SDMB RPG: Shadows of Arcady

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan can't help but think to himself, "What have I gotten myself into?" as he soars through the air, feeling nothing but pain. Pain of not knowing what's coming next, of not knowing what will happen if he fails. Then he hits the ground, and is finally at peace. He dreams of family, living and dead, and the fact that the burden he was carrying for so long, may finally be out of his control, his hands untied.

[Autolycus]

Hob can't quickly break through the mass of sweaty dwarves.

God, they're even smellier than I remembered, he manages to think through all the blood-shed.

[Babale]

((Just so our good GM doesn't miss it, I have a post on the bottom of the last page))

[Mosier]

Khan will urge the Shelic to finish the goblins quickly as possible. As soon as it is clear the goblins are all fleeing, Karikhan will shout to all those around him, "Ride! Ride to the west! Show enemy and ally alike the spirit of the Shelic! Bloodjaw's fate awaits him!" Karikhan will then mount the closest camel or horse, and urge it to the west, casting command beast to make the animal gallop at full speed without regard for fear or exhaustion.

[AClockworkMelon]

Hob continues pushing his way through the crowd of dwarves, occasionally stopping as he is violently mashed between two or three soldiers here and there. He finally stumbles into a pocket a few yards behind the main line, Dur'dan's corpse in an untidy pile at its center. A length of chainmail has been ripped free from his breastplate and his left arm is twisted at an impossible angle. The large battleaxe that has served him faithfully until now is nowhere to be seen, but his backup weapon, little more than a hatchet, is clutched firmly in his right hand. His shield and helm are gone and his beard has come uncoiled from his belt, settled in a puddle of gore beside Dur'dan where it is soaking up blood.

"Why don't we smoke them out?!"
"Bahahaha!"

"Can't we just shoo 'em away?"
"Not an option, hin."

"And hin, don't touch a thing, including that crown, or I'll be taking your hands as trophies."

"Now is not the time for goodbyes hin! Try and get that door open!"
"Preparing to run away, yes sir!"

"None of us are dead yet!"
"Indeed. We all did marvelous."

"For now, any way we can gather more of that mithril?"
"I'm sure there is more ahead. I can feel it in me beard."

"That'll do hin, that'll do..."

The halfling takes a tentative step closer to the fallen dwarf, at a loss for words.

And Dur'dan's chest rises with a rasping breath. "... maybe..." He lives! It's hard to hear what he's saying, his voice is a quiet and weary moan. Hob rushes to the longbeard, taking a knee at his side. "... work to do..." Dur'dan's weazing is difficult to make out. Hob casts panicked glances all around him for someone who can help. All the dwarves are engaging the enemy to the west. He's on his own.

There is a ROAR from beyond the dwarven line, a monster's earth-shaking bellow. "I'M GONNA SHOUT YER EARS BLOODY!" Two dwarves are knocked back from the line, one falling to his side with his hands over his face and the other to his knees, left arm hacked clean away. "AND I'M GONNA STOMP YER LANDS FLAT!" Another dwarf is knocked aside, sent spinning with his breastplate gaping and spewing his lifesblood. Bloodjaw's massive and wickedly-tusked boar rends through a longbeard that fails to move aside in time as its rider swings both arms, each hand gripped tight around the leather-wrapped handles of a pair of massive iron cleavers, weapons most men would struggle to merely lift with both hands, let alone wield with one. Neither the giant orc nor his mount have noticed Hob yet, but they are no more than twenty yards away.

Hob is in extreme danger: This is obviously not a particularly safe place for him to be. He can attempt to wake Dur'dan, but every second is critical now that the line is crumbling with Bloodjaw's arrival. Alternatively he can try dragging Dur'dan, whose considerable girth and heavy armor will force the tiny halfling to make a Strength roll. Simply running is also an option. Whatever Hob decides, he must do it fast.

[Autolycus]

Hob looks around him, and doesn't like what he sees. In front of him, Dur'dan lies in a heap of wrong angles and gore. A bit further on, the giant, whose name is apparently Bloodjaw, and his boar mount are thrashing the dwarven regiment around like rag dolls. Well, we've made it to the giant, go Team Hob! ...Now what?, he thinks. He glances at the boar mount. It's legs are taller than Hin is high. Even if I had a death wish, which I don't particularly at the moment, I doubt I could even climb onto that overgrown ham.

