The Game of Kings

Doral, wand still in hand, dashes into the room, skirting around the edge of the room and out of the reach of the bugbear. The thug thrusts his sword out, but quickly withