Filarion moves into his fighting stance, blade flashing out and around in a dizzying display of sword work. "Keep up the fire arrows while I keep the beast busy! Try to get your comrades!" He calls out as his blade works the monster over trying to keep it's attention soley on him.

Standard: Full attack
Move: None
Special: I get a +1 AC till next round when fighting as a full round action.

10:06, Today: Filarion Petxalim rolled 17,3 using D20+11,d8+2 with rolls of 6,1.  Attack/damage.

Most of the arrows go wide setting random patches of grass on fire

The troll attacks!!!

20:11, Today: The Spirit of the Land rolled 17 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 2,5. 20:11, Today: The Spirit of the Land rolled 8 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 2.  Shaken troll attack claws 2. 20:10, Today: The Spirit of the Land rolled 26

Filarion takes 22 points of damage!
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:04, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

Dovan calls out
“Lure the beast to me here at the wagon!”

The bandits move towards the wagon still sending flaming arrows into the troll

After the troll finished almost drops him, Filarion starts to move tactically twords Dovan.

Full: Total defense +4 AC
Free: 5' step towards Dovan

I'm sure he would know that a troll has reach given its a large creature, but wouldn't know how high its CMD is. Coupled with the attacks and knowing he can't take another hit, he wouldn't just full on run away.

Fingers crossed

As Filarion retreats a chorus of flaming arrows fly into the trolls face, confused and temporarily blinded the troll lurches swiftly forward, swiping at the air wildly he catches two more bandits catching them he bites one and then rends the other like wringing a wash cloth...a gout of blood pouring out over the ground...

The bandits scream and run....

Leaving Dovan standing at the edge of the wagon and taunting the troll.
“Come beast and die!”

Filarion finds the pitch filled wagon between himself and the troll...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:56, Wed 14 Oct 2020.

"Yes!" Filarion yells in agreement, "You nearly got me. Come and finish me off." Since he was already in position, the elf was trying to get the beast to charge.

The beast obliges and charges headlong for Dovan and the wagon...

A ball of flame erupts as the troll crashes into the wagon

The flaming troll crashes through the firebomb and kills two more bandits in his path

Dovan himself lands hard and flaming next to the remarkably unscathed Filarion

The shocked bandits that remain continue to fire arrows at the flame covered troll

If Filarion stops to help Dovan, the troll will just keep eating the other people. If he doesn't, there's a good chance the man will die.

"One of you help Dovan!" He yells at the bow men and then charges the troll hoping beyond hope that the explosion weakened the beast enough to finish him off.

Full round action: charge
AC drops to 14

04:25, Today: Filarion Petxalim rolled 25,5 using D20+13,d8+2 with rolls of 12,3.  Attack/damage.

If this is impossible, the attack is a 23 and my AC goes back to 16.

Filarion braves the flames enough to wound the troll, but the fire is so hot he finds his hand singed and burned slightly
The troll misses Filarion but kills another bandit on his way out.

Dovan is groaning on his back a bandit picks him up
“He’s alive.”

The troll falls to its knees and dies while the flame consumes it fully...

Signing in relief, Filarion moves to Dovan calling out for a healer if there's one. Looking at one of the bandits, he says, "Make sure all of the troll is burned. A single piece left could come back. Even if you have to burn the blood. Just try not to set a brush fire."


"Dovan," he says, "are you okay? Can you walk?"

Dovan is burned and had the wind knocked out of him, he nods and smiles broadly
“What a wild ride! One in a million, next time you can stand on the wagon.”

Dovan pulls you close and whispers in your ear
“When we get back come with me to the basement the old healer is kept down there, without healing it is likely we will be finished off by one of my rivals.”

"That was stupid," the elf says with a chuckle. "You humans act like you'll never die, but your lives are so short. How about next time not standing on the huge fire bomb?"

To his whispered comment, he simply nods in understanding.

He helps Dovan to his feet before getting a few of the bandits to help bury the dead and collect any valuables with the direct impression that everything is to go to their families if they have any.

I'm going to assume this will take the test of the day. Do I know when the Stag Lord is going to attack Oleg's? If I don't I'll make a point to ask Dovan when it's to happen.

“Nay it was a prophetic dream I had, in the dream I knew I would survive.  I will tell you more of it later, we should begin our celebration.”

Dovan pulls out a flask, the other bandits do likewise

He throws his arm around your shoulders... you find yourself carrying a portion of his weight
You realize his bravado is an attempt to cover the true extent of his injuries

You help him onto his horse and ride back to the Staglord fort...

The elf plays along and let's Dovan show him the way to his healer.

Arriving at the fort Dovan is still speaking bravely...

“Come Phil, I have got that item I promised you.”

He smiles and begins leading you deep into the fort
“Yes yes I know elves and long names and all.”

You find yourself underground in what can only be described as a root cellar..
an old man in tattered robes sits in a corner...

Dovan offers the man his arm, the man casts a healing spell
“Your turn.”

He frowns at the "Phil", but says nothing as they head to his healer. Once inside, the elf had some trepidation on being willingly effected by a spell caster he doesn't know. He decides he's already this deep, he might as well go further and accepts.

What God does he call upon?

19:07, Today: Filarion Petxalim rolled 4 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 2.  Know religion (untrained).

Sad trombone

The old man holds a sprig of mistletoe and takes your hand...

The man’s touch is cold and wet like a dogs nose
The moistness is unsettling but the healing is real...
The Spirit of the Land, on behalf of Filarion Petxalim, rolled 11 using 2d8+5 with rolls of 3,3.  Healing magic.

Dovan addresses the man
“Thank you, the father.”

The old man only says
“You are too late the main force has deployed against Oleg; the prisoner has been taken if true they will face magic they do not expect.   Stay down here and rest they will not seek you here.”

Filarion slumps down and sits either on a chair or the floor, his head down. "I came here to stop this. By fighting amongst ourselves, we are weakening ourselves when the troll king shows himself." The healing has erased half of his wounds, but the claw lines could still be seen red and angry.

The old man mutters...
“I am the father....the father...”

Dovan
“I have been working here to take over, but to no avail yet...I believe the father can heal you again in the morning...”

The old man mutters,,,
“No hope of men not fighting each other, even here the men fight to take over.  The sins of the father coming to fruition in the son.”

Dovan
“Help us and leave,”


“I cannot this is my fault and here I must stay.”


The next day... the old man heals you both up to full health...

The elven warrior nods his thanks for the healing and listens intently. "What do you mean?" He asks the old man as he mutters. "Who are you the father of?"

Dovan shakes his head and puts up his hand

The old man mutters....
“I am the father of misfortune, the father of failure, the father, the father.....the father.”
His voice trails off....


Dovan
“I have been down this path before and I know not what he means.  Some think he was a priest of this temple, the father; obviously he has healing magic I know not what else he can do, nor what faith he follows...others think he is to blame for some unknown misfortune and is under a dark curse.  I do not even know his name, nor do I know if he himself knows it.  One certainty he will not leave this place.”

Filarion just grunts in understanding. Knowing next to nothing of human gods, he can't even begin to know who we worships. Standing up, he thanks the priest before turning to Dovan. "So what's the plan?"

Dovan
“My plan remains the same to take over this place and organize it into a proper respectable garrison.”

"That's all well and good, but what's the plan for right now? Surely there are other captains, lieutenants, whatever they're called that will get behind you, correct? If you're going to take over, you have to have the backing of other leaders."