Hob goes over to Dur'dan's corpse body and stares down for a brief moment. "OK Urist McBloody, time to get out of here," Hob says and slaps him hard in the face. If that doesn't work, he'll shake him a bit and tug on his beard. Whether he wakes up or not, at that point he will attempt to start dragging him away.

[AClockworkMelon]

Hob's slapping and shaking fail to wake the dwarf, but when he gives the beard a tug Dur'dan rouses instantly. "Wha-? Who-?"

"OK Urist McBloody," Hob grunts as he loops his hands under Dur'dan's arms, "time to get out of here." With a strained groan he manages to pull the heavy dwarf through the slippery muck caked over the desert ground.

Dur'dan has regained consciousness with Hob's help. He still has five health boxes filled with lethal damage and four with bashing (and will have to make a new check to remain conscious whenever he takes more damage of any kind). Even as tough as he is he'll be at -1 to all actions until he's healed. He's used two Willpower so far (attacks against the giant).

Up ahead the mounted orc is focused on another dwarf: The soldier who'd struck Dur'dan. Bloodjaw goads his boar forward and it drives the dwarf to ground, rending his shield apart with a tusk. Bloodjaw yanks on the animal's chain and circles it around to face the dwarven soldier as he scrambles to his feet. "AND I'M GONNA DRINK YER RIVERS DRY!" He hacks through the dwarf's skull at an angle with one of his huge weapons, cleaving off a quarter of his body. Here the dwarven line is non-existent now, the nearest soldiers yards to the north or south of the greenskin warlord. Bloodjaw is screaming to the sky, both cleavers lifted over his head and showering him with gore.

To the northeast the Yellow Suns and John and his men are fighting to get closer to their dwarven allies. A pair of crude goblin arrows fly at the Hadburg group, one shattering against John's chest and the other zipping through the humans and burying itself into a goblin's leg. John is shouting now, putting everything he has into it, " "Get back! Get back!" An orc catches his him on the back of his head with a club, the human stumbling to a knee. His muscles burning and the back of his head searing, he gets to his feet and spins, hacking through the offending greenskin's throat. He can feel blood trickling down the back of his neck where it mingles with his mail. "We're going to get back--while still fighting, damn it! So that we have our backs to the dwarves instead of to more goblins!" Looking over his shoulder he sees only two of his men remaining. The Yellow Suns have lost a man as well.

John has taken four more points of bashing damage. He has two health boxes filled with lethal damage and five with bashing damage. He's passed his check to stay conscious (he will have to make a new check whenever he takes more damage of any kind) and remains on his feet for now. He's now at -3 to all actions until he's healed. He's used two Willpower so far (a Warfare roll and an attack).

Arrow is still a good ways back from the fighting, trying to pace himself as he burns through ammunition. Soon he'll have only Khan's mud-and-dirt arrows left. He and Kittix, clear of goblins now, move west, keeping pace with the rest of the mercenaries. "I'm hurt, Arrow! I'm dying!" The lizardfolk has a minor injury on his left leg, but keeps up with the half-elf despite his complaints.

Eventually the Hadburgs and Yellow Suns are back-to-back with the dwarves and fighting for their lives there. It is a slightly more defensible position but they are exhausted and cannot keep this up much longer.

Meanwhile to the east, the People of the Voice are continuing to slaughter the greenskins there. Before long the goblins are in full retreat, those along the western edge with nowhere to run butchered as they jam up against the crowd. The air is full of the panicked screams of goblins and the ecstatic whooping of Shelic warriors. "Ride! Ride to the west! Show enemy and ally alike the spirit of the Shelic! Bloodjaw's fate awaits him!" Khan's shouting is only barely audible over the roar of their victory. Other members of the council, now alongside the shaman, recognize the urgency and join him in his calls. Many nearby warriors give up the chase and turn to begin racing for their mounts. The war council continues calling to the rest, hoping to recapture their attention from the pursuit of fleeing greenskins.

Here is an updated battle map.

