The party walked cautiously down the dirty path. The scent of pines and other things not so readily recognized hung heavily in the air, as if a blanket had been draped about them.
All too suddenly, Gemmi, the badger, began to growl and then leapt out of its companions arms and jumped into the brush, snarling and growling. The tense air became thick enough to slice in half with a swipe of Derak's sword.
Soon, a large group of goblins came out into view, all wielding rusty, unkempt weapons whether they be spears or swords. Battle erupted between the two parties.
Unfortunately, one of the little buggers managed to creep up behind the half-elven monk, though how he knew not, possibly the sounds of battle had masked its prescence. A not too skilful throw of its spear landed him a cut of his leg and a sharp sting of punishment for not being awares. His master would have been very disappointed, this was the second wound he had recieved in as many days. He wondered if the gods (HINT HINT WINK WINK) were picking him.
Clenching his teeth against the pain, he muttered the words of magic which activated the runes on his nunchaku. Whipping them around at a second goblin who had attempted an attack, a flash of fire left the goblin's head blacker than before and had it dead on the ground. The other goblin backed and fled at its partner's demise.
Grimacing, Vilyamar looked around at the end of the battle, seeing nothing else to be done, as he could not run very far to catch the fleeing goblins with the gash on his leg. He bent down and removed yet another cloth strip from his pack and, using some water to clean off the wound, bandaged it.
"Damn little bugger cut me..." He grumbled, unhappy about a poor performance. He should not have been surprised so easily, but he paid for his complacency. With the gash bandaged, he went to the main part of the group.
"Perhaps we should pursue them. They are goblins, no good can come of their existence." He suggested. "I just fear that this side-tracking may take too much time from our quest, and it may prove all the harder to reach this leaf. I leave this matter up to you to decide."
Teros was happy that they had chosen the "scary" path, however he knew that he couldn't let that get in the way with his senses.
He moved down the path, paying more attention than neccissary to a possible ambush. However he started finding harder and harder to concentrate with the little kender acting so..well..active. Just as he seemed to put his guard down, snarls erupted behind him. He reacted quickly by drawing his sword. He was lucky that he reacted so quickly, because soon the goblin was on him. Seeing it was a goblin he almost laughted. Almost effortlessly he snapped the stick that he was using as a spear in half. But by not following up with an attack, he recieved a wack to the knuckles. Still, he took his time with this fool, blocking his attacks with something that might have once been called a sword. Shaking his head he cut off the arm of the goblin, spraying some black blood on his clothes. His eyes got big and looked at the goblin with contempt. "You..you bled one me you bastard!!!" he said as he finished it off. He turned around to see the remains of the battle. Watching as the goblins ran off.
The monk made yet another good point. So Teros spoke up. "Following them is a waste of time. Let them come again, maybe this time they'll learn faster." With this he looked down at the kender, who seemed to be getting closer to him. He just smiled and motioned for them to carry on.
The spear-lined path into the forest proved most interesting indeed, as after a short while of journeying down that blasted road, a pack of hooting, jittering goblins bearing rusted swords and short spears poured forth upon their group.
“Perhaps they are guarding the leaf?” Damien asked nobody in particular as he drew his rapier, uttered the command to activate it’s frigid enchantment, and set his stance to fight. From the hilt to the slender tip of the thin blade, frost spread, like a tide crashing against the shore. His feet shifted into the familiar stance of a nimble fencer, and he prepared himself.
Almost immediately, he was beset by two goblins, and though he was aware that their weapons were capable of harming him through his thin leather armor, he was amused by how quickly he was able to dispatch the pair. By using sweeps of the slender blade and quick thrusts to keep them at bay, he savored the victory all the more when they tried to leap in and harm him.
The first goblin he simply ran through, his icy blade bursting forth from the backside of the small attacker, shearing through organs and innards like a knife through paper. He had skillfully blocked and deflected by the talented bard. His counterstrike impaled the goblin, dropping it to the ground.
His second foe, he gracefully outmaneuvered, stepping outside the wild swings of the goblin, and, with a deft lunge, shoved his slender sword through the side of the torso, blade entering and exiting the rib cage smoothly. Damien lifted his leg, planted his boot on his slain foe, and pushed, freeing his sword, which he whipped to the side to point at the ground. His own display of victory, and one earned with ease over the unskilled goblins.
