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(Casual D&D) A Game of Trust

Exantrius turns to Fendric and Merriam:

"Gold I doubt will be worth much... Sunrods and tindertwigs, moreso. Save your potion though. And go ahead with the tricks..."

He smiles and turns to the Hobgoblin elder: "We require only enough food to sustain us for two weeks... The smaller of our numbers will eat less, so look at it as five of your folk, who are clearly more hearty than we."

The Hobgoblin takes a moment to picture the amount of food required, as Exantrius looks through his belt pouch, and pulls out a small vial.

"The liquid in this bottle is antitoxin -- it will protect you from poison, such as a scorpion's sting or a viper's bite. I'm sure you could find this quite useful, living in the wilderness."

Alag considers this.

"The little bottle, both bottles of oil, and eight tindertwigs. Is this good?"

He turns to Merrim, a light grin passing over his teeth.

"And for your tricks, we will add a bag of mushrooms extra. Good?"

(Merrim: As this goes on, you hear a low rumbling and a few loud whimpers from a small tent about thirty yards to the group's right, somewhat isolated from the rest of the tents.)
 

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Fendric looks at Alag with admiration: "May the Light bless you, good sir!" Handing over the flasks of oil, smiling, he looks the tribal chieftain square in the eye. "Are any of your tribe hurt? Perhaps I can assist..."
 

"Tricks, stories and more," exclaims Merrim. "Give me a moment to get prepared and gather the young in a nice spot where I can make sure that they are all able to witness the show." Merrim tries to take a look at the tent in question and will take off her backpack and move closer to the tent. When she gets a little closer, she sets the pack down, pulls out her jester hat and makes like she is getting ready, while surveying the tent and trying to see what might be inside.
 

Merrim: As you approach, the sounds are definitely voices of some sort... Or rather, one voice, speaking lowly, to itself. Before you have a chance to get closer, you see the tent collapse on its side, accompanied by a loud hobgoblin roar. Its occupant stumbles, and begins scrambling to his feet, his eyes dead-set on Exantrius. He screams out something in Hobgoblin and begins moving fast in a straight line, towards your elder companion, dragging a very large, thoroughly-decorated bone axe..

(Yes, roll for initiative. Consider him seventy feet from the main group at the moment -- about twenty feet out of the tent. Merrim's about thirty feet closer. The rest of you will be dispersed within fifteen feet of Exantrius.
If anyone has a strong distaste for this loose of a system of battle-tracking, I can start posting diagrams, but otherwise, this is simpler.)
 

[Init: 18, no modifier.]

On Fendric's initiative, he will cast Shield of Faith on himself, then draw flail and small steel shield (free actions?). (Making him AC 17 for 10 rounds, AC 15 after or if shield isn't drawn).

If there's any time left, he will shout "Look Out!" at Exantrius.
 



Aiiieee!!!

(ooc- rolled 14+7=21, move equivalent to draw bow, then holding the attack until He moves forward ten feet or so. [shortbow range- 60ft.])

Aerda had just thought about following Merrim, to make sure she wasn't overwhelmed, so he was watching as the tent collapsed. His swift Elven ears registered the danger, and he seemed to react before he knew what he was doing. His hands produce his shortbow, training it on the hobgoblin and holding the arrow until the thing moves closer. His deep red eyes calm.
 



Into the Woods

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