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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 5670937" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p><strong>The Nentir Inn, Fallcrest.</strong></p><p> </p><p>The PCs don’t know each other as of yet… that’s about to change, it’s just another quiet night in the Nentir Inn, that is until a gang of Hobgoblins and Goblins smash their way in to the bar room. The creatures come from every direction – even the kitchen, worse still the Goblins are wielding bitumen torches…</p><p> </p><p><strong>Encounter #1 – 780 XP – Level 2 Encounter.</strong></p><p>10 Hobgoblin Grunts (Level 3 Minions)</p><p>3 Goblin Blackblades (Level 1 Lurker)</p><p>Skill Challenge: Putting out the Fire (Level 1 Complexity 1)</p><p> </p><p><strong>PCs</strong></p><p>Ah-shahran, Male Deva, Hybrid Shaman-Warlord, Level 1</p><p>Freggo, Male Human, Swordmage, Level 1</p><p>Kalimaru, Male Razorclaw Shifter, Ranger (Scout), Level 1</p><p>Kyalia, Female Elf, Ranger, Level 1</p><p>Magnus, Male Dwarf, Fighter, Level 1</p><p>Viator, Male Eladrin, Psion, Level 1</p><p> </p><p>The Goblin’s scream and rant,</p><p> </p><p><em>For the Red Hand</em></p><p> </p><p>one cries, another -</p><p> </p><p><em>Sinruth!</em></p><p> </p><p>repeatedly – like a chant. The foul creatures even wear smart red patches on their poorly-maintained armour – the insignia of the ‘Red Hand’1. The initial attack sees seven Hobgoblin Grunts armed with longsords – already drawn, and two Goblin Blackblades, wielding shortswords and the aforementioned bitumen torches, the host stream in to the bar – out for blood.</p><p> </p><p>The effect is instantaneous, patrons scream, shout, run and duck for cover; one of the Inn’s bouncers dives in to a large plant pot and attempts to dig to freedom.</p><p> </p><p>A pair of Goblins, each leading a seperate force, throw their fiery torches in to the mix – Viator narrowly avoids being set ablaze – however the burning torch still rests at his feet, licking at his cloak – the danger is not over. Worse still the second torch lands behind the bar, the work top there is soon burning gloriously- above is the open liquor cabinet.</p><p></p><p>Magnus, a Dwarven Fighter – consoling himself with a pint of ‘Brown Nadder’, sees his beer spilt, he grimaces – wars have started for less. He leaps off his stool and on to the bar, grabs out his Warhammer and Charges at the Goblin that has just spilt his pint – and thrown a torch in to the liquor cabinet, but that’s of secondary concern. He screams,</p><p> </p><p><em>Let’s see how well ya laugh with a broken face</em></p><p> </p><p>and connects with his warhammer – a swat rather than a hit however, the Goblin Blackblade looks, if anything, mildly peeved.</p><p> </p><p>Freggo, a young Human Swordmage – fresh-faced and out for adventure – having spent his youth reading tales of daring – do, leaps to his feet, he knows exactly what daring to do. He dances towards the fight, declaring as he goes -</p><p> </p><p><em>Stand back everyone! Freggo the Hero, Last of the Red-Hot Swammis, is here!</em></p><p> </p><p>The Hobgoblin Grunt before him is somewhat bemused by the young man’s constant feints and practice slashes – it’s like Freggo has only recently been introduced to his longsword, all very pretty but to no effect, and just as the Grunt finishes this thought he feels… light-headed, the Hobgoblin sinks to the floor – dead. Freggo’s Luring Strike does for him,</p><p> </p><p><em>Magic do as you will…</em></p><p> </p><p>Freggo mumbles and points at his next victim, another Hobgoblin Grunt – now subject to his Aegis of Ensnarement.</p><p> </p><p>Alas this maneuver doesn’t turn out too well – two Hobgoblin Grunts decide that the Swordmage is some great hero, they gang up on poor Freggo – both slash and cut – neither wounds are deep but the cumulative effect is not good – Freggo gulps and wonders, not for the last time, is he perhaps out of his depth. Meanwhile an innocent punter, a fat merchant – who bobs up from behind the bar, is swiftly decpaitated by another of the Hobgoblin Grunts,</p><p> </p><p><em>Sinruth!