Hungry Hungry Goblins

Summary: Camp Heldenhammer, outpost of excavation at the ancient and recently rediscovered Helden Hall ruins, has been overrun by goblins! Brave and stalwart souls are called together to take the battle to these foul and evil creatures. A motley assortment of a wandering Qleriq, faithful archer, filthy druid and deadly ranger are almost as good.

<OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!

The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar." <OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright." <OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess. And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man. Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?" <OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)" <OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)" <OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."

GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16

GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15

<OOC> Ormarr :( <OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D: <OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please. <OOC> Mab says, "Sure."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic." "I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front. From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :) Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along. In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise? Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up. Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19

<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11

<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve. And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!