets a grin on his face.  He pulls out a bag from under a pile of debris and extracts a dead chicken.  Salivating, he spears the bird on a stick, douses it with brine from what seems to be a jar of pickles, rolls it in salt and then sticks it over the fire, feathers and all.

It's the last thing he ever does.

On the west side of the wall, Haazheel tip-toes over the uneven ground with some difficulty, but Narthain and Thunder, perhaps because they were watching the wizard with concern, miss their own footing.  Both rather loudly bark their shins on some loose rocks, making them clatter.

The cooking goblin looks to the west, and Averdante takes the opportunity to dart in and slit the goblin's throat.

The other goblins' heads pop up at the noisy entrance of druid, wizard, and wolf.

Haazheel, seeing five goblins just ready to spring up, and no one in the way of his magic, throws a pinches of colored sand to the wind and mutters mystic words.  A cone of clashing colors explodes from in front of his hands, and four of the five goblins stare at them in fascination, then keel over, eyes spinning.

The fifth makes a high-pitched noise, rather like a baby bird, eyes wide with shock.

Thunder, on command from Narthian, charges forward and crunches the goblin's oversized head in his jaws, then paws at his muzzle with the horrible taste.

OOC:
Averdante - killed one goblin dead.
Haazhell - color spray to have made goblins unconscious, blinded, and stunned for 4 rounds, blinded and stunned for 4 more rounds, and then stunned for 1 more round.  4 goblins failed their save, one made it.
Narthian - Thunder kills last goblin standing with a bite to the face.

As the four finish their goblins, they hear Volsh shout loudly in challenge.

---

All Together Now!

At Volsh's shout, goblin heads begin to pop up over walls and shattered columns, some still sleepy-eyed, others wide-awake and clutching torches, makeshift blades, insect nests, and.... a snake?

From somewhere deeper in the ruins, a loud voice calls:

"[Language unknown: Set pro intiveera!  Ertra osfo reshisers ted maof itme ticivesomlin!  I wil te outiveany e weressund onprst ut ionsetbut erisio!]"

With shrieks of laughter, a wave of goblins, stones, javelins, and a beehive come hurtling towards you!

--

Further East on the Path

Sir Aberlayne hears Volsh's shout and clamps her legs tightly to Valiant's side.

"[Language unknown: Forsonred, houtr E ratareset n eausonard, E all wit li wh e weai i enec tha po Thuanyyinere whore.  O ionterble sa isntto il unpo us pe of, asni ck es mien sspaou, et pali Lanane wer thule ckfor witlinardoer er onehiseausan is.  M setoerhas]."

With that, Sir Aberlayne shouts a command and Valiant charges forward.

With a cold thrust of his longsword Aver'e kills one of the last of that clutch of stunned goblins, even as the druid, wizard and wolf each dispatch one of the others in their own fashion as the voices of Volsh and the responding goblins begin to fill the air.

"Good enough - to the trailhead!", he whispers loudly, and, sheathing his sword to be replaced with his longbow, moves west toward the end of the path as he knocks an arrow.

"And I hear the shaman from within the ruins..."

"Sounds like we did a good job here" whispers the wizard to his companions "let's join the others and take care of the shaman". Haazheel then follows Avery and readies his crossbow.

Holding his club ready, Narthian moves along the path with the others.  It was time to crack some skulls.

Farian readies to attack the goblins that come after Volsh Vorson.

Bruenor moves to assist Volsh, saying somewhere between him and the wall, and slightly off to the side, attempting to block the goblins' path to the rest of the party. He readies himself to receive the charge.

[OOC: Ready action to attack the first goblin in reach, using Combat Expertise again.]

"Avery, Narthian, some goblins are going to charge us, shall we take cover behind this L shaped wall?" asks the Wizard.

As everyone gets ready to find cover, attack, or otherwise prepare themselves, some of the goblins start to sing, perhaps not surprisingly, in Common:

"Goblins chew and goblins bite,
Goblins cut and goblins fight,
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!

Goblins race and goblins jump,
Goblins slash and goblins bump,
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!

Chase the baby, catch the pup,
Bonk the head to shut it up!
Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed,
We the goblins—you the food! "

They wave their swords, beehives, rocks, sticks, javelins, and a snake menacingly, and you hear distant snarls and howls beyond the temple...

Farian laughs loudly at the goblins. Come eat us if you can then you little maggots! The worms will be eating your flesh this night!"

Gathering his force of personality, Bruenor casts a hard glare at the goblin ranks, a cruel, dagger-like smile on his lips as he says, his tone light but scathing, "I dare you to cross our line; come within my reach, and I will gut you like a Ice Lake Pike."

[OOC: Intimidate check - 10:27, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 7 using 1d20+6. Intimidate.]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Fri 01 Aug 2014.

Aver'e is caught off-guard that so many goblins have appeared so nearby - the owl had missed these, and the plan is already being challenged by that bad luck.

[Language unknown: "Ectoulblewer mi Usil'dice ll!"], he says, taking a step back and towards the wizard and loosing an arrow at the nearest missile-weilding target...
This message was last edited by the player at 16:41, Sat 02 Aug 2014.

Narthian swore.  He had not prepared entangle.  It should have been an obivious choice.  He had been more worried about the wolves and what they could do.

No, now was not the time to punish himself.  He had to do what he could and learn from his mistakes.

"Time for plan b," he called and rushed the nearest of the goblins. "Thunder, attack!"

OOC: duh! Ok so instead of casting, Thunder and I will attack the nearest goblins with claw and club
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 11:19, Thu 07 Aug 2014.

Haazheel takes cover behind the L shaped wall and start shooting arrows to the nearest goblin.
With a whistle he also calls Mystique which was observing the scene from the top of a tree. Understanding the situation, Mystique flies toward the goblins and tries to attack the one his master is aiming at with her talons before flying back to safety.

OOC: I have one remaining color spray if things are getting bad. Otherwise I have also two ghost sound spells ready which might also be a diversion to save our butts.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:13, Tue 05 Aug 2014.

Volsh remains poised against attackers who might stray into the space he commanded. He expands that aura as he steps forward menacingly but slowly, growling like a fiend from some dark and secret pit. Then, suddenly he slaps the flat of his long sword against the leathern knot at the back of his head and returns it to the ready. ¹

"It's almost not fair," he calls to the others as he continues, "these whelps got no idea what the sun's brought them this day... Ha!"

His stride opens up to a strong and swift motion as he advances on the closest of his foes. He hurdles and leaps fallen pillars and debris piles, urging his companions with his action. <sup>2 & 3

1</sup> 20:24, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 21 using 1d20+3. Intimidate.
² 20:30, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 17 using 1d20+6. Jump.
³ 20:31, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 16 using 1d20+6. Climb.

Farian advances to the rear and right of Volsh 10 feet back.

Bruenor follows Farian's example, taking the left flank.

Averdante sights on the goblin who's about to throw what looks like a hornet's nest.  His bowstring thrums, and the arrow passes clean through the goblin's mouth and out the back of his oversized head.  He looks surprised, and then the hornet's nest drops out of his hands an onto his head and he falls backwards.

Behind the fallen column come a chorus of shrieks as the maddened hornets fly out.



Narthian moves across the uneven ground, heading for the goblins who've made it over the pillar.  He swings at one with his club, going a little high and missing.  Thunder goes after another, his strong jaws clamping on the goblin's throat and crushing it!



Haazheel's first attempt with the crossbow goes awry, hitting off a goblin's helm (which may, in fact, be a cooking pot), but Mystique is able to rake his talons along another goblin's head, making him jump around in pain until he trips on a bit of rubble and goes rolling off down a gentle slope.

The goblins shriek and howl in dismay.  And bloodlust.  And laughter.

Goblins are a little bit not right in the head.

The one Narthian missed makes a sudden crazy leap onto Thunder's back, missing his reflexive snap, and grips onto Thunder's fur.  "[Language unknown: Ieul, be, t ev, urti chro redca!]" he shrieks.

Another tosses a snake in Narthian's face.  The reptile hits the side of his head, but doesn't manage to get a grip with its fangs, sliding off of Narthian's armor to coil up, looking confused and stunned.

The remaining three let loose with javelins and rocks at Haazheel, Narthian, and Averdante.  Most fall short or fail to raise a bruise, but one flies straight and true, right for Averdante, scoring along his side. 

--



There's a general screech of laughter from the goblins, and one of them says, "[Language unknown: Netoes?  Ble ur di ndatos?  Il oun viriveoun!  Capa lebepa tipl]."  And then bends down by the column he just jumped over and begins to grub in the ground.



A couple of the goblins look confused at Bruenor's threat, which unfortunately was not exactly delivered with the resonance and conviction that Bruenor had hoped.  Actually, his voice cracked a little while saying it, courtesy of a bug that tried to fly down his throat.  One goblin turns and runs.  Another bursts out laughing.  A third throws a dead fish at Bruenor, which falls short by quite a bit and lays there, rotting and stinking.

The other goblins, minus the one looking for worms and the one who tossed a fish, hurl javelins and torches at Bruenor, Volsh, Farian, and Dellas.

All miss horribly.  Except one.  Except for the torch aimed at Dellas.  The halfling sees it and tries to dodge, but the goblin who hurled it is an expert with fire.  It strikes him, flaming end first, hard enough to drop Dellas to his knees and set his robes smoldering.

The fire wizard's familiarity with his chosen element is all that saves him from having the flames engulf him, but when he coughs after beating out his smoldering robes, bright red blood stains his lips.  The torch had hit with nearly lethal force.

Beyond the pillars, the goblins shriek with amusement.  "[Language unknown: Elpe ut!  O i ti!  Lat wever ilriac?  Nendnitrce ithmenwheeen!]" one shouts.



The goblins watch, wide-eyed and in some kind of awe as Volsh comes bounding across the battlefield.  They look almost entranced, their toothy maws gaping and drool coming from a few loose lips.




Farian and Bruenor flank just behind Volsh, crossing the broken ground and on guard for treachery.

Dellas manages to stagger to his feet and a little bit forward, taking cover behind part of the wall.  "Get... get them closer!" he calls, coughing wetly in the middle of his sentence.  "I can take out a crowd with my magic, but they have to be closer!"

--

Valiant comes thundering into the clearing, Sir Aberlayne and Drogo on his back.

"Dellas!" Sir Aberlayne yells, and urges Valiant on past her brother to confront the goblins who hurt him.  As she goes to raise her axe, Drogo takes a controlled tumble from the warpony's back, landing on a small rise just to Bruenor's side.  Amazingly, he comes up on his feet and fires his crossbow into one of the nearby goblins.  The goblin looks rather stupefied as the arrow enters his eye, and then slumps over sideways.

Valiant's speed takes him and Sir Aberlayne into the first line of goblins.  In her anger, Sir Aberlayne's first attack on the laughing, taunting goblin misses, but Valiant's hoof does not, and the goblin's head is crushed under the warpony's weight.

Howls sound out from behind the temple, along with harsh goblin voices chanting something unintelligible.  They're coming...

Farian moves in on the closest goblin and swings his mace down, but the goblin side steps the blow so deftly, Farian is dumbfounded!

08:41, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 3 using 1d20+2. to hit.1 to hit :(

A hard smile crosses Aver'e's face as the hornets spread out. The enemy of my enemy... taste of their own medicine... - but the elf's train of thought suddenly jumped track.

Plan B?, but the distraction cost him as he failed to dodge a well-thrown rock, his side searing as the blow bruises ribs.

He takes another step to put himself between any charging goblins and the wizard, and lets fly another arrow, straight and true.

The wizard make a sign in the direction of Mystique to congrats her for her first attack.
"Are you alright Master Archer?" asks Haazheel to Avery while shooting another arrow.
Mystique flies around the battlefield before swooping down on the goblins attacking Haazheel, Avery and Narthian.
12:19, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 22 using 1d20+2. Attack with light crossbow. Yay! 16 damage.
12:21, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 7 using 1d20+3. Talons attack for Mystique. Need damage roll?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Wed 20 Aug 2014.

Narthian turns his club onto the goblin near him but Thunder is not so lucky.

OOC:
11:09, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 4 using 1d20+3. Thunder bite attack.
11:09, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 3 using 1d6. club dmg.
11:07, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 17 using 1d20. Narthian club hit.

"Farian, go tend to the wizard! Drogo, cover our backs; I promised these goblins not a single one would cross me and live." Bruenor shouts as he moves to engage the nearest foe on his side, intent on stopping the goblins there.

[OOC:
20:41, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 24 using 1d20+4. Attack roll.
20:41, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 18 using 1d20+4. Confirm crit.
20:44, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 8 using 2d6. Damage.
]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:05, Wed 13 Aug 2014.

Farian heads for Dellas to assess his injuries!

21:06, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 24 using 1d20+7. Heal Check.

The goblin javelineer is already distracted by the insects swarming about him, and looks down curiously at the arrow now protruding from his middle.  Then slumps out of sight.  The goblin next to him makes a cackling sound and disappears for a moment, coming up with what looks like a glass jar of... something.  Pickles, maybe.  Gleefully he pulls the lid off and begins to cram the snack into his oversized, tooth maw, scarcely chewing, brine quickly be licked away before it can dribble down his chin. 


The snake-tossing goblin's head is an irresistible target, and Narthian's club bangs against it with a satisfying thud, making a few teeth pop out.  The goblin weaves unsteadily, putting both hands on its makeshift sword as it tries to remain upright.  Thunder gnashes his teeth at the mad goblin clinging to the fur of his back, but can't quite get a grip.



Haazheel's arrow flies straight and true, going right through one goblin's ear and out the other, making him collapse behind the column.  Mystique, going where he can do the most good, sinks his talons into the wounded goblin Narthian hit.  The blow is too much for the dazed goblin, and he keels over as Mystique wings back up into the air.


There are only three goblins left now near you.  The crazed one clinging to Thunder's back.  One behind the fallen column stuffing his face with pickles.  And one other behind the pillar who takes a look at the carnage, shrieks, and runs like a headless chicken away from the battlefield as far as his little legs can take him.

The one eating pickles continues to eat pickles, eyes closed in pleasure, seemingly oblivious to it all.

The one riding Thunder clings like a tick and draws a ragged-edged blade.  He smacks Thunder's flanks with it and yelps, "[Language unknown: N reente, venon u, ilol est wati!]"

--

Volsh charges up to the goblins behind their pillar, intending to take out one with a swing of his mighty sword, but the goblin ducks behind the stone, and Volsh is barely able to check the force of his swing to avoid smashing his blade into rock.

OOC 02:51, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 8 using 1d20+4.



The priest moves in fast.  Farian's swing has all the power of his conviction behind it, but goblin paranoia makes the little wretch duck with the speed of a rat!



The one Bruenor targets is not nearly so lucky as he finds his heart impaled on the swashbuckler's blade.  With a squeaking noise of dismay, the goblin flops down, dead.

Farian turns towards Dellas, but for the moment he's still conscious and safe. 

Dellas keeps himself low to the ground, clearly trying to make himself less of a target while he's so very wounded.

OOC:  Going total defensive.

Sir Aberlayne yells as she leans from the saddle to swing her axe at the goblin who hurt her brother, taking one's head clean off!  Valiant rears and swipes at the one next to him with his front hooves, sending another flying to land in a heap.

03:08, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 17 using 1d20+6. Attack with battleaxe.
03:09, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 6 using 1d6+1. Battleaxe damage.

03:10, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Attack with hoof.
03:11, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 4 using 1d3+2. Primary hoof damage.
03:11, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 9 using 1d20+2. Secondary attack with hoof.

Drogo sights on one of the goblins with his crossbow, but his attack, to his dismay, goes flying off into the forest.

03:14, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Drogo, rolled 8 using 1d20+6. Crossbow attack.

There are only a few goblins left from the group's attack, and as the yelling and snarling from behind the temple gets louder, they all take to their heels and run like the cowards they are, withdrawing with extra care to avoid the angry retaliatory strikes of those who have entered their camp to avenge the victims of their greed.

As the goblins scatter, Volsh, Bruenor, Sir Aberlayne, Farian, Drogo, and Dellas can look up to see what all the snarling was about.

Four wolves, with elaborately armored goblin warriors on their backs are charging right for you!