From behind, he heard a sound, alerting him of another presence, though too late for him to react. His best chance to avoid harm, he twisted quickly, trying to bring his rapier up to bear, but saw that he was saved when an arrow plunged into it’s ugly face, snapping back it’s head and dropping it in a heap. Looking towards where the shaft had been launched from, he saw the satyr, Mahou, smiling at him. Though he hated to show signs of cheer, he truly felt relieved that the strange creature had struck down the goblin, and he smiled slightly in return. The smile was fleeting, however, and he whirled around to look over the battlefield once more.
The goblins had been routed by the traveling party, fleeing down towards where they had come from, back into the darkness. Stepping up to one of the small beasts he had slain, Damien wiped the blood from his sword upon the tattered clothing that was shrouding the goblin’s form, and dispelled the enchantment’s chill, returning it to his sheath with a hiss.
“A simple victory. Hardly a heroic feat, but one that comes upon all who journey. We are uninjured,” Damien said, failing to notice that the monk was bleeding from an injury, and speaking to nobody but himself. “but we have yet to find this leaf and return for our reward.”
Speaking up, the bard toned his voice to the melodic tone he used when singing or reciting poetry, but also sharpened it with a razor’s edge. “Onward. For what we know, this leaf is miles from here. What we do know, however, is that time passes while we stand idle and wait.” Giving his raven-colored cloak a great flourish that ruffled in the air, he turned and walked towards the satyr. Passing her, he uttered a barely audible few words from his mouth, but loud enough for Mahou to hear.
With that, Damien was on his way, once again leading the group into the daunting forest, unafraid.
Mahou's eyes beamed as she watched the last goblim fall before her. her slender fingures where still curled around the arch of the bow as the beast fell leaving her view clear to Damien. Mahou tilted her head back in satisfaction and housed her bow back on her shoulders.
Glancing about with her Hazel eyes she frowned at the sight of the other Goblins leaveing. "Where are they all going? we didn't even get a chance to question any of them about what's down this path." Mahou grummbled as she moved towards the bushes in search for her little animel friend. Mahou paused only briefly as Damien passed her and muttered his thanks. a smirk played acros her lips for a moment and she offered him a wink before getting back to her search.
"Gemi, come on we gotta go after them... we don't have time to play around." Mahou called ducking down a bit and moveing into the bushes to find Gemi.
(sorry that was so short i was out of town for the weekend and wanted to post quickly)
Derak took the two goblins out, the first kill depriveing him of his sword. Derak didn't use his fist very often in battle but he had forgotton how powerful he can be (even though it was just a goblin). He watched as the fleed off into random places into the woods, like cockroaches in the light. He stepped on the goblin that had his sword imbedded in its side and yanked it out with a quick qush of blood from the goblin. He had become quite bloody in the past battles. Based on the goblins fleeing, Derak let them be. Every living creature deseveres another day to fight. For Derak would hope for the same mercy if the time every came for him.
(Yes, this is delayed, short, without detail, and to the point. I have a thousand and one games to update, so deal with it!)
Having completely deflected the weak ambush attempt by the tribal goblins, the group decided to press on. Perhaps this spear lined path led to the leaf? The thought that goblins would have any interest in protecting a tree was completely contradictory of goblin nature; but there was a possibility, and decidedly it should be exploited.
(Same order as last. Gemmi reappeared, covered in goblin blood Last post)
Led by Damien, Bard in Black, the group continued to creep along the path. Within minutes the spears that had lined the path disappeared. This, however was of no comfort. It was obvious the path lead deeper into goblin territory, and, infact, even now, hoarse cries and woops echoed off the branches from ahead. No attack came for several minutes, however, and the group was able to progress swiftly closer to the cheers, which, infact, had become a terrible sounding, pulsating chant. Finally, the light of a clearing shone ahead. It was most certainly the origin of the chants. Carefully, the group crept closer to the clearing, until they had come close enough to see what was the cause of all the cheering. A host of at least 30 goblins crowded around a risen mound. Their gravely voices rang, and their rusty spears shook as they cheered for the figure who stood upon it. It was a goblin....or so it seemed, though he was much bigger than the rest. His skin was black and marked with purple and white paint. From his loincloth dangled countless, whitened bones. In one claw he held high a cleaver. Its silver surface gleamed and shimmered in the sunlight. The other clutched a wooden staff, draped with beads and bones, and crowned with a skull. None of this was quite as imposing, however, as the great skull that completely hid his face and head. Four great horns rose forth from it. The two in the center rose like pointed spires, while the outer two spiraled to the side. The sockets were empty, but glowed with a sinister red light.
