Trog did not believe that they would have additional "visitors" so quickly, but he again took up his hammer and went and had a look to see. He crossed the tap room in a couple of strides and then looked out the doorway where the broken door had stood moments earlier. He takes a quick peak t first to make sure no one was going to fire an arrow at his head.



-

Through the doorway, Trog is able to see what appears to be a bonfire about twenty to thirty meters away.  A few moments of looking, however, tells him that the fire is moving.  And levitating?  No, it is being picked up.  The darkness had obscured the large man- larger than any man Trog had seen before- as he took hold of the flaming cart and prepared to throw it.

The scene is visible to those within the tavern, though quite difficult to make out clearly due to the troll standing in the way.  It is more obvious what is happening when, moments later, the cart smashes against the doorway, with planks of scorched wood exploding through the portal.  Trog, standing in the doorway, takes the brunt of the attack.  His sword-arm is smashed heavily by debris, and the troll drops his weapon.  Several lacerations begin to bleed profusely.

The crowned man leaps to his feet, sword in hand, looking around the tavern frantically.  The main doorway is blocked by the burning remains of the cart.  The windows are small enough that only slender folks could consider passing through.  Korag picks up the crossbow and begins aiming it at the doorway, but cannot see anything through the wreckage at which to fire.

The creature outside roars.

---

Trog takes 38 points of damage, cannot use his weapon arm, takes -40 to all actions, and has the condition Bleed: 8.

OOC: Healing Trog is going to be a beast of a task, but possible.  And thank goodness he's a troll, otherwise he would be dead within six rounds from massive head trauma.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:38, Tue 31 Aug 2021.

Trog stumbles back from what remains of the burning cart, franticly grabbing and brushing still flaming wreckage from his body. He tries to steady his arm against one of the tables but misjudges the distance and then falls into it smashing it to bits as he thumps out the last of the flames.

Smoke rises off his body as the smell of burned flesh and singed hair fills the tap room. Trog lays still while clutching his damaged arm as his eyes travel back to the burning cart and the entrance way to the tavern.



-

As the group considers fleeing the situation, they might take a look around to weigh their options.  The Hero and Spear is a wooden tavern, with much flammable material inside but is unlikely to catch flame itself... though the roof is questionable.  On the inside, there are a handful of possible escape routes.  First, the front door.  It would be possible to take the time to smash through the burning wreckage and flee out the front.  Second, the windows.  Most of the windows are closed and shuttered, but not boarded.  Only the most slender of the group would fit through the windows (Syndelia and possibly Jerec).  Third, the door to the dorms and rooms.  While it isn't guaranteed there is an exit through here, is is possible.  Fourth, there is a door behind the bar that likely leads to a storage area.  Often these storage areas have their own door, as to allow ease of stocking without lugging barrels and crates through the tavern floor.

"Don't worry, troll," Syndelia started to say when Trog approached the doorframe again, "I have just taken a look and there is nothing that..."

The rest of her sentence was lost in the brutal collision of flame against hardened flesh. The Dusk Elf jumped backwards reflexively, before even noticing the pieces of flaming wood everywhere, the blood, the troll's pained roar and his stumbling on a nearby table. One half log missed her head narrowly, she could smell the burning wood.

Quickly regaining her balance, Syndelia did a swift assessment of the situation. Something enormous was out there, hurling fire at the building. Even if the inn didn't immediately catch fire, the smoke would soon be a problem, and it was no use being trapped inside anyway.

Time to beat it.

Running to the closest window, she unlatched it and pushed it open, and the next second she was swinging her long legs through it. Once outside, she went around the building, hugging the wall, checking if it was safe to cross the street to the next house, and survey the situation from there - see what the creature was, and whether it was alone or more enemies were coming.

Syndelia manages to sneak through a window and hug the tavern, and her keen eyes would allow her to see clearly in this dark night.  However, the burning front of the inn makes it that much easier.  Pacing before the tavern, possibly weighing options, is a beast that looks like a primitive man standing half-again as tall as the crowned warrior (himself not a short man).  It wears hides that are hard to distinguish from its own rugged flesh, and wields a mighty stone mallet in one hand.  Otherwise void of jewelry, it bears a single unadorned ring on one finger.  It does not seem to have noticed Syndelia as of yet.  And, thank the neglectful gods, it appears to be alone.

Syndelia hadn't seen the giant troglodyte launch whatever he had launched against the inn, but by his size she guessed it could have been anything cart-sized. And by the same token, he wasn't an enemy to approach frontally...

Or to approach at all. For a second, the Dusk Elf considered just leaving. She wanted nothing to do with cursed old crowns or the twice-cursed pyromaniac brute, or that thrice-accursed madman with the crown. Not her war, she hadn't been paid to fight.

But then again, the Hero and Spear was her favorite inn, and one of very few places on that earth that felt relatively safe and welcoming. She might not move a finger to save the arrogant crown-clown, but she would take some risks to save Korag's pub.

Merging into the darkness of the alley, Syndelia went around the giant, keeping to the denses shadows to get behind him...

---

Syndelia the Unseen rolled 103 using 1d100+95 with rolls of 8.  Stealth (getting behind the giant troglodyte).

Jerec instinctively ducked as the burning cart smashed into Trog, leaving the troll bloodied and reeling. His eyes widened in horror as his mind quickly went over the options available.

First, the fire. Though the inn could survive, if the roof caught fire the smoke would make it uninhabitable, leaving them easy pickings for whatever it was that was outside.

"Out, everyone out!" he yelled at the others, before getting the attention of Barakus and the Crowned Man, then gesturing towards one of the windows at the back of the inn, as far away from the flaming remains of the front door as possible. Syndelia already had a similar idea it seemed as Jerec spotted her escaping from another nearby window.

"Barakus, come and bring him with you," he said to his companion, pointing at the Crowned Man, before making his way towards one of the windows farthest from the front door.

"Paran, help Trog get out by the storage door, Korag help them and show them the way, then get out yourself!" he added, as he began to climb out the window.

---

Jerec will climb out the farthest window from the debris at the front door of the inn. He will then try to Help Barakus and the Crowned Man climb out (Helping; pg 121)

Helping (Acrobatics or Athletics?): 16 (base roll)

Cultures (identify the 'dwarf'): 71

Trog rolled over and righted himself pushing up with his left hand and was glad of any help given. He grabbed his possessions as they moved out of the tap room and through the door to the storage area. He put the strap of his satchel over his head and donned his cloak as they moved. Trog carried his hammer in his left hand as they hopefully found a door leading out into the night.

If they managed to escape the burning building Trog would use the structure to shield him from the gaze of whatever hefted the cart through the door as he tried to bandage some of his wounds. He spat out a glob of blood, bile and something else, "was that bone ?" in between heavy ragged breaths....

Looking left and right Trog looked for additional cover that would allow him to get close to the forest, he pointed this out to anyone that was still with him.


OOC: Is there a map of Clayshire available ?



-
This message was last edited by the player at 07:25, Thu 02 Sept 2021.

More comfortable in the dark than in the moonlight, Syndelia has no problems positioning herself behind the giant.  It takes no notice of her, its back left exposed.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group begins to flee the tavern in their own ways.  Jerec and Ehrendril manage to escape through open windows and attempt to assist both Barakus and the Crowned Warrior.  Unfortunately, both of the latter are too bulky due to their armor and general build, and it takes a few moments before they turn to follow Korag and the larger warriors.

Korag leads Trog and Paran out through the service entrance in the rear, himself weaving through crates that Trog merely barrels through.  The door leads to the back of the inn, and it is surprisingly quiet back here.  Korag ushers you along, though he himself stays at the doorway.  "This isn't the first time my home has been attacked, nor will it be the last.  Go now, and find safety."  Shortly after this, Barakus and the Crowned Warrior both make their way through this door, rejoining with the two larger companions.