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan has a bewildered look on his face. Like waking up from a dream and at first forgetting where you are. He looks at the chaos befalling on his troops, bodies of greenskins, dwarves, and humans alike. The carnage of this magnitude he has never seen before, the living are in a panic, stumbling over themselves and walking over the dead, he himself had been trampled while being out cold. He turns to Hob,

"Get me on a mount! My Dwarves need me!"

He will get to his feet and find a steed, whether it be a horse, a donkey, or a camel. He will stay in the back and shout words of encouragement to his troops, he will do so as long as he is safe, for as long as he is safe, if anything tries to engage him, especially Bloodjaw, he will retreat as fast as his mount will carry him.

[Rubberneck]

If there is a Dwarf within shouting range of Dur'dan, he will be ordered to help Dur'dan to safety, and will be ordered to protect him from anything that gets too close, even while Dur'dan is mounted and encouraging his troops.

[Autolycus]

"Has your beard taken over your brain? The only way you're getting on a horse is if it's to take you to a hospital!"

If Dur'dan responds that his dwarves need him, Hob will respond: "Your dwarves need you alive!" But he will not physically attempt to stop him. He will stay by him until the battle takes its next gruesome turn.

[Mosier]

As Khan rides toward the orc/dwarf line, he'll try to spot Bloodjaw among the horde. If he sees the Orc leader, Khan will attempt to cast control beast on the boar, instructing it to attack its rider.

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan looks at the hin,

"I am...." he takes a labored breath "... AN IRONBEARD!" Takes another labored breath, and then says very quietly, "I will not leave me Dwarves."

And he will find a mount.

[Autolycus]

"He's an iron-dead at this rate," Hob says in a voice that only he can hear, and then walks after Dur'dan in whichever way he went to find a mount.

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan will head off back towards the Shelic camp in hopes of finding a warcamel or something of the sort.

[Rubberneck]

haha warcamel....

[AClockworkMelon]

There are no mounts nearby. The entire western force went into battle on foot, the nearest animals remaining back at the dwarven camp along the southwestern edge of the Shelic camp. Dur'dan and Hob turn eastward to head towards the camp and see their exit cut off by the greenskin horde as it completes its surrounding of the dwarven force. To the south the bulk of the dwarven force is beginning to get swamped by greenskins, to the north the Hadburgs and Yellow Suns are fighting for their lives with the dwarves there, to the west Bloodjaw and his horde are mopping up and to the east a loose mob of orcs and goblins are pouring in.

Karikhan has found a camel and is driving it beyond exhaustion as he races westward. A portion of the Shelic force is behind him, the rest remounting or giving chase to the goblins. It can't be helped. Auren-hal zips across the desert sky towards the battle to the west.

Here is an updated battle map.

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan can't help but feel overwhelmed. His Dwarves on the verge of death, every last one that he could call on to end his family's plight. Everything is riding on this battle, and he is too wounded to help. And now there is no way out. He is surrounded. He turns to Hob,

"Looks like we are surrounded my little friend.. any ideas? And Even if I weren't wounded, all i have is me hatchet."

If there is a way out, a way to run, Dur'dan will take it, if not he will turn back, and die along side his men.

[Rubberneck]

He will not make haste to rejoin his men in battle, he will try and stall for as much time as possible in hopes the Shelic will arrive in time.

[Autolycus]

Hob looks around him. The battle rages around him worse than a Hin-wine hangover. Still, through some fortuitous twist of fate, neither Hob nor Dur'dan seem to be in immediate danger.

I've never seen such a god-forsaken battlefield. But, I've certainly been in tighter spots before. At least there may still be a little time left.... Hob thinks, and reminisces briefly of his past adventures.

Snapping out of his brief daydream, he pulls out his Hin-weed and pipe from his pocket. Turning to Dur'dan he replies, "Not even the dwarves of legend could mine a tunnel fast enough out of this mess. Care for a smoke before the tide comes in?"

[Babale]

John is not inclined to abandon the fight. "Come on, men; just a little longer. One way or another.... the bards shall sing of us for generations to come!"

[lunaticlucas]

"Focus on making a way to retreat if we have to so we're not boxed in!" Arrow screams to his fellow Yellow Suns and anyone who is listening.

[Rubberneck]

"Hin I can barely breath... But I will not decline..."

Dur'dan takes a toke and enjoys it thoroughly.