Beyond the goblins and their apparent leader rose a 30 foot cliff wall. Several cracks and tunnels can be seen delved into its smooth, stone surface, and huddled about the tunnels are several (5) huts.
None see the group, but that wont last long with them standing on the path at the edge of the clearing. A decision must be made, and quick. There IS time to run back down the path, of the decision is to not fight. Of course you could also slink into the brush.....or charge into the fray.....do what you will.
((Now this is a post, Actions taking place after Teros's.))
The monk's wound was not serious at all and they began to move through the forest. His ears had elven traits to them and could pick up sounds slightly better than a normal human, and this allowed his to hear the hoots and cheers of the goblins before the others. He spun his head on this way and that, trying to fix a direction and location on the hollering, but the sounds bounced off the trees and made it nearly impossible to tell anything except for that they were getting closer.
Soon the Desert man named Teros moved his hand to the hilt of his sword and others around him moved for their weapons. Vilyamar did not yet move for his, unsure if he would need it or not. A clearing opened up before them and they suddenly knew the location of the cheers.
Before them stood a thriving mass of about one and half score goblins, or so Vilyamar's eyes caught. They also caught sight of the huts and caves just beyond the dirty creatures. With that in mind, he was just about to suggest that they turn, as he really didn't want to pick a fight with 30 of the troublesome creatures much less over a hundered which the caves could undoubtedly have supported. But as he looked around, and away from the evil looking goblin wearing a large skull it must have found in the caves, he noticed not only that the Kender was gone, but also that Teros had already moved torward the bushes and was about to put himself as a target for all those lovely little goblins.
Sighing to himself, he, for the second time in one day, drew out his nunchaku and while preparing to speak the arcane runes to activate the glowing runes, spun them into the ready position under his right arm. With it in place, he moved quickly off in the opposite direction of Teros, attempting to hit the goblins from the side, as soon as Teros started to attack. He planned to get the goblins so confused they wouldn't know where the attacks were coming from.
(As soon as Teros attacks, Vilyamar will count 2 seconds and then whisper the enchantment for his nunchaku and then he Kied up for a flying side-kick into the goblin mass. (Ki) As he lands among the horde he brings the nunchaku around for a hit and then a left inward crescent kick. Then he will run away, hopefull drawing some goblins back away from the others.
OR if someone like Damien or Mahou or both decide to come with them, he will activate the enchantment, Ki up and strike the goblin flank but not too deep, just enough to turn a few heads. Otherwise he'll protect whoever's casting a spell.)
Upon seeing the band of cheering goblins Elandor dived into the bushes, leaving the rest of the group standing on the path. To him, it didn't seem like a wise idea to just plunge into the goblin forces. He remembered how easily they had found victory over the band of thugs the other day, but he also remembered that the bandits hadn't been with over 30 men.
He saw the incredible mask the goblin leader wore and realized that wearing such a mask probably indicated that this warrior wasn't easily messed with. Suddenly a thought hit the small kender's mind... If HE was to wear that mask, then people would probably think the same of Elandor Underhood next time they would encounter them. If this came to a fight then Elandor would take the skull afterwards and wear it. Now he only had to find a way to get it.
Crouching as softly as possible without being seen (MS +17 HS +21) he tried to make his way to the side of the goblin band so that he could flank the leader in battle. A surprising sneakattack would probably be best in this situation.
(OOC:If it comes to battle Elandor will wait untill his position is such that he can make a ranged sneak attack at the leader. If this position is not gained than he will shoot or backstab the goblin fighters that are nearer. He will run for a better position if his wounds are getting too heavy.)
Going down the path, Teros had been thinking about what those goblins who had run away had done. Of course, they were easy kills so it didn't matter much to him, until the laughing, cheering, howling, and other sounds started comming from the forest around him. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, which was up and at an angle, and he continued on with caution.
