Player:
The sight of Brother Vhelt dying in a pool of his own blood combined with the sudden appearance of the troll completely throws me for a loop and shuts me down. My mind is screaming to act, but my body just does not respond as it tramples me to the ground.As I see the monster snatch up Nasharel like as if only a rag doll and stuff her into a sack, my muscles finally come under my control in a surge of rage. This troll is mine or I die here, tonight.
Engage Test: Speed B3 + 2D weapon length = 1,5,6,6,6 [insert Iron Maiden’s song here] – 4 successes
The Troll is at a +2 Ob disadvantage against me (431).
Fight Script:
Get up (yelling “TROLL!!!”) – Get up (yelling once again “TROLL!!!”) – Strike
GM:
Strike – Strike – Avoid (its claws are fast weapons, it can strike every round)Despite being on the ground, you stay close to the beast as it tries to break from the combat. Each time you yell, it strikes at you, trying to get past the point of your sword as you keep the tip right on the beast, daring it to make its way past the blade in order to use its claws.
1 success.
It flails at you while you get up to no effect, in a great back-hand rake and before you are fully on your feet, it attempts to strike you again, that hand making it back across its body in the other direction.
Again, it misses as the camp begins to stir.
Someone bellows, “ARMS! Troll in camp!”
It attempts to jump out of the way of your sword as you attack.
Avoid, 1 success, taking 1 away from your successes, defensive actions are not penalized by advantage!
Nasharel’s dagger pokes through the bag as she attempts to cut her way out, the camp is grabbing its weapons and coming to your aid.
Your roll.
Player:
I’m reading the Anatomy of Injury section to learn how to take damage but it’s a bit confusing as I have not read in-depth the entire Fight section. From what I gather I have taken 1 hit from the troll’s claws but I’m not sure where to mark it on the PTGS. I will roll my attack and if there’s any adjustment to be made from damage, you let me know and we fix it.I feel the slashing pain of the troll’s claws as they tear into my flesh but I ignore it as best I can. Dimly, somewhere in the back, I hear the stirrings of the camp: help is on the way. As I weave and dodge to stay close to the beast, I see a flash of steel from the sack—Nasharel’s dagger!
You are mine, troll.
Sword Test: 4,6,5,3 – 1 success from the troll’s avoid = 2 successes.
GM:
The troll never hit you because of the +2 ob of that initial positioning test you won. No hits.The troll is offering its most heavily armored spot, its chest. You could bump up that hit to a Mark hit (B7) and take your chances with its armor roll or move the hit to the head, either arm or either leg and only do an Inconsequential (B4) hit.
Player:
Ah, ok, now I understand the flow of text above. It only got 1 success.Tell me/give me a page # how to bump up a hit. For this one, I’ll go with moving the hit to an arm, the one holding the sack.
Simply, deftly, almost ungracefully, like so many back-alley scuffles in Raven’s Bluff began and ended, I thrust my sword forward after a miniscule feint, going right for the arm. They never expect to be hit in the arm.
GM:
Check out 463-466 for more on landing a blow.2D on the armor check to the arm. 1 success. No damage.
The tip of the blade only scratches the troll’s thick hide.
Nasharel is sawing her knife down the thick, goat-hide bag, trying to get her way out but will need more time to do so.
With all of your focus on the troll, you only have a vague sense of The Hunt gathering around you but they are there. Most are not up yet but a few have joined you in their small-clothes, weapons in hand.
The members of the Hunt around you give you a bonus die on this Positioning test. The troll is trying to disengage and get the hell outta dodge = 1 success. Roll your Speed vs that 1 success and take a bonus die from your comrades.
Player:
Positioning Test: Speed B3 + 2D weapon advantage (436) + 1D comrades = 6,2,3,5,4,5 – 4 successesI can tell the troll is trying to escape with its prey, but by Corellon, this beast will not elude me tonight. I prepare to swing my sword at its putrid green hide again.
I’m scripted for the next exchange.
GM:
Charge – Strike – BlockNow that the time for stealth is over, the creature bellows, sprinting at you, down a corridor of spear-points, leveled axe-hands and sword-points of the Hunt’s readied weapons.