OOC:  They're about forty feet away, on the other side of the fallen pillar the goblins were trying to use for cover.

Despite "Plan B", things look like they're going well enough at the moment. Aver'e assesses the various threats, and, shifting forward this time, toward the enemy, sends another potentially lethal arrow at what is left of this group.

Haazheel don't take any break after his good shot, he loads again the crossbow hiding  behind the pillar and shoots again at the closer goblin.
15:58, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 9 using 1d20+2. Attack with light crossbow.

"Quick, scatter caltrops to stop the charge!"

;)

Bruenor uses his free hand to open the caltrop bag, scattering them infront of himself before tossing the now empty container aside.

The barbarian halts himself from further chase as the remains of the horde flee like roaches from a larder. When he sees the charging wolf riders emerge from behind the crumbling temple, he curses himself. Damned be fool who forgets his net at his pack.

Volsh turns his gaze to his companions, "Ready yourselves!... loose your missles if you've any. Bruenor, come forward with me and hold strong here. We can take out a few mounts before they can clear around us."

He faces the oncoming beasts and their riders and sets his stance defensively, ready to strike the first wolf that gets within range.

OOC: Volsh will swing his longsword at the first opportunity he gets, attempting to strike a wolf as opposed to a rider. He will use Power Attack at +1 to dmg, -1 to hit.

21:12, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 3 using 1d20+2. Long Sword Attack.

Farian readies an action to attack as soon as a wolf or goblin approaches within his range.

Averdante's arrow flies straight and true, piercing the running goblin in the back and bringing him to a top-over-teakettle death as he tumbles to a halt in the dirt.

The snake that had been thrown at the group is slithering away, having had enough of this nonsense, please.

Narthian swings his club at the goblin atop his wolf friend and hits a glancing blow.  Thunder twists as the goblin leans sideways, and gets a good grip on the little horror.  With a hard snap, he rips the goblin from his back and crunches his head between his jaws!

OOC:  05:45, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Narthian Goldleaf, rolled 15 using 1d20. Attack with club.
05:46, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Narthian Goldleaf, rolled 1 using 1d6. Damage with club.
05:47, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Thunder, rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Critical confirm.
05:47, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Thunder, rolled 20 using 1d20+3. Attack with bite.
05:48, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Thunder, rolled 5 using 2d6+2. Critical damage with bite.

The goblin eating pickles suddenly stops and looks around.  And turns pale.  And starts to shake.  And finally he grabs his abandoned spear and leaps from the top of the fallen column yowling like a feral cat as it stabs at the air!

He might have been trying to hit Narthian.  But his blow was so wild he my have just been stabbing at a passing bird.  It's hard to say.



Haazheel's shot goes wide, but Mystique is able to stoop and rake the goblin with his talon.

OOC:  05:54, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Mystique, rolled 12 using 1d20+3. Attack with talons.  Does 1 point of damage.

--

Farian calls out a warning, and Bruenor takes the caltrops and scatters them widely as they'd planned to do, making an area dangerous to any without good strong foot coverings.  Sir Aberlane circles Valiant back around to entice the wolves in without risking Valiant's feet, and Volsh readies himself to smash some heads.  Backing up beyond the danger zone, they only have to wait a moment before the wolves are upon them!

Drogo looses his crossbow bolt as the wolves thunder in, and it thuds hard into the fur of the one on the right, despite the desperate attempts of the goblin rider to swerve his mount.

OOC: 06:03, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Drogo, rolled 6 using 1d6. Damage with crossobw.
06:03, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Drogo, rolled 23 using 1d20+6. Attack with crossbow

Farian, Volsh, Bruenor, and Sir Aberlayne are all ready to attack with melee weapons, and Sir Aberlayne lets out a loud, yodeling cry that curdles the blood, and Valiant rears in a combat display.

As the wolves go to jump over the column towards you, you can hear someone chanting behind you.  A look back shows Dellas making some gestures.

And abruptly, the two middle goblin riders, and one of their mounts, collapse before they can jump, sound asleep.

The two remaining riders and one remaining wolf vault the fallen column and wade into the fray.  Their eyes are red-rimmed and mad-looking, and the wolves snarl with ferocity.  Two of the wolves, one with a rider, and one without, run through the caltrop patch.  The unburdened one is savvy enough to avoid the little nails of woe, but the one with a rider is not so lucky, and yelps as the nails pierce his tender footpads.



Volsh chops down hard with his sword, but his battle lust is greater than his accuracy, and the wolf dances aside, snarling.

Farian brings his mace down with all the wrath of Pelor upon the head of the goblin rider, caving in helm and head so completely it's as if the rider had become headless!

OOC: 06:12, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Farian Raymellie, rolled 22 using 1d20+2. Attack with mace.
06:12, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Farian Raymellie, rolled 22 using 1d20+2. Critical confirm.
06:14, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Farian Raymellie, rolled 26 using 3d8+6. Critical heavy mace damage.

Bruenor thrusts his rapier at the snarling, riderless wolf near him, but it's turned by the wolf's thick fur.

OOC: 06:16, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Bruenor Sedricson, rolled 13 using 1d20+4. Attack with rapier.

Sir Aberlayne swings and misses with her axe at a nearby goblin rider, cursing steadily all the while.  Valiant lashes out with a hoof, thudding into the rider's mount, and drawing a yelp from the wolf.

OOC:  06:18, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 8 using 1d20+6. Attack with battleaxe.
06:19, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 3 using 1d3+2. Hoof damage.
06:19, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Critical confirm.
06:19, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 23 using 1d20+3. Attack with hoof.

The wolves snap at those whom they can reach, missing Farian and Volsh with their teeth, but the remaining wolf with a rider manages to slash at Valiant's flank, and the spear-wielding rider slides the point between a gap in Sir Aberlayne's armor and stabs her hard in the side. 

OOC:  There are two wolves without riders, one of whom has a bolt sticking out of its side, and a third with a rider on it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:28, Sat 30 Aug 2014.

Aver'e says a silent prayer of thanks to the elven goddess of archery, and to his teachers, as that last shaft strikes home.

"Last one!", he says over his shoulder to Hazheel.  Bow still in his off hand, he draws his sword, and charges at the recent pickle-eater, moving to position himself opposite Narthian and the wolf.  As he nears his target, he brings the sword in a wide arc to ensure he scores a hit, hoping to secure their flanks before moving on to the main battle.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Sat 30 Aug 2014.

Farian carefully steps forward and swings his mace at the snout of the wolf closest to him, missing badly!

16:01, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 7 using 1d20+2. to hit with mace.

Bruenor presses the attack on the wolf, this time with greater force.

10:42, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 15 using 1d20+4. Atttack roll: Rapier.
 10:44, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 6 using 1d6. Damage: Rapier.

Volsh whirls after his wild swing to face the wolves as they pass. His nostrils flare like a bull as he exhales, enraged at his blade striking naught but air. He stays his rage for a time, channeling it, fueling his efforts to strike down his foes. He waits for another pass of one of the large dogs and chops down on it.

19:53, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 18 using 1d20+4. Longsword Attack.
19:55, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 11 using 1d8+3. Longsword Dmg.

Haazheel nods at Avery before the elf charges with his sword at the least goblin. The wizard readies an arrow. If the goblin doesn't fall dead after Avery's attack, he will shoot right at the goblin in order to prevent this green calamity to counter attack.

11:30, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 17 using 1d20+2. Attack with light crossbow.
In the meantime Mystique flies in circles above the battle scene.

The pickle-eating goblin didn't stand a chance as Averdante's sword separates the goblin's head from his shoulders and sends it bouncing down the gentle slope, a confused expression still on its face.



Haazheel's own bolt turns out not to be needed, but Mystique shrills alarm through his master's head.  Looking up, he can see the owl darting back to the south, and hear some growls of wolves and the sounds of combat!

Narthian and Thunder both prick up their ears and begin to move towards the sounds of battle.

Haazheel sees something very peculiar out of the corner of his eye as he turns to look.  Just near the mouth of the temple, there's a crude cage, like a chicken coop made of rope and wire and bits of wood and bones.  It's stuffed with goblin young, their heads ludicrously oversized, their teeth protruding from their mouths, all of them growling and gnawing on each other and the cage.  A couple of goblin wives (only told because goblin women have hair and goblin men wear hats or hoods) have a stout stave each and are batting the cage between them out away from the sounds of battle and into the forest, careful not to let their hands get too close to the bars.

There also seems to be some smoke coming from inside the temple area.

--



Volsh's sword slashes down at the wolf already wounded by Drogo's arrow, fatally opening its hide, and the wolf writhes in its death throes at his feet.



Farian's mace swings high over the wolf's head, and the wolf growls in response.



Bruenor takes advantage of the wolf's ducking from Farian and gives him a firm stab with his sword!

Drogo sights on the same wolf carefully, as to not hit his companions, and the bolt goes flying to stick into the wolf's side, drawing a yelp of pain from him.

OOC:  20:34, Today: Drogo rolled 4 using 1d6. Crossbow damage.
20:34, Today: Drogo rolled 11 using 1d20+6. Critical confirm.
20:33, Today: Drogo rolled 19 using 1d20+6. Attack with crossbow.

Dellas keeps himself down and out of the way, watching for any treachery or opportunity.

OOC:  Delay action

Sir Aberlayne slashes down with her battleaxe on the remaining rider, and Valiant bashes at the goblin with his hoof, both drawing blood from the yowling goblin warrior.

OOC:  20:39, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 3 using 1d3+2. Hoof damage.
20:38, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 4 using 1d20+2. Attack with hoof.
20:38, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 22 using 1d20+3. Attack with hoof.
20:37, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 2 using 1d6+1. Battleaxe damage.
20:37, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 9 using 1d20+6. Critical confirm.
20:37, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Attack with battleaxe.

The wolf by Farian and Bruenor cannot run far due to its injured feet, and so turns its fangs on the one who hurt it.  In its eagerness, it stumbles, piercing another paw, and misses Bruenor completely.

The goblin rider and his wolf slash and stab at Sir Aberlayne and Valiant with practiced ferocity.  The wolf goes to try to hamstring the warpony, and Sir Aberlayne guides Valiant with an expert display of horsemanship, thwarting the attack, but cannot avoid the second spear stab from the goblin that slams into her shoulder!

OOC:  There is one goblin and rider left in front of Sir Aberlayne, and one wounded wolf in front of Farian and Bruenor. 
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:48, Fri 05 Sept 2014.

Farian rolls double 1's, fumbling his attack on the wolf!!


21:50, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 3 using 1d20+2.
21:50, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 3 using 1d20+2. to hit with mace.

"Go tend to the wizard, I'll put the beast out of its misery," Bruenor says to the cleric.

[OOC: 19:09, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 1 using 1d6. damage: rapier.  19:08,
 Bruenor Sedricson rolled 12 using 1d20+4. Crit confirm.  19:08,
 Bruenor Sedricson rolled 23 using 1d20+4. Attack: rapier. ]

The barbarian is reminded of his feral abilities as the wolf at his feet is called to roam the wilds of the underworld, sent there by his blade. He wastes no time. He tosses his longblade into the vise like grip of his left paw. In a flash, seemingly from nowhere, a sturdy dagger appears in his strong hand; an empty scabbard at his belt. Volsh whips the dagger overhand at the goblin mounted in front of the she-knight.

20:34, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 13 using 1d20+3. Thrown Dagger Attack.
20:34, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 5 using 1d4+3. Thrown Dagger Dmg.

Beheading the last apparent threat, Aver'e does not drop his guard, but immediately takes a quick survey of the area, both to ensure there are no foes that were overlooked, but also to take account of friends, to lay eyes on each and make sure they seem ready to press on.

That done, he moves down the trail with his companions, toward the sound of battle, hoping the plan is holding together and will continue to do so, and that luck stays as much on their side as it seems to have so far.

"Find the females and the children and kill them quickly before they escape, and the shaman too." Farian heads for the wounded wizard.


19:35, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 3 using 1d8+1. CLW .
This message was last edited by the player at 23:35, Sun 07 Sept 2014.

After making sure that all goblins on that side of the battlefield are dead or fleeing, Haazheel hears Mystique and looks in the direction his owl is pointing.
Already the archer is running  in that direction, reading his crossbow, Haazheel follows Avery to help his companions fighting on this other front of the battlefield.

With all the enemies dead on their side, Averdante, Haazheel, and Narthian quickly move towards the sounds of combat.  The ground is rough and broken, and they are cautious to avoid getting ambushed in return, but swiftly enough they arrive to see the carnage their fellows have wrought.  They see Dellas first, the halfling still kneeling on the ground, coughing up blood.  Nearby, Drogo is firing his crossbow from a small rise, protected from the general melee.  A small distance beyond, Volsh, Bruenor, Farian, and Sir Aberlayne are fighting with wolves and goblins riding them.  From the bodies at their feel, they've been doing rather well!

--



Volsh's knife finished what Sir Aberlayne started by thunking hard into the goblin's throat as he lifts his head.  The goblin topples from the wolf's back in a clatter of armor!



Luck seems to have temporarily deserted Farian completely, and he nearly, but not quite, loses his mace to a wild swing that hits nothing.

Undeterred, and with a flash of divine insight (as else how could he have seen?), he calls out:

 



Bruenor thrusts hard at the wolf, the rapier tip sinking deep into its side.  With a final yelp and whine, the badly-wounded wolf drops at Bruenor's feet.

Drogo fires his crossbow into the remaining wolf in front of Sir Aberlayne, wounding him further!

OOC:  01:20, Today: Drogo rolled 2 using 1d6.
01:20, Today: Drogo rolled 23 using 1d20+6.

Dellas looks up as Averdante, Narthian, and Haazheel arrive, and points frantically in the direction of the temple.

"My familiar Vish told me the goblin wives are getting the goblin young away, towards the woods!  I haven't seen the shaman yet, but he could be out any minute!"

Sir Aberlayne and Valiant focus their efforts on the last remaining wolf, bringing it down with slashes of her battleaxe and his hooves, yelling out wordless defiance.

OOC:  01:18, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 3 using 1d3+2. Damage with hoof.
01:18, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 4 using 1d20+2. Attack with hoof.
01:18, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Valiant, rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Attack with hoof.
01:17, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 4 using 1d6+1. Damage with battleaxe.
01:16, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 14 using 1d20+6. Attack with battleaxe.

As the last goblin falls, there's a sudden, high-pitched, mad-sounding cackle that echoes from the temple.  And suddenly a spreading stain of darkness, as if midnight has chosen to come at the shaman's bidding, shrouds the temple in deepest shadow!  From within, you can hear an ominous squeaking, chittering sound, like the biggest rats in existence are waiting in there...

  PM

"I suppose it is a tad late to see if anyone wanted to make a bet on which of us will get to make the first kill?  So how about the last? Any takers?"

Stepping closer to Bruenor I have a few private words with the man. Falling silent if I notice the approach of anyone else.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 02:54, Wed 10 Sept 2014.

As the clatter of the skirmish is cut to only the low rasp of his accelerated breathing, Volsh uses the lull by locating his thrown blade. He braces the fallen goblin's outsized head under his blood spattered boot. Quickly, he yanks the long dagger from the creature's spindly neck.

The shrill cry from the temple prompts the barbarian to swift action. He strops the blade across the goblin's burlap tunic, removing the sanguine ichor from its length.



Volsh addresses the half-man while keeping his attention on the shrouded temple.

"I'll not stand in your path if it be your goal to slay those slumbering monsters, but we've a more sinister matter." He says with a nod toward the darkness.

Volsh stoops again to cleanse his longsword in the same manner as his dagger. "Whatever sorcerous devil dwell in those inky depths will not live out the zenith of the sun! Haazheel... Farian... can you combat this shroud, by spell or by godly gift?"

In reply to Volsh son of Vor (msg # 69):
with a grin up at the fighter I set out to explain.

"not at all old son not at all, I but merely suggested the option of taking book on who will be the first of our intrepid band to make a kill and who gets to be the slayer of the last of this ilk.  Nothing to do with me wanting to hog all the gory... er glory to my humble self."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 06:13, Wed 10 Sept 2014.

Haazheel arrives in time to witness the darkness coming from the temple. At the suggestion of Volsh he answers to the group "I could cast a dancing light spell, I don't know whether it will illuminate in these evil darkness, what do you think Master Cleric?"

"well, there is no sense in allowing ourselves to face enemies on two fronts", Narthian mutters grimly. He draws his dagger and quickly administers coup de grace on the sleeping enemies.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:37, Wed 10 Sept 2014.

"I don't think it will help, and I have nothing for it. You can try it."

In reply to Narthian Goldleaf (msg # 72):

"Would you like some help there Goodman Goldleaf?" Not waiting for an answer, Drogo set to the task of disposing of the sleepers.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:57, Wed 10 Sept 2014.

"If there is nothing to be done about the darkness, then how are we to enter the temple, without walking into a trap." Bruenor pauses for a short time before turning to ask Dellas, "Wizard, can you cast that fire spell again?"

In reply to Bruenor Sedricson (msg # 75):

"Hmm furtive, argumentative, sully, base opportunists?... Oh my goodness," he says.  He puts one hand over on his chest carefully so as not to sully myself with blood from his dagger and the other dramatically positioned on his forehead, palm out in the tragic pose of despair of a hero from a mummers' play. He adds a stagger of remorse to the effort.
"Oh my oh dear me. My family's dread secret has been finally realized, we have goblin values!  How ever can I bear the shame?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:17, Wed 10 Sept 2014.

Narthian and Drogo can each quickly cut a goblin throat as the others debate what to do. 

Farian moves over to the wounded halfling wizard and invokes Pelor's power.  A brief beam of sunlight halos Dellas, and very soon he is breathing much, much easier.

"Thank you," he says, getting up.  Listening to the calls to cast spells of light, Dellas shakes his head.  "You need a more powerful spell of illumination than just dancing lights to counter a spell of darkness."



"I have four more scrolls of burning hands," Dellas says with a nod.  "It's an indiscriminate spell, but it'll clear a small path, for fair!"

"I can try to draw him out," Sir Aberlayne volunteers.  "Goblins hate horses, and seeing me on Valiant near the temple might strain the shaman's temper enough that he springs his trap early."  With Dellas breathing more easily, she seems much more calm.  She takes a moment to press her hand into her side, a faint green glow seeming to staunch the blood from the stab wounds she's received.


OOC:  Just reminding everyone that darkness only causes people to have a 20% miss chance (which is not negated by darkvision or low-light vision).
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 13:14, Thu 11 Sept 2014.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 77):

putting the copper coins on the eyes of all the goblins I can "for the ferryman" I would not even see such as these unable to cross over...


"has anyone heard any sort of whistles or strange bird calls recently?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:40, Fri 12 Sept 2014.

Farian heads to where the women were running with the kids, mace ready.

"Damn, and I'm fresh out of daylight spells. Thunder, I hate to ask, but can you find the goblin in the darkness by scent?"

giving a shrug as I rejoin the group, cleaning my blade on the way.  As the conversational merits of activities fly back and forth a certain whistle is given a trial sounding.

Upon arriving at the end of the trail, Aver'e draws his bow, ready to help the battle, only to see the last opponents fall.  He scans the area, and, seeing nothing and hearing the cries about goblins escaping, he moves back a bit, out of line of sight of any occupants in the temple itself, and uses what cover there is to circle around to the far side, in hopes of cutting off or catching those trying to escape.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:37, Fri 12 Sept 2014.

Looking around to see if the sound carried? the look of intense concentration sets over my features as my thoughts turn in ever inward to contemplate deep and worldly matters.

Farian looks and listens for the escaping females and children.


14:57, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Listen.
14:57, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 8 using 1d20+3. Spot.

In reply to Farian Raymellie (msg # 84):

Narthian gathers the group. "As I see it, we have 3 options. 1. Rush blindly (literally) into what is certainly a trap. 2. Wait out the Darkness spell. It will certainly last for at least 30 minutes but likely less than an hour. During that time, we can clean up whatever goblins remain. Unfortunately, we know not what other preparations he will make during that time. 3. Circle the temple looking for another way (or two) in. The shaman is likely not waiting within the area of darkness himself and this will give us the best chance of surrounding him before he can prepare additional 'surprises' for us.

I am in favor of the last."

"I am too" answers Haazheel "Certainly this construction has other ways in. At least another one for the aeration of the complex"

In reply to Haazheel Thorn (msg # 86):

"Unless the temple opens up into deep caverns and bottomless pits?  Why spend money on things you can just take advantage of instead?

You know I am beginning to think this wood thing is just a wood thing.  Such a pity"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:36, Fri 12 Sept 2014.

"The spell will run its course while we search anyway, and cutting off the leader's escape is wise, if he has one. I motion we move in groups." Bruenor turns to address the elf,"Averdante, you and I, along with Narthian, can circle around the one side. Farian, you take Volsh and Haazheel around the other flank. Drogo, you stay with Sir Aberlayne and Dellas."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:53, Sat 13 Sept 2014.

In reply to Bruenor Sedricson (msg # 88):

With a sigh I move over to Bruenor's side.  One day perhaps I will figure out what the goblins used the whistles for.  Best thing for me to do at this time is to be in the now.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:30, Sat 13 Sept 2014.

Narthian, bow ready with an arrow nocked but not drawn, and Thunder move to join Bruenor in circling the temple.

Haazheel readies an arrow in his crossbow. "Sounds like a plan, shall we?" Asks the wizard to Volsh and Farian.

preparing my crossbow for use
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:29, Sat 13 Sept 2014.

From ahead where he'd already been looking, Farian answers with a head nod as he keeps looking for the females and children.

Bruenor whispers back to Drogo,

Farian avoids the blot of darkness and heads to where he heard the commotion of goblin young.  Partway between the temple and the trees is the curious constructions of sticks, bones, cloth, and wires that makes up a vaguely (now) ball-shaped cage.  It's stuffed to the gills with goblin young, their oversized heads gnawing, yammering, snarling, occasionally their little legs pushing the cage along the ground.  Goblin young, while not nearly as dangerous as adults, can be very dangerous in a swarm like this even caged.  The two goblin wives urging the cage along are doing it with short, stout staves to avoid being bitten by their own offspring.



Thunder snorts, reassuring his companion that he can find a stinking goblin in the dark.



Drogo sees no immediate effect from the whistle.

However, Farian sees the goblin wives turn suddenly, looking around with wild hope in their eyes.  Instead, they see a human priest with a mace in his hands a short distance away.  They shriek with despair and try to push the cage along faster.



Averdante circles around, coming to the same sight as Farian.  Bow in hand, he launches an arrow at one of the goblin wives before she can get away.  The arrow, in his haste, goes high, only encouraging her to keep going.

OOC:  05:04, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Averdante, rolled 11 using 1d20+4. Attack with bow.



Thusly decided, those not otherwise engaged with finding the remains of the goblin clan go to circle the temple.  Through Dellas is staying behind, he turns to Drogo and his sister.

"Visk might be able to see a way in, or at least if anyone is trying to escape.  He can sneak closer and keep us informed," Dellas says, petting his weasel familiar before letting him loose in the grass.  The little animal is soon lost to sight as he gets into cover and moves towards the temple.

Averdante and Farian already having gone ahead to find goblin young, Volsh and Haazheel circle around to the east, Bruenor, Narthian, and Thunder to the west.  As they flank the temple, they have no trouble seeing the goblin young and wives making it break for the trees.  They're about eighty feet away and still moving.  Of the temple, you see no part fully exposed to sunlight, and no obvious boltholes or exits.  The group going to the west does see the area where they wolves were staked, and all groups do see the various firepits where the goblins were staying (and stashing some of their loot).

From within the temple there comes only some high-pitched ominous chanting, along with more smoke and the distinct smell of a very smoky fire.

After a moment, Dellas says, "Visk says there's a lot of fire-sound, and some movement in there.  He thinks... three, maybe."

Farian moves in on the females and children and attempts to crush the head of the first he comes to, but misses!

07:58, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 10 using 1d20+2. to hit with mace.

"Averdante, can you kill them all with your bow?" Farian asks. If you can, I'm going into the temple! Let none live!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:01, Sun 14 Sept 2014.

"I can if I can hit!", he says letting go another shaft that this time seems better aimed, reducing the number that is pushing the cage by one.

Nodding in satisfaction at that, he states in reply "It would be wiser to stay together", but remains focused on the task at hand for now.

"But then if we were wise we would not be in this line of work?  At least that is what I have heard most people say."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Sun 14 Sept 2014.

Farian heads into the darkness, following the sound.

"Farian, you damned fool! Don't run in blindly!" Bruenor shouts in response to the cleric's declaration, but there is little he can do to stop the priest from where he is.

In reply to Bruenor Sedricson (msg # 100):

"I think he maybe trying for a career change?  Could be thinking of becoming a Paladin or something along them lines?  Brave, Honourable, Courageous, Reckless and a little out of touch with just how nasty the world can be.

I think we should go see if he needs a little help? What say you? It never hurts to have a Priest owe ya one."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 04:53, Mon 15 Sept 2014.

Farian follows the sights and sound around him.

20:00, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 5 using 1d20+3. Spot.
20:00, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 8 using 1d20+3. Listen.

In reply to Farian Raymellie (msg # 96):

"How very unsympathetic and cold that decision is... If you kill these Goblin young just because they are Goblin then what makes you any different in nature to them? Who is to say that given a chance and some stern understanding they can not be better people?  Let me try something first and if any of you are in the mood to do so, join in the fun by really looking and sounding menacing."


[Private to group Goblin: "Wenches surrender to Khan Chief O'Logo.  Your warriors are dead and your clan is defenceless submit to my will and I may find it amusing to spare you and your spawn's lives.  Fail to heed my offer and your eyes will be gouged from your heads and your bellies torn open for the wolves to play with after you have spent time writhing in pain and agony for I will have your fingers broken that you may not use a blade to ease your suffering and your teeth torn out so that you can not end the life of your kin.  This offer will only be given once choose now to keep your clan alive or see it perish with the destruction of your young as you suffer"]
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Mon 15 Sept 2014.

Farian runs up to swipe at one of the goblin wives, but misses her cleanly.  She shrieks in surprise, falling to her knees and covering her head, but to her relief, the priest of Pelor reverses his route and heads for the temple instead.

However, she doesn't have long to draw a breath of relief as Averdante enters the fray.



The arrow pierces the other goblin wife, the somewhat taller and sturdier-looking of the two.  Without the impetus of the staves, the cage-ball of goblin young comes to a halt.  The kneeling goblin wife screams again and runs to her wounded and dying companion, taking her in her arms.

"[Language unknown: Illureive!  Ainredter!  K e, viravente!  Enntti san at, p ame a ven mielun earut thoul uncaomng!  Sslema!]"

--



Farian heads into the darkness of the temple, despite the protestations of his party.  While the shadows are thick and difficult to penetrate, and the smell of smoke is all around, it's not entirely impossible to see.  Rock walls with some kind of murals, a low dais against the far wall, a stone altar, and a darker space of a large doorway beyond.  The chanting seems to be coming from the worst of the darkness, and Farian turns that way warily.

Then he hears a rattling, and a low, eerie moan like wind through dying trees.  Farian knows this sound.  He knows it from the writings of Saint Bane, from the teachings of Pelor.

Skeletons of the dead, animated to fight the living!

Out of the darkness lurch a half-dozen shambling, desiccated corpses, nothing but bone and sinew, armed with swords and shields, their terrible gaping mouths open in a parody of a laugh as they advance upon the impulsive priest.

--



Sir Aberlayne turns her attention away from Dellas and towards Averdante and Drogo as Farian breaks off his assault on the goblins to storm the temple.  Looking back and forth between them, she sees Drogo step up and deliver a booming and intimidating-sounding speech in the goblin tongue.  Though she doesn't speak the language herself, the effects are obvious as the distraught goblin wife wails in response to Drogo.

"[Language unknown: Nopo an usul lolltr, outdi horipa int wi, ivaniv!]"  The goblin wife tosses aside her stick and continues to hold the body of the other female Averdante had shot.  The goblin young still wriggle and gnash at the bars, but they seems to be doing it more absently, watching Drogo with their beady eyes wide.

"[Language unknown: E tingil ere erna hou ore wach, Ichpreman, ure ma hat whi tedul haec vorhernceday.  Rat thi.]" she murmurs to him.  Then she raises her voice, "I can guard these goblins and make sure they do not escape or harm anyone while you rescue Farian from his folly!"

"Thank you, Sir  Aberlayne," Bruenor says, "Dellas, we will need you at the entrance to the temple; your flames can secure us a path in. Anyone else who wishes is welcome to join, but speak now, for we must move."

In reply to Bruenor Sedricson (msg # 105):

"I am sorry Bruenor but if I leave here now the Goblins will most likely soon get over the shock of my threats.  To save a few more lives it seems that I must take on the mantle of a Goblin Chief.  I will rejoin you as soon as I can.

Sir Aberlayne if you can will you save that Goblin's life?  Her name is Makroon and it seems she holds a special place in the surviving Goblin wife's affections. Please?

Way too many things happening at once."
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:10, Mon 15 Sept 2014.

Aver'e has another arrow knocked, and has taken aim on the last of the escaping goblins when things take a turn for the merciful.

"Don't fall for their tricks, Sir Aberlayne!" he says with a scowl of distaste at how events are unfolding in all directions. "Tie and gag them securely!"

He returns his arrow to his quiver, and draws his sword as he shouts "With you, Bruenor!", running to the side of that worthy and preparing to charge into gods only knows what.

Dellas pulls a scroll from an inside pocket of his vest and runs up next to Bruenor.  "Please don't let them shoot me," he says in a very small voice, and unfurls the scroll.  He'll move up towards the entrance (if someone will go with him), and call out, "Brother Farian, embrace the root of Obad-Hai!"

Then he waits a few seconds for the priest to react, hoping he'll interpret his message before he unleashes a sheet of fire into the temple.


--



"I'll do what I can, but if they try any treachery, their blood is forfeit," she says, prancing Valiant closer.



"I am a paladin, Averdante, not entirely a fool!" Sir Aberlayne says, a bit of grim humor in her voice as she swings down from her saddle.  The goblin wife holding Markoon seems too distraught to be afraid of the pony, and Sir Aberlayne is able to pry her free and wrap her hands behind her and bind her feet tightly without too much of a struggle, just an increase in wailing and crying.  With a grimace of distaste, Sir Aberlayne takes a small bundle of herbs from her belt, yanks out Averdante's arrow and pushes the herbs inside.  In a moment, the trickle of blood has stopped, though Markoon doesn't wake.  Sir Aberlayne ties her hands and feet as well and then rises to her own feet, battleaxe at the ready in case the cage fails and the goblin young turn into a swarm of land-piranhas.

"Dismiss your spell sorcerer and surrender that you may live. Otherwise, you die."

"Thankyou Kind Paladin I just hope that we do not end up regretting our actions.  I fear it may be so in the end but... To assume someone is evil with no proof.  If only we had some way of determining if they were or not"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:17, Mon 15 Sept 2014.

Sir Aberlayne looks hard at the goblins, her eyes briefly filming over with a wash of gold, then back at Drogo before heaving out a very long and very weary sigh.

"There is darkness in their hearts, and it is a petty and cruel thing.  For all their fear, I think the wife here would eat my liver on a stick if she could, if she didn't think you or I would kill her.  But..." and here she hesitates a long moment before speaking, "There might be one of the little nippers in that cage whose heart has not entirely blackened."

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 111):

"Indeed I had no real hope for the adults.  Too hidebound and set in their ways but the one who may yet be helped? which one is that?  we need to isolate it from the rest before they are put out of their misery to protect the world around them.  Least the very act drives it into the arms of what we try to spare it from.

The easiest and safest way at this time to do so I think would be to render it unconscious "
This message was last edited by the player at 10:53, Sat 20 Sept 2014.

In reply to Drogo O'Logo Underbough (msg # 112):

"Thunder, charge in, find a living goblin and attack it. Growl when you attack so I can locate you by sound."

In reply to Narthian Goldleaf (msg # 113):

You are aware that these Goblin have surrendered to us as in the group. So you are killing prisoners and there is a Paladin on hand as witness?
This message was last edited by the player at 22:33, Mon 15 Sept 2014.