He continued on, almost oblivious to what was in front of him until he ran into the halfling. He looked ahead to see why they stopped and saw the large group of goblins. Soon little drawings off goblins getting hacked to pieces by Derak, Teros, and Damien all appeared in his head, complete with a couple bleeding to death with arrows in their bodies. It was quite commical, however the situation was not. He was prepared to fight. He watched the Halfling go into the forest and become one with the bushes, however he did catch him shooting some glances at that funny mask that guy was wearing. It only took a couple of seconds for him to figure out what that ment.
He nodded to the bushes and begin to move forward. He looked back at Mahou to and nodded to see if he rear would be covered, and then continued on, back hunched. He touched the arm of each one as he went and with his hands showed he wanted to move forward.
(Should the at least one other person show some sign of agreeing with him then he will rush forward into combat. If no one does than he will back up slowly to try and get back into his position until a decision is made. When he gets in combat, he will stay and fight no matter what his HP level is, and will try to hack his way to the strange looking goblin. Should the goblins see them before any attack is made, then he will get in the front of the path and move 10 feet in front of everyone else, prepared action against the first foe to enter his threatened area.)
Derak was shocked to see the mass of goblins around this obvious head goblin. Derak calmly kneeled behind a bush. It would be suicide to enter, Derak wasn't afraid. He probably equaled about 5 of those goblins but still it was just plain dumb to storm in. Derak's mind began to ponder....what happened to those fleeing goblins? Perhap they ran here and summoned this large goblin as reinforcement. Derak iron ball fist squeezed tight with fury. Derak eyed his teammates cautiously, the reckless sword swinging happy group would doubtlessly dive right into trouble. He would attempt to restrain any that would try and fight the large group. There wasn't too much Derak could do at this point, they were in a tough perdicament which only time would show them the answer to resolve this problem. Perhaps battle would be ineviatable but Derak would do whatever nessasary to avoid it.
(OOC: This is a joint post for Damien and Mahou, helping simplify more advanced interaction between the two characters.)
Goblins… lots of them. A strange black one, too, wearing a big helm made from some kind of beast. They would probably kill us in single fighting…but… perhaps magic can aid us once again.
Damien stared at the numbers, his hand resting on the hilt of his rapier. They had dispatched the previous group with ease, but this was a whole settlement! This would be fighting on their turf, not that of the group. They did not know the ground, the ambush sites, anything of the sort. They were at an immense disadvantage in this whole ordeal.
Taking a quick glance at their small team, he realized that the kender had gone missing somewhere. Uttering a silent curse, Damien clenched his hands together. The little man carried a hoopak staff, with which he was sure that he could strike down the tough looking goblin. Turning his gaze about once more, he landed his eyes upon the satyr. She had shot down one of the goblins that had been moving to strike his blindside, and she did it with him being extremely close to the small creature.
Sliding over towards her with fluid grace, Damien leaned in close to her ear, making certain that she noticed him and did not act in panic, and whispered a plan he had quickly devised inside his clever mind.
“Satyr… Your bow, could you use it to bring down that black goblin in the center?” He whispered to her, motioning to the bigger goblin with a slight nod of his head. His hair had fallen about, but he did not care. They needed to get this plan working quickly, and he had his part of it set out. Though he possessed throwing daggers, he doubted that he could hurl the light blade far enough to hit with force. Magic was a much more powerful force in him.
“If I can provide a distraction, do you think you could take him down? I’ve seen your marksmanship, and I am confident in you.”
Mahou tilted her head slightly, sending strands of auburn hair across her face, as Damien leaned in close. A smile crossed her lips as his soft words reached her ear and she shook her head. It was then she noticed Teros and she raised a hand to tell him to wait.
“I think I have a better idea.” She said as she set Gemi down. “Wait here Gemi.” Mahou stood again her hands now free of the wolverine. Mahou’s hazel eyes turned back to Damien and she spoke quickly sure they could not stand here much longer with out getting caught. “Sometimes a bow is not the only weapon that is worth while to use. Provide you’re distraction if you must, but I think I and Inenhalla can handle such things.”
The smile upon Mahou’s face widened as she turned her eyes to the goblins and she mentally prepared her spell. Glancing between the goblins and Damien she waited for him to signal that he was ready for her to move forward for her plans.