Shasslan is standing on top of the cart, surveying the scene, calling for crossbows to be strung.
“Stand, strong, Hal!”
Take +1D as a bonus helping die from those around you and another +1D helping die from Shasslan’s Command skill. The other members of the Hunt are trying to get the troll to engage with you, as you are armored.
Player:
Strike – Avoid – StrikeThe rush of dozens of moonlit bladefights come to me immediately as I brandish my sword at the beast. I feel my blood pumping—my human blood—feeding rage into every fiber of my being. I bare my teeth and prepare to meet the troll head on.
Strike
Sword Test: B4 + 2D helping dice = 5,6,6,1,1,4
Aiming for the chest.
GM:
The hit to the chest will be a Mark hit, if you open those two sixes with Fate artha, you could knock it up to Superior…. or it could be nullified by a successful armor roll…just sayin’. I’ll wait for your response before making the armor roll.4 success, 2 go away to your advantage, 2 successes remaining. You are still on your feet but whatever you do for the NEXT volley will be at a +1 ob.
Player:
I’m opening both. Spend 2 Fate artha = 4,4 – 2 successes!I take it the 4 successes you speak of are the troll’s Charge, right?
GM:
Yes, those success are for the charge. You only have to spend 1 fate to explode all sixes in a roll. Take one back.2 successes on the troll’s armor roll. No effect.
The Troll charges as you scratch it with your sword. You can hear the crossbows lining up behind you but know that if they are forced to fire, a stray bolt could puncture the bag and Nasharel. Your beloved lady is sawing her way out of the bag but that could take a while yet.
The troll swings again with its claws but it can’t find its way past your sword to cut you.
2 successes but its +2 ob due to the advantage takes those successes away, no need to roll for the Avoid.
The troll grins, holding up the bag as its defensive action, blocking with the sack containing Nasharel.
1 success on the block (the positioning +2 ob does not pertain to defensive actions). I’m going to say that if you beat that, you don’t strike her and deftly attack the troll around the bag. If you fail, we’ll roll the Die of Fate and if it comes up, you’ll wound her.
Player:
“BASTARD!”Strike:
Sword Test: B4 + 2D helping dice = 4,2,6,5,3,6 → spend 1 Fate artha = 6,4 → 5 – 7 successes
Once again at the chest.
GM:
2 successes again on the armor roll! Now you learn the efficacy of a weapon with VA.Your skill is too great for the beast and you maneuver your blade around your love. Again you put your steel on the monster’s flesh but this is no Ravens Bluff duelist and its scaly skin repels your blade.
Shasslan calls for the crossbows. “FIRE!”
The beast is riddled with 3 bolts, dying a grizzly death. It is impossible to tell if any bolts went through the bag; for half of a minute, it is impossible to tell if Nasharel has been harmed by the bolts.
I think you should roll the Die of Fate. On a 1, Nasharel is hit. Roll again to see how badly she is hit. If the first roll is a 1, let me know what the second roll is.
Player:
Die of Fate: 1 → 2You know when I said that I would pay for all those awesome rolls earlier? Here it is.
“Nasharel!” I drop my sword and run immediately to the sack, tearing it open. My heart sinks as I see that there is a perfect round hole in the sack where a crossbow bolt went right through…
GM:
You find her in the sack, along with a few smooth rocks about the size of a helm and a dead raccoon.She smiles and grimaces at the bleeding hole in her shoulder. There is bleed in her hair and on her face. “I need to sharpen my damned knife more often. Troll or ogre?”
Father Crommlar kneels next to her and begins to inspect the wound. Shasslan puts a hand on your shoulder. “It is best if you let him work; let others who know the mending arts aid him.”
“I’ll be fine,” Nasharel croaks.