My apologies, I meant into the temple not the prisoners. Hence my earlier question of Thunder that he could locate by scent in the darkness and needing his growls to lead me to an opponent. And since our potentially foolish cleric has gone charging in, providing backup seems wise.

To the best of my knowledge, only the women have surrendered and the younglings by proxy.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:16, Mon 15 Sept 2014.

In reply to Narthian Goldleaf (msg # 115):

ooc lol my bad. and yarp only 2 goblin wives and by proxy a ball o'brats... er innocent victims of an oppressive society.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:40, Wed 17 Sept 2014.

start the extraction process by rendering the young unconscious with subdual damage. 


"[Language unknown: Eenstrwit, Ne ss san pahele n laers whidaywhi ard ichlo oultinugh e taloce.  Ca his mies lesur ousicaich and it ho stprit icie the witstiera alivnd ti ith er ndewhiant herthurom ac wa moicanss p tiek.  Nt enhi nd mearof witanding ti liseus diac li witresest tr hasardame neaddi k aile n ncri mieen ilfi omven fo whaiof i.  Thu thieraion Omeraters?]"
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:30, Fri 19 Sept 2014.

Volsh hesitates amongst the hasty advance of companions, and the squabbling of yet more. His banded head swivels, his knotted hair swinging, as he tracks them all. The thews holding his massive frame bunch like dockside ropes mooring a great vessel. He scowls at those who are fretting over the childling monsters. Deep grumblings escape his chest as he starts into the void following the others, succeeded by a thunderous roar. Volsh keeps his longblade tip forward, moving through the darkness. He looks to gain his bearing and relieve the remaining goblin of his head.



23:23, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 21 using 1d20+3. Listen check.
23:23, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 7 using 1d20+2. Spot check.
23:21, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 5 using 1d20+4. Longsword Attack.

After having check the temple hoping for another entrance, Haazheel came back to the front gate of the temple in time to see his companions starting to rush inside the structure. Aware his crossbow will be useless in these darkness, he hangs back his crossbow, takes his quarterstaff and follow them inside his eyes and ears wide open expecting to see his companions or to spot any goblin trying to attack. He keeps a firm grisp on his quarterstaff ready to slam any goblin in sight.
11:42, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 20 using 1d20+1. Spot.
11:42, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 18 using 1d20+1. listen.
11:42, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 20 using 1d20+1. Attack with quarterstaff.

Bruenor, leading the impromptu rescue mission, charges into the darkness flanked by Volsh and Averdante the instant the sheet of flame dies away. Counting his steps, Bruenor mentally prepares for the battle that inevitably awaits when the darkness breaks.

When the blackness clears, Bruenor shouts out, "Farian!"

19:15, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 17 using 1d20+3. Combat Expertise Attack; Rapier.
19:14, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 9 using 1d20-1. Spot.
19:14, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 15 using 1d20-1. Listen.

at a rough guestimate, How many young in this cage?

Farian follows the noise into the sorcerer, then swings a mighty blow when he thinks he has him found!

13:39, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 31 using 1d100. 20% miss chance. High misses.Hit
13:38, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 18 using 1d20+2. to hit with mace.
13:38, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 6 using 1d8+2. damage.

In the Temple



The skeletons in front of Farian give him no answer but cold steel and murderous intent!  Of the sorcerer, if he is there, he says not a word, nor does Farian see him.

The skeletons, however, see Farian and crowd around him to swing their swords, their dry bones rattling like primitive chimes.  Some miss cleanly, one thuds against his armor but not does penetrate, but one slice gets through to gouge into his leg! 

Dellas, having waited and delivered his warning to Farian, screws up his courage and steps into the shadowed temple.  His eyes widen when he sees the pale bones of skeletons surrounding the priest, and with a quiet murmur of apology, shouts out the last words from his scroll as he takes a step back.  A sheet of flame washes over the skeletons closest to the entrance, just missing Farian.  Two of them are too slow to react, and take the full brunt of the fire, while one manages to writhe his old bones enough to avoid the worst of it.

"Skeletons!" Dellas yells, his voice breaking a little.  "Skeletons in the temple!" 



While the shadows of the temple are gloomy, they are not enough to fully block sight, and Volsh had no trouble seeing the skeletons surrounding Farian.  He sees no goblin, so instead turns his ire to the walking dead.  His first blow clangs off a shield one carries, and the skeleton's skull gapes at him in a mocking, ghastly grin.



There are no goblins to be seen, but rather a small hoard of animated bones!  Haazheel bashes his quarterstaff at one next to Volsh, but in the gloom, he aims just a hair high, whooshing over the skeleton's helm. 



The blackness does not clear, but it is not nearly as dark as Bruenor had feared.  As the flame dies away, things are still visible enough, and what's visible is the group of skeletons the others are fighting.  Moving to the fray, he penetrates gloom and the armor on the skeleton's frame to thrust his rapier through, but it clatters on more air than bones and seems not to harm him at all! 



Thunder runs into the temple, not understanding the full nuances of Narthian's words, but getting the gist.  Find enemy.  Bite it.  They squeal when bitten, which brings the other member of Thunder's pack, his sadly hairless friend Narthian.  The darkness is a little disorientating, but Thunder puts his nose to work, jerking to a halt and growling when the scent of the skeletons reaches him.  There is no way he is going near such unnatural things, and tries to circle around the edges of the room, whining a bit as he hunts for anything living.  He gives a louder growl as a whiff of something wafts past his nose, coming from beyond the knot of skeletons.  Narthian can come in after Thunder, following the wolf's growls to the far side of the temple.  Beyond the skeletons is another room, but getting past them could be tricky, or even deadly.

Averdante runs in after Bruenor, and swings his sword hard at the skeletons, but his blade clangs off the shield carried by one. 



Farian cannot hunt the sorcerer when undead surround him, and swings his mace as he's been taught, reducing one of the skeletal warriors to powder!

There is no more sound of chanting, just the dry rasp and rattle of the skeletons in the gloom as they seek to end your lives and add you to the grave therein...

--

Outside the Temple

Taking up one of the sticks, Sir Aberlayne begins to sort through the cage, using the wood to make sure she doesn't get bitten as she thunks a few goblin young on the head to subdue them.



The goblin wife wails and cries and snot runs down her face as she howls her grief, but that doesn't stop her from answering "Chief Drogo the Terrible."

"[Language unknown: Vorasteau thukorich, nc Atomsase Fi!  Ce n ort, veninelat, he besan venwe!  Is whilinortard k tabe teinit po re, un arto me ivson!]"

Drogo can begin subduing goblin young as well, with the conscious goblin wife seeming too intimidated to protest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:26, Sat 20 Sept 2014.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 123):
Drogo continues his chosen course of action to secure the group's rear by knocking out goblin young.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:25, Sat 20 Sept 2014.

Narthian, realizing that the skeletons are but a distraction--and one that appears well in hand, continues to urge Thunder to find a living goblin in the darkness. "Once the master is dead, his summoned creatures should fall", he mutters.

"Thunder, let us find the living goblin, by sight or scent and rend it together!"


11:19, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 3 using 1d20. Attack roll.
11:18, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 16 using 1d20+8. Spot for non-party members.
I saw no point in a damage or miss chance roll...

11:21, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 46 using 1d100. Thunder Miss chance, High misses.
11:21, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 2 using 1d6+1. Thunder Bite Damage.
11:21, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Thunder Attack.

Inexplicably delayed in joining the first charge into the undead, Aver'e steps around to flank the few remaining, keeping his ears and eyes open for more trouble but intent on eliminating this problem first.

He knows he's better with a bow than a sword, but he also knows arrows tend to whistle right through old bones, so he makes the best of it and maneuvers so someone else will benefit as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:21, Fri 19 Sept 2014.

Haazheel after his eyes get used to the low light inside the temple quickly understands that his companions are surrounded by skeletons. Willing to help them and aware that arrows will be useless against these creatures, He remembered his color spray spell and how well it worked against the goblins. But these are skeletons, undeads. He is not sure the spell will affect them. No way for him to remember whether he read or not something about that. "Farian? Dellas? I cannot remember whether the color spray spell will affect them, do you?" he shouts in the diretion of the two other companions who might have knowledge in arcana.

"I know not! Do something if you can!"
OOC - No Knowledge Arcana

"Dellas?"
OOC: last chance before casting the spell and then alea jacta est :)
This message was last edited by the player at 17:01, Mon 22 Sept 2014.

"I know nothing of wizard magic, but the name 'Color Spray' sounds like it uses light to harm opponents. Very low powered light spells will not work in an area affected by a 'Darkness' spell sent by a diety, much as casting 'Light' would do nothing here."

Dellas pipes up in obvious alarm at his fellow wizard's question.  "No!  No, it won't affect the undead!  Use it on the shaman if you see him, but it won't do anything to the skeletons!"

OOC:  20:12, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Knowledge Arcana.

After his sword clangs off the skeleton's shield, Volsh snears at the grinning skull. He forgets his blade for the time being and throws a powerful clinched fist to stop it from mocking him. "Grin at this you dog."

20:32, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 87 using 1d100. Chance for miss.
20:31, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 16 using 1d20+3. Unarmed Attack.
20:32, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 4 using 1d4+3. Punch Dmg.

"Thanks Master Dellas!" answers Haazheel almost ready to cast the spell. Instead, he keeps a firm grip on his quarterstaff looking at his companions fighting the skeletons and preparing himself for the confrontation with the shaman.

Outside the temple



The remaining conscious goblin wife continues to whimper in fear as Drogo continues his campaign of rendering the piranha-like goblin young unconscious.  Sir Aberlayne joins him in the distasteful task, checking over each tooth-gnashing youngster so she doesn't miss the one she saw who was not yet corrupted.

---

Inside the Temple



Thunder looks around, whining at the space somewhat visible towards the back of the temple, beyond the group of skeletons, but is unwilling to go dashing through the animate bones.  With some reassurance from Narthian, Thunder dashes forward to snap at one of the skeleton's legs, but the greaves loosely strapped to its shins turn Thunder's teeth before he can get ahold of it.



Averdante slashes down with his sword, but it whistles right by one of the skeletons' bony heads without even connecting.




Farian may not know much about magic, but instead calls upon the power of Pelor and the strength of Saint Bane, the scourge of the undead, to turn such evil monstrosities and make them flee the power of the sun.

However, the darkness and press of skeletons make Farian's holy words come out strained as he tries to dodge their attacks, and his holy symbol barely flickers with light.  The skeletons attack unabated, trying to hammer the priest in their midst, but their swords cannot seem to find the gaps in Farian's scale mail.



There is nothing like the direct approach, and Volsh punches the nearest skeleton square in the teeth, knocking its jaw clean off!  It still stands, though barely, and its head wobbles alarmingly on its neck.



Haazheel waits and bides his time, waiting until the shaman appears.

From the darkness beyond the skeletons, an unseen voice raises in a harsh chant in the goblin tongue.

"[Language unknown: Stastrsta iouwh mounll illoveare illionart omni tiowerthosti, mawh ntnte eveardavewhe as din stame fo natoul t nceek wick!]"

The skeletons shiver, and the air around them seems to grow colder and more corrupt.

Narthian, annoyed that the skeletons are blocking their way, decides to try to return the bones to the graves from whence they came. He looks around and spots the nearest.

"Thunder, I know you prefer bones with a bit more meat on them, but you'll get your chance once we get rid of these foul unliving things. Attack the nearest skeleton with me."

Narthian and Thunder charge the nearest skeleton but are distracted when Narthian slips on something on the ground and slides into Thunder just as the faithful wolf is about to rend a skeleton, causing them both to miss.



01:00, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 17 using 1d20+8. Spot Skeletons.
00:59, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 16 using 1d20+11. Handle Animal.

01:01, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 5 using 1d20+3. Thunder bite Skeleton.
01:01, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 3 using 1d20. Attack Skeleton.

Aver'e scowls in determination as the battle continues, knowing that, blind as they are to what lies beyond, time is not on their side.

He calls out, [Language unknown: "To som oernd undsheous proarteau! I haseendin o Llnefo p esslatingthiess th leaiha!"], and swings again, hoping that this will prove to be one of the stories where good triumphs over evil, and not the other way around.

He brings his sword down onto a skeleton, slicing through the ribcage from shoulder down to opposite hip in one perfect strike, but the rib bones merely clatter to the ground in so much dust and debris, and the skeleton, still holding his sword in a bony hand, seems unphased.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:18, Wed 24 Sept 2014.

Bruenor, seeing his weapon is no use, withdraws from the skeletal foe, seeking a blunt instrument.

"Shouldn't we split? The sooner we stop the shamaan the better. Dellas with your fire! Narthian with Thunder! Me with color spray and my crossbow! we may be able to stop him don't you think?" asks Haazheel to the group. "All we need is to pass the skeletons to access the next room".

"Thunder seems leery of passing the skeletons. "
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 19:35, Thu 25 Sept 2014.

"Well lets fell these unnatural beings and make haste!" The barbarian blurts in retort as he swings his longblade once again.

"That sorcerous devil best run for the ends of the known lands and beyond. I have a feeling he won't enjoy meeting your giant canine friend!" Volsh's mirth is apparent as he cuts down skeletons and imagines the shaman relenting under the jaws of the wolf. He lets out a brief laughter, deep and low, like thunder of his own.

15:15, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 85 using 1d100. Chance to Miss.
15:16, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 22 using 1d20+4. Long Sword Attack.
15:16, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 6 using 1d8+3. Long Sword Dmg.

Temple Map



Bruenor steps back, hunting about for anything in the dim light, letting Thunder through to try his luck.  After a moment or two, Bruenor spies a small, discarded club on the ground and can scoop it up, ready to smash more skulls!



Thunder darts in under Bruenor to bite a skeleton again, but misses!



The skeleton's unnatural force lets it remain standing even after Averdante's hard strike!



Volsh's sword finishes what his fist started, and another skeleton crumples.

Farian attempts again to turn the undead, invoking Pelor's power, but in the darkness, it's hard to bring His light to bear, and the skeletons attack unabated.




Haazheel looks, but there are still two skeletons blocking the doorway!  They must be dispatched before you can pass beyond!

The skeletons continue their mindless assault, but even such dim creatures still possess unnatural strength.  One slashes at Thunder, opening up a wound on his side.  Two attack Farian, one missing cleanly, the other stabbing him in the side, slipping through a gap in his armor, and the fourth moves up to take the place of his fallen brethren next to Averdante, but misses his swing.



Temple Map end of round
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:38, Sun 28 Sept 2014.

 Working at having to grab the dodging goblin kits and then once he has a grip he smacks his club on their heads to clean up the pile of goblins and slowly work toward grabbing the "good one".

Drogo and Sir Aberlayne continue to work their way through the goblin young, trying to avoid their very sharp teeth.  It's like plunging your hand into a frenzy of fang-fish if you aren't careful, and Sir Aberlayne is gritting her teeth as she knocks another little tyrant into la-la land.  But just then she points at something in the depths of cage, a very small barrel, maybe barely a foot high, and quite round, the ends stopped up with crude patches of firewood and vine and scraps of cloth.

"That one!  That one there!" she exclaims, and yanks her hand away from another set of sharp little chompers.

Drogo can snatch up the barrel as Sir Aberlayne closes the door behind it.  From inside the barrel, they can hear some very soft whimpering.

Having little success turning the skeletons, Farian attempts to strike with his mace, with just as little success as before! :(


08:11, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 7 using 1d20+2. to hit with mace.

Dellas walks around Narthian and Thunder to get a free line of sight. He knows that the quicker they defeat the undead slaves, the quicker they can deal with the Shaman. But he can't attack them without hurting his companions. He readies one of the last spells he can cast today, his mind focusing on the acidic ball that appears in his hand and aiming at the skeleton.

21:04, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 14 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 12. Acid splash skeleton

 With deft hands he grabbed at the barrel and lifted it out of the cage and stood back at the maelstorm of crazed goblin kids and shut his mind to what might happen to them.

 Sitting the barrel down he put pressure on the few scrape's on his hands from the bites and looked around for any crazed goblin that had been missed from the first attack.

Aver'e sees several options, but each one worse than the others. 

He curses the dark gods that fuel such atrocities, and swings again, this time punching with the hilt of his weapon, as a blow to crush the bones that contend against him.

