No wind parts the cool air deep into the night amongst the lush vegetation of the winding gully. Quickly seeing the potential for a decisive strike on the green-skins, while they are disorganized and frustrated, you quickly disseminate your plan to the others. Several quick nods pass before a terse whispered discussion about the evil in the woods and how it should drive The Company toward making sure these blights on the world are completely dealt with. Sebastian steps up boldly and motions the whole party to lean against the side of the hill, away from the edge of the slope heading toward the broken wagon.
His whispered words are almost hypnotic, deep melodic voice undulating in practiced reverence to language and spirit; you can’t help but feel the warm glow of courage creep from your chest up into your flushing face. Newly emboldened, the keen glint of passion shared in the eyes of your companions, you strike out.
Moving slowly across the hill about 15 feet from the bottom of the ravine you make your way around the bend. Your deathly silence doesn’t even stir the chirping insects and nocturnal rodents of the Northreach. Bow out and ready, you want to get closer, so that when the strike comes you have the best advantage…so you press on.
Talton quietly mumbles a prayer to Pelor bestowing the strength of a bull to Lornaal and waits for the other flankers to move before he does. (+4 Str)
Allowing the moving words of your speech to entreat the air with their passion, you quietly cast Cat’s Grace on yourself getting ready to run out into the open so that you can get a good bead on the large goblin—who you know is around the corner berating his companions.
Feeling the passion of destiny flow through your veins you dash out with your bow drawn. You try to shift into your practiced stealth maneuvers but your blood is pumping too fast. You snag a root on the side of the hill and a loud snap echoes through the gully. You look up wide eyed to see the face of the front orc widen in horrific surprise. Knowing that you won’t be able to strike a vital from this distance you rush the orc before he can make a move. Charging down the hill quicker than your normal move you send an arrow strafing through the air.
The missile takes the surprised orc right between his raised eyebrows snapping his head back like a kite in a strong wind. The flesh and brain shards burst through the top of his skull with the tip of the arrow, as the orc’s knees buckle and body topples forward to land in a heap beside his goblin companion. The only sound of alarm that managed to escape the Loddite’s lips was a siren-like whine of surprise that surged and then dwindled as he hit the ground like a retreating train whistle.
Witnessing the fumble and recovery or Terrence, you quickly head down the hill into the middle of the ravine path so that you might get a good shot at the leader off to the far right of the wagon. You can quite see him yet; but, by the stifled sound of his incessant lambasting you figure you will see him shortly. You raise your bow and arrow in stoic anticipation.
After the encouraging words of Sebastian, the quick interplay of battle and the failure at stealth you decide to get more players on the field. You deftly grab a small bag and a tiny bees wax candle. You focus your energy through the mundane objects and begin the mysterious words of power that will open a portal to the great unknowns of the distant planes of reality. Knowing this chant takes several precious seconds to complete, you quickly try to run through it before you have to engage in combat. Staring ahead fifty feet you feel the fist tingling of two Celestial dogs beginning to share this new reality with The Company.
The Southern man has strangely powerful words. It was all you could do not to let the bear rip through your chest and begin devouring the beasts. Shaking madly you felt like you were standing on hot burning coals…waiting for the important shadow battle that always begins skirmishes. Feeling the pulse of your life-force surge in your neck and down the back of your limbs you wait like a taunt bowstring.
The snap of the broken branch had not yet echoed off the side of the far hill when you released the cry of your ancestors into the cold night sky. Big tumbling patches of turf sprayed behind you as you charge the line—spear in hand—with death in your warring eyes. Surging low like a feral cat, you spring forward at the surprised looking goblin…who seems to be just realizing that his companion orc has hit the ground with a terminal case of ‘arrow to the face.’ Gripping your spear with one solid hand, you arc your swing in an exaggerated sidearm burying the spear into the meat of the goblin until your hand smashes into the goblins ribs. You hear the audible release of gore and gas from the far side of the beast as you lower your spear so that it might sluff off your blood soaked spear.
Your charge is rewarded by the general commotion of surprise and anger from the other creature of Lodd as they scramble to meet the Company’s charge.