Meta Ruins of Myvolia

Alma - Whack!

Alma looks to finish off this lone wight quickly so he can see about flanking one of the attacking groups at a different barricade.

Attack: (4 point power attack)


If the creature still stands Alma will hit it again in the following round.

Matrim - Fire from above

Sliding down the side of the church, careful to land on the peak of the southern transept, Matrim moves as quickly as he safely can. The roof is treacherously icy and the fall to the streets below is a long one. Crouching a few feet from the edge of the roof he squints against the driving snow and quickly surveys the battle on the barricades. Realizing that the defenders on the north-western barricade are within a hair’s breadth of being overwhelmed, Matrim decides to concentrate his efforts there. Taking aim at the closest wight threatening a villager he nocks an arrow, steadies his hand and with the fluid motion of a musician he draws, aims and releases. In rapid order he sends two more arrows after the first.

Attack #1: 11 (d20) + 12 – 4 (wind) = 18
Damage: 4 (d8) + 3 = 7

Attack #2: 15 (d20) + 12 – 4 (wind) = 23
Damage: 8 (d8) + 3 = 11

Attack #3: 14 (d20) + 8 – 4 (wind) = 18
Damage: 6 (d8) + 3 = 9

AC: 19

HP: 49

Lornaal - Clean the square
What is the best way to get blood off of cobble stone?

A primal roar erupts from Lornaal’s throat as he steps past the fallen wight and levels a mighty blow at the one facing off against Kaberllee.

When the wight goes down, if Lornaal has any movement left, he will rush to the western barricade to face off against the wight attacking the militiamen there.

Attack 1: 14 (d20) + 12 = 26
Damage: 10 (d12) + 7 = 17

Attack 2: 10 (d20) + 7 = 17
Damage: 6 (d12) + 7 = 13

AC: 19
HP: 53

Battle Renewed 3
Within the barricades

Veniset Town Square: 7:26 pm

Veniset’s fortified market square erupts with the sounds of battle and terrified cries from the men defending its barricades. The site of the deadly wights lurking within the defences urges the men into a desperate fight to repel the invaders.


Surprised at finding the two sentries horribly turned into undead, Terrence freezes for a moment. His mind races. The ice-encrusted, steeply-pitched sod roof is hardly the place he would choose for battle. As the two undead lurch towards him, their hands reaching, the young rogue’s instincts take over. Drawing his rapier Terrence thrusts forward. The footing is treacherous, however, and he slips, crashing down hard over the main beam of the house. Ignoring the pain he rolls to his back and stabs at the nearest attacker while still laying on the plank. The blade strikes the former guardsman in the chest but is turned aside by the chain armour beneath. The undead, its milky eyes fixed on him bears down. Inwardly, Terrence groans. This is going to suck.


Continuing to assault his unholy enemies with the righteous fury of Almighty Pelor, Talton turns towards the pair of undead as they burst from the house and sends a searing arc of light across the village square towards them. The crackling beam of energy slams into the chest of one wight, a big-bossomed woman with a wild matt of black hair and loose jowls flapping about an open maw. The force of the beam drives the wight back several feet, depositing it into a snow drift where it lies, naught but a smoking ruin.


Addressing himself in his most cocky manner to the pair of wights remaining in the street by the southern barricade, Alma says:

Excuse me gents we have a fire going just a few streets down and my friends and I thought you might want to visit it!

Charging across the snow-choked road, his eyes focused on his opponent, Alma fails to see the trip line that is hidden within the drifting snow. As his foot strikes the rope, however, Alma thrusts himself forward, tucking into a ball and rolling back to his feet an arms length from the hateful wight. Smiling smugly at his own recovery, the southerner uses his momentum to deliver a powerful stroke that catches the undead at its left hip and shears through its body and out under its right arm. The creature crumples backwards into the powdered snow, its putrified organs spilling in a blackened heap about it.

Eyeing the second wight as it breaks from cover towards him, Alma grasps the pommel of his greatsword and slams the thick blade down hard into the face of the mutilated enemy at his feet, dispatching into the ether whatever evil powers had compelled it to unlife.


The trudging undead, urged on through the smoke by the leading wights assault the barricades, trying to clamber up or else drag down the defenders.

On the roof, the first of the undead standing over Terrence lunges forward at the prone man, but finds the icy footing unmanageable. The creature slips on the northern side of the sloped roof, landing hard on the icy thatching and slides down and out of view onto the road below.

The second creature manages its balance better but its clumsy attack is easily avoided by the slippery rogue.