Disappointed in what he could find but seeing little alternative, Bruenor trades out his trusty rapier for the club, moving in to engage the skeletons. However, the heavier weapon feels awkward in his hands, and he fails to land the blow.


OOC: 06:37, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 5 using 1d20+1. Attack roll: Club.

Outside the Temple



The rest of the goblin young are in the cage, several knocked out, with two goblin wives outside of it, one unconscious, the other thoroughly intimidated by "Chief Drogo the Terrible."

At the moment, most of the goblins are contained.

Sir Aberlayne turns her head at the sound of shouting from inside the temple, and starts upright.  "Drogo, they're in trouble.  Keep these vermin from running away!" she says.  Then she takes off at a run, pausing just long enough to grab up several chunks of firewood from the firepit near the temple entrance.

--

In the Temple



Bruenor swings out hard, but the brute force needed for a club throws off his fencing timing, and he misses cleanly.

Narthian gives over trying to attack himself, and instead tries to draw the skeleton's ire, distracting it enough that Thunder manages to bite it firmly!  Unfortunately, the wolf's sharp teeth do not make much impression upon the dry bones.




Averdanate smashes his sword hilt into the skeleton he wounded earlier, and it crumbles into dust at his feet as its skull is reduced to powder!

Volsh swings his sword with a mighty roar, and despite how difficult sharp blades are to harm bare bones, Volsh puts every bit of his considerable height and strength into the blow, and the skeleton explodes into bony shrapnel that scatters all around the room!




Farian lashes out with his mace to no avail!

Haazheel tries to slam at one of the skeletons with his quarterstaff, but the blow is deflected off its shield.




Dellas aims carefully and a blot of burning acid begins to melt the bones of the nearest of the two standing skeletons.


The two remaining skeletons lash out with their swords at Volsh and Bruenor, but one sword deflects off Volsh's armor, and the other misses almost a foot above Bruenor's head.  Both still clog the doorway, their teeth chattering and clacking as if they're laughing at you from beyond the grave...

"Damn skeletons, if only we could pass them to defeat the shaman!" curses Haazheel after missing with his attack against one of them.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:13, Wed 08 Oct 2014.

 He truly did not like the idea of being alone with all the goblin children and their mothers. He could remember too many times watching or hearing about mothers getting mad enough to do anything to defend their children, would these goblin mothers have that dire sense built into their minds?.

 He smacked another savage

Though at first indecisive from his own failure and the ineffectiveness of the weapons the group favors, Bruenor rallies at the sight of two foes falling. "Do not retreat, one last push to turn our luck around," He shouts, before taking a more learned swing at the skeleton.


[OOC: 14:43, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 18 using 1d20+1. Attack roll: Club. ]

Haazheel following the rallying call of Bruenor charges a skeletons and gives a strong blow with it to the nearest skeleton. "Go back to the darkness where you belong!"
15:50, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 19 using 1d20+1. Attack with quarterstaff.

Aver'e nods, shouting only a quick [Language unknown: "Sa ha!"], again using the sword hilt as the best weapon he has at his disposal against the fleshless foes.

Narthian moves slightly to ensure flanking bonus with Thunder then takes a mighty swing at the skeleton.

17:11, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 7 using 1d6+1. Thunder damage.
17:10, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 21 using 1d20+5. Thunder bite Skeleton w/flanking bonus.
17:09, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 13 using 1d20+2. Attack Skeleton w/flanking bonus.

Volsh sheaths his sword with unsuspected grace for a man so massive. He drinks in the renewed vigor being displayed by his fearless companions, refueling him like stoked embers brought back to flame. The barbarian remembers this feeling, this resurgence of life, from his existence among his clansmen.

"They're worn thin. Let's finish 'em boys!" Volsh calls, his growl echoing from the ancient stone walls. He knows they must clear the way quickly.

*A blaze of light ignites behind Volsh's eyes as he plants his foot back and transfers his weight to swing his momentum forward. He cracks like a whip at the waist and attempts to bring his banded forehead down on one of the skeletons' alabaster skulls.

OOC: *If Volsh cannot get within range to strike this way, he will hold his action and let the others commence their assault.

20:29, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 21 using 1d20+3. Headbutt Attack.
20:34, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 6 using 1d3+3. Headbutt Dmg .

Outside the Temple

Drogo continues his campaign of goblin sleep unabated.

--

In the Temple



Bruenor slams his club into the nearest skeleton with a will, ribs cracking and skull flying as the skeleton collapses under his strike! 



Thunder's teeth score on the remaining skeleton without bringing it down, while Narthan's next attack rebounds off the skeleton's shield.



Averdante's strike misses as the skeleton staggers under Thunder's assault.



And then Volsh steps in around the crowd of his companions and uses his head to send the skeleton back into his grave!  The final bony foe collapses, and the way to the chamber beyond is undefended.

Sir Averdante nods at her companions, silently congratulating them on their success, and switches her club back for her axe.

No chanting from within the inner temple is heard now.  In the gloom of the inner chamber, you can see a dark altar on a dais, four large braziers, unlit, in the corners, and two looming statues of some robed figures flanking the altar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:55, Sun 12 Oct 2014.

Aver'e sheatches his longsword and knockes an arow in his bow, staying low as he steps cautiously and quietly through the door, senses sharp for any sign of their profane quarry.

Narthian quietly calls Thunder to him, stows his scimitar, draws his bow and looks for something meaty to feather, staying behind someone more heavily armored.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:40, Mon 13 Oct 2014.

Dellas takes a step forward and whispers: "I think we should press on, I don't like the silence" He first tries to listen if the voice really stopped and then he tries to listen to movement in the inner temple.

OOC: 12:57, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 16 using 1d20+5. listen movement.
OOC: 12:56, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 10 using 1d20+5. listen voice.

Haazhel enters quietly the room, his crossbow ready to shoot. He tries to spot the shaman in the dim light of the room or hear any signs of his presence.
14:24, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 9 using 1d20+4. spot the shaman in the shadows of the room.
14:26, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 19 using 1d20+1. Listen.

Bruenor advances quietly with his companions, giving a nod to the pyromancer's whispered suggestion. He carefully discards the club, switching to his rapier as he slips quietly across the stones; his ears are open for the sound of his foe, but he tasks his eyes with casting a sharp glance in Farian's direction.

[OOC:18:44, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 7 using 1d20-1. Spot.
  18:44, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 18 using 1d20-1. Listen.
  18:44, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 18 using 1d20+3. Move Silently. ]

Volsh pumps his massive paws open and closed a number of times, his blood coursing with the raw energy of combat. He snorts a deep exhalation of impatience in seeing that his companions are shifting to a covert approach. Smart, he thinks, but frustrating.

His mind flashes with brief images. Ones of crushing the outsized, misshapen skull of another goblin. Images of its dusky skin darkening quickly from the trauma of his bludgeoning fists. Followed by the silence every battle knows at its end. Silence heard only by the victors, heard only by those still breathing.

Instead, the barbarous man stifles his rage. His eyes flitting through the dark reaches of the chamber ahead. He chances a glance backward to avoid being taken unaware while he allows the others to enter the chamber. Volsh takes his place in the doorway and halts in a defensive posture, ensuring the shaman cannot flee if it should get past his allies.

Sir Averdante flanks with Volsh, providing coverage both high and low in the event their quarry tries to escape, while the rest of the group spreads out inside the inner chamber, hunting for the shaman.

Thunder puts his nose in the air and begins to cast about for the freshest goblin scent, while Haazheel, Farian, Bruenor, Dellas and Averdante hunt more conventionally.  Bruenor and Averdante remains as quiet as possible, leaving the other three to attract a bit more attention.  As you approach the altar, you notice that the wall behind has some carvings on it, but they're smeared over with what looks (and smells) like a combination of mud and dung. 

Dellas weasel familiar Vish makes a soft squeaking sound in his ear  as Thunder suddenly growls at a corner by one of the braziers.  With a sudden whoosh, pale blue flames erupt from the braziers, bringing a chill instead of warmth.  Revealed on the altar is a goblin in pieced-together robes painted with something wet that has a raw flesh stench to it.  The goblin bears a crystal sword at least as long as he is, and his body looks distorted, like behind the heat waves of a summer's day.  He shouts at you from his vantage point.

"[Language unknown: Liwian olhi korouncomcom!  Red ilun nceredres rerea ortvenome n Bletinnceeau tic Ncfopoev, Ivhaosit on Omiool ich Ieweec of Ev!]"

As he shouts, the two stone hooded figures step forward and reach out to clasp each other's hand, leaving the outer fist clenched in a small boulder of woe to all who would approach.

OOC:  Nobody is surprised, as you all came loaded for bear and suspicious besides.  Let the butt-kicking commence!
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:09, Thu 30 Oct 2014.

Aver'e wastes no time in sending an arrow at the target that presents itself, shifting deeper into the room as he does so.

The Whoosh from the flames was his cue to fumble out one of his last scrolls and to  unleash a cone of searing flames against the hooded figure and the Goblin on top of the altar. Hoping that his size will make it easier to hit both and maybe to turn their robes into torches.

08:22, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 2 using 1d4. Burn Goblin Burn!
11:14, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 20 using 1d20+2. Ini
This message was last edited by the player at 03:16, Mon 20 Oct 2014.

In reply to Dellas Nump (msg # 167):

Finally, something with meat on it's bones...Narthian raises his bow, takes careful aim, and lets his arrow do his talking.



20:13, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 6 using 1d8.
20:12, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 18 using 1d20+3. Bow attack.
20:12, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Initiative.

The two stone statues don't even seem to realize they can try to avoid the fire, whilst the nimble shaman dodges adroitly, only getting slightly scorches as Dellas sheet of flames washes over nearly the entire side of the temple!



Averdante shifts to the side, trying to work his way around to the wall behind the altar.  He gets off an arrow at one of the stone robed figures, but it shatters against the creature's tough surface and it doesn't even seem to notice things.

Farian darts forward to swing at the figure on the opposite side, but misses as well, his mace hitting only air.

OOC:  09:26, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 13 using 1d20+2. Attack figure.



Narthian's arrow flies straight and true despite the distorting effects of the goblin's shield and thuds squarely into the goblin's thigh, making him shriek and dance in a ludicrous display of pain and rage.  Thunder sees the goblin and lunges through the barrier of stone statues in a high leap, but cannot set his teeth in the goblin's flesh.

09:34, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Narthian Goldleaf, rolled 5 using 1d20+3. Thunder attack.

Bruenor darts forward to join Farian in menacing the stone figure on the right, but cannot get through its tough hide.

09:36, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Bruenor Sedricson, rolled 8 using 1d20+4.

The room getting a bit crowded, Haazheel tries to fire off a crossbow, but to little effect as it arcs over and lands to sizzle in a brazier.

09:41, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Haazheel Thorn, rolled 11 using 1d20+2. crossbow attack.

Sir Aberlayne darts in over to the stone figure Averdante had attacked and strikes it with her battleaxe, a few stone chips flying.

09:45, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 18 using 1d20+6. Attack stone figure.
09:46, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 3 using 1d6+1. Battleaxe damage.

Volsh also wades in to fight high to Sir Aberlayne's low, but perhaps a bit too high, as the statue ducks slightly below his blade.

09:48, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 7 using 1d20+4. Attack with longsword.

The stone figures lash out as one, heavy fists striking for the lithe Bruenor and the agile Volsh, both missing as their eerie silent attacks betray nothing but a breeze, no battle cry, no smell of sweat.

09:50, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Stone figure 1, rolled 10 using 1d20+2. Attack Volsh.
09:50, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Stone figure 2, rolled 5 using 1d20+2. Attack Bruenor.

The Shaman looked as if he would have liked to attack Narthian, but with Thunder in his face, he turns his crystal blade on the wolf, snarling like a rabid beast.  The crystal blade slashes down on Thunder, opening up a bloody, ugly wound and making the blade flare bright red.

09:51, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Goblin Shaman, rolled 19 using 1d20+5. Attack Thunder.
09:51, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Goblin Shaman, rolled 11 using 1d20+5. Confirm Critical on Thunder.  (fail to confirm)
09:51, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Goblin Shaman, rolled 4 using 1d8+3. Shaman damage on Thunder.

Seeing Thunder take another brutal hit, Narthian decides it is time for a different approach. "Thunder, come. Guard me."

As soon as he recalls Thunder, Narthian begins a quick chant, accompanied by gestures with his right hand. Giving up calm animals, he casts Summon Nature's Ally, calling forth a wolf behind the shaman and commanding it to attack.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:27, Wed 22 Oct 2014.

Volsh quickly coils to attempt another strike at the stone figure.

20:02, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 9 using 1d20+4. Longsword Attack.

Despite being frustrated that his weapon of choice failed him the first time, Aver'e shifts a bit more to the side as he knocks another arrow and lets fly, his elven eyes intent on the target.

As he looses and prepares another, he utters a terse, businesslike comment, "[Language unknown: Somithoun i hatorting pre olpoil er!]"

"I will harry the shaman," Bruenor calls, breaking engagement with the stone figures.

[OOC: If possible, Bruenor will attack the shaman with combat expertise
09:00, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 15 using 1d20+3. Combat Expertise Attack: Rapier.
09:00, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 4 using 1d6. Damage: Rapier.

Haazheel takes aim to shoot another arrow in the direction of the shaman from the back of the room.
13:21, Thu 23 Oct 2014: Haazheel Thorn rolled 18 using 1d20+2 ((16)). attack with crossbow.
14:28, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 3 using 1d8. damage.
Hoping to give advantage to his companions, as soon as Haazheel finds an clear window to cast color spray on the direction of the shaman, he'll do so.

Seeing the statues engulfed in flames brings a smile across his face. But seeing the Goblin half evading his blast makes his smile disappear. Again he reaches in his bag and brings out another scroll and tries to burn as many foes as he can while he still can control himself and tries not to hit any of his companions.

12:58, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 3 using 1d4. Burn Goblin Burn!

Dellas, not wanting to crisp Thunder, delays just a hair to wait for the wolf to leap out of harm's way.



Thunder leaps away from the shaman and back to Narthian's side, growling as Narthian begins the length process of summoning, entreating the gods of nature to send him an ally in this fight.



With Thunder out of the way, Dellas steps up just a hair to avoid his fellows hacking away at the stone figures, and unleashes more fire upon the goblin shaman.  With a shriek of surprise, the shaman takes the full brunt of the flames, his robes smoldering, and his face becoming black with soot and rage.



This time Averdante's arrow flies straight and true through the magical distortion, hitting the shaman high in the shoulder and drawing another hiss from him.



Bruenor attacks the shaman with caution, and it's good he did, because as he tries to thrust his sword over the stone figures' joined hands, they try to slam him across the room.  He dodges adroitly, but it would have been a terribly blow if they had connected.  His blade slides in, but it seems to catch on a hardened shell of air in front of the shaman and it turned aside, instead of being able to sink into flesh.



Haazheel's arrow strikes next to Averdante's, and the shaman is now a-bristle with feathered shafts.

Farian tries to attack the stone figure on the left, but swings wide again in his excitement.

OOC: 00:53, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 9 using 1d20+2. Attack stone figure.



Volsh's attack on the right spangs off the stone figure's rocky skin with a metallic ringing sound.

Sir Averdante manages a strong hit below where Volsh hadn't quite been able to penetrate, and her axe sends a few more chips flying.

OOC: 00:55, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 24 using 1d20+6. Attack stone figure.
00:56, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 2 using 1d6+1. Battleaxe damage.

The stone figures lash out, one at Bruenor, missing, the other at Sir Aberlayne, catching her in the stomach with a loud clang.

OOC:  00:57, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Stone Figure, rolled 25 using 2d20+1 with rolls of 8,16. Attacks on Bruenor and Sir Aberlayne.
00:59, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Stone Figure, rolled 3 using 1d6+1 with rolls of 2. Slam damage.

The goblin shaman cackles wildly and steps back on the altar top, just out of Bruenor's range.  Then he points his sword at one of the braziers.  A ball of fire as big as a human leaps from it and tries to mow Bruenor now.  Startled, Bruenor's reflexes save him from painful burns, but the room is now even more crowded with the large ball of flame rolling around inside it!

