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Red Hand of Doom
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<blockquote data-quote="Mark" data-source="post: 2823232" data-attributes="member: 5"><p>The tale continues . . . </p><p></p><p>The lance of Frederick von Jungingen grazed off the bark of an oak as a hobgoblin ducked. But the creature did not duck low enough. The tip pierced his eye, shattering the side of his skull, scattering bits of his brain and splashing arcs of blood around the base of the tree.</p><p></p><p>The bits of brain, however, and all in the vicinity were soon ablaze as the two charging hounds from the nether realms spewed forth streams of flame. These fiery cones, though brief, engulfed an area that included the corpse of the hobgoblin, the surrounding brambles and trees, Frederick, and his horse, Gar. The odor was nearly unnerving but both man and mount stood true despite the pain of their searing flesh.</p><p></p><p>Garret, seeing his chance, scrambled over behind one of the hobgoblins. He drew his rapier and got into a crouching position. He moved with the silence of a tomb, as soundless as a light breeze. It would never know who had taken its life. It wouldn’t be long now and it would take but a moment.</p><p></p><p>Atgur brought his axe down through the scalp of a hobgoblin who had stepped from behind a tree to challenge him. The axe continued until it buried itself deep in the creature’s chest. Atgur smiled. It was easier to remove his axe from a ribcage than from a skull and if he had to swing it extra hard to make that a possibility, he didn’t really mind.</p><p></p><p>Himo slipped around the ranger and up behind the healer even as he continued to improvise a tale of glory. His pretend protagonist was thoroughly trouncing its fictitious foe. There was a lot of pulling of hair, and spilling blood, and the crunching of bones. It had potential. If only he’d the time to jot it down.</p><p></p><p>The hobgoblin reinforcements were now even with the dilapidated farmhouse. They left the trail they had used to bring them to the fray and sought quick cover in the edge of the woods ahead of the adventurers. Their commander, from the rear of their numbers, barked out goblinoid orders that anyone could translate. A volley of arrows from the nearest of them whistled harmlessly past Berndeick who had taken the front and center of those adventurers left on the road.</p><p></p><p>In answer to the rain of missiles, Berndeick sized up the newcomers and mumbled a suggestion over his shoulder to the bard and ranger. Then he stepped forward just a jot, raised his arms to ensure the line of newcomers would attend to him, and demanded, “<em>Be Calm!</em>”</p><p></p><p>Arthvael glanced around. Two of the three original ambushers had been dropped on either side of the road. To the right, and ahead of the adventurers, one remained between the party and the new line of attackers. To the immediate left was one more, and it was close. “<em>Let’s be friends</em>,” Arthvael magically put forth. The hobgoblin blinked, lowered his bow, and began to smile in a grotesque but ingratiating way.</p><p></p><p>Moradin’s adherent seemed to have taken the fight out of most of the remaining hobgoblins but he had warned Himo and Ludious that not all would bow to the dwarf’s demand. Scanning those remaining, Ludious saw the closest still had fire in its eye so he sent two of his arrows in its direction. Only one found the mark but the shaft drove in deeply.</p><p></p><p>Frederick von Jungingen knew the hellhounds were too close to charge but he swung his lance to bear on one of the foul canines. He had considered switching to his sword but the lance was handy and sometimes a poke in the eye with a sharp stick really is better than nothing. He missed the eye, however, and jammed it into the ribs. The creature hardly had time to yelp, for now it was Gar’s turn for revenge. The steed briefly reared and then Gar’s two hooves came crashing down on the skull of the creature crushing the life out of it. Frederick smiled to himself, proud that the training of this warhorse paid off so well.</p><p></p><p>Garret held back his killer rapier stoke and blinked his eyes at the sight of the now-amiable hobgoblin, with his weapon lowered, smiling and ambling toward Arthvael. “It’s a good thing he’s on my side,” thought Garret, meaning the sorcerer, of course. “Between turning foes into friends and putting others to sleep-“ Remembering the snoozing creature a couple of trees over from his current position, Garret decided the least he could do was go over and quietly dispatch it to whatever afterlife such a creature dreamt of.</p><p></p><p>Atgur, now at the back of the action, saw that Frederick might need a bit of assistance and dashed over to the fray. However, even his best effort only got him there in time to find himself on the receiving end of a fiery snap from the nether creature’s jaws. He shrugged it off as best he could and positioned himself to make use of his axe.