Muttering about the gods and their often perverse humour under his breath as he leaps from the barricade and rushes to Kaberllee’s side, T’alen ignores his loaded crossbow, preferring a volley of magic missiles. A trio of red sparks, each the size of an apple, issue from his palm, racing across the battle field and smashing into the closing wight.

Looking at the grim and steady look in the druidesses eyes T’alen says:

It may be time to tactically regroup near the church, we seem to be standing on a field of pitch and oil waiting to ignite. Just thought you should know.

Turning to those village militiamen nearby, T’alne barks at them to form a line.


Despite the annihilation of its companions, the wight facing Alma charges forward through the snow, lashing out with its balled fists. Twisting to the side Alma barely succeeds in avoiding the heavy blow.

In the square, another pair of wights emerge from the house as the one struck by T’alen’s magic missiles charges towards the sorcerer. The wicked creature slams its boney fist into T’alen, knocking the wind from him while a wave of blackest energy seeks to siphon away a portion of his life force.

Of the two wights that just emerged in the square, the first turns towards a guardsman at the bottom of the western barricade. Rushing towards the man, the wight slams into him with its fists. A long, tortured scream issues from the unfortunate man as he arches his back, his sword and shield falling from nerveless fingers, and topples to the ground. A look of elation crosses the wights face as it drinks in the man’s life force, turning its sinister eyes in a search for new prey.

The second newly emerged wight charges towards Kaberllee. The brauman woman stands perfectly still as the creature closes, waiting for the last moment to raise her small, round shield, turning aside the strike with a sturdy strength that seems unnatural for a woman of her size.

On the northwest barricade the wights fall upon the defenders, one of the evil undead crushing the life from a guardsman while one of the loggers, manages to fend the other off with his axe.


Leaping from the barricade, the big northman charges through the ragged line of militiamen, swinging his axe at the wight assaulting T’alen. The injured wight crumples beneath the punishing stroke as Lornaal’s blade lops through its chest, severing its uppermost torso from the rest of its body in a spray of ichor.


Turning aside the wight’s heavy attack, Kaberllee lashes out with her oaken cudgel, smashing her assailant in the face and spilling a mouthful of broken teeth into the snow.

The village milita

On the walls, the villagers desperately fight to keep the undead from mounting the barricade. In the square, they rush to repel the invaders.


While the attacks ragged along the southern barricade, Matrim stayed where he was on the eastern roof tops. He kept a keen eye looking out for signs of other attackers. As the shouts were raised from the western barricades, however, he turned and picked his way carefully, but swiftly across the rooftops, eager to be of some use.


Wordlessly the bard draws his bow, notches an arrow and fires it into the chest of the wight assaulting Kaberllee.


Cora suppresses a giggle as she lays hidden, watching the wight as it thrashes angrily through the snowy rock garden looking for her. The hammering in her heart and the juices running through her veins are the greatest drug the halfling can imagine. From the village the shouts and clash of battle can occasionally be heard through the screaming wind.

Finally, after a few moments, the wight turns to stalk away, heading east across the rock garden, casting looks over its shoulder from a heavily burnt face made even uglier by a look of terrible fury.


20 – Terrence
19 – Talton
15 – Alma
14 – Undead
7 – T’alen
6 – Wights
4 – Lornaal
3 – Kaberllee
3 – Village Watch
1 – Matrim
1 – Sebastian

(Italicised checks are ones that I have rolled)

Terrence, Balance Check, DC 17: 6 (d20) + 6 = 12
Terrence, Stun damage from fall: 4 (d4) = Terrence takes 4 temporary points of damage
Terrence Tumble Check, DC 22: 17 (d20) + 12 = 29 Terrence ignores temporary damage
Terrence, Attack: 3 (d20) + 8 – 4 (prone) = 7, miss

Alma, Spot check for trip line, DC 15: 8 (d20) + 2 = 10
Alma, Tumble check to recover, DC 15: 16 (d20) + 2 = 18
Alma, full attack: 9 (d20) + 10 + 4 (prone enemy) = 23, hit
Alma, damage: 4 + 2 (2d6) + 7 = 13 damage

Undead Balance Check, DC 17: 5, fail
Undead Balance Check, DC 17: 19, success
Undead Attack against Terrence: 6, miss

Wight attacking Alma: 19, miss (but just barely)
Wight charging T’alen: 15, hit
Damage: 4 hp and Fort Save DC 14 or take one negative level
Wight against guardsman (in square): 16, hit
Wight against guardsman (on barricade): 18, hit
Wight against logger (on barricade): 6, miss
Wight attacking Kaberllee: 14, miss

Lornaal charging Wight: 20 (d20) + 12 + 2 (charge) = 34, crit
Critical Damage: 9 + 5 (2d12) + 7 = 21

Kaberllee attacking wight: 20, hit
Damage: 7

A break down of the round:

Terrence: I made some really shitty rolls! The balance check is based on the Balance skill with a base DC of 10 + 5 for slippery surface and +2 for sloped or angled. Rather than attempt to roll away, Terrence attacked the closing undead (I would have added a hit to the DC for the undead’s balance check).