---

OOC: No, there's no map available.  The Inn is towards the center of the town.  The clay mines lay to the south, the road to Steamwind is to the northeast, and a river flows by the southwest corner.  There is plenty to hide behind, and several back alleys to follow.

Anyone fleeing through a window must make a stealth check to avoid being seen by the giant.  Those escaping through the service entrance in the rear do not.

Jerec, you still have no idea what the "dwarf" creature actually was.

Trog, take eight points of bleed damage.

Syndelia smiles a wolf's smile in the dark, drawing her trusty composite bow. Keeping completely inside the shadow of a building, there is not a single moonray to shine on her green eyes, or the steel of the arrowhead. It is aimed squarely at the nape of the troglodyte.

The Dusk Elf closes one eye, takes a slow breath in, enters her Zen state.

"Night Lady, Moon Mother, steady my aim, bless my shaft, smile upon my endeavours," she mutters.

---

Aiming. Syndelia will keep Aiming until the max +40 before shooting, if possible; if the giant gives any hint of moving, then she'll shoot, to avoid giving up her advantageous position.

Aiming +10/+40 + 30 On Rear + 20 Surprised (No Parry or Shield bonus)

Jerec cursed softly as he and the Ehrendril were unable to aid Barakus and the Crowned Man, and saw them move towards the store room instead.

Crouching and hugging the wall of the inn Jerec hoped the shadows would serve to keep him from the eyes of the enemy as he moved to put the inn between himself and whatever it was that attacked the inn.

As he moved he dared a quick look back to see if he could spot what the creature or creatures were...

---

Stealth: 53 (hopefully hugging the wall will provide some bonus to this!)
Cultures: 69 (try to identify the giant creature)

Will hold other actions until I figure out Jerec's relative location to the others (i.e. can he spot the others who came out the back?) and if the creature spotted him or not.

Trog fell to one knee as they exited the storage room, he used his left hand to steady himself and then used the wall of the tavern to stand up. As he did so he spat out more blood onto the dirt. "Trog hurt bad..." was all he said as he looked a bit unsteady.

He pointed to the river "Anna, by river she will help...." he headed off using the buildings as cover and keeping low, he did not need another hay cart to the head.


-

As a majority of the allies convene behind the inn, Barakus seems to be on high alert.  Not for a moment does he let down his guard, and he sticks close to Jerec, his ward.  Ehrendril, not one for this type of situation, seems rather off-put by the recent events.  Meanwhile, the Crowned Warrior looks frantic.  "The enemy is here, they're here, they're here...  Now is the time to flee, live to survive another day.  And without that damned elf.  We must go.  Now!"  Without waiting for a reponse, he begins moving cautiously but quickly in the opposite direction of the inn, hoping to put good distance between himself and the large creature on the far side.

Syndelia finds that the creature does not seem to have seen anyone escape the building, and is going irate.  It bellows in frustration while picking up boulders and other objects and flinging them against the tavern's façade.  Most importantly, it has not yet seen her.

---

OOC: Those who are familiar with Clayshire are likely also familiar with Anna, a healing woman who lives near the river.  She is regarded with both suspicion and respect amongst the local community, as they fear her witchy ways but have grown to rely on her talents.

In a little world of her own, Syndelia let the arrow fly, seeing it almost in slow motion, flying, spinning in the black air, dancing in its own turbulence, finding its mark...

---

Syndelia the Unseen rolled 269 using 1d100+170 with rolls of 99.  Aiming +40 + 30 On Rear + 20 Surprised (No Parry or Shield bonus) .

Syndelia the Unseen rolled 189 using 1d100+170 with rolls of 19.  Exploded Ranged.

Second one shouldn't have the bonus, so it's 269+19=288

Syndelia the Unseen rolled 99 using 1d100 with rolls of 99.  Critical roll.

This message was last edited by the player at 15:25, Fri 03 Sept 2021.