</p><p></p><p>Also heeding the cleric’s warning, Himo spotted two more at the back of the newcomer hobgoblin pack that didn’t seem soothed by Berndeick’s spell. Pulling out a little magic of his own, Himo sent a shower of <em>glitterdust</em> over the pair of them. Dropping their weapons, the two hobgoblins began to stagger about where they were, clutching at their faces and pleading for help from their comrades.</p><p></p><p>The last of the original hobgoblin archers, well, the one who wasn’t making nice with Arthvael, glanced back at the reinforcements. Two were blinded by magic, four were calmly considering just enjoying the day, and the commander’s armor looked even shinier from the back as he was running full tilt away from the action back down the trail from whence the so-called reinforcements had only just arrived. This was not going to be a good day but he was determined to send a message to Moradin before it was done. Turning back toward what his commander had earlier ensured him was prey; the hobgoblin pulled an arrow from his quiver in a smooth fluid motion. He notched that sinister black missile to the bowstring and drew it back with all his strength. He fixed his gaze down the shaft at the dwarf that must be their leader and froze. He never would know why in the short time he had left but he just couldn’t bring himself to let the arrow fly. In the next instant, two more arrows from the bow of the ranger slew him.</p><p></p><p>There wasn’t much left to the action in this ambush-gone-wrong. Frederick von Jungingen slid from his saddle and between himself and Atgur, they dispatched the second hellhound. Once done with that, it was short work to stride over and mop up the other six hobgoblins. The four becalmed hobgoblins protested slightly at being killed in so offhanded a manner, but not for long and there was no one nearby who was sympathetic to their complaints save for their two, visually hopeless companions. That pair could smell death in the air and didn’t so much complain as plead and curse briefly before their own demise.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers regrouped. Garret came up from the rear and announced that he had, indeed, managed to finish off the sleeping loose end. Ludious replenished his quiver with the best of the arrows he could find. Atgur was asked to carry on his strong back a number of the bundled weaponry they felt was worth collecting for later sale in town.</p><p></p><p>Investigating what remained of the farmhouse structure, the group discovered five human bodies. One appeared to be a merchant, if the guild mark on her clothing wasn’t a ruse, and three other were likely her bodyguards, for they two had insignias that denoted such. The last was probably an unwitting farmer who may have used this road safely all his life only to be cut down on his way to town by these evil beings. About then Arthvael, who had been lingering back by the road with his new hobgoblin acquaintance, stepped forward to share some information he had gleaned.</p><p></p><p>“It seems that this is just one of a number of patrols from a rising band called the Red Hand,” began Arthvael.</p><p></p><p>Berndeick nodded knowingly. “They did seem far too organized to be mere hobgoblin brigands. What else have you learned?”</p><p></p><p>Arthvael continued, “Well, this one told me that the one who ran away was this patrol’s leader and he might be making for another of the patrols to alert them to our presence. He also said that these patrols were based out of the Witchwood, using the ruins of Vraath Keep as a headquarters. Apparently these hobgoblins are just the tip of a far more deadly blade.”</p><p></p><p>“We can’t stay here,” noted Garret, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously.</p><p></p><p>“True,” agreed Arthvael, “But I'd be loathe to abandon the bodies of these victims to the carrion birds. If we cannot take the time to bury them, the least we could do is cover them with stones from this tumbled-down farmhouse. Perhaps we, or some others from town, could come back in short order and do the job properly?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” said Berndeick, exchanging a look with Arthvael and tapping his toe against a stone near his foot. Addressing the charmed hobgoblin, now, he continued, “Start with this stone here, would you?”</p><p></p><p>Arthvael nodded to Berndeick and, in answer to a questioning look from the creature, patted the hobgoblin on the shoulder in encouragement. The hobgoblin smiled, walked across, and bent over to lift the stone. Berndeick moved so swift and matter-of-factly that it caught most of the group by surprise. The hobgoblin crumbled to the ground and the cleric wiped the residual blood from his axe blade on the creature’s back.</p><p></p><p>Not missing a beat, Berndeick quickly took control of the situation. “Frederick, call your horse and make after that one that ran away. Take the ranger with you and finish their leader off before he can rouse his kin. The rest of you will cover these dead humans while I say a few words over them. We’ll leave the hobgoblins to the scavengers and continue on the road when we’re done. You and Ludious can look for us between here and Drellin’s Ferry when you’ve accomplished your task. Be swift!”