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(Forgotten Realms Pathfinder: Seeds of Evil) Ch. 1: The Gates of Honey Town

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As Alyx focused on the fight infront of him - and the worgs behind them ready to nip at their heels, Alyx rushed back with alarming speed - claws and teeth ready to sink in hard against the wolves to show them that they had messed with the wrong group!

Manifesting hustle to move 30' as a swift action and attack the nearest Worg. 19 bite (9 damage), nat 20on claw 1, 21 to confirm (14 damage or 7 damage if not), 9 to hit on claw 2 (Assuming that's a miss
 
Slipping into the spot that Balnore had vacated, the lighting quick psion located a worg already staggered by two magic missile wounds. Unleashing his full psionic frenzy, Alyx dropped this worg in a pile of spreading blood as well!
 
Snarling with frustrated bloodthirsty, the third wolf panted his feet in the grease and snaped furiously at Abigail. Why fight the enchantment? The girl's blood would be sweet and her flesh tender if he could get her out of her armored shell!

11 to hit.
My dice like you guys this fight! They make ti hard to be challenging! :p
Tag Narunir
 
Narunir

A little irritated at the failure of his spell, Narunir raised his wand to point at the wolf targeting Abigail, and with a flick of his wrist a pair of arcane bolts flying through the air and striking his back!

Using a charge from my wand of magic missile (24/25). It deals 6 force damage to him
 
* * *​

A little further down the road, unaware of the battles, Olivia made her way past farms and fields to the gates of Honeyton. With nightfall, the soothing thrum of bees industriously going about their business from flower to flower gave way to serene silence. Then a series of howls that just didn't have the feel of normal, healthy wolves running down bounding dear in the night.

A chill was creeping across the redhead's flesh. It was as if—despite the stars hanging in the night like luminous diamonds studding a sable cloak, Shar—goddess of darkness and despair—held dominion over this night, and still would even when the moon rose.

Perhaps she could persuade the townsfolk to open their gates and let her in despite the late hour?
 
Olivia shivered holding her hands close to her frame, covering up her chest that the breastplate did little to hide.

"A.... achu!" The redhead sneezed, her nose twitching as the chill began to affect her.

Walking up to the gates, she pounded on them.

"Hello.... Is anyone there.... A cleric of Sune needs sanctuary." She called out, her voice piercing the night.
 
The second warg gave a howl of pain as NArunir put a pair of bloody punctures in it's chest.

The third went for Abigail in a low snap, trign to sink it's fangs into her calf.

11 to hit.

The blond girl was fully capable of parrying the strike by stomping his nose.
Tag Abigail, Alyx, Balenor, and Tiyeri in whatever order you can post.
 
While one werewolf--a little ways aroudn the tree from Baltana--started to pull himself up into the tree, the other reloaded his crossbow and squeezed ff another shot. Determined not to deal her a lethal wound witht he quarrle, this one also flew off into the night.

However Baltana found a werewolf dropping onto a branch before her, grabbing another branch to steady himself nad reaching out for her with one hand. "Hello poppet."
 
Balenore steps to his right so he can get a good view of the worg fighting Alyx. Cackling to himself he attempts to lul the beast into sleep.

*************
5 foot step to the right
Cackle
Sleep hex DC 18 will (please remember he now has a -2 to all his saves)
 
With her spell compelling the hostile lupines to lash out harmlessly at her heavy plate, Abigail brings her heavy greatsword down in a powerful swipe at the one she had recently kicked to the ground for the temerity of even attempting to attack her.

Attack = d20+6 = 14+6 = 20
Damage = 2d6+10 = 8+10 = 18


As Abigail slams the edge of her blade into the top of it's head, another wolf falls - insensate and snuffling in its torpor, legs twitching slightly. The wolf she smacked with such heavy metal is almost slammed into the grass by the force, and she turns to the bleeding wolf to the other side, her stance back down to receive the lunge no doubt incoming.
 
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Honey Town's wall was about twelve feet high, with small towers on either side of the arched gate. Four archers stood on those towers, bows held causally at their sides with one hand, arrows knocked. They were bearded men, not handsome, but fit and clean, wearing breastplates, short swords, and quivers. Their eyes—different shades of brown—wandered Olivia's body as she approached.

Guardsman.jpg


Three men stepped up before the Heartwarder on the other side of the gate, one setting a lantern down behind them so they could see each other clearly. Two of the gaudsmen bore heavy cudgels, sheathed swords, and sturdy shields.

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Randal Thrace, Seargent of the Night Watch

The third of them wore a finer and heavier armor. Rather than a shield, he wore a greatsword across his back and a cudgel on his hip. This was the man who addressed her. “Good evening, fair maiden. Its' a shame you got here so late. I'm forbidden to allow any entry to the town after dark. The werewolves who haunt the forest are a great danger, as are the bandits who seek to steal the town's mead.”
 
"But... but." Olivia replied confused cocking her head. "Wouldn't it be better to disallow entry in the daylight." She comments running a hand through her super red hair. "Like... I obviously can't be a werewolf or I'd have transformed, right?" Olivia remarked.

"And I am no bandit... Do you need proof of my divine favor." The short, curvy cleric remarked, licking her lips as she looked over the men for wounds.
 
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Baltana

Grinning at the creature menacingly, at least she controlled the environement so she might only have to deal with one of them at a time on the branches, she snapped out her shield and gandasa, "you might want to run".