Talton: Pretty straightforward ranged touch that obliterated one wight.

Alma: I know that the trip line was on the map, but I felt that Alma probably wouldn’t remember where its exact position was during a charge, seeing as they are all buried beneath the snow. I gave him a spot check for seeing it (rather than an intelligence check to remember exactly where it was). His tumble check was good for recovery, and seeing as I was giving you two full rounds of action, I allowed him a tumble check to recover. The second coup de grace attack on the injured wight I made for you.

T’alen: Pretty straightforward on your attack. The wight did 4 points of damage, however, and you will have to make a Fort save to avoid gaining a negative level.

Matrim: Chris C. isn’t able to play right now, but he sent me a message outlining his actions for the rest of the fight. He hopes to be available again soon!

Righteous Fury

Flush with the heady rush of holy lust, Talton scours the interior of the fortified market. Seeing the two wights smashing through the compromised home on the Northwest side he mutters a prayer in a harsh confident cadence.

He extends his hand, throws it back and then quickly hurls a searing and snapping beam of brilliant light at one of the two wights, who now seem to be heading for our new druid ally.

Staying atop the barricade, Talton, will continue to survey the battle. Watching every direction that is visible through the snow, he will unleash the might of Pelor on any unfortunate enough to curry his wrath.


att roll:


dmg roll:


Cora - enjoys the little things

Although its does nothing for the battle Cora sits hidden in her hiding spot and giggles quietly to herself as she know that it burns that Wight to know she got the best of him. She waits and watches to see if more come to help with this search or if he will give up and maybe lead her to the little girl. Although she is thinking he is just going to continue to fumble around looking for her and she is going to have to find her another way.

T 'Alen - it might be time for a tactical regrouping

When T ’Alen reaches the druids side he thrusts a hand towards the Wight on the left shouting arcane words of power as three magic darts fly towards their target in streaks of silver light.

It may be time to tactically regroup near the church, we seem to be standing on a field of pitch and oil waiting to ignite. Just thought you should know.

T ’Alen shouts to the men near them to close up and create a defensive wall to meet the Wights from the house.

Magic missile 1: [d4+1] = 4
Magic missile 2: [d4+1] = 4
Magic missile 3: [d4+1] = 4

T 'Alen - The other foot dropped
called it(bonus round)

T ’Alen surveys the field of battle to the west and northwest.

I guess that answers my questions, I wonder if the gods realize i was being rhetorical?

With that he hops off the barricade and heads towards the soon to be overwhelmed Druid

Alma - Charge!
Oh comon was there ever any doubt

Alma can’t help but be a little angry at the cleric for stealing all the glory with his big shiny holy symbol. Assessing the situation Alma knows he should return to the barricade… but doing what he should has never been Alma’s strong suit.

Excuse me gents we have a fire going just a few streets down and my friends and I thought you might want to visit it!

Alma charges the 2 wights .

Full Power Attack
Attack: Roll(1d20)8:

Damage: Roll(2d6)15:


Battle Renewed 2
Those sneaky bastards...

Veniset Town Square: 7:26 pm

The southern barricade is holding under the press of undead. Along its length the Company of the Manticore fight bravely shoulder to shoulder with the local men to repulse this second attack. They ignore a hurtling gust of wind and the sheet of snow that it drives across them, even though it narrows vision and deafens ears.


Clambering down the icy pitch of one sod roof Terrence easily hops across the narrow gap between the two houses and scurries up the far side. Above him, standing at the foot of a hastily devised bridge built from long poles, thick pine planks, iron nails and rope, stand two of the city guardsman, their backs to the village square. A skirl of snow whips about them, tossing their cloaks and stirring their shaggy hair. They are the northernmost set of eyes for the defenders.

Scrambling up the frozen sod and onto the heavy central beam of the roof, Terrence clears his throat to speak to the two men. His intentions were to pass quickly by, cross the bridge and scale down the building next to the road. He is drawn short however by the site of blood running freely from one of the guard’s hands, falling in crimson plops to the snow.