[Autolycus]

Hin and Dur'dan enjoy a few puffs of Hin-weed. Amidst the carnage and smoke, time dilates into a red spiral of infinity, like a a particularly gorey etch-a-sketch with the dials twisted just right.

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan looks over to Hob,

"This may possibly be, the best pipe weed to ever grace this Dwarf, fitting, as it may also be the last..."

Dur'dan, for once in what feels like ages, lets out a hearty laugh, but soon grimaces as his most likely broken ribs throb.

"I hope those tribal men get here soon..."

[AClockworkMelon]

You all have my deepest apologies for the delay! I should be updating at some point later tonight. This thread has not been forgotten.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy something I've been working on:

Arcady

[AClockworkMelon]

Dur'dan and Hob enjoy their pipeweed as what feels like an eternity passes. They regard one another in silence before the sound of the battle rushes to their ears and they are ripped back to reality. Dur'dan pulls Hob out of the path of a goblin spear with one hand as he plants his handaxe into the wretch's skull with the other. Hob hacks at a second incoming greenskin but his attack is turned aside and the halfling nearly loses a hand from a dagger's swipe.

Dur'dan is backing towards his own line now, greenskins pouring in slowly from all sides, many of the runts afraid to charge the hacking and cleaving longbeard. There is a roar from behind and Dur'dan turns to see Bloodjaw, bereft of other targets, frantically casting his gaze around him in a search for fresh victims. Dur'dan nearly falls over his own legs as he turns to make away from the huge warlord, but an orc longsword meets him as he goes, slamming lengthwise against his belly and ringing against chain and leather. The wind is knocked out of the dwarf, but Dur'dan keeps on his feet. Hob and Dur'dan are out of sight of one another now, goblins circling around each of them.

Dur'dan has taken one bashing damage, putting him at six lethal and three bashing. He's passed his check to remain conscious.

The Yellow Suns and the Hadburgs have, by some miracle, formed a solid island alongside those dwarves that remain alive nearby. The greenskins arrayed against them, particularly the goblins, are hesitant to charge and many of the smaller grubs are sent scattering and fleeing, if only for a short distance, with every attack directed against them. Arrow is with them now, Kittix keeping between him and attackers wherever he can. They just need to hold out...

Khan and the Shelic are closing in on the greenskins now, their mounts carrying them rapidly across the desert field. Bloodjaw can be seen in the distance, towering over his men. The shaman, still some distance away, is shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice an unintelligible mess of roars and grunts.

Bloodjaw turns his boar towards one of the final remaining pockets of dwarves and urges it on, both cleavers raised high over his head. The animal snorts and drives forward, but when Khan's voice reaches its ears its response is immediate. The creature locks up its legs and grinds to a halt, its rider tumbling overhead and to the ground yards ahead where it rolls to an eventual stop. Those greenskins closest to the warlord fall still, stunned and staring. Bloodjaw's body is unmoving for several long and painful moments, dust from the fall settling about it. At last a great arm stirs, weapon still locked tight in its hand. The boar squeals and charges at its former rider, tusks ready. Bloodjaw is slow to get to his feet, stumbling and dazed. He locks eyes on the approaching animal, face twisted with rage and confusion.

Battle Map

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan goes searching for Hob, as Hob did for him, He will slay any greenskin in between him and Hob's last known location, screaming "HIN!" as he slashes through the sea of green monsters.

"YOU BASTARDS CAN'T HAVE HIM!"

Dur'dan will use willpower for attacks and for rolls for him to remain conscious. (If I can even do that.)

[Mosier]

Karikhan knows an opportunity when he spots one. There may not be another chance to catch Bloodjaw distracted. He gallops toward the orc warlord, as Karikhan speaks to his horse with the Voice.

"We are Fate, friend. We are guided by the Voice, an instrument of wrath. We are not the warrior; we are the sword, wielded by divinity! Strike down the unworthy! Charge!"

Karikhan will use Willpower to leap upon Bloodjaw, spear-first. As he leaps from his horse, he will shout to it, "Trample this creature! Send his demon spirit back to hell!"

[Babale]

John shouts to anyone remaining who will listen, "The battle is almost won! In a few moments, the great horde of Shelic savages, bless their souls, will ride through, slaying the last of this horde! And we will all be heroes! And rich, we shall all be rich! And noble! And respected! And appreciated! And..." He continues on and on, naming another fine quality he will soon posses with each stab or swing of his weapon.