Nodding to Mahou, Damien slowly crept forwards, trying to gain a better view of the black skinned goblin standing in the center of the large group. Though he was fairly close to the front of their party right now, he ducked low and pulled his cloak around his body. Beneath his shroud, he began to mutter arcane words and flutter his fingers in intricate patterns, helping to weave the threads of the spell, which he was pulling from the darkness of his heart.
From behind the huge group of goblins, a crashing sound came from in the trees, the sounds that a quartet of large humans pressing through the bush might make. Sticks snapped, words were spoken, and branches rustled in the trees. Convincing noises, though Damien knew that they were not real, only made of illusion.
Smiling slightly, the crafty bard began to slink back towards Mahou, nodding to her from his position low to the ground. Slowly, he rose up to stand beside the satyr, and, in a barely audible whisper, told her that his part was done.
“Do your work, satyr.” He hissed.
(OOC: Damien has cast Ghost Sound, replicating the sounds of four noisy humans talking amongst themselves, and pressing through the bushes.)
Mahou watched as the crafty bard did his work. As the sounds began to ramble though the bush she raised a brow, what a nice trick, though she hardly thought it was effective enough to help them. Mahou shoot her raised brow to Damien as the dark bard moved back towards her.
Mahou watched waiting for the goblins to react to the sounds. (she’ll wait tell them move unless they take notice of the group first) Kneeling down Mahou placed on hand on the ground bowing her head she whispered the chant that would activate her spell. A soft breeze ruffled her hair as each word passed her lips, sending a few near leaves scattering away from her fingertips. Mahou’s head lifted focusing on the center point of her spell. (I don’t know the exact distance between the group, and us, so Mahou will set it on the farthest end of the group of biddies from herself.)
As Mahou’s hand lifted from the ground in a delicate dancing patter, something stirred on the other side of the clearing. With out warning the plant life just under the goblin’s feet began to twitch and move as it if had a life of it’s own. The bushes, weeds and grass across the clearing began to crawl up the legs of those within the range of the spell holding them fast to the ground.
As Mahou stood fully she tossed her head back in triumph as her work. Mahou pulled her bow of her shoulders her hazel eyes looking towards Damien with a teasing look as if she’d done better then him.
“Shall we finish this?” she whispered as she reached to load her bow Signaling to the others of the group if they where going to act now would be the time.
Damien watched in sheer amazement as the vines, grass, and roots began to rise from the ground, wrapping their targets and binding them fast in place. He could feel a slight breeze sail through his long black hair, but he barely noticed it. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one capable of using magic. Mahou was able to as well, though this spell was of a type Damien could not hope to summon from within his heart.
“Astounding…” He spoke slowly, nodding slightly to Mahou’s whisper to himself and the others. She was moving to nock an arrow to her bowstring, and he himself set into action. Though he could have chosen to draw steel and activate his icy enchantment that would frost over his slender rapier, he picked a different weapon in his arsenal. Once more, he delved within himself, tapping his inner magics, and selected a potent spell, the patterns of which he had learned long ago.
Whispering the words required to strengthen the spell, he began to draw deep breaths, pulling his arms in close and slowly extending them outwards, helping to control his breathing patterns. As the words slipped from his mouth, the others set into action, though he kept his eyes locked upon the black skinned goblin in the midst of the community.
Upon speaking the final word, he brought his hands in from the sides, clapping them loudly, tilted back his head, and leaned forwards as though screaming. Unlike any normal form of bellow, however, the sound came not from his mouth, but from above the black skinned leader, crashing down to erupt a cacophonous roar in their midst.
(OOC: Damien will use Sound Burst, centered on the leader, after the other party members set into action. He will then begin to recite a poem about his allies in battle, invoking the Inspire Competence bard song effect.)
If it was goblins they wanted, goblins they most certainly got! As they followed the thin, winding path, they could certainly hear the gravelly cheers and chants that emanated before them, echoing off the trunks of trees, and pounding in from every angle. Finally, they came to a clearing, and beheld the end of their journey on this path. A host of cheering goblins and bristling spears crowded around a great, black, apparent leader, helmed with death, and armed with evil.