</em></p><p> </p><p>the beast screams.</p><p> </p><p>Two more of the steadfast Hobgoblins burst in to the bar room – stop, momentarily, and look around for a suitable target, their eyes alight on a pale-faced, nervous looking Eladrin at the bar. They Charge and slice at Viator – their longswords leaving red tracery in their wake – the Eladrin bleeds, and stutters, Viator like Freggo, is wounded but not quite bloodied.</p><p> </p><p>Viator blinks rapidly – seemingly staring down at his feet, the flaming torch shifts and wobbles – then skitters forward, unaided – untouched, seemingly of its own volition. It skitters over to lie at the feet of one of Viator’s Hobgoblin attackers, as if manipulated by some Far Hand. The Eladrin Psion looks up, grins awkwardly at the Grunts, and then disappears – Fey Steps away to a much safer corner of the bar. Seconds later a dull haze forms over a cluster of the Hobgoblins, including his assailants, the haze as suddenly dissipates – two of the Grunts clutch their heads, mumble and stagger, minds burnt out they slump to the floor and like flopping fish squirm and soon expire.</p><p> </p><p>Ah-shahran, a worldly-wise looking Deva, with a tired face and sad eyes stands – seemingly angered by the interruption, he holds a chess piece in each hand. The Deva tosses the two black bishops in to the fray, midair the chess pieces transform in to Twin black Panthers – the first paws, cuts and bites at a Goblin Blackblade who is left scratched and bleeding. The second feline pounces and crashes in to a Hobgoblin brute – it doesn’t let up – cuts, bites and rakes at the Hobgoblin’s face, the creature is left shredded – and dead. The Twin Panthers fade out of existence. Moments later Ah-shahran’s Spirit Companion, Gorm – a slightly dopey, but fierce, hound appears standing next to Freggo, who suddenly feels energised – and a little more confident of his own abilities.</p><p> </p><p>From further in to the bar a hulking man, actually Kalimaru the Razorclaw Shifter can easily pass for a Human, leaps to his feet – scattering tables and drawing a battleaxe and a hand axe in the process. He glares at a wounded Goblin perched on the bar, marking it for death with his Assassin’s Shroud, then hurtles towards the fracas, leaping a low hand rail to get at his enemy. This does not go well (‘1’), Kali catches his foot on the rail and is sent sprawling – its all he can do to prevent himself being left in a heap on the floor.</p><p> </p><p><em>Chipsticks!</em></p><p> </p><p>The big man curses, and looks around to make sure no-one has seen his embarrassing moment.</p><p> </p><p>Further in to the bar still, Kyalia, a beautiful Elven woman finishes the last of her wine, puts the glass down tidily – fusses a moment and then leaps on to the table, which bucks and spills the aforementioned wine glass, but is quickly and easily tamed. Her bow is instantly in her hands. She sights, and settles her Hunter’s Quarry on one of the wounded Goblin Blackblades. She fires, then again – her Twin Strike finds the target, the dumb Goblinoid is left gasping and cursing – sicking up blood, and desperately trying to reach and remove the two arrows embedded deep in its back.</p><p> </p><p>And still, inbetween the islands of action, a tide of bar patrons run screaming, or else hide, or curse the day they were born. Suddenly the liquor cabinet behind the bar explodes – the fire balloons and spreads. Bottles of spirits shatter and explode, gouts of flame errupt, while splinters of glass fill the air, another of the bar staff goes down, peppered by a million tiny daggers.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile the flaming torch, thrown earlier at Viator, and then shifted away, flares and begins to burn the underside of a table, the smoke coils…</p><p> </p><p>The bar is hotting up.