[AClockworkMelon]

The Shelic dismount as one twenty or thirty yards from the edge of the battle to clear the rest of the distance on foot, but Karikhan keeps riding. He zips past the Shelic and into the sea of greenskins, his mount knocking aside goblins as it carries Khan forward in a frenzy incited by the still-chanting shaman.

Dur'dan is at the center of the battle, soaked in blood and covered in a patchwork of injuries, left arm nestled painfully against his stomach. "HIN!" He hacks a goblin aside with his handaxe, others scattering clear of the path of the screaming dwarf. "YOU BASTARDS CAN'T HAVE HIM!" He spots Hob a few yards to the north, the circle of greenskins growing tighter around the halfling.

A camel carrying Karikhan crashes through several of the greenskins separating Dur'dan and Hob, its rider not stopping for either of them on his course to Bloodjaw. To the south there is a new roar as the human warriors clash with the southernmost greenskins several tens of yards away from their position.

As Khan nears Bloodjaw he can see the huge boar charging. The warlord shouts in a fury, running at his former mount at full speed, both cleavers held high above his head. The two impact with a crunch and both are sent sprawling. The boar has taken a hideous injury to its side but it is still alive, struggling to get upright. Bloodjaw is pushing himself to his feet and is uninjured, one of the heavy iron plates laced over his chest marked by the animal's tusks. His blades are scattered beside him and his helmet is on the ground at his feet, mangled beyond use. He is wrenching one of his weapons from the dirt when the spear-wielding human dives upon him.

Bloodjaw falls back into a seated position, Karikhan lying beside him, hands tight on the spear buried deep in the orc's belly. The greenskin is outraged, if not otherwise visibly affected. He rolls onto the shaman, both hands finding their way to the human's throat. His fingers each exceed ten inches in length, thick as rope. He is doing with two hands what he could just as easily do with one, and Khan gasps a final few breaths as his windpipe is closed. The orc's face is a foot above his own, twice again as large as a human's. He is the perfect example of a greenskin, his face set very low on his head, a pair of huge tusks protruding from a mouth set with teeth, all thick, sharp and yellow. Khan is crushed beneath the impossible weight of the orc and his heavy armor and finds his vision beginning to fade as his lungs near bursting.

Karikhan has taken nine points of bashing damage. He is a human possessed of nearly superhuman stamina and none of this has spilled over to lethal yet. He will take a -2 penalty to all rolls until he has healed, however.

Khan's camel circles around until it and the boar are side-by-side, each about to charge at Bloodjaw.

To the north John, Arrow and the others can hear the arrival of the Shelic but they cannot yet see them. The battle is starting to thin out as the more cowardly of the goblins begin scattering. The fight is not yet over: The braver of the goblins remain and retreat is unknown to an orc. "We shall all be rich!" John Fredrickson swipes his sword in the direction of a goblin. "And noble!" The goblin turns and runs. "And respected!" The surviving dwarves to their rear are shoulder-to-shoulder now, fighting as dwarves do best, as an armored, shielded and many-weaponed tank.

Battle Map

[Mosier]

Even as physically powerful as he is, Karikhan knows he can not hope to overpower the orc with pure muscle. If there is a rock or a dropped goblin weapon anywhere close enough to reach, Karikhan will use Willpower to bash or stab the side of the orc's head with it. Otherwise, he will use Willpower in an attempt to gouge out the orcs eyes with his thumbs.

[Rubberneck]

Now that the raging Shelic have entered the battle the burden on Dur'dan has lifted, but is not gone. The path is clearer now to get to his little friend being surounded by monsters. The hin doesn't stand a chance alone but even Dur'dan is on his last leg. He surges forward to drive away the Greenskins from his friend.

"Must... Save.... Hin.... BASTARDS CAN'T HAVE 'EM!" Dur'dan bellows again, charging the group surrounding Hob.

Again Dur'dan will use willpower.

[Autolycus]

His smoke break already a distant memory, Hob finds himself surrounded by greenskins. Encircled, there seems to be no way out. He draws out a loud gulp from his adam apple, as tendrils of hopelessness begin to grip his small frame.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Karikhan rush through on his mighty camel. Just gotta hold on, he thinks.