Standard Action: Retrieve Shield
Move Action: Retrieve Gandasa
 
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Randal Thrace, Seargent of the Night Watch

The gate guards laughed at the sugestion that they disallow entry by day. Before one could ask how anyone would ever leave the town to get to their farms, all eyes went tot he priestess's lips. Several men gave lusty smiles.

“Open the gates,” the man in the plate and mail and cloak said firmly.

He gave her a sincere look and explained, “I'll take you to the gate house for mulled wine and a little food, my dear. Blankets too. You mustn’t leave 'til we sneak you out at dawn. The Lord Mayor will be displeased with me if he finds out I let you in, and you'll be labeled an enemy of the town.”

He offered the priestess his arm as he looked down at her—eyes occasionally dropping from her eyes to her cleavage. “My name is Randal Thrace, sergeant of the Night Watch.”
 
Olivia nods furtively at the man's requirement. "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul." She remarks warmly. "I swear on Sune Firehair." She says touching her holy symbol on her neck.

Taking the man's arm, Olivia smiles warmly as she catches him looking at her chest. "Oh I know. You think I'm beautiful right? Men always say that when they keep staring at my chest." She remarks warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Randal. I'm called Olivia."
 
Aramina had frozen for a split second in the confusion of battle. Narunir helped her focus with his calm, simple aciton, and she used her own wand again, at the same target.

WEakened by four bloody punctures, Abigail vanquished the creature with a solid strike.

That ended the battle, with one worg slumbering and the others slain.
 
Voice manipulation... Three males... One female... Alyx you are closest kill it, Ty mark this area we need to go... Now! These are worgs this will not be all of them they have a den around here we can search for in the daylight, but they also team up with other monsters... Something else hunts these woods tonight and I remember a certain barbarian running off alone earlier hopefully we overtake her before she runs into trouble.

Balenore moves back to the carts keeping everyone he can in range and cackling as he goes to keep up fortune. (on the way if he can he hits Ty, Narunir, and Aramina with it too.)
 
Baltana:

The werewolf gave a smug snicker when he saw the barbarian girl filling both her hands with combat tools while balanced in a tree.

With his own weapons sheathed, and his left hand holding a limb for balance, his free hand shot towards Baltana, grabbing for her breastplate and trying to pull it down her chest!

Dirty trick maneuver to bare Baltana's breasts and put the 'entangled' condition on her 'til she takes a move action to adjust her top. Because she is climbing, Baltanna looses her dexterity bonus to AC and CMD.

The werewolf provokes an attack of opportunity. Because Baltana is climbing and has both hands occupied, she'll have to make a climb check to take that attack of opportunity. (The werewolf looses his dexterity bonus too.)

CMB. Attack: 17

(There's a lot happening here, let's resolve this action before we move on to yours, okay?)
 
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Baltana

Snarling at the wolfmans attempt she collected herself just enought to sheeth her shield - in truth it was overly unwieldy given her position, and than steadied herself against a nearby branch.

Then flipping her gandasa in her hand even as the spirits that had associated with her surrounded her and she felt the white hot passion flow through her strengthening her limbs and having her heart beat stronger, even as she exposed herself to greater potentially greater danger.

Focused entirely on her attack she lunged forward intending to correct his assumption that she was some helpless victim - ideally a lesson he would not know for very long.

Move Action: Put away Shield
Free Action: Steady Herself.
Free Action: Enter a Rage.

Acrobatics before attack: 23
Standard Attack (1d20+10): 30 - crit confirm 26
Damage for Crit: 30 (before any reductions for damage reduction)

Spirit Attack: 12 (I assume a miss)
Damage: 6

Rolls*
on the crit damage I made a mistake of using +7 instead of +5, that has been corrected in the damage listed above.
 
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Ty smiled at the group after defeating the worgs.

"Well no sense arriving to help the barbarian more tired, lets go back to my wagon and catch up with her on that. Just please be respectful of it when on the road it is my home and many of my belongings are in it."
 
Abigail Marteau
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"Yes, of course, friend. I can only hope that they weren't drawing us out of position to strike at the wagon and supplies! I am sure that Barry would have made a sound if that were the case, though..."

Chagrinned at her own hastiness to charge off into the dark, Abigail removes her helmet once again. The face revealed has her eyes closed, grateful for the cool air of the evening. She rubs her brow, and casts a quick glance down at the corpses laying on the ground.

"My thanks for all of your help, I do appreciate it."

She rubs a delicate-seeming hand along the side of her face, and glances down between the ground and sky a few times, seemingly nervous of something.
 
And that is why I am going to have pike clean it after we are done no charge. No need to let blood stain your nice rug. Let's hurry though.
 
Narunir

Seeing the worgs falling to the ground, either dead or dead to the world, Narunir took a tentative step forward. And when none of them jumped up and bit his head off he started walking hurriedly towards Aramina. "Are you okay ma'am?" he asked, looking over the redhead as he searched for any wounds. Not finding any, he looked up at the woman in heavy looking plate. "Ah, it was no trouble," the half-elf said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "I didn't even do that much, not compared to some of you anyway."

Smiling, Narunir nodded his head at the offer of the catfolk woman. "It would be good to rest my feet a bit," he murmured, "And there is safety in numbers...Alright, thank you very much!" He gave her a slight bow, "I'll do my best not to dirty your home."
 
"Welll met, Olivia," Randal replied in a deep, almost purrig voice. He lead the young priestess into the gatehouse where there was a table set up in the dowlstairs, but no chairs. He sat a mug of mulled wine--steaming hot from the pot over the hearth--on the table and invited her to stand and drink.
 
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