--

Outside the Temple

Drogo finishes knocking out the last of the goblin young, just leaving one bawling goblin wife, snot running down her noise, quietly wailing wordlessly as she crouches on the ground.

"[Language unknown: Chhas era ver m n Evebuteau, Thoersred ch Ilommimo?]" she asks, pounding her chest and rocking back and forth.

Narthian draws his bow  and lets fly at a stone figure, missing dramatically. His summoned wolf appears behind the shaman, but is is an exceedingly clumsy example of it's kind. As it lunges toward the shaman, it trips on it's own paws and faceplants right behind the shaman with a thud and a whimper of pain.

 The goblin voice that touched his ears and the question rang in uneasiness thru his mind...What are we going to do with this goblin child?, the paladin said there was good within it, he had doubts but for now he go along with the guided one and hope he was right.

 Turning to the wailing goblin and would have felt sympathy for the violence done to her children of hers. "We will take him and see if we can give it guidance, if not then he dies." He knew she would not trust anything he said if he was not hard to her.

 He looked to the old ruins to see if any were returning back to here.

Seeing that his second attack was more successful than the first makes him laugh, loud and a little maniacal. Those who look at him, can clearly see a fire in his eyes, bright and flickering it seems to have a life of its own.

Haazheel tries to find a clear shot to cast color spray on the shaman and the stone figures. Finding one, Haazheel concentrates on his spell, remembering each word of the incantation and casts it.

Encouraged by finally seeing results, Aver'e knocks another shaft, draws the barbed head back to the bow, and lets fly, but perhaps his eagerness is his undoing as luck is not with him this time.

With a better understanding of his foe's defenses, Bruenor readies his rapier, pointing it directly at the shaman's heart, waiting until his foe is most distracted before lashing out.

[OOC: I ready an attack of oppertunity for when the shaman concentrates on his spell, forgoing my feat in order to break his concentration.If Haazheel's spell comes through, I will attack instead.]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:56, Wed 29 Oct 2014.

The shaman doesn't even seem to notice the pratfalling wolf.



Dellas laughs uproariously at the little pleasures of life.



Averdante's arrow flies wide to shatter against the wall, and the shaman chortles wildly.



Haazheel has to shift over and actually balance on one of the legs of a brazier to get an angle that won't hit Bruenor, but he finally finds what he's looking for and lets loose a cacophonous blast of color to confuse and disorient the shaman!  But as the colors leave Haazheel's hand, they are swallowed up in the shadows still clinging to the air.  The shaman roars with laughter at the young wizard's mistake.

That's when Bruenor makes his move.



Bruenor goes to take advantage of the shaman's mirth, raising his sword.  But the stone statues are still flanking him, their stone hands joined in front of them, and though he was able to dodge them once, this time he isn't so lucky.  Their combined fist slam into him, and he hears several ribs snap with wet snaps under the force.

But that doesn't deter him, and he pushes through the pain, through the shaman's protective spells, and skewers the shaman right through the heart.  There's a moment of surprise on his face.  A bark of laughter.  And then he keels over sideways.

The stone statues fall forward and collapse into gravel, narrowly missing Farian, Volsh, and Sir Averlayne.  The ball of fire and the gloom of shadow evaporate from the air, leaving morning sunlight now streaming through the doorway.

You have won!

--



Kubal looks a little confused, and ventures timidly, "[Language unknown: Ceil elen u ain ieasno ai Thendeichtic.  Ing n erthec.]"

Volsh lets out a deep growling laugh that echoes in the now silent chamber, "Well placed thrust master Bruenor!" He utters proudly. "I'd say that calls for a foamy jug of ale good sir, my treat, whenever you'd collect." He chortles again. A wide grin makes apparent the extreme mirth he is feeling; there is no hiding it.

"Let us gather the dead and set them ablaze. No reason their stink and rot should poison this area further. Master Dellas, maybe you should have the honors of working the flames once a heap is formed." A jovial chuckle lets forth from behind his teeth. Volsh sheaths his blade and turns to leave the chamber but pauses, "Perhaps some should begin gathering the valuables that belong to the villagers." With his foes slain, he exits the chamber with a new purpose.

OOC: Volsh will begin with the furthest bodies from the temple and pile them near a central point, stripping them of any valuables that look salvageable. Once all the goblins and wolves are piled he will leave it to someone else to handle the fire. 

Aver'e does not release his draw on the next arrow.

"Hold Volsh! There is a secret door behind the alter, there", he indicates with a toss of his head in the direction his bow is now pointed.

"I do not know if the Shaman knew of it or no, or if more enemies may lay beyond it, but this room nor us are secure until we know what is behind it."

He keeps his aim toward that area, and then adds, "If you will watch the door, I will retrieve Drogo - this is his sort of work, and I council that none other approach it until he is satisfied that it is safe to do so."

He laughed and only stopped when he saw the shaman fall, which turned his laughing into a sour smile. He wanted to be the one who killed the shaman but hearing that he still can set him on fire makes almost up for it. He opened his mouth as he wanted to say something but was interrupted by Averdante. "You have good eyes Averdante, I agree, we should wait and then open it. But not after searching the shaman at least. Maybe he has the key or another useful item."
With this he walks over and searches the shaman first, making sure not to miss hiding spots like inside the boots.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Fri 31 Oct 2014.

Narthian kneels to give Thunder a scratch behind his ears and to examine his wounds. "Before we go opening any doors, does anyone command their deity's favor for a healing blessing? I ask not for myself, but for Thunder. He has sustained two deep wounds and I fear to take him into danger once again. Alas, healing is not my specialty."


02:53, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 10 using 1d20+3. Heal check on Thunder.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:58, Fri 31 Oct 2014.

"hummmmm sounds like the color spray spell does not work when a darkness spell is already casted around, good to know... Anyway the shaman is dead, that's all matter" says the wizard looking at the dead shaman body that Dellas is searching. "Anything interesting Master Dellas?"
"I'm afraid my druidish friend that I do not have any spells to help out valiant companion, but if you think it might help at some point, I can cast mage armor on him to help him" Haazheel answered to Narthian's request.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:10, Fri 31 Oct 2014.

Volsh circles the room, and finds some places in the corners where the shaman and his favored riders must have slept.  He gathers up their things, and circles the room for anything else.  The skeletons had shields and longswords, but they are rather old and not in terribly good repair.  There's also the usual sort of goblin "treasure," a red hat festooned with insects skewered to it, a blue wooden stick thrust through a bunch of mushrooms, a necklace of pointy teeth, a ball of thorns, a dried snake tied in a knot, a pig snout made into a broach.

He also finds several of the items he heard talked about that had been stolen from the village - the wolf pelts, the golden aurmvorax pelt, the jewel coffer, and the festival drums.

But unrelated to what the goblins had stolen, there are a couple of metal vials full of some liquid, the bottles delicately etched with flowers, assorted coin (roughly four hundred and fifty gold in assorted coin, scattered across many belt pouches and what not), the shaman's crystal sword (a longsword of exceptional craftsmanship), a vial of alchemist's fire, two tanglefoot bags, a bundle of a dozen torches, three sets of flint and steel, and finely-carved set of oars.

What a set of oars are doing here, you're not entirely sure, but here they are.



Averdante can leave the temple and seek out Drogo.  It seems as if all of the goblin young and one of the goblin wives are unconscious, and one other is still conscious, but looking cowed.  Drogo has a small barrel under his arm.



Dellas examines the shaman's body with exacting care.  After several minutes, he does manage to find two slim vials tucked away in the shaman's hat.  They glow slightly blue through their thin glass walls.



Thunder is sorely wounded, but Narthian can clean his wounds and bandage them, providing his friend with at least some relief.

Farian can come forward as he sees Bruenor hurt, and Sir Aberlayne too rummages around in her belt pouch, bringing out vials that are softly glowing blue, marked with Yondall's cornucopia.

"Brother, I'll take care of Thunder, if you will take care of Bruenor?" she suggests.

Farian steps forward, holding his hands out to Bruenor.  "Pelor's grace, close your wounds," he intones.  Sunlight spills from his hands, and some of the pain eases.

Sir Aberlayne kneels down next to Thunder, and looks up at Farian briefly.  "Drink this down, there's a good wolf.  Yondalla's power heal you for your courage in protecting us."

Bruenor rises, the pain of his wounds abated for now, but his expression is still dour as he turns to the priest. "I thank you for the healing, but this fight could have ended far worse." Bruenor affixes the priest with a stern glare, his blue eyes glinting.

"Gods, man, have you no head?! What were you thinking, running in here alone? You not only knew that the shaman was awaiting us, not only were we in his lair, but you did not know what traps he could have laid out for you to stumble into! If not for the swiftness and skill of the rest of us, you would have joined those skeletons in their unhallowed dance!"

He looks curiously at the two slightly blue glowing vials and says "Hey, I found some potions or maybe just a midnight drink..." while putting them carefully away in his pack.
He paid no attention to Bruenor... Dellas knows that it could have been much worse, maybe they disturbed the shaman in summoning something bigger.

The barbarian makes a hasty pile of the goods outside the chamber entryway. He keeps hold of the crystal sword however, and attaches its scabbard opposite his other two on his right hip.

Volsh approaches his companions and gestures with a meaty paw at the hidden portal, "If we are ready," he grumbles, "that passage still awaits if we are to find out what concerns lay beyond. We can make a pyre of the dead when we are satisfied all dangers are dealt with."

OOC: Volsh remains in place, waiting for Drogo to identify any hazards with the door itself. Once pronounced clear, he will enter.

"I was not about to wait and let that rat have any more time to prepare himself with his rituals!  He could have been summoning creatures or setting traps, and the longer we waited, the greater advantage he would have had!  I might have stumbled into a trap, but it would have been far worse if we'd given him even more time to plot against us!" Farian says.  He crosses his arms.  "He is dead now anyway.  The darkness has been banished."

Aver'e jogs to where Drogo waits, and relays the victory and the secret door...

Narthian moves in front of the door, a few feet back, and nocks an arrow. Once it has been examined and found safe--and ready to be opened, he will fully draw the arrow ready to fire upon what is concealed behind it.

"Yes, he is dead, because we spared no time in chasing after you into the night. Your argument is naught but supposition, but you know what would have happened had you been alone. You would be spread on the ground, wrapped in Nerull's shroud," Bruenor states. He then says, "When one man runs into the unknown, he can lead others into death," before turning to join the rest of the group.

"You're both right by the Gods." Volsh offers, his manner gruff and stern. "Bruenor, by the sense that allows you to think as sharp and quick as that rapier you wield. And Farian, by the bravery that hastens you into the fray as a hound of your deity."

He strokes his gnarled beard, picking flecks of road dust or goblin offal or leftovers of the morning's repast. His nostrils flare with impatience. "We worked well together today. We can rest knowing that. The good is won by vanquishing the evil, no matter the path taken."

 He glanced at the barrel for a second and back at the goblin mothers, "That is the child with a changed heart, it comes with us and to no harm unless it reverts to its old nature. Now what about this door and why is the paladin not with you?, he said she would return..i think she said so."

In reply to Volsh son of Vor (msg # 198):

"Yes, but we cannot rest until we clear the area. Who will examine and open the door?"

I think we should wait our expert to take care of that door answered the wizard to Narthian. I found that strange this door closed where the shaman was hiding. He could have escaped that way when we where fighting his stone protectors.

"I  cannot speak for her - she chose to stay behind with the others. The door is near the altar in the temple - we can bring these inside I suppose," gesturing to the cage and the adult goblins, "or you could send the paladin back here while I wait. But I think it would be wise if I were there with you, both to assist and for my eyes and ears."

The door, should anyone care to examine it, looks like just part of the wall at first glance.  Letters are deeply graven into it, and have been plastered over with what looks and smells like mud and dung.  As goblins hate and fear writing, that's not at all unusual.  If they couldn't have destroyed the words, they could have covered it over.

It's only with very careful looking that the seams of the door become apparently as barely-larger gaps in the stone on either side.

Assuming Drogo, as the resident expert on all things tricky, would like to examine the door once he figures out what to do with the goblins, he can take a close look around the edge.  Other than the stink, he doesn't notice anything about it that would hurt him, and can, with a flourish, open the door.

It swings out, barely missing the altar.

In front of the door for about thirty feet the normally square and precise flagstone that had pervaded the temple stops and is replaced with a thirty foot long relief carving of various creatures, from butterflies to tigers.  Beyond the carvings are a large set of intricately carved double doors flanked by braziers that flare into life as the secret door opens.  Carved into the floor almost at your feet is a series of lines that flow organically from one to another.  The language is an ancient form of the Common tongue, a little difficult to read, but not impossible.
 
It reads - "One foot in a shell quite tight, six feet with wings of night, six feet with wings of light, and a hungry one with many who never takes flight.  A hundred with poison, a thousand without, a kiss from eight will knock you out.  Quiet as such, and blind as this, the eyes of this one never miss.  I live in the earth and feast on her flesh, drowning in rain, but cut me in half and I feel no pain, but live again, twice as strong but half as long.  
 
"Step on us, we won't hurt you you'll see, but fail to find us and dead you'll be, for our brothers and sister are not as kind as we."
 
The relief carving has dozens of creatures on it, each one in their own space.  They are not in proportion, as you see the butterfly is as large as the whale, and the rabbit looks face-to-face with a sparrow.

Looking at the relief on the floor you discover it has the following animals in this order:
 