</p><p></p><p>Will Frederick and Ludious overtake the hobgoblin before it is too late? More to come . . .</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mark, post: 2823232, member: 5"] The tale continues . . . The lance of Frederick von Jungingen grazed off the bark of an oak as a hobgoblin ducked. But the creature did not duck low enough. The tip pierced his eye, shattering the side of his skull, scattering bits of his brain and splashing arcs of blood around the base of the tree. The bits of brain, however, and all in the vicinity were soon ablaze as the two charging hounds from the nether realms spewed forth streams of flame. These fiery cones, though brief, engulfed an area that included the corpse of the hobgoblin, the surrounding brambles and trees, Frederick, and his horse, Gar. The odor was nearly unnerving but both man and mount stood true despite the pain of their searing flesh. Garret, seeing his chance, scrambled over behind one of the hobgoblins. He drew his rapier and got into a crouching position. He moved with the silence of a tomb, as soundless as a light breeze. It would never know who had taken its life. It wouldn’t be long now and it would take but a moment. Atgur brought his axe down through the scalp of a hobgoblin who had stepped from behind a tree to challenge him. The axe continued until it buried itself deep in the creature’s chest. Atgur smiled. It was easier to remove his axe from a ribcage than from a skull and if he had to swing it extra hard to make that a possibility, he didn’t really mind. Himo slipped around the ranger and up behind the healer even as he continued to improvise a tale of glory. His pretend protagonist was thoroughly trouncing its fictitious foe. There was a lot of pulling of hair, and spilling blood, and the crunching of bones. It had potential. If only he’d the time to jot it down. The hobgoblin reinforcements were now even with the dilapidated farmhouse. They left the trail they had used to bring them to the fray and sought quick cover in the edge of the woods ahead of the adventurers. Their commander, from the rear of their numbers, barked out goblinoid orders that anyone could translate. A volley of arrows from the nearest of them whistled harmlessly past Berndeick who had taken the front and center of those adventurers left on the road. In answer to the rain of missiles, Berndeick sized up the newcomers and mumbled a suggestion over his shoulder to the bard and ranger. Then he stepped forward just a jot, raised his arms to ensure the line of newcomers would attend to him, and demanded, “[i]Be Calm![/i]” Arthvael glanced around. Two of the three original ambushers had been dropped on either side of the road. To the right, and ahead of the adventurers, one remained between the party and the new line of attackers. To the immediate left was one more, and it was close. “[i]Let’s be friends[/i],” Arthvael magically put forth. The hobgoblin blinked, lowered his bow, and began to smile in a grotesque but ingratiating way. Moradin’s adherent seemed to have taken the fight out of most of the remaining hobgoblins but he had warned Himo and Ludious that not all would bow to the dwarf’s demand. Scanning those remaining, Ludious saw the closest still had fire in its eye so he sent two of his arrows in its direction. Only one found the mark but the shaft drove in deeply. Frederick von Jungingen knew the hellhounds were too close to charge but he swung his lance to bear on one of the foul canines. He had considered switching to his sword but the lance was handy and sometimes a poke in the eye with a sharp stick really is better than nothing. He missed the eye, however, and jammed it into the ribs. The creature hardly had time to yelp, for now it was Gar’s turn for revenge. The steed briefly reared and then Gar’s two hooves came crashing down on the skull of the creature crushing the life out of it. Frederick smiled to himself, proud that the training of this warhorse paid off so well. Garret held back his killer rapier stoke and blinked his eyes at the sight of the now-amiable hobgoblin, with his weapon lowered, smiling and ambling toward Arthvael. “It’s a good thing he’s on my side,” thought Garret, meaning the sorcerer, of course. “Between turning foes into friends and putting others to sleep-“ Remembering the snoozing creature a couple of trees over from his current position, Garret decided the least he could do was go over and quietly dispatch it to whatever afterlife such a creature dreamt of. Atgur, now at the back of the action, saw that Frederick might need a bit of assistance and dashed over to the fray. However, even his best effort only got him there in time to find himself on the receiving end of a fiery snap from the nether creature’s jaws. He shrugged it off as best he could and positioned himself to make use of his axe. Also heeding the cleric’s warning, Himo spotted two more at the back of the newcomer hobgoblin pack that didn’t seem