With a force that could only be prescribed by providence, Syndelia's arrow flies truer than any she had let loose before.  It strikes the large creature in the upper leg, but even the hides and rugged flesh fail to stop the arrow.  It bursts through the leg, severing sinew and artery.  A visceral explosion.  The creature falls to the ground, partially due to the leg no longer supporting weight, but mostly because the trauma drove it into unconsciousness.  A pool of blood begins surrounding it, and it stirs not at all.

With a predatory grin, Syndelia dashes towards the prone giant humanoid, unsheathing her shortsword. With a practised gesture, the curved blade slices its throat first; then she turns it around and switches grips to use the flat side to pull the ring off the giant's finger.

"Finally some benefit," she mutters contentedly. Dipping a finger in the dark blood, she traces three intersecting crescents on the creatures forehead, identical to the ones she has in her own forehead.

"Night Lady, receive this soul from your daughter Syndelia," she says in a low formal tone.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:08, Fri 03 Sept 2021.

Seeing the giant fall down and Syndelia's subsequent ritual, he whispers to himself, "I hope she can shield us from the wrath of the raven king." He proceeds to spring into action to aid the crowned man. He rushes over and begins to lead him toward the only location he was told, the river. Before leaving the storage shed, he peaks his head outside to make sure that no more enemies lie in wait. He prepares a defensive spell just in case.

In a voice just loud enough to be heard by the others, Paran says, "I guess I will find this Anna, unless someone else has an idea? I just hope that she can help."

Provided there are no enemies, he will continue outside. The whole while he will be guarding the crowned man.

---

He will attempt to cast heroic defense if he is attacked. Hopefully in time to help avoid a blow.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:16, Fri 03 Sept 2021.

Relieved at meeting up with the others Jerec watched the Crowned Man start to move away in alarm, but dared not call out lest he give away his position. "Go, try to calm him down and stop him," he hissed to Ehrendril.

Turning his attention back towards the giant Jerec was considering whether they should slip away or try to bring the creature down somehow by working together; the latter would be a dangerous endeavor, especially given what had happened to Trog, but it would hopefully prevent any pursuit for now, hopefully allowing them to put some distance between any other Raven-King's minions out and about.

The decision was taken out of Jerec's hands when the giant's leg was skewered by a viscious arrow head, and then its throat slit by the arrows owner.

Shaking his head, both relieved and somewhat horrified by the casual violence displayed by the roguish woman, Jerec rose out of the shadows and moved towards the elf, Barakus shadowing him silently. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," he said to her quickly as she drew bloody crescents with the creatures own lifeblood.

Hearing Paran call out Jerec nodded and remarked, "Yes, our troll companion could use the witch-woman's healing arts, and we could use a breather. Let us gather there and figure out our next move."

---

Jerec & Barakus will aid Torg in moving if he needs it, one of them supporting one arm of the troll each. By the way I am assuming Paran managed to calm down and convince Mr. Crowned Man to head towards Anna.

The Dusk Elf laughs at Jerec's words, wiping her blade on the corpse and sheathing it again. The smooth killing has put her in a cheerful mood.

"Wise words, old man. Particularly, never yell at me when I'm hungover if you don't want to end like him," she remarks casually, patting the wizard's shoulder. It is meant as a friendly gesture; the effect is somewhat spoiled by the fine spray of blood across her face. She crosses her arms, looking towards the inn.

"Korag! You can get out now, old boy, I saved your dive from the big bad bastard. I expect some sort of reward for it!"

Then she turns towards Jerec again.

"How is the troll? He seemed worse for wear. And the crowned manbaby, I suppose after all his big words of threat, he ran away leaving me to face the giant alone? What a brave, big warrior. Well, good riddance, I say. Let him pester someone else with his madman ravings. Say, old man, does this thing look cursed or magic to you?"

Saying that, she shows the ring to the wizard.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Fri 03 Sept 2021.

Jerec turned to glance towards the inn as Syndelia called out, he had forgot all about Korag. The half-orc hadn't been with the others out back; Jerec hoped he had just stayed behind to collect the coins he made this night and would come out before the smoke caused him to pass out.