"Hey now, fellows, don't suppose we could talk this over. I wouldn't be surprised if this is just one big misunderstanding," he says nervously. The only reply he receives is a jagged sword slashed near his mid-section. "Woah, you almost hit my wallet!" Hin blurts out, for he would rather die than lose his precious monies.

Which is what makes his last-ditch idea a very agonizing decision. He deliberately reaches into his wallet and pulls out some money, preferably gold coins if he is carrying any. "Perhaps this can convince you not to kill me," Hob says. If the goblins seem interested in the money, he will throw it at their feet and run off in the resulting confusion (in the direction of Dur'dan if possible).

[Rubberneck]

nudge nudge

[AClockworkMelon]

Bloodjaw is roaring down at the struggling human trapped beneath him and the suffering of his ears rivals that of his throat and lungs. Khan is a giant among his own people but compared to the Voice's greatest enemy he seems like little more than a child. He casts his clouded sight to his side, his arm disappearing into the horizon of his fading vision. His fingers thrash about in the sand, until finally feeling something... something cold and smooth. He tries dragging it closer but it falls from his grip when the warlord lifts his upper body from the ground before pounding it back, fingers digging into the flesh of his throat.

As Khan's brain is deprived of oxygen it takes him to strange places. He remembers his first spirit walk, a trek alone into the desert. He was a young boy then, but already the elders were aware of his magical talent. He was sent into the wilds to commune with the Voice, a journey that lasted him nearly two weeks. His memory of that time expands out, filling a few moments with what feels like an eternity of pain and self-discovery.

As with waking from a sleep, Khan can't be sure of how much time has passed. But Bloodjaw is still atop him and his vision is gone. And he can feel the steel beneath his hand. With the last of his consciousness he runs his hand along the ground, feeling for a handle. When he finds the supple leather grip he digs it free from the dirt and wrenches the weapon skyward. The battleaxe buries itself into Bloodjaw's side, nearly toppling the massive warrior over. Khan is freed from the monster's grip while the warlord howls in fury, arms launched over his head in a show of overwhelming rage. The battleaxe looks like little more than a toy handaxe embedded in Bloodjaw's torso, but Khan sees it clearly with his returning vision, and he instantly recognizes it: Dur'dan's battleaxe. Dur'dan is... dead?

Khan doesn't have long to contemplate this- a moment later the impossibly-sized boar has collided with its former rider, both spilling into the sand. Karikhan covers his face with his arms and rolls free from the thrashing fingers and tusks and hooves just as his camel joins the fray, vainly adding what awkward stomps it can to the tumbling pair. On his hands and knees now and looking away from Bloodjaw for the first time Khan finds that he and the brawling creatures a few feet away are all surrounded by a tight ring of onlooking greenskins, most of them agape with wonder.

[Autolycus]

Hey, don't forget to tell us about the real hero of this story!

[AClockworkMelon]

Hob is holding out a handful of coins, most of them battered copper and silver bits, with only a couple of heavier gold pieces mixed in. "Perhaps this can convince you not to kill me." The goblins immediately pour in in response, shrieking and chirping, swords and spears and sticks and stones all waving. Hob swipes at a goblin with his short sword but the attack is deflected and his weapon sent tumbling to the ground. A spear into the back of his right leg pulls the halfling to his knees, bringing his face right into the line of a swinging short sword. A ribbon of blood slashes across the air as the hin falls back, his legs bent at the knees beneath him.

Little greenskins are crowding all about him, some going for his coins, others for his weapon, others for the kill, when a wheezing, gore-soaked dwarf spills through them, insane with rage. "BASTARDS CAN'T HAVE 'EM!" The goblins all evade the dwarf's maddened swipes and are sent scattering like a flock of vultures, forming a wider ring around Dur'dan and the fallen halfling. "Hin!" It's Dur'dan's turn to pull Hob over, finding a wicked cut that winds from one of his ears, under his chin, and clear across to the other side of his face. Dur'dan cannot tell if the halfling is alive or dead. He stands over his fallen friend, growling at the goblins as they slowly approach.