soothed by Berndeick’s spell. Pulling out a little magic of his own, Himo sent a shower of [i]glitterdust[/i] over the pair of them. Dropping their weapons, the two hobgoblins began to stagger about where they were, clutching at their faces and pleading for help from their comrades. The last of the original hobgoblin archers, well, the one who wasn’t making nice with Arthvael, glanced back at the reinforcements. Two were blinded by magic, four were calmly considering just enjoying the day, and the commander’s armor looked even shinier from the back as he was running full tilt away from the action back down the trail from whence the so-called reinforcements had only just arrived. This was not going to be a good day but he was determined to send a message to Moradin before it was done. Turning back toward what his commander had earlier ensured him was prey; the hobgoblin pulled an arrow from his quiver in a smooth fluid motion. He notched that sinister black missile to the bowstring and drew it back with all his strength. He fixed his gaze down the shaft at the dwarf that must be their leader and froze. He never would know why in the short time he had left but he just couldn’t bring himself to let the arrow fly. In the next instant, two more arrows from the bow of the ranger slew him. There wasn’t much left to the action in this ambush-gone-wrong. Frederick von Jungingen slid from his saddle and between himself and Atgur, they dispatched the second hellhound. Once done with that, it was short work to stride over and mop up the other six hobgoblins. The four becalmed hobgoblins protested slightly at being killed in so offhanded a manner, but not for long and there was no one nearby who was sympathetic to their complaints save for their two, visually hopeless companions. That pair could smell death in the air and didn’t so much complain as plead and curse briefly before their own demise. The adventurers regrouped. Garret came up from the rear and announced that he had, indeed, managed to finish off the sleeping loose end. Ludious replenished his quiver with the best of the arrows he could find. Atgur was asked to carry on his strong back a number of the bundled weaponry they felt was worth collecting for later sale in town. Investigating what remained of the farmhouse structure, the group discovered five human bodies. One appeared to be a merchant, if the guild mark on her clothing wasn’t a ruse, and three other were likely her bodyguards, for they two had insignias that denoted such. The last was probably an unwitting farmer who may have used this road safely all his life only to be cut down on his way to town by these evil beings. About then Arthvael, who had been lingering back by the road with his new hobgoblin acquaintance, stepped forward to share some information he had gleaned. “It seems that this is just one of a number of patrols from a rising band called the Red Hand,” began Arthvael. Berndeick nodded knowingly. “They did seem far too organized to be mere hobgoblin brigands. What else have you learned?” Arthvael continued, “Well, this one told me that the one who ran away was this patrol’s leader and he might be making for another of the patrols to alert them to our presence. He also said that these patrols were based out of the Witchwood, using the ruins of Vraath Keep as a headquarters. Apparently these hobgoblins are just the tip of a far more deadly blade.” “We can’t stay here,” noted Garret, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. “True,” agreed Arthvael, “But I'd be loathe to abandon the bodies of these victims to the carrion birds. If we cannot take the time to bury them, the least we could do is cover them with stones from this tumbled-down farmhouse. Perhaps we, or some others from town, could come back in short order and do the job properly?” “Yes,” said Berndeick, exchanging a look with Arthvael and tapping his toe against a stone near his foot. Addressing the charmed hobgoblin, now, he continued, “Start with this stone here, would you?” Arthvael nodded to Berndeick and, in answer to a questioning look from the creature, patted the hobgoblin on the shoulder in encouragement. The hobgoblin smiled, walked across, and bent over to lift the stone. Berndeick moved so swift and matter-of-factly that it caught most of the group by surprise. The hobgoblin crumbled to the ground and the cleric wiped the residual blood from his axe blade on the creature’s back. Not missing a beat, Berndeick quickly took control of the situation. “Frederick, call your horse and make after that one that ran away. Take the ranger with you and finish their leader off before he can rouse his kin. The rest of you will cover these dead humans while I say a few words over them. We’ll leave the hobgoblins to the scavengers and continue on the road when we’re done. You and Ludious can look for us between here and Drellin’s Ferry when you’ve accomplished your task. Be swift!” Will Frederick and Ludious overtake the hobgoblin before it is too late? More to come . . . [/QUOTE]
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