</p><p></p><p><strong><u>End of Round 1</u></strong></p><p> </p><p>Two PCs wounded – Viator (26/16+4 HP) and Freggo (27/17 HP).</p><p>Four Hobgoblin Grunts killed.</p><p>Two Goblin Blackblades wounded – one bloodied (25/21 & 25/9 HP).</p><p>Lots of Fire…</p><p> </p><p>The emblem of the Red Hand is a, well… a red hand – go figure, the red of course is blood, although… it could be ketchup.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 5670937, member: 16069"] [B]The Nentir Inn, Fallcrest.[/B] The PCs don’t know each other as of yet… that’s about to change, it’s just another quiet night in the Nentir Inn, that is until a gang of Hobgoblins and Goblins smash their way in to the bar room. The creatures come from every direction – even the kitchen, worse still the Goblins are wielding bitumen torches… [B]Encounter #1 – 780 XP – Level 2 Encounter.[/B] 10 Hobgoblin Grunts (Level 3 Minions) 3 Goblin Blackblades (Level 1 Lurker) Skill Challenge: Putting out the Fire (Level 1 Complexity 1) [B]PCs[/B] Ah-shahran, Male Deva, Hybrid Shaman-Warlord, Level 1 Freggo, Male Human, Swordmage, Level 1 Kalimaru, Male Razorclaw Shifter, Ranger (Scout), Level 1 Kyalia, Female Elf, Ranger, Level 1 Magnus, Male Dwarf, Fighter, Level 1 Viator, Male Eladrin, Psion, Level 1 The Goblin’s scream and rant, [I]For the Red Hand[/I] one cries, another - [I]Sinruth![/I] repeatedly – like a chant. The foul creatures even wear smart red patches on their poorly-maintained armour – the insignia of the ‘Red Hand’1. The initial attack sees seven Hobgoblin Grunts armed with longsords – already drawn, and two Goblin Blackblades, wielding shortswords and the aforementioned bitumen torches, the host stream in to the bar – out for blood. The effect is instantaneous, patrons scream, shout, run and duck for cover; one of the Inn’s bouncers dives in to a large plant pot and attempts to dig to freedom. A pair of Goblins, each leading a seperate force, throw their fiery torches in to the mix – Viator narrowly avoids being set ablaze – however the burning torch still rests at his feet, licking at his cloak – the danger is not over. Worse still the second torch lands behind the bar, the work top there is soon burning gloriously- above is the open liquor cabinet. Magnus, a Dwarven Fighter – consoling himself with a pint of ‘Brown Nadder’, sees his beer spilt, he grimaces – wars have started for less. He leaps off his stool and on to the bar, grabs out his Warhammer and Charges at the Goblin that has just spilt his pint – and thrown a torch in to the liquor cabinet, but that’s of secondary concern. He screams, [I]Let’s see how well ya laugh with a broken face[/I] and connects with his warhammer – a swat rather than a hit however, the Goblin Blackblade looks, if anything, mildly peeved. Freggo, a young Human Swordmage – fresh-faced and out for adventure – having spent his youth reading tales of daring – do, leaps to his feet, he knows exactly what daring to do. He dances towards the fight, declaring as he goes - [I]Stand back everyone! Freggo the Hero, Last of the Red-Hot Swammis, is here![/I] The Hobgoblin Grunt before him is somewhat bemused by the young man’s constant feints and practice slashes – it’s like Freggo has only recently been introduced to his longsword, all very pretty but to no effect, and just as the Grunt finishes this thought he feels… light-headed, the Hobgoblin sinks to the floor – dead. Freggo’s Luring Strike does for him, [I]Magic do as you will…[/I] Freggo mumbles and points at his next victim, another Hobgoblin Grunt – now subject to his Aegis of Ensnarement. Alas this maneuver doesn’t turn out too well – two Hobgoblin Grunts decide that the Swordmage is some great hero, they gang up on poor Freggo – both slash and cut – neither wounds are deep but the cumulative effect is not good – Freggo gulps and wonders, not for the last time, is he perhaps out of his depth. Meanwhile an innocent punter, a fat merchant – who bobs up from behind the bar, is swiftly decpaitated by another of the Hobgoblin Grunts, [I]Sinruth![/I] the beast