There was no time to talk this over, the nearest goblins were not 15 feet away! Knowing this, each member acted on instinct. Screeching to a halt, the kenders eyes widened at the host before him. Without second thought or hesitation, he had plunged into the brush that rose on the left side of the path,(and clearing.)
As he watched Elandor disappear into the thick, green bushes, Teros’ dark eyes gleamed with malicious glee, at the images of death and carnage that danced within his mind. Drawing his blade, he glanced back at the others in a silent attempt at a rally. Mahuo motioned him to stay, however, and so he halted. Vilyamar, who had been about to follow the desert fighters lead hesitated as well. Derak, who had started for Teros in an attempt to stop him, breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this group did have some common sense?
The three fighters looked on anxiously as Damien, his black hair shrouding his pale face, whispered urgently with the Satyr. What were they doing? Finally, the bard in black nodded and started to creep by the confused trio of onlookers. Crouching at the edge of the forests shadows, wrapped tightly in the black of his cloak, and the darkness of his heart, he began muttering the spidery language of magic. His fragile fingers danced as they wove his minds shadows into threads of reality.
Perhaps they had hesitated too long, however. Just as Damien was about finished with his spell, the fire rimmed eyes of the masked leader fell on him. Raising his great, beaded staff above his horned head, he gave a great cry, and pointed directly at the group, (excluding the hidden kender). The attention of Vilyamar, Derak, and Teros were immediately turned from the bard to the wave of spear bristling goblins about to wash over him. Leaping forward, forming a wall, it was they that the wave crashed upon, not Damien, who, having successfully cast his spell, staggered back toward Mahuo, just as the clash of spear and sword rang out behind him.
Suddenly, it seemed a whole troupe was about to flank the goblins. The farthest back could hear the hoots and hollers, the cracking and snapping of twigs just through the brush at their right. Elandor, hidden within the low hanging eaves of the brush, could also hear the forest sounds, not 20 feet to his left. Forgetting the leader with the interesting mask, he turned his attention in that direction.
The leader, still standing on his mound, turned his gaze from the group, to the sounds in the brush. Obeying his roaring commands, about 10 of the rear goblins turned from the battle on the path, and charged towards the sounds of the apparent flanking group.
The goblins fought with a ferocity the three fighters had not never expected. Backed by their evil leader, they slashed, stabbed, grabbed, and bit at them with no regard for their own well-being. The first several goblins to reach the three were hewed and beaten down, only to have their bleeding corpses leapt over by several more.
Eventually, Vilyamar as able to work his way away from the swinging blades of Teros and Derak, and to an outskirts, where his flailing nuchuk, and skillful, sweeping kicks soon created a circle of bodies around him. He finally seemed to get into a zone. No goblin blade could touch him. He was ducking tripping, smashing and kicking the hordes as they came to him. The monk fought in a fury.
Derak and Teros were instantly the center of the fray, and immediately discovered that they were a deadly team. Goblin after goblin fell, carven and hewed by their singing blades. A pile built before them, but the goblins kept coming. A spear jabbed into Deraks side, sending a shape pain up his torso. His blade cleaved through the skull of the goblin, forming a fountain of black. He kept fighting. The wild swipe of a rusty sword cut a small line of blood across Teros’ dark cheek. The close call broke his concentration and he paid with cleaver cut into his left shoulder. The wound burned, but it wouldn’t slow him down now. With two, great, arching swings, he dropped the goblins, their bowels spilling out before him. He fought on, and still they came.
Mahuo noticed the pack of distracted goblins as they headed for the brush away from the battle. Derak, Vilyamar, and Teros still held back the swarms, so, taking this opportunity, she cast her spell, calling upon the power of Inenhalla to aid them in this battle in the wilderness.
Elandor peered into the brush with curiosity as the pack of nearly a dozen goblins plunged in, not far from him. Who was coming from the forest? Surely they were alone! It sounded like men, but why were they here? Placing a stone in his hoopak, he prepared to make up his mind on who to peg, but something terribly exciting to the little kender happened. All about him, the brush, and snaking vines began to writhe and shake with life. Widening his eyes in surprise, and dropping the stone, he leapt to his feat, forgetting all thought of battle. How exciting! The forest was coming to life! To his left, the pack of goblins began screeching in their terrible voices. They must be just excited! A vine wrapped around his ankle. Elandor raised an eyebrow. Another snaked up his other leg, swirling around his body and gripping him firmly. The branches of the brush he hid under suddenly closed in on him, while two vines went for his wrists. Struggle as he may, he couldn’t get out! From the corner of his eye, he could see the pack of goblins were having the same difficulty.
