Sili wakes with a start and ducks behind a rock with his crossbow. His intention is to take cover and pick off the orcs as they are climbing down the wall and presumably less able to dodge the bolts. However I believe it will take him a round to load it, correct? If so, then Alf will cover him while he loads.
I imagine his three hirelings are scrambling to get away from the orcs. They are non-combatants except to defend themselves.
Last Edit: Oct 12, 2011 17:38:18 GMT -6 by Mushgnome
Shouts and the sounds of battle draw Lómëluin back from the far-off realms in which his dreams have been wandering. In an instant he is on his feet, bow in hand.
In Sindarin: "Telthalion! The ones on the wall! Bring them down!"
In Westron: "Frewine! Look to Rohemnet and the other animals! Orcs prize horse-flesh as well as Man's!"
He moves swiftly to protect the wounded Eohild and Norin, sending fair, deadly Elvish arrows flying at any Orc foolish enough to present him with a clear target. If no such target is available he will draw sword and shield, ready to move to assist Soval if his wounded charges are not imperilled.
Éohild if possible gets up and tests her strength for a fight. If able she will grap her sword and sheild (spare one) in her hands ready to defend against the orc attack. "Will we ever rid this land of evil", speaks Éohild in anger at the approaching orcs.
Last Edit: Oct 15, 2011 5:33:41 GMT -6 by heartless
[Hinterlands] Rufus Brandystoe (the quick), Halfling, (Locksmith extraordinaire), Thief 1 [Moria] Lady Éohild (Noble of Rohan), Women, Fighter 3
Post by waysoftheearth on Oct 17, 2011 3:24:56 GMT -6
Initiative is rolled [1d6; Soval=5,1, Legandir=5+1, Orcs=5].
Soval and Legandir and the barking of Alf alert the slumbering company as many Orcs descend into the valley.
Legandir lets fly a fair shaft of Rivendell form his longbow in lightning swift movement [1d20=19] as he spring up and it flies flat and true for [2dd=3,3] 7 hit points, punching right through an Orc neck and flinging it backward into shadow by the force.
Soval, meanwhile, is sorely beset by the villainous three sneaks and hard pressed to regain his presence after suffering the assassin's wound. Yet though the Orcs close hungrily, and though he might stagger, Soval roars his warning aloud, and dashes at the foe clumsily with shield and sword alike [1d20; Soval=17, Orcs=12,13,7, Soval's 2nd attack=13], fending off their wicked blades with pure determination, and suffering many hard dings upon his mail, but they cannot pierce him! Indeed, Orc Slayer knows his foe and cleaves shield and mail and skull with his keen blade [2dd=5,4 and 5,5] dealing 8 and 13 hit points.
Two of the foe are eviscerated by his terrible blows, but alas, where one Orc falls two more clamour to face him!
The remainder of the company wake with a start and tumble blearily from their bedrolls, grasping frantically at weapons.
[Excepting those who were on watch, nobody is wearing a helm or carrying a shield. Of those who were asleep, they may have been sleeping in gambeson, leather or Elvish mail only. Those who regularly wear heavier armour are wearing only the gambeson undercoat (AC 8) as they sleep].
The camp is about to be over-run by scores of Orcs!
If there are no changes to the previous orders I will take them as your actions for the upcoming round... if you wish to change them you may. Legandir and Soval, what is your wish?
Though Soval is grim beset, and hovers at the edge of unconsciousness or death, he will keep raising the alarum and battling back, hoping to give his companions time to rise.
Insofar as he can do more than this, he will cry to his men and the others to close ranks and make a defensive circle, so that if the numbers that face them are truly overwhelming they have some chance to beat a gradual retreat back down into the hills.
Post by waysoftheearth on Oct 25, 2011 4:06:10 GMT -6
Eohild, Norin, and all the NPCs bar Telthalion (and Alf the guard dog) are caught tumbling from their beds as the Orcs stampede into the camp.
They come by three fell prongs, hurtling down precarious defiles in the mountain face both north and south of Hollin Gate, and also into the south end of the valley; their coarse battle cries clashing with the brittle ring steel in the chill night.
The nearest Orcs come crashing down the mountain side north of Hollin Gate, almost directly into the camp as a howling avalanche, descending swiftly to hack and slash about them.
[3d6=10] Ten of the villains strike blows at [d30; 1=Arbenbard, 2=Baraglin, 3=Dernfara, 4=Elindir, 5=Eohild, 6=Eremin, 7=Largo, 8=Norin, 9=Sili, 10=Telthalion, 11=Vestri, 12=Miodvitnir, 13=Ymir, 14=Burmon, 15=Hepti, 16=Hrok, 17=Oin, 18=Glorban, 19=Yori, 20=Ugrik, 21=Dalain, 22=Balain, 23=Nat, 24=Hallam, 25=Einar, 26=Ran, 27=Sutherland, 28=Deorwyn, 29=Frewine, 30=Alf; 18, 30, 19, 16, 18, 21, 20, 3, 11, 26] Glorban, Alf, Yori, Hrok, Glorban, Dalain, Ugrik, Dernfara, Vestri and Ran, wreaking utter havoc. [10d20=13, 13, 12, 16, 7, 5, 3, 10, 7, 4] Glorban, Alf, Yori and Hrok are struck for [2dd=4,3 and 1,1 and 5,2 and 2,5] 4, 2, 5 and 5 hit points respectively.