screams. Two more of the steadfast Hobgoblins burst in to the bar room – stop, momentarily, and look around for a suitable target, their eyes alight on a pale-faced, nervous looking Eladrin at the bar. They Charge and slice at Viator – their longswords leaving red tracery in their wake – the Eladrin bleeds, and stutters, Viator like Freggo, is wounded but not quite bloodied. Viator blinks rapidly – seemingly staring down at his feet, the flaming torch shifts and wobbles – then skitters forward, unaided – untouched, seemingly of its own volition. It skitters over to lie at the feet of one of Viator’s Hobgoblin attackers, as if manipulated by some Far Hand. The Eladrin Psion looks up, grins awkwardly at the Grunts, and then disappears – Fey Steps away to a much safer corner of the bar. Seconds later a dull haze forms over a cluster of the Hobgoblins, including his assailants, the haze as suddenly dissipates – two of the Grunts clutch their heads, mumble and stagger, minds burnt out they slump to the floor and like flopping fish squirm and soon expire. Ah-shahran, a worldly-wise looking Deva, with a tired face and sad eyes stands – seemingly angered by the interruption, he holds a chess piece in each hand. The Deva tosses the two black bishops in to the fray, midair the chess pieces transform in to Twin black Panthers – the first paws, cuts and bites at a Goblin Blackblade who is left scratched and bleeding. The second feline pounces and crashes in to a Hobgoblin brute – it doesn’t let up – cuts, bites and rakes at the Hobgoblin’s face, the creature is left shredded – and dead. The Twin Panthers fade out of existence. Moments later Ah-shahran’s Spirit Companion, Gorm – a slightly dopey, but fierce, hound appears standing next to Freggo, who suddenly feels energised – and a little more confident of his own abilities. From further in to the bar a hulking man, actually Kalimaru the Razorclaw Shifter can easily pass for a Human, leaps to his feet – scattering tables and drawing a battleaxe and a hand axe in the process. He glares at a wounded Goblin perched on the bar, marking it for death with his Assassin’s Shroud, then hurtles towards the fracas, leaping a low hand rail to get at his enemy. This does not go well (‘1’), Kali catches his foot on the rail and is sent sprawling – its all he can do to prevent himself being left in a heap on the floor. [I]Chipsticks![/I] The big man curses, and looks around to make sure no-one has seen his embarrassing moment. Further in to the bar still, Kyalia, a beautiful Elven woman finishes the last of her wine, puts the glass down tidily – fusses a moment and then leaps on to the table, which bucks and spills the aforementioned wine glass, but is quickly and easily tamed. Her bow is instantly in her hands. She sights, and settles her Hunter’s Quarry on one of the wounded Goblin Blackblades. She fires, then again – her Twin Strike finds the target, the dumb Goblinoid is left gasping and cursing – sicking up blood, and desperately trying to reach and remove the two arrows embedded deep in its back. And still, inbetween the islands of action, a tide of bar patrons run screaming, or else hide, or curse the day they were born. Suddenly the liquor cabinet behind the bar explodes – the fire balloons and spreads. Bottles of spirits shatter and explode, gouts of flame errupt, while splinters of glass fill the air, another of the bar staff goes down, peppered by a million tiny daggers. Meanwhile the flaming torch, thrown earlier at Viator, and then shifted away, flares and begins to burn the underside of a table, the smoke coils… The bar is hotting up. [B][U]End of Round 1[/U][/B] Two PCs wounded – Viator (26/16+4 HP) and Freggo (27/17 HP). Four Hobgoblin Grunts killed. Two Goblin Blackblades wounded – one bloodied (25/21 & 25/9 HP). Lots of Fire… The emblem of the Red Hand is a, well… a red hand – go figure, the red of course is blood, although… it could be ketchup. [/QUOTE]
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