The leader stood, his legs apart, and his hands held high above his head. From the depths of his sinister mask seeped a terrible chant. Damien, seeing things not going as well as was briefly planned, aimed to cut the root from the plant. Through bardic magic, a terrible roar tore through the air where the leader stood. The terrible sound caused the entire battle to tremble. Several goblins dropped to the floor, gripping their long, pointed ears in agony. The leader staggered back, and turned his terrible gaze on the bard. Pointing his bead strung staff in Damien’s direction, he began a chant again. The words could be heard by all, but by Damien, they seemed to pound from within his very mind. Terrible words, woven through evil. The bard put his hands on his head, shaking it frantically. It seemed his brain contorted and writhed. Shocking pain tore through his head. The forest spun, and the clashing sounds of battle seemed to fade into a dark distance.
A mist of darkness began spiraling up from the feet of the leader. It wove itself into a very fabric of shadow, and it loomed like a terrible cloud of evil over his horned head. With a thrust of his staff, the cloud snaked forward, over the battle, and settling down on the tormented bard. Suddenly, Damien, having dropped to his knees, gave a soul rending scream. The cloud plunged down his gaping mouth.
An arrow flew from behind the bard, suddenly, and sunk into the painted stomach of the leader. His chanting stopped. His staff and his cleaver dropped to the ground, and his hands went to the shaft. His burning eyes focused on the arrow for a moment, before falling on Mahuo with hate the struck like a blow. Suddenly, he collapsed face first.
At the fall of their leader, the goblins tried to flee back to the caves. Most were cut or struck down by Vilyamar, Derak, or Teros, but some made it back to their holes, where they disappeared into the stony face of the cliff.
The muffled voices of goblins shouted and shrieked from the brush to the left of the clearing. (the ones inflicted by nature.) Derak, Teros, and Vilyamar stood, drenched in black blood, and two of them flowing with their own, in the opening of the path. Piles of carnage lie about them. Bodies lay, carven lobbed lie nightmarish islands rising from the pools of black blood. None knew where Elandor was. Damien lay on his back. His face terribly pale, contorted in the terrible agony of his last moments of consciousness.
Derak took 12
Teros took 9
Elandor is a bit tied up...hehe.
10 Goblins remain tied up about 20 feet from Elandor
Damien is unconscious. (Damien, you are experiencing nothing. No dreams. Nothing.)
The battle rushed into full swing, the blows traded unequal and heavily favoured on the group's side. Heavy cuts from Derak and Teros swept away the goblins that rushed at them in a mighty fury of blood and guts, dark fluids splashing all over them. The three warriors held their ground indefinately, it was only goblins.
Vilyamar made his way slightly off from the other two, his blows being carried out much faster than theirs with their heavy swords. With graceful arcs of his nunchaku and powerful lashes of his feet, Vilyamar managed to work himself into a deadly dance, weaving a large pile of bodies about him as he ducked and dodged the incoming spears and swords. Fire flashed and lighting crackled as the nuchaku swung and whirled dizzily striking many goblins down.
He was quite absorbed with his fighting and so had not noticed the dark cloud of magic that had moved above him and had placed itself within Damien, though he did hear the scream and looked over to see darker than ususal shadows looming about him right before he went unconcious and sank to the ground. That did nothing but further enrage him and he beat down as many of the marauding goblins as he could. Soon he noticed that the waves of green-skinned and black-skinned brutes were starting to have a tendency to moving away from them, back to the caves. He bashed a few more before they reached their caves and he also caught sight of the fallen leader.
Looking over he saw about half a score of goblins writhing amongst the undergrowth as they had been within range of Mahou's wonderous nature spell casting. At least that was what the monk assumed, for he was not learned in the ways of the arcane. He also numbered another among the struggling, their kender member who had mysteriously disappeared before the start of battle. He, too, must have gotten distracted by Damien's spell and ended up getting too close to the Mahou's, effectively rendering him useless during the battle.