As he waited for Korag to make an appearance, he squinted at the ring in Syndelia's hand, taking care not to touch it himself. "Hmm, doesn't look like its expensive, but the ones that are unassuming are the ones to really worry about," he muttered while stroking his beard.

---

Arcana: 80

Glad of the help Trog guided the others to Anna's house, "these are good people" he thought. He announces himself once they get to the door so as to not startle the woman given she probably heard the majority of the battle.

It suddenly dawned on Trog that she may not be home or might have fled already, he put that to the back of his mind.



-

The path towards Anna's hut is quiet.  Or, it would be if the Crowned Warrior would stop doomsaying the entire time.  He continues to mutter about "them coming."  As the group moves in the direction of the river, he seems more or less content to stay with his current companions, though you get the feeling he won't stop fretting until he is far from this town.

Trog continues to bleed heavily along the way, no doubt leaving a trail that a child could follow.  The pain doesn't subside, and he finds that his inability to use his strong arm is not changing.  It is equally frustrating that despite his grievous wound, his companions seem more intent on bickering amongst themselves than seeking help or shelter.

Jerec, taking a moment to examine the ring, might notice that it looks the same as the one worn by the "dwarf" creature, though obviously significantly larger.  Its plain appearance, a simple band of lead, does not lend itself to being identified as magical or significant.  In fact, it appears to be quite insignificant... significantly so.

Upon arrival, Trog announces in his eloquent manner that he was outside along with others.  A few moments pass before the door cracks open and a haggard woman peeks out.  Cautious eyes look around before locking onto the troll's arm and the door opens all the way.  Anna, the woman, is dressed in long, warm skirts and a heavy shawl, and the strong smell of herbs oozes its way out into the cold.  With the door opened and her face revealed, her broad, flattened face and catlike eyes reveal herself to be a wildfolk.  "Come inside, the lot o'ye, and shut d'door.  Let m'take a look at dat arm o'yers."

The hut is a single large room, sunken partially into the ground.  A hearth lays lit with a small fire that isn't quite enough to make the area comfortable.  Herbs and small game hang from the rafters, and there is nary an inch of this space that isn't covered in shelving for books or glassware.  She immediately distracts herself with Trog's arm, doing what she can to mend to injury and stop the bleeding.  "But ye ken (know) d'rule, d'gods must be appeased.  A small sacrifice must b'made."

---

18:14, Today: Narrator, for the NPC Anna, rolled 138 using 1d100+75 with rolls of 63.  Healing (Bleeding).

Trog entered and half fell as he sat in a clear space on the floor... "Thank you." he did his best not to hinder the woman as she worked. At the point the sacrifice was mentioned Trog gathered his meagre possessions so she could see what might be appropriate. He had coins from dwarf so he started with that.


-

"Unless it's cursed, my only worry is that it looks worthless," Syndelia replied to Jerec as she dropped the lead ring in the pouch hanging from her sword-belt. "I have already wasted too many arrows and risked my neck too much for no benefit."

Since Korag didn't show up, the Dusk Elf shrugged.

"It's unlike Korag to be so shy, but maybe the attack frayed his nerves. No more ale tonight, then. We might as well go see how the troll does..."

The trail of blood leads to a simple hut close to the river. Although a regular visitor to Clayshire, Syndelia has never needed the services of a healer, so the place and the name of Anna are just things she has heard about in the inn, rather than known directly. As she enters the hut, she notices all the rest are already inside.

"Worry not about the giant troglodyte," she says tartly, arms akimbo. "Already took care of him. Have you learned to say 'thank you' yet, Crownbabe? Didn't think so."

She turns towards the woman tending to Trog's wound.

"You must be Anna, the town witch?" Belatedly, she remembers humans can't read her tattoos. "I am Syndelia the Unseen, from the Arrowmoon tribe. Know anything about these creatures at all?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Sat 04 Sept 2021.