Seizing upon your new advantageous position you quickly let loose another volley of arrows into the midst of the battling combatants. The fletching briefly touches your nose for a fraction of a second before both of your arrows home in toward their target. The first arrow strikes home hard; hitting the goblin’s left shoulder turning his small body around with the force of the blow. While the second arrow parts the hair of the beast’s unkempt hair whistling into the side of the wagon narrowly missing a captive in the back.
Watching the lithe goblin fight the barbarian you start to see the dawning of mortality cross the small creatures face. You can tell he isn’t used to losing battles, probably against difficult odds, and this slow dawning is causing him some concern. The arrows and slashes across his form are beginning to take a toll and you see a couple of furtive glances to the hills and the darkness.
Orange Eyed Goblin
Standing precariously with a wider than normal stance, the beast makes a lunge toward Talton looking to cause more damage to the steel cased priest. The second that the goblin makes his first tentative step, his strong squat legs dart out from under him slamming his back onto the hard earth. Twisting violently he scrambles in vain to find purchase but is unable to gain any traction. Writhing in a grand mal rage the vicious creature lashes out in every direction that he is pointing, blinking in and out of existence, screaming in unbridled fury at the impossible situation he has found himself in.
The spectacle has an almost natural beauty to it: like a summer storm or a winter blizzard. The beast doesn’t let up and seems driven by powers beyond this world lashing with violence at the futility of the situation.
Only stunned slightly by the spectacle, Talton wastes little time trying to pound the creature into the viscous earth with his mighty mace. With a sweeping arc the cleric delivers a blow straight across the skull of the writhing creature. With a loud crack of bone, the creature goes completely limp. Frothing foam of oily grease bubbles out from under the goblin’s arms and legs as the creature stops churning the lubricant. A quick glance tells you that the beast still breathes but is down for the count as it’s chest still heaves up and down from its fury.
Without missing a beat, you smash your flask across the form of the Orange Eyed Goblin. The grease immediately flares to light and the form of the beast is immediately engulfed. Talton steps back quickly to avoid the severity and splatter of the alchemical grease fire burning in this night shrouded ravine. Talton only receives the briefest of injury from the fire.
The beast sizzles loudly and the grease crackles and spits viscous spatters of flesh and sweat away from the inferno as the accelerated heat of the fire rips through the flesh of the downed goblin…blackening in the night.
Terrence and Lornaal
Yelling out silent instructions with nods and stares, you try to maneuver to get the best position possible on the agile little goblin. Terrence waits achingly long seconds for Lornaal to step into position so he can make his gutsy flank attack. The second the plainsman steps to the side Terrence moves like the wind darting around the roguish little creature searching to gain the flank and finish this midnight skirmish.
The goblin seems acutely aware of what is happening and a wistful expression of defeat flashes across his face as he sees Terrence circling around him. A spark lights briefly in the beasts eyes as Terrence closes in. With a low pirouette a black dagger appears in the goblins left hand slashing out at Terrence crossing into position. The dagger bites deep and throws the young man’s blood across the field of battle before the little greenskin drops the dagger to concentrate on his mystical mace threatening Lornaal.
The gaping slash across the lower abdomen of Terrence pulsates and throbs in gushes of blood. While you don’t feel any of your organs slipping out of your body, you can feel the reflexive tensing of your muscles preparing, struggling in vain, to keep your insides away from the fresh night air. (21 pts of damage) Bravely ignoring the concern, you strike out at the devious goblin. With a decisive lunge you bury your rapier deep into the flesh of the goblin, clean through his heart, witnessing the tip of your blade puncturing out the far side of his back. You watch with heaving breaths and aching belly as the knowing light of death leaves his eyes for the dull stare of a corpse. With a quick step back the tricky goblin sloughs off your blade and falls to the ground beside the now cheering captives from the wagon.
Lornaal, just starting to ram your spear into the devilish goblin, stop when you realize that no killing blow is needed. No more blood need be let from this beast. Looking off into the darkness, you know two of the goblins have fled but are not completely sure the exact direction—save for a vague western sense.
Not needing to further the attack on the planar beast, you hold your action to look around. It seems the battle has ended by the wagon and two fires rage in this small ravine. The captives are cheering loudly and the crackling spit of water in hot grease permeates the air…with a distinct smell only veterans are familiar with.