"Hail Mahou! Good job! Now, Do you know how we deal with these creatures? Can you at least ask the vines to let loose our little friend? He seems to be slightly...tied up at the moment." Vil called out to the edge of the battlefield, or wherever Mahou was.
He glanced over and saw Teros and Derak bleeding from a few cuts, Teros especially, having taken a cleaver in the shoulder, the wound would especially be dangerous if not bound and the flow of blood stemmed. Vilyamar gracefully and skillfully leaped over the many bodies of the goblins, coming to the leader, the Shaman. He shuffled the body, removing the helm and inspecting it for any sign or markings that would give any clue about anything. He also searched it for its items, though this may have best been left to the kender, he may not have actually realized the possible worth some items may have. And the possibility that this goblin may have clues on itself that could lead to the leaf.
Once he's finished with searching the body, he moved to the prone form of Damien, checking vitals and searching for open wounds. Just as his father had shown him long ago. Seeing that he seemed perfectly fine, he asked the others if they had seen what had happened to Damien. If the others had, and they can describe it as was in the update, Vilyamar will suggest that perhaps he has been possessed by some sort of evil goblin shamanic practices. Who knows, it may have poisoned his thoughts against us, or the quest, or who knows what. All Vilyamar knows is that with magic, doing what you think is best may not be so, and he does not immediately try to revive Damien. He does suggest somewhere and sometime that Teros and Derak tend to their own wounds before helping the others. And he silently keeps in the back of his mind the fact that the goblins COULD reemerge with reinforcements, which, without Damien's spells and being burdened by Damien, could prove disastrous.
As the first vines wrapped themselves around his ankles Elandor's expectations grew. The offering he made on that altar not too long ago seemed to have its result. The goddess of nature was aiding them! Those people that were comming through the bushes were probably sent by her too.
"Still," he thought, "I wish she had told the plants which people to pick... they must think I'm one of the bad-guys."
Then the strength of the vines tore him down and pressed hard in his flesh, holding him to the mossy ground.
"Hey!" Elandor screemed, "You're entangling the wrong guy here!"
One of the vines tore with disturbing force at his neck, blocking his trachea, and the kender wrenched his fingers under it in an effort to pry it loose. Holding off the snakelike plant he shouted: "I'M NOT A GOBLIN!!!"
Apperently his shouting didn't really affect the plants and they happily held Elandor to the floor. Not too far away lay one of the Goblins in a similar struggle against the power of nature. Elandor yelled at it: "Hey... you there... goblin... can you give me a hand here? huh? What? Hey, com'on. This is YOUR forest. No doubt you have SOMEthing to say over it?"
Seeing that the goblin didn't make any move to help him out there Elandor made another attempt to pry himself loose. This time he didn't try breaking the leaves and stems that held him. Instead he relaxed his mind and muscles and tried gliding his hands and legs from under the vines. With small twists and wriggles he sought ways to slide the vines off him.
(OOC: he makes an 'escape artist' attempt. If this succeeds he will go and help Vilyamar in searching the Goblin leader's body, and he will take the cool skull-helmet.)
Teros relaxed and turned to nod to Derak, the two had made a surprisingly good team against the horde of goblins, however that did not stop the occasional lucky blow tha he had recieved.
Knowing that he had to stop the bleeding, he looks around for a big stick, finding one in the bushes off to his right. He rubs the dirt off of it and inspects it for goblin blood, smiling when he finds none. He then pulls out an arrow, and takes his sword, speaking the command word. The sword heats up, and he lightly touches that steel tip of the arrow to the blade. After around 3 seconds, he takes it off, speaks the command word, and puts the sword away. He puts the wood in his mouth and bites down hard. He then carefully places the arrow in the wound, making sure to get it all around. He attempts to control his scream, if it could be called that, however the wood does that. After a few seconds he takes it out and gasps for air, bending down on his knees.
Knowing that he had too look for the halfling, he stumbles around in the bushes, hearing him squirming and talking. When he finds him trying to escape the vines. He pulls out his sword and waits a moment to see if he can get out on his own.
(If he gets out on his own then he goes to search the leader with the him, after asking if he had something to wrap his wound in. If he dosn't, then he carefully cuts the vines and frees him. He then asks for something to wrap his wounds. )