Brazier~~~~~Doors~~~~~Brazier

Trout~~~~Worm~~~~~~Clam
Hawk~~~~Beetle~~~~~~Turtle
Duck~~~~~Bat~~~~~~~Snake
Rabbit~~~~Sparrow~~~~Mouse
Raccoon~~~~Deer~~~~~~Spider
Bear~~~~~Tiger~~~~~~Millipede
Caterpillar~~Centipede~~~~Lion
Butterfly~~~Dragonfly~~~Alligator
Firefly~~~~~Moth~~~~~~Mole
Snail~~~~~~Ladybug~~~~Whale
~~~~You Are Here~~~~

 
Each of the animals is in a square that meets the ones around it, so it's fairly easy to step from one creature the other, even diagonally.  However, it would be a bit tricky to skip an entire square.  You would have to be a good jumper.  The walls here are fairly smooth as well, which means that climbing them would be fairly hard.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Sat 08 Nov 2014.

Dellas takes a step back and hides half behind the altar, ready to cast one of his last spells as the door opens. But relaxes when he notices that there are no enemies behind it but a corridor. Waiting for another one (warrior type) to take the lead, he follows as close second and at once goes to the inscription. Reading it out loud he ponders about it for half a minute before turning around to the others: "I believe that if we wish to continue we should step only on those animals that are described here. The first line goes: 'One foot in a shell quite tight, six feet with wings of night' and we have a snail, a ladybug and a whale here.... I guess it should be the snail first and then the firefly... or the moth?" For a few minutes he seems to be occupied with thinking about the riddle.

"Agreed. Snail, moth, firefly, alligator, centipede, millipede, spider, mouse, bat, hawk worm. The only thing I see as confusing is why there are 2 in the second row and only 1 in each of the others.  And the jump from firefly to alligator looks tricky. "



12:03, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 17 using 1d20+2. Int  check on old languate.
12:02, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 15 using 1d20+8. Knowledge (nature) to decipher the ancient common tongue.

Sorry, I was on my phone when I originally posted and wasn't able to cut/paste the riddle or the tiles easily.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:07, Sun 09 Nov 2014.

"There are 10 rows of tiles, but 11 clues - there is no jump, but a sidestep on the second or third row..."

He reads off the clues, and points to the animals...

1) One foot in a shell quite tight

2) six feet with wings of night
3) six feet with wings of light
4) and a hungry one with many who never takes flight.  

5) A hundred with poison
6) a thousand without
7) a kiss from eight will knock you out
8) Quiet as such
9) blind as this
10) the eyes of this one never miss
11) I live in the earth and feast on her flesh, drowning in rain, but cut me in half and I feel no pain, but live again, twice as strong but half as long.  
 

 
1 = Snail~~~~~~Ladybug~~~~Whale

? = Firefly~~~~~Moth~~~~~~Mole
? = Butterfly~~~Dragonfly~~~Alligator

5 = Caterpillar~~Centipede~~~~Lion
6 = Bear~~~~~Tiger~~~~~~Millipede
7 = Raccoon~~~~Deer~~~~~~Spider
8 = Rabbit~~~~Sparrow~~~~Mouse
9 = Duck~~~~~Bat~~~~~~~Snake
10= Hawk~~~~Beetle~~~~~~Turtle
11= Trout~~~~Worm~~~~~~Clam

"That leaves 3 clues for 2 lines. The dialect is old - the 'hungry one with many'  - many teeth, since the only one on the third row that 'never takes flight' is the alligator.  And that leaves clue #2 for the second row, and Clue #3 for either second or third - and it must refer to either the moth or dragonfly, to get us to the alligator.

"What are 'wings of night'?... both the moth and firefly are night creatures - but I suppose more a firefly, as it is solely a  night-flyer, and you do have moths in light...

"But 'Wings of light'?... that could be either a moth or a dragonfly, as either one gets us to the alligator... it could fit either, and there appears to be no clue from the breaks in the lines...

"So it could be... Firefly/Moth, or Firefly/Dragonfly, or Moth/Dragonfly. And any of those could fit, depending what the ancients meant by their choice of words."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Sun 09 Nov 2014.

"Yes, but 'hungry one who never takes flight' could also refer to the caterpillar, as it possesses the many feet to maintain the riddle, though I'll admit it is a slight stretch. This opens the snail-firefly/moth-butterfly/dragonfly-caterpillar path, with the side step in the fourth row to centipede," Bruenor interjects. He then turns back to kneel at the floor and read more closely.

[OOC: Bruenor attempts an Int check to obtain a more accurate interpretation of the first line, but fails.
07:52, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 10 using 1d20+2. Int check. 

"Yes, 11 clues for 10 rows. the answer to the mystery may lie in the translation. I agree that most of the answers are pretty apparent. I wonder if there is a reason that they are grouped 4-3-4. We may be missing-or misinterpreting-something." Narthian studies words and thinks about what he knows of the creatures listed.

1 - One foot in a shell quite tight,
2 - six feet with wings of night,
3 - six feet with wings of light,
4 - and a hungry one with many who never takes flight.

5 - A hundred with poison,
6 - a thousand without,
7 - a kiss from eight will knock you out.

8 - Quiet as such,
9 - and blind as this,
10 - the eyes of this one never miss.
11 - I live in the earth and feast on her flesh, drowning in rain, but cut me in half and I feel no pain, but live again, twice as strong but half as long.

Brazier~~~~~Doors~~~~~Brazier

Trout~~~~Worm~~~~~~Clam
Hawk~~~~Beetle~~~~~~Turtle
Duck~~~~~Bat~~~~~~~Snake
Rabbit~~~~Sparrow~~~~Mouse
Raccoon~~~~Deer~~~~~~Spider
Bear~~~~~Tiger~~~~~~Millipede
Caterpillar~~Centipede~~~~Lion
Butterfly~~~Dragonfly~~~Alligator
Firefly~~~~~Moth~~~~~~Mole
Snail~~~~~~Ladybug~~~~Whale
~~~~You Are Here~~~~

12:03, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 17 using 1d20+2. Int  check on old languate.
12:02, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 15 using 1d20+8. Knowledge (nature) to decipher the ancient common tongue.

Sorry, I was on my phone when I originally posted and wasn't able to cut/paste the riddle or the tiles easily.

"Actually... if the whole of the first stanza is speaking of 'feet"  one, six, six, many feet - then 'caterpillar' is the only one to make sense, and not 'alligator'.

He sighs, and considers a bit more...

"We could send one of the surviving goblins across to test one theory or another" he suggests, tho' his elven face betrays no evidence of whether in jest or no.

Dellas started to walk up and down while thinking and listening, for a brief moment he stopped when he heard Averdante's idea but he wasn't sure if he could do such a thing. letting a living creature run into possible traps. "I don't think we could trust a Goblin... and it is wrong of course" he adds and quickly looks around to see if his sister heard him, before going back to the writing and trying to figure out the rest.

16:22, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 15 using 1d20+3. Int check old language.

"I've got it!" Bruenor exclaims as he rises. "The theme of feet is too strong to discard, as it continues beyond the first stanza into the second. I therefore propose the path is snail to moth to butterfly to caterpillar to centipede and on."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:30, Mon 10 Nov 2014.

Between Bruenor's guess, Narthian's knowledge of the natural world, and Dellas' careful reading of the old Common script, you think you have a working solution.  Snail, yes, then moth, then butterfly, as the moth is more noted for flying at night, while the butterfly's colorful wings have sometimes poetically been called "wings of light."  A caterpillar is indeed a many-footed creature who is always hungry, so that makes sense indeed.

The hundred-footed poisonous centipede is next, then the thousand-footed non-toxic millipede.  A spider's poison (on eight feet) can kill some, so that would seem to be the next one.  A mouse is known for silence, a bat traditionally known for being blind (not true, but a popular perception), and the eyes of a hawk are known to miss nothing.  And only the inoffensive worm could take most of the abuse heaped on it in the last line.

So... which lucky person is going across first to test their theory?

"If we are ready, I will test the path," Bruenor offers, walking up to the threshold of the trap.

If no one stops him or speaks, Brunor proceeds to follow the path, from snail to moth and so on.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:40, Mon 10 Nov 2014.

Aver'e advocates that they tie a rope onto him, and handle it to keep the slack off the tiles. Perhaps a vain gesture, but if the wrong tiles leads to pits, just perhaps enough to save him if something goes wrong.

Ultimately up to Bruenor, and Aver'e will bow to his preference.

In reply to Averdante (msg # 215):

"Whomever goes first, I endorse the idea of a tether of some sort. It is hard to know the nature of the threat of death--whether it is better to have someone heavily armored or someone nimble of reflexes. I doubt that it is some kind of trap door since the script refers to 'our brothers and sister', indicating that the threat would be some kind of animal."

After deciphering the last pieces of information and listening to Bruenor to go first, he steps forward and turns towards Haazheel: "Don't you still have a mage armor spell prepared? We could send someone nimble and give him extra protection."

Haazheel was listening to his companions proposing solutions to the riddle. But in fact, more than cracking the secret of this riddle that he was sure his friends will come up with something, Haazheel was more interrested in finding out what is this place and which kind of trap a mistake while stepping on the tiles might activate. Is this place filled with magic? Is there a curse? Who built it? Why? Is there a magical spell on these tiles? These are the questions he wants to answer for his curiosity and the safety of his companions.
13:21, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 15 using 1d20+4. Dungeoneering check.
13:20, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 15 using 1d20+7. Arcana check.

While investigating around, Haazheel hears Dellas asking him about the mage armor spell. "Yes I do and will be happy to cast it for the benefice of whomever wants to try to step on these tiles. I'm just trying to know what kind of magic might be in use here and what could be the consequences of a mistake."

 He smiles at the puzzle ahead of them and smiles at the glyphs of the animals. He points at the different tiles and says, "Compared to the goblin kits, this should be much more fun then those biting kids. I will see if my luck is still good then i shall make it across."

 He will move to the edge of the puzzle arena, "Make sure to keep my leash loose,in case i have to move fast."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:45, Tue 11 Nov 2014.

"Let the little rogue-ling go first." Volsh chuckles. "He does not suffer for a lack of stones. Sure as my sword arm. Ha!"

Volsh laughs a bit and claps his hands together with a crack, sharp and loud. The sound echoes and trails down the hall as fast as it had come. "On with it then." He stands steadfast ready to observe the sequence chosen by whomever takes the first go.

 Glancing over to Bruenor with a raised eyebrow, "That is if you do not wish to go first, i am open to who ever wants to go across the puzzle arena."

"By all means, go ahead if you wish, Drogo," Bruenor says.

 Letting himself be secure and then sitting his dagger closer to the rope, just in case he has need to cut the rope in a hurry.

 He lets a smile lighten his face and begins jumping from one to the others as they had been called out by those smarter with puzzles then himself.

 As he jumps across to the correct(hopefully) squares he calls back to the others. "Say, what do i do when i get over to the other side?."

Drogo, rope about his waist and paid out behind to the party just in case something very untoward happens, begins his hopscotch across the carved tiles.  Snail, moth, butterfly, caterpillar, centipede, millipede, spider, mouse, bat, hawk, worm.

With a final flourish, Drogo is in the clear at the far end of the corridor, in front of the massive carved doors at that end.  The two self-illuminating braziers show the magnificence of the all the detail.  A great gilded sun-in-glory with its rays outstretched dominates the door in the upper center, partially forming the crown of a noble, bearded king.  Wearing elaborate robes and jewelry and seated upon a throne, he holds a scepter topped with a gem in one hand, and a golden orb in the other.  To his left, slightly smaller, is a woman in a smaller crown and elaborate robes, and on his right, a man in similar, both on their own, less-ostentatious thrones.

Below them, the feet of the king rest on what looks like a silvery moon.  Under the moon, at the lower border of the door, are a series of smaller figures holding trays, urns, or drapes of cloth, raising their arms to the king and royalty above them.

The king and the man and woman on either side of him have closed eyes.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 224):

Assuming Drogo describes what he sees, Narthian calls out, "Drogo, is there any writing that you see? have you examined the door for any traps?"

Narthian looks around to see if Drogo's weight on the last stone triggered any change to or additional text to appear.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:06, Sat 15 Nov 2014.

 With a careful quiet search of the massive doors, he examines to bias relief carvings for those shaded lines next to the carvings that might show a button that has been pushed down or moved in some way.

 Finished he steps back a half step before calling back to the others, "Twin doors, heavy wood, several carvings on its face. Could be a king or ruler and his queen and someone else sitting on thrones. There is a carved bias relief at the bottom of what could be a rising or sitting moon with the rays splayed out and the kings feet resting on this moon. Then i can see smaller figures along the bottom of his workers or such waving their arms."

05:16, Today: Drogo O'Logo Underbough rolled 11 using 1d20+6. Search for trap
This message was last edited by the player at 13:27, Sat 15 Nov 2014.

The door is remarkably writing-free, and also, after Drogo's careful examination, seems to be trap-free.  There is a space of approximately twenty feet in front of the door which is free of the puzzle-tiles.

What is perhaps slightly more disconcerting is the fact that there doesn't seem to be any keyhole or latch in this peculiar door.

"The sun?" Farian says, perking up slightly.  "Mayhaps some ancient kingdom beholden to Pelor.  History was never my strong suit, but such things did happen, even if they didn't call Pelor by his proper name.  I'd like a closer look"

Farian looks over the tiles and begins to tread the same places Drogo had so he can get closer to the door, brow furrowed in concentration.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 227):

Narthian likewise takes his time to carefully leap across the trapped tiles to examine the door more closely.


10:44, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 20 using 1d20+8. Knowledge (nature) to examine the door glyphs.

Watching as the others get across, Dellas thinks about it for a minute and says: "Well, I will wait here until you open the door, it is no use for all of us to stand there and look around." He learned to love adventures and is very interested in new things and places, but for the moment he seems to have enough.

"Hmm, another puzzle in our path...does anyone have knowledge of the history or royalty of this area?" Bruenor asks, with a slight scowl of irritation.

Looking up at Bruenor he only shakes his head and puts Vish on the floor and tells him to help to check the walls and the floors for anything out of place. Maybe something that could indicate a trap, secret door or just if it is likely to crash down on him.


13:56, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 23 using 1d20+6. knowledge dungeoneering, examine walls, floor and ceiling.

OOC: I love being a mage, but I every time forget my familiar... poor little thing.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:06, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

Vish and Dellas take a look around at the floors, ceiling, and walls as far as they can see, but they note no loose tiles, tripwires, or anything else they've ever heard of in tales of traps in tombs.  Granted, their expertise is magic, not traps, but they don't see anything obviously dangerous.

Narthian notes the door looks heavy, but has no obvious lock or latch.  There's a wax seal across the middle of the door, gilded like the carvings and in the same pattern as the king's robes.  It may be that the door simply swings open, though doing so would break the seal.

None of you hear anything beyond the door, though there is the faintest of breezes, scented with spice, that seem to be coming through the cracks in the door and making the flames in the brazier dance.

 With a slight frown on his face as he looked at the doors, he muttered softly "Come on, open up."

 He looked at the seal across the doors and had to make the obvious conclusion that it was placed on the doors from this side but for what purpose?.

 Surprised he found his fingers caressing his dagger as his mind worked thru the problem of the doors. "I find myself tempted to just cut this seal and see if it is to keep people out or to keep something within. I might guess it is the later, still we need to do something and touching the bias relief's doesn't seem to be the key."

"Just touching doesn't open it..." Farian repeats.  Then cocks his head.  "What about shoving it?  We might just need to put our backs in to it.  Or perhaps... It shows the sun.  Maybe if I were to try to infuse the door with Pelor's holy power?"

Volsh grows impatient and delicately carries himself over the puzzle inlaid on the floor. He moves with uncanny precision despite his massive frame. Arriving at the other side with his companions, he can see more clearly what they have been considering.

"Perhaps Farian is right. If his holy touch does not affect it, and if no traps are apparent, we should try might. I am always up for smashing in a door."

Farian takes his holy symbol in hand and raises it to the door.  He chants firmly, a song of praise to the Holy Sun of Pelor, and a glow of light surrounds his holy symbol.  There's a faint, echoing glow from the door, but it does not move.

Looking a bit frustrated, Farian nods to Volsh.  "Shall we try something more direct, then?"

If no one objects, the two can put their back into shoving at the door.  It takes a few moments, and some straining, but eventually the doors move, the seal cracks, and with a hollow thud that echoes throughout the chamber, the doors slam open.

The corridor beyond is dark, but from what little light is coming from the entrance to the temple behind you, you can make out one door on either side of the corridor, carved of heavy stone, about ten feet in.  The floor is tiled in blue and gold and continues on into darkness.  A scent of spice wafts through the air, and there's a faint, hollow echo from somewhere deeper into the shadow.

Dellas, seeing the door opens, gets across the tiles quickly but carefully. Once he is on the other site he looks down the corridor and whistles silently: "So who will go first?" He asked without looking at anyone.

 The view he had did not set off any alarms in his head,still the faint scent of spice had him wondering if that was where the kitchen might be located.

 The two doors would need to be cleared of course and he did not like the way the two doors were directly across from each other, so both doors would need to be watched when they opened the other door.

 "Does not matter to me, if someone else is better at scouting for trouble then my humble self i would gladly let them go first." He offered with a barely held smile in check.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Mon 24 Nov 2014.

In reply to Drogo O'Logo Underbough (msg # 238):

"Drogo, I bow to your greater expertise in this matter" states Narthian, literally bowing and lifting his arm in an 'after you gesture.

Farian squints into the darkness, and takes a moment to pull a torch from his pack and light it.  As the light throws back the darkness, beyond the two doors on either side of the corridor, you can see two more, also on opposites sides, beyond them.  And at the end of the hall, a heavily-carved set of double doors which gleam with gilding.  All of the doors are carved from stone, and with the better light, you can at least see the two nearest you each have a different scene on them.

The one on the left has a series of small figures at the bottom, all holding trays or carrying instruments or holding quills and paper, all in positions of subservience to an unseen figure on a throne.  Curiously, the back of the throne is to the viewer, and several of the figures in the carving are on their knees, tears running down their faces.  A sunburst is carved on the back of the throne, and gilded.  The figures all have faint touches of silver inlay on them.

The door on the right shows a warrior in shining silver armor, with shield and sword dropped at his feet.  Circles and crescents decorate his breastplate, and tears picked out in silver run down his face.

The other doors are too far away to make out their themes clearly.

The two close doors seem heavy, and their edges have wax on them, though the door on the left has a broken seal.  Both doors have substantial locks on them, though they seem discolored and somewhat corroded.

"Someone, or something, has broken the seal. Perhaps they did not survive to return to the other door. I think right would be the more prudent choice. What say you all?"

Dellas was almost ready to burst with excitement. He looks up at the others and then again down the corridor. "I agree, we should try the door on the right and 2 should maybe keep an eye on the other 2 doors at the same time. I will support whoever I can, but I do feel exhausted from today's fun." He will follow anyone who dares to enter and keep an eye out for anything unusual along the wall and floor.