Slowly the two men turn.

Their faces are pale and slack. Their eyes milky, and unfocused. Terrence swallows hard. Oh, shit.


Drawing himself up, Talton extends his holy symbol and in a voice filled with fervour and power he bellows:


The night is momentarily lifted around the priest as a flash of silver light issues from his holy symbol. The divine rays sear the undead before him filling them with a powerful glow that seems to burst from within. Their mortified flesh cracks as the light consumes them, burning away the taint of undeath like a silent inferno. One by one they crumble to the ground, their remains nothing more than ash and bits of bone, as though they had been cremated.

For a moment, filled with the power of Pelor and the favour of Saint Lucius, Talton seems younger. The creases of his face and ruddy patches on his unshaven cheeks blend away. A look of stern calm fills him.


Undeterred by the closing undead, Alma had been unable to resist a quip.

You know if you were mortal warriors you’d be scared right now… lucky for me your too stupid to be scared!!

Turning to lash at the two stumbling figures to his flank, Alma witnesses the silver light and watches, almost disappointed as they crumble to the ground. Whirling back to the wight with a cocky grin he watches as she shudders, the light burning through her crumbling skin, chasing the darkness from her soul.

Rough couple days huh…. my mother has a skin care regime that could work wonders for you!

Or not, he thinks as she disintegrates into a pile of ash and is instantly scattered by the wind.

Looking down the road, Alma spots two more wights taking cover further down the street. They were apparently unhurt by the priests spell.

Smiling to himself, Alma spins his sword and briefly considers a course of action.


Having loaded his crossbow, T’alen was preparing to pick a fresh target when Talton used his turning to vanquish all of their opponents threatening the barricade. Resisting the urge to pump his fist in the air, T’alen instead whirls about at a startled shout from across the village square.

The men manning the western and north-western barricades are swinging their weapons at opponents emerging from the thick smoke and swarming towards them. Even worse, however, is a crashing sound as the front door of the small house standing between the two barricades is smashed open and a pair of wights, their eyes blazing with hatred, leap into the village square.


The two wights who were beyond the reach of Talton’s silver light fix their baleful eyes on Alma. Neither of the pair seem willing to move much closer, however. They cast furtive glances towards the barricade and the hated Lucidian priest that stands atop it.

To the north and west, however, the attack is fully in progress. Pouring from the blinding smoke and swirling snow, the undead flood towards the barricades. They leap towards the defenders, stunning them with the speed and ferocity of their attack.


As the undead crumbled before him, Lornaal turned to gape once more at Father Talton. The power of the shaman always amazed him. As the men on the barricade raised their voices in cheer, Lornaal added his deep, guttural roar to the mix. When the cries rose from the other barricades, the northman turned, his blood boiling with the need to smash something.


Turning and drawing lifting her polished oaken cudgel, Kaberllee begins mumbling a string of ancient, flowing words. She sets her eyes on the wights within the square.

The village milita

The villagers hurl themselves at this new threat, using bow, axe, spear and sword to harry the assaulting enemy. Captain Gregor leaps from the southern barricade and rushes across the square, his axe held high.


Silent and unmoving, Cora watches as the flames continue for several heartbeats to burn away at the wights face. Once the alchemical concoction has finally extinguished, the undead continues to stalk through the snow, its fury reaching manic proportions.


It screeches from charred lips. Much of the left side of its face has been burnt away, leaving only charred skull and bits of hair. Even the creature’s left eye has melted away, the fluid running down the remains of its cheek like milky tears. Its remaining eye burns with a frantic and merciless hatred.


20 – Terrence
19 – Talton
15 – Alma
14 – Undead
7 – T’alen
6 – Wights
4 – Lornaal
3 – Kaberllee
3 – Village Watch

(Italicised checks are ones that I have rolled)

Terrence, Spot Check: 6 (d20) + 8 – 2 (snow) = 12

Terrence, you have used one move action, but you may still take a standard action (or a second move action if you wish). Alma, Lornaal, T’alen, Matrim and Sebastian may all have a free turn as well to make up for Dave ruining everyones fun by destroying all of the baddies in one shot. (Thanks Dave). Cora may also have a turn. To claim your turn, you simply have to post by Saturday afternoon! Please make sure to add your actions for the round after that one as well! If you have any questions, let me know. I’ve e-mailed Dave the map, so if it doesn’t get up until Saturday I may extend the deadline for the free turn.


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