Simultaneously, more Orcs are rushing down the mountain south of Hollin Gate to swarm past Soval and charge into the camp. Three of them slash out at the beset hero [3d20=14,13,7], but he skilfully wards off their attacks as the tide of Orc flesh sweeps by as a wave smashing upon a shore. Soval [1d20=2,11] manages to cut down one of the enemy in the confusion dealing [2dd=5,4] 8 hit points. But alas its fellows are among the camp, and [3d6=5] five more of them attack targeting [5d30=25, 20, 1, 14, 19] Einar, Ugrik, Arbenbard, Burmon and Yori with foul blades and black maces [5d20=5, 3, 1, 18, 2], but for a blessing only Burmon is struck suffering [2dd=5,3] 5 hit points.
The besieged company retaliates in the dark [1d20; Alf=18, Arbenbard=16, Baraglin=8, Dernfara=19,4, Elindir=9, Eremin=3, Largo=6, Sili=10,15, Telthalion=11], with Alf nipping an Orc's ankle for [1dd=1] 1 hit point, Arbenbard [1dd=4] springing from behind a rock to slash another's neck for 4 hit points, while Dernfara slashes fiercely with his two swords [2dd=1,2] cutting down a foe for 5 hit points. Sili crushes helm and skull with his flail [2dd=1,1 and 6,2] for 5 and 9 hit points respectively. Two more Orcs are slain, but their are so many others!
And woe, yet more Orcs are filling the valley, steaming down the southern most rock face to rush for Legandir and Lomeluin where they stand at the top of the stair. The Elves flee back to the ruinous camp ahead of the tide of fiends, letting fly their fair arrows as they retreat [1d20=11,17]. Both find their marks dealing [2dd=2,2 and 1,4] 4 hit points apiece; not enough to drop either target.
And then the brutes are bursting violently into the general melee with [3d6=9] nine of them finding targets in [9d30=7, 18, 29, 21, 28, 29, 20, 16, 12] Largo, Glorban, Frewine, Dalain, Deorwyn, Frewine, Ugrik, Hrok and Miodvitnir. [9d20=8, 15, 6, 19, 9, 13, 18, 4, 2] Glorban, Dalain, Ugrik and Frewine are hit and suffer [2dd; 3,4 and 6,1 and 6,4 and 6,1] 4, 6, 6 and 6 hit points.
Post by waysoftheearth on Oct 25, 2011 4:13:48 GMT -6
Celglin has slipped into the mines unseen.
Three Orcs were slain, and five others wounded this round.
Alas, Frewine the Rohirrim groom and Ugrik the Dwarf lie slain also, and Glorban, Dalain, Yori, Hrok, Burmon and also Alf the guard dog all took hurt.
The camp is a chaotic melee, with pack animals and hirelings screaming in panic as the fighting-Men attempt to form up into some semblance of a line. The Orcs outnumber you sorely, that much is clear despite the darkness, but noone has time to study a head count...
"Serves you right, lazy good-for-nothing watchdog," curses Síli son of Víli. His mood turns sour and his innate racial hatred of the Orcs takes control. He casts about fiercely with his flail, with no mercy for the foe. Despite his harsh words, he will sacrifice his own shield to save Alf (but with the expectation that the loyal dog would make the ultimate sacrifice in return). "Is this the end, old friend?" he laments.
Largo dodges an ebon orcish blade with a squeak and a deft tumble. Returning to his feet, the hobbit will see if there's a way he can find some space between him and the marauders in order to whip his sling again.
Failing that, he'll draw his dagger and attempt to create some space by putting it betwixt the ribs of an Orc!
Eremin Sulk raises himself to his full height, draws sword and dagger both, and lays about him against any orc fool enough to approach. He dodges and capers, calling out wildly and occasionally laughing for no apparent reason.
(Let us hope the orcs think him mad, and avoid him...)
Dieter the Deathless, anger-fueled fighting machine.
OOC: Have we managed to assemble into a ring of defense at all? Several of us have been trying to form a circle...any luck there yet? It effects Soval's actions a bit how this is going...I see it says we are trying, are a majority of us gathered together yet, or are we still pulling together?
Likely it will be at least one more round, so assuming that, Soval racks his memory for any defensible location and/or route of retreat in the vicinity of the camp, and continues to move together with Sili, Lomeluin, and the rest to make a ring of steel. "Come together, friends! We cannot stand with them in the open - we must guard each others' backs and fight in formation!" As he attempts to marshal PCs and NPCs alike into a ring of defense, Soval will keep cutting and hacking at any orcs that come within range.
Last Edit: Oct 25, 2011 13:35:57 GMT -6 by calithena
Lómëluin stares in disbelief as he sees one of the Men he had looked upon as an ally seemingly fleeing the battle to save his own skin and another apparently succumbing to madness and capering around, laughing like a loon. He curses savagely in Sindarin, his hitherto slowly-lessening prejudices against their race suddenly reinforced tenfold.
If he has time in all the mayhem, he fixes Nat Pickthorn with his intense stare; "To the shield ring, Nat! We need you!"