06:36, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 16 using 1d20+2. Spot sth unsual.

"That raises an important matter, Dellas. Judging from the seal on the previous door, the goblins never ventured down here, and in that our job is done. I too am curious as to what lies within this ruin, but we should report back to Boltharrow for now, rest for the night, and return here fresh in the morning," Bruenor says.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:08, Wed 03 Dec 2014.

"Bruenor has a point." Volsh offers.

"We haven't the slightest clue of what to expect rambling around in here." He pauses for a brief moment, looking back past the puzzle floor they crossed over. "We still have to destroy those filthy carcasses, return the lost goods, and mend the wounds some of you have sustained. It makes little difference to me what is next but it is something to consider."

In reply to Volsh son of Vor (msg # 244):

"Agreed. We have many tasks to which we need to attend before we can indulge our curiosity. "

Dellas looks up from one to another: "But..but what about" he takes a quick glance towards the doors. "How can we be sure that nobody will come and claim whatever is behind these doors?" His limbs were tired but more was his mind. Of course he needed rest, but he is also reluctant to leave this place.

In reply to Dellas Nump (msg # 246):

Narthian looks at the youth grimly, trying to remember the enthusiasm and carefree nature of those who have not yet learned caution and responsibility, "I, too, am curious as to what lies behind these doors. However, we must first return the stolen property and report back to those who have hired us. Rest would not be a bad thing either. Before we depart these environs, I agree that a pyre of the bodies should be started now so that we don't need to fight through the scavengers in the morning." Narthian hoped that the prospect of a large pile of flaming bodies would appease Dellas.

True to his word, Narthian jumped through the trapped tiles to begin carrying the bodies to a location where a pyre wouldn't pose a danger to either the buildings or any surroundings.

Volsh tracks his gaze to Narthian as he steps nimbly across the tiles. Each footfall is ordered and counted against his memory. Each emblem in sequence burned into his mind.

“It’s time to decide.” He states, addressing those near him again. “I suggest we move on for the night. There are no more dangers here for now. A well won fight deserves a hearty celebration.”

The barbarian turns and steps onto the enigma, assembling in his head the path led by the elf. When across, he exits the temple and works to stack the slain into a mound.

With one last look at the door, he turns around and follows Volsh and the others. Of course they were right. But Narthian's mentioning the pyre brought a smile on his face and he quickly prepared to make a big fire.

 The words of their mission being done did sound good to him, a warm bed and fresh tankard of that dark ale lurked back at the end of their mission, and add to that this gobb encampment/tribe was ruined, not counting the gobs that had managed to escape the raid.

 "Fine, then lets us finish this and get back to our base."

Thusly decided, the group can close the door to the puzzle-floor and leave the temple.  Sir Aberlayne is standing guard over the cage of goblin young, her pony Valiant at her side, and smiles (with more than a hint of relief) when she sees her younger brother Dellas emerge unharmed.

"You triumphed!  Well done!  As is well?  Good, good."  As Volsh and any other who wish start to stack the bodies, she pipes up with, "I have been interrogating this one here," she gestures to the remaining conscious goblin wife, "and though I do not speak the goblin tongue, she speaks a little Common, enough for me to have located some of the loot that's been carted off from town."  She gestures to a small pile of goods off to one side.  "I've had her make herself useful.  Valiant was guarding the young while Kubal and I hunted down the things her tribe had taken.  She refused to touch the shaman's stash around back of the temple due to curses, however, and I didn't want a building in between me and Valiant in case the other wife, Makroon, came around or the young managed to get over their fear of horses long enough to try to escape."

It will take a couple of hours before you can gather up the last of goblin and wolf bodies to make a goodly stack for a pyre.  You can also search amongst the sleeping places to ferret out the rest of the items stolen.  It takes some doing, but with diligence and sharp eyes, you're able to recover all the things that Bolthaven had on the list of things stolen.  And also a great deal more, looted from unknown place.  You find the following:

388 pieces of gold, tucked into odd corners, in pieces of looted furniture, in boots, belt pouches, lightly buried under bundles of cloth that serve as beds, etc.

A fox fur talisman set with hematite beads (found on the shaman) - the workmanship is exquisite. 

A breastplate for a human-sized person, plain and of decent workmanship, that was serving one goblin as a rain shelter.

A magnifying glass, that one goblin had strapped to his head as a monocle. 

A very well-made bastard sword for a human-sized creature, the hilt wrapped in red-dyed leather, that was acting as a flag pole.

A very fine light steel shield embossed with a green dove, that was serving as a frying pan. 

A bench, the sort one might see on a town street, solidly made, set on end to serve as a lookout post.

Nine bolts of fine linen in differing colors, all piled together to make the shaman's bed. 

A portable cabinet about three feet high, two feet wide, and one foot deep, carved with leaves and vines.

A carriage, tilted over on its side behind the temple and buried beneath a pile of brush.  It was serving as the shaman's private quarters, and it's still in decent shape.  It's plain, but serviceable, and would seat four, plus a driver and footman, and would need two horses to pull it. 

Two plain farm carts that one horse would pull, being used as shelters for higher-ranking goblins. 

The entire contents of someone's wig shop, twenty-seven of them all together, ranging from small men's wigs to longer women's wigs, in several colors.  They are of serviceable quality, the kind bought by commoners to cover a balding pate or by actors for a role.  One goblin had the collection stacked up in his bolt hole. 

Twenty-four lengths of rope, fifty feet each, that one goblin had arranged in a little fort-like formation for himself. 

A velvet and silk noble's outfit in blue and deep green, meant to be worn by a man, that had been being used as wall art by one goblin. 

Six pairs of oars, set up as a crude fence. 

A winter sled, used for transporting goods in ice and snow, meant to be pulled by one horse.  How it got here, you're not entirely sure. 

A weapon rack, being used to hold a collection of sticks.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Sat 06 Dec 2014.

When Dellas emerges from the Temple and sees his big sister, a smile broadens across his face and he waves to her. "It seems, playing babysitter is your true calling. First us now those... things." Listening to his sister's adventures outside the temple he continued "We found another door, going deeper into the temple and a little puzzle. After solving the puzzle we decided that it might be better to rest first and then to come back later... maybe tomorrow?" He added the last part while looking around at his companions and then again his sister. "So how do we deal with the stuff here?"

Bruenor, after everything had been gathered up, considered their situation.

"A fine profit could be turned on some of these items; certainly the fabrics and the vestments we recovered would be valuable to any tailors in Boltharrow, given a proper wash, and while I'm not certain who would be interested, the shaman's talisman's craftsmanship cannot be denied," Bruenor muses aloud, before continuing, "The carts too could fetch good coin in auction, but with only the Paladin's mount to pull them, we simply don't have the strength."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

"And what do we do with Makroon, Kubal, and the rest of these goblin young?  None of them are clean-hearted, but the children haven't been let out of this cage in a while, so while they may not be... inclined to do the right thing, I do not believe they are guilty of the attack on the farm or town.  Kubal claims she and Makroon were the chief's women, and thusly tended the hearth and defended the campsite.  I do not doubt they would have slit throats if they thought they could have ambushed someone, but they were tasked to escape with the young so that the tribe might survive," Sir Aberlayne says, her mouth tight with disapproval at what is sure to be a dirty task.

In reply to Sir Aberlayne Nump (msg # 254):

"Sir Aberlayne, I share your concerns. Do we let the women continue with the young? They will either starve, fall to predation, or join with another goblin clan. If they do survive, will they not grow up to become raiders in the future? I am torn, is is more evil to exterminate those who have not (yet) done wrong or to set them loose upon future victims? Would we not then be responsible for the future acts?"

Looking up from the heap and stepping towards his sister and Narthian he looks at him: "So you are saying that these things either starve to death, fall prey to a predator and die or they join with another clan and continue their, more or less, evil schemes... DO we have any other option but to make sure they won't continue?" raising his voice and looking at his sister he continues "Do you plan to lead them all the way to Boltharrow? And then? Is there a camp that will make them friendly and respectable citizens?" shaking his head and looking over to the goblins "Did you even have a plan before deciding to 'spare' them?"

Haazheel for all the time was more captivated by the temple architecture and decorations. Hos goal has always been to unravel lost secrets and he has a good feeling that deeper inside this dungeon there is something to discover. But for now, he is out of useful spells to explore further and his companions speak wisdom when they decided to stop the exploration for the day.

Back outside the temple, he was surprised to see the paladin guarding young goblins. After the horrific scenes he witnessed during his travels and recently back at the farm and the village, he is perplexed about the decision to let them survive.

What a horrible thought to kill a living being just to make sure that it will not anything wrong in the future. Could he kill "in case of?", no. He believes in redemption and your social environment is more responsible of your future actions than your nature. "I think we are facing a unsolvable dilemma. Killing them now would be as evil as the horrible creatures we just fought, letting them go? This option has been well described by our Druid companion. But Narthian, do you know if the druid people could be of any help? Could them try to educate them in the respect of nature if we turn them to your people? I know this perspective could look strange to the elves but you are experts in ways to respect and live in osmosis with the Nature. " asks the wizard to the druid.

"And what do you say, Drogo? This was, after all, your endeavor; you should have some idea what we do with them," Bruenor says, glancing at the rogue.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:09, Sun 21 Dec 2014.

Volsh continues his hauling duties, carrying two or three corpses at a time. The wolves he had dragged. His fists had been bunched at their scruffs.

The savage strides past those chattering, dragging a lifeless goblin by the throat. "Just release 'em from their cage and let 'em run. If they prove to be murderous schemers like their sires, they'll be reunited in hell."


When he reaches the piled bodies, he flings the goblin onto it effortlessly and turns to collect more.

In reply to Volsh son of Vor (msg # 259):

Upon hearing Volsh's suggestion, Narthian is moved. "Wisely spoken, good sir. Let nature herself decide the path for this lot. By releasing them from the cage, we greatly reduce the risk of any or all of them reaching a new tribe, but we are not acting as executioner to those who have not yet done wrong."

Dellas kicks a stone and nods: "So we decide to let them starve to death or get eaten or maybe even finding another tribe to join... fine by me. But I do hope that you know what you are doing." With this he steps a few steps back and lets the others handle this.

Sir Aberlayne sighs.  "My plan, in the moment of battle, when I wasn't even fully certain all of us would survive, was to simply prevent the goblins from running into the woods.  If, by some horrible twist of fate, the goblin shaman had been able to kill you, brother, or any of the rest of you, if that wretch had emerged triumphant from the temple, then I had his offspring and wives at my mercy with which to bargain for his retreat from the area, or to lure him into my reach to slay him.

"Now, thanks to the gods of luck and battle that you've all survived, we have this dilemma.  If we let them go?  I would say most would die, but some would survive.  It could be that we'd be fighting them again some day, or if not us, some other poor soul.  Should we slaughter a cage full of children instead, however black-hearted and murderous?  It would prevent that future fate for certain, but leave us with a stain on our soul that we would ever after have to guard against.  The only bright spot is that Drogo has found a single female goblin child who is not black-hearted.  It may be that Yondalla guided us to the one spot of light in the darkness we must do to secure Bolthaven's survival."
This message was last updated by the player at 07:06, Mon 22 Dec 2014.

Farian frowns fiercely.  "No good is going to come of them.  I say a cleansing is in order.  You saw the horrors at the farm, and the only reason Bolthaven wasn't the same way was because they'd been forewarned and were forearmed.  There's nothing else to say," he says, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

In reply to Farian Raymellie (msg # 263):

After a short period of meditation, asking for guidance from Corellon Larethian, Narthian again speaks. "Friend Haazeel, I regret to tell you that there are no Druidic encampments close enough to safely transport the young goblins. It pains me to say this, but I see no realistic alternative than to put them out of their misery now. It may cause me nightmares in the future, but this is for the greater good."

"Master woodsman!" the barbarian snaps from a distance in retort to Narthian's shifting manner, "Were you not just certain that releasing them was the course?"

Volsh approaches the group, only slightly bent from his finished task. "They are but babes, goblin or no. They cannot yet slay. Tiny and wobbly-headed, they are feral critters. Let them be wild and discover their own way. Be it evil or be it true. The wonders and horrors of nature shall shape them." His eyes glow with fire.

Turning, he waves a hand in dismissal over his broad shoulder. "I go to ready the cart." His tone softens. "Sir paladin, mind you ready your nag to help me drag this large transport? We should be able to bear all the townsfolk' belongings and some leftover trinkets to barter."

Set to his task, Volsh gathers the missing goods from the fore of the temple and loads them onto the large wheeled cart.

"I can't help but agree with Volsh. As much as I hate their kin, I would prefer not to kill the little devils. Let them loose and let nature sort them out. They're little more than beasts anyway," Bruenor adds.

He then goes to aid Volsh in loading the cart.

"If there is no one we could have entrusted these creatures with, I also agree with Volsh. Let's free them and hope for the best. Nature has its own ways to keep balance in this world." Haazheel replies after Bruenor. "Mystic my friend, could you have a look around to see whether our way back to the village is safe?" he says to his owl which was looking at the scene from a low branch of a tree nearby.
Then, he joins Volsh and Bruenor to help to load the cart.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:06, Tue 06 Jan 2015.

Sir Aberlayne turns to the goblin wives.  "You are lucky this day.  Run away, and don't come back.  If you harm anyone, fate will not be so kind to you a second time."  With that she takes a dagger and cuts open the cage of goblin young.  The little bobble-headed terrors boil out of the cage and dash about almost comically, banging into each other and snarling like a pack of uncoordinated and overly fierce puppies.

Makroon and Kubal both take to their heels and run directly away from the party and soon disappear into the forest.  Giggling, some of the goblin young wrestle with each other, and others toddle off into the underbrush until a roar from Sir Aberlayne sends the rest scattering into the woods.

Within a few moments, you cannot even hear them.

The paladin turns back to the others.  "I thank you for that.  Volsh, my Valiant is no nag, but he can help us get the villagers' goods back to them."  With a bit of re-rigging and a few substitutions for the right kind of harness and can get Valiant in between the traces.

Mystique takes to the air, flying back along the path to the village, and within a few minutes Haazheel gets the feeling that the way is safe.  Mystique flies back, nods his beak at the road and fluffs his feathers in a signal of contentment.  The way is clear.

Farian says, "Dare we leave the area unsecured?  We should at least close the secret door again so no one could try to enter the tomb before we have a chance to make sure it is safe."

"You're perfectly right Farian" says the wizard. Then he enters again the temple, has a last glance beyond the secret door, deep inside him he wants to explore it more, lost temples had always this effect on him. He carefully closes the door and joins back his companions.
"Mystique informs me that the way back appears to be safe. The door is closed, let's head back to the village?"

Dellas stays away from those little buggers and watches them run away. He walks next to his big sister and watches the surrounding forest: "Well that's it. I'm sure mom and dad would be proud" he says without mock or sarcasm. "I don't know any spell that could be useful here... But I agree, closing the door seems sensible. Do we want to spend some time covering it with something? Or are the chances low that someone would discover it? Anyway we should return as soon as possible." With this he helps as much as he can and plays a bit with Vish who behaved very well.

The group can close the door carefully, and do as much as they can to conceal how to open it.  Loading the rest of the stuff in the wagon, Sir Aberlyane will cluck to Valiant.  Lead by Mystique, they wend their way back on the path to Boltharrow.  Part of the way there, Varick Forrester meets them with a look of relief on his face, a smile lighting his craggy features.

"Ehlonna favors you!  And everyone alive?  Gods be praised!" he says.  Walking back with them with a great spring in his step, he ask the group their tale, it is later in the afternoon when the wooden walls of Boltharrow loom.  Varick gives a victory yell, and the visible silhouettes of the guards on the walls cheer back.  The gates are thrown open as the group walks and drives the wagon into the town square.  There are many of the townfolk there in what seems to be the daily market, and they set up a cheer of their own.  Pandemonium reigns for a few minutes until Mayor Harrow finally waves his hands and calls out for silence.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Guildsmen," Mayor Harrow says.  "Tell us what happened, or the lot of you won't get a wink of rest and barely a bite to eat from all the questions you'll be getting at the feast tonight!"

OOC: Please everyone move to the Boltharrow thread for continuation of this discussion!
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:52, Fri 23 Jan 2015.