Hob has taken five points of lethal damage and three points of bashing damage. This puts him at having one health box filled with aggravated damage and five filled with lethal damage. He's failed the check to stay conscious, but even if roused, with every health box filled with lethal damage or higher the checks to remain awake occur every round, regardless of further damage taken. Furthermore, he will have to make a check every minute to avoid upgrading a further point of lethal damage to aggravated until he has been stabilized with successful first aid. If all his health boxes become filled with aggravated damage he dies.

[Autolycus]

[AClockworkMelon]

There are frighteningly few Hadburgs and Yellow Suns fighting alongside the dwarves on the northern side of the battle now. John Fredrickson is shoulder-to-shoulder with Yesh, a short and particularly hairy dark-skinned peasant dressed in burlap and armed with a short sword, likely a family heirloom. Arrow, Kittix, Tusk and Trimere, an overweight and ginger-haired man of 40 covered in boiled leather bands armed with a trident, are all that survive of their company. The fighting has thinned but there is still danger.

"We better get paid lots for this, Arrow." Kittix is panting, for once too exhausted to quake in fear.

[lunaticlucas]

"Gold is the furthest thing from my mind at the moment Kitz. I just want to kill the bastards that slayed Goro!" Arrow shouts to Kittix

"For Goro!" Arrow screamed as he releases arrow after arrow into the flesh of the enemy.

[AClockworkMelon]

"For Goro!" Kittix joins. A few moments later, "I spend his share well. It what he would have wanted."

[Mosier]

So many gone.

Karikhan turns his back on the encircling goblins, and stalks toward the literal ton of flesh, bone, and gore tumbling in the dirt. If his spear is handy, Khan will pick it up. If not, he'll draw a javelin, but not throw it.

So much sacrificed.

Khan speaks with the Voice, calling to Auren-hal, the Proud Huntress. "End this monster." His voice croaks with effort, little more than a whisper. He can't be sure the Proud Huntress even heard him. Karikhan's own life seems insignificant next to the destruction and misery around him. What a monstrous tragedy if it were all to have been wasted.

I'll make sure it was not in vain.

Bloodjaw is the horde. Without him, the greenskins are nothing worse than a rat infestation; swarming and vile, but not a threat. As he marches to his likely death, Karikhan has no regrets. Silent now, he charges into the fray, using any remaining willpower to stab the orc warlord to death.

[AClockworkMelon]

Khan stumbles along the ground towards where he thinks his spear might be. There's a high-pitched YELP as Bloodjaw butchers the boar with one of the huge cleavers now returned to his hand. Khan finds the spear in the dirt near the brawl, a line of blood in the sand connecting it and the orc's positions. The warlord is facing down the camel now, which rushes in to fulfill the shaman's order and is decapitated cleanly a moment later.

Karikhan stands before Bloodjaw, both of them slick with blood, sweat and the grimy sand of the Burning Sea.

"End... this... monster." Khan's voice is pained, words replaced with a screeched imitation of a hawk's call.

"You think you can kill me?" Bloodjaw's words are now spoken and not roared, but the volume of his voice remains immense. "I'm a demigod! I've got the blood of Pragor!" He steps forward and Khan is forced to step back. The orc is risen to his full height now and Khan finds that he might as well be fighting a literal giant. "I'M GONNA SHOUT YER EARS BLOODY!" He takes another step forward. "AND I'M GONNA STOMP YER LANDS FLAT!" Karikhan lunges, thrusting his spear up at Bloodjaw's head. His weapon impacts along a plate on the warlord's chest and the huge greenskin lifts an arm to retaliate. There is a screeeeeech as Auren-hal appears at the orc's side, talons raking across his face. He roars and redirects his attention to the bird, snatching it from the air with his bare hand and effortlessly crushing the life out of it.

There is a pause, pregnant with tension, as Karikhan looks between Bloodjaw's face and his fist, closed tight around the bird he knows to rest dead within. Little spheres of transparent light are raining down from the orc's hand like snowflakes. Bloodjaw opens his fist and shakes his hand in confusion, sending a flood of brilliant white sparks waterfalling to the ground below, all that remains of the spirit animal.

