Cursing silently to yourself you run along the hill side eager to get your shot back. The devastating sounds and brief glimpses of the two enemy’s tactics have you worried. Just getting to the edge of a copse of trees, you take aim and let loose. Watching the white of the goblins eyes shift back and forth you know he sees you and actively tries to avoid the arrow. You are too quick and it strikes home…though you have a sickening feeling that had you waited a second longer the agile goblin would have avoided the missile.
Taking the arrow to the left shoulder the goblin crouches lower so as to not let the shaft and fletching hinder his lateral movement. The beast is obviously in a lot of pain; but, the determination in his eyes burns with a hot fury.
Snarling in a low guttural growl the beast presses his advantage with Talton hoping the mage and bard will keep their distance while he finishes off the priest. Wildly slashing with his claws, and lunging at Talton’s unvisored face with his teeth, the creature looks to be a whirlwind of fury. Talton, with the lumbering clumsiness of a drunken bear, lunges forward with his head down and arms spread wide. The half-step and lowered head is enough to let his cumbersome armor do its job. You hear the horrible screeching of claw on steel as the beast is unable to draw purchase with its attack. It takes a half-step back in frustration barking up into the face of the priest in indiscriminate rage. Pushing off of Talton’s breastplate the beast crouches low with his claws outstretched to either side daring Talton to step forward again.
Panting heavily and cursing the last 10 cream and butter filled meals he relished, Talton mumbles a quick decisive prayer to Pelor as his swings his mace at the foul beast…who he is now convinced isn’t a child of Lodd. Working his muscles from the back of his shoulders to the tip of his outstretched hand his swings a mighty uppercut bellowing
By The Light!!!!
A dim light surrounds his arm and covers his mace crackling with holy energy for a fraction of a second.
With a sneering dismissal the creature sidesteps the telegraphed blow and settles in for a second surge of violence.
Lowering your bow you start your incantation. Finding the right tune you feel the notes forming into the proper incantations of the mystical properties involved. People are foolish to think music isn’t a form of understanding. Feeling the last note strike the energies into motion you release the tune onto the world coating the ground beneath the wild goblin with a thick coat of viscous grease…just waiting to be lit on fire (friendly hint).
Smiling to yourself, you now wait to see if the beast can launch attacks while he can’t seem to stand upright. While he has managed to stay on his feet for the first second, by the way he is tilting and throwing his arms you are sure he will fall any second now.
Sprinting over to flank the orc and help Lornaal out with the two seasoned goblinoids, you drop your bow and draw your trusty rapier. Pressing the advantage behind the orc it must choose to guard both sides losing any advantage he might have had before.
Seeing your prime opportunity, you lunge in with the strike—looking to finish off this beast before he can do any damage. Your finely formed, elegant, blade neatly pierces the torso of the orc. The hilt of the guard brushes his armor before you pull the blade out emptying his fluid into the night air. The beast folds forward and hits the ground like a sack of meat without another sound. With the orc on the ground you can now see the veteran goblin pressing in on Lornaal. To the barbarian’s credit he stands with the same stoic grim battle heartiness that he always displays…even though the gaping wound under his arm is forming a puddle of blood at his feet.
Confounded by the beasts ability to Blink in and out of existence you resort to the mundane. Drawing your crossbow you take aim and fire at the beast grappling with Talton in his lumbering plate armor. Watching the quarrel in the night air and the beast and Talton jockey for position as they battle back and forth; you see the missile glance off the pauldron of the priest’s armor skittering end-over-end into the darkness. Cursing silently to yourself, you mutter about the impracticality of the mechanical device over the more elegant magic you are used to wielding.
Quickly realizing that you can’t showboat-kill this opponent you focus on the fundamentals: pointy end goes first. Honing into the hours upon hours of training that was pounded into you as a small child you lunge forward looking to drive your spear between the ribs of the conniving little beast. As your thrust meets its zenith you see the mistake you made; this isn’t some lumbering bison. Crouched so low as to make a torso shot almost impractical the goblin bats the tip of the spear away and steps into the open arms of the barbarian swinging his dark swirling mace toward the exposed ribs of the plainsman.
Goblin with Mace
Lurching up between the arms of the giant plainsman, the goblin cracks Lornaal’s ribs on the opposite side of the open wound that is gushing blood. There is a dark crackling that snaps the air as the mace hits the barbarian and a searing pain storms through his body like a lightning-fast fever. After the blow to the ribs the agile goblins spins out of the arms of Lornaal and again crouches low, shifting side-to-side, waiting for the next exchange combat. (12 pts of damage)
The Western Goblins
Seeing the battle going poorly, the uninjured goblin gets his companion to his feet and starts walking him due West into the darkness of the night…trying to escape the carnage that must surely come to any surviving members of the party.