Player:
I kiss her hand as I step back to let the priest do his work. I take a moment to survey the scene: I look at the body of young Brother Vhelt, now in formation next to Tempus; I see the blood which once gave him life now pooled on the earth; I see the green beast lie lifeless, three crossbow shafts protruding from its body.I walk back to pick up my sword, and with a determined stride I walk up to the body of the beast. I raise my sword in an arc and bring it down upon the troll’s neck. I do it again. And again. And again. Hacking away at the tough leathery skin. Hacking away at the fibrous muscle beneath. Hacking away at the rigid bone at the core. Hacking and hacking until I am covered in the splashing blood and the head rolls off. I then grab it by the hair, drag it across the ground and toss it right into the campfire, there to be consumed by the flames as the folktales say it should be done with such a beast. Frankly, as far as I care, I would’ve burned the beast anyway, folktales be damned.
This gory business done, I walk over to the body of Brother Vhelt, pick him up and carry him off to a place where we can later clean him up and offer him the last rites he deserves.
GM:
The priests come over to where you’ve laid out Brother Vhelt, on a slab under the broken, moss-covered monument and begin to ready him. In the rites of Tempus, they prepare him for battle, making sure his armor is secure, tying a weapon to his hand so that he will have it with him in the afterlife.Battle-father Crommlar Muriel comes to you, stern, red hair in braids to keep it out of his face. “You were the last one to speak to Brother Vhelt. I will send him to the eternal battlefield but if you could say a few words or sing a song, that would be proper. There are other responsibilities that come to the last person who spoke to a follower of Tempus before they died in battle but we can discuss that another time, when the gore is washed from you.”
He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Would you do that, brother?”
Crommlar continues, “Nasharel will ride in the cart with Brother Szellim. I did not call on Tempus’ miracles because He already gave us a miracle when he placed that crossbow bolt. But she will likely sleep most of the day.”
Player:
I nod to the grave Battle-father and walk over to the body of Brother Vhelt, now washed, in his armor, well-oiled sword in hand.“Tempus is not one for many words. Tempus is one for action. Young as he was, Brother Vhelt knew this and embraced it. As we stood guard last night, what would be his last words were all about the glories of battle, the blessings bestowed on him by the Foehammer, the offerings of singing steel he would offer the Lord of Battles in times to come. He only lies here today because he faced a cowardly foe, a lowly beast that knows not of the honor of war. Brother Vhelt would have made Tempus proud had the creature faced him in combat, of that let there be no doubt today or ever. Now, Brother Vhelt Marrim fares better than all of us, for he now stands in formation in the armies of Tempus, where he will reap honor in holy battle for his lord for all eternity. That is how we should remember Brother Vhelt. Tempus be praised.”
I then pull out my mother’s flute and play a short tune. It is a marching song I once learned from a drunken sergeant in Raven’s Bluff, a tune that starts slow and dirge-like, recalling the end of a battle as a soldier stands and sees all his comrades dead around him. But the pace picks up as the soldier walks across the field, picks up his banner and holds it aloft in the wind, showing their deaths were not in vain. The song staccatos as it picks up the mood, keeping the marching pace to the beat of a beating heart that has lived to carry on the memory of those fallen in war. It ends in a solitary note which rises in pitch and dissipates into thin air, carrying the souls of the departed to the glory halls of Tempus Foehammer.
The song done, I tuck the flute away and walk the back of the camp, looking for one of the barrels of water so I can wash the gore away.
GM:
Battle-father Crommlar Muriel nods at your words and your music, crying. “Well said and well played, Hal. I’m pleased the Powers brought you to us.”While you wash the troll gore off of you, Brother Vhelt Marrim is buried beneath a forgotten monument to a forgotten empire in the Dun Hills.
The Hunt continues.
Shasslan’s announcement cuts the morning gloom. “We’re running behind schedule, Hunters. We’ve said our words over our fallen comrade and he has a fine resting place to mark his passing and march with Tempus. Camp is broken and we’re on our way before the sun comes over the hills.” The company’s grief is interrupted by duty and work.
“I’m glad you got to say something about Vhelt and play that marching tune; he’d have liked that. Your blade kept the troll at bay well, Master Whitewyrm but I’m sure you noticed that is all it did,” Vorass says to you as gently as she can, saddling her horse.