The shaman surges forward, driving the spear into the greenskin's belly once again, inches from the previous wound, shouting as loud as his lungs can bear in the language of his people. Bloodjaw roars and swipes at the air with his cleaver. Khan feels himself knocked back by a blow, his weapon ripped free in his hands. He looks down at himself as a line of red forms along the pelts at his chest as if being painted by a massive brush at that very moment. He nearly falls to a knee beneath the pain of his injury but keeps on his feet. Bloodjaw is rising to his full height once again feet away from him, his face twisted into a look of purest fury, as if outraged at the human's audacity.

Karikhan has taken three points of bashing damage. He now has two health boxes filled with lethal damage and eight health boxes filled with bashing damage. He has succeeded the check to remain conscious but will have to make another check whenever he takes more damage of any kind. He will take a -3 penalty to all dice rolls until he's healed. He's spent four points of Willpower so far (his initial attack, another attack when pinned, two more attacks).

[Rubberneck]

Dur'dan feels himself slipping into a rage,

"YOU HEATHENS GET AWAY NOW!" and he brandishes his hatchet at them,

"RUN NOW OR I WILL KILL YOU ALL!" He screams at the top of his lungs trying to intimidate and scare the Goblins away. He will stand directly over Hob to protect him. He will attack anything that gets too close and will use Willpower if he has any remaining ONLY on first aid for Hob once the Goblins have ran away.

[Mosier]

Karikhan has already resigned himself to his fate. His only goal is to steal the orc's attention long enough for the Shelic to arrive and finish the evil creature. He looks down at his empty hands, and realizes the utter futility of striking the humongous orc without a weapon. His spear is firmly embedded in the orc's belly; a wound which could have brought any man to his knees in agony, but has only enraged this monster.

Using the last of his willpower, Karikhan will hurl a javelin at the orc. If it's still not enough to stop him, Khan will try to retrieve his spear from the orc's belly.

[AClockworkMelon]

Sorry for the confusion, but by "ripped free in his hands" (as opposed to ripped free from his hands) I meant to say that the spear was pulled from the orc as it backed away. Khan still has his spear in hand!

[Babale]

John finally runs out of great rewards that he will get after the battle. "And... And lasses, did I mention lasses?" he says as he slashes at another goblin. He's too tired to try and keep moral up now; the battle is nothing more than an endless series of traded blows.

[Mosier]

Originally Posted by AClockworkMelon

Sorry for the confusion, but by "ripped free in his hands" (as opposed to ripped free from his hands) I meant to say that the spear was pulled from the orc as it backed away. Khan still has his spear in hand!

Alright, amend my action to stabbing the stupid thug instead of throwing a javelin at him. Thanks!

[Autolycus]

Hob's reaction to recent events: X＿X

[AClockworkMelon]

Karikhan is exhausted. Bloodjaw is a hulking silhouette before him, the sun shining out from around his heaving shoulders. Khan looks down at his hands, both worn raw by the wooden spear resting across his palms. His lungs burn and the hot stinging air does nothing to soothe them.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Bloodjaw drags his cleaver from the ground and swings it in a semicircle around his body sending a wave of warm sand through the air. Khan searches for any ounce of energy left and finds himself wanting. He sees the shadow of a bird flit by and doesn't know if it is real or imagined. He'll be joining Auren-hal soon.

Bloodjaw's weapon is moving towards him at a snail's pace, grains of sand still rolling back across the face of its blade and tumbling behind it in its wake. Khan feels something inside of him, something he hasn't felt since that first walk into the desert. The Voice?

Karikhan's reaction is immediate: He tosses himself to the ground, somersaulting beneath Bloodjaw's attack before rolling to his feet behind the monster. He drives his spear up into the orc's side with a scream, pushing and pushing, every cell of his body screaming with him, burning all that remains in the tank to see his duty done. When he finally collapses onto his back half of his spear has disappeared into Bloodjaw's body.

The orc sways before his legs crumple beneath him and he falls prone beside the human. The orcs and goblins gathered around the pair are watching in silence.

Bloodjaw rolls to his side, facing Karikhan. His eyes are painted with shock, tears of blood dripping from a tusk. He's speaking to his adversary in his own language, too pained to translate. The two stare at each other, one completely used up, the other slowly slipping across the veil. The orc is saying something, but the roar of the nearing Shelic overwhelms his words. His eyes are locked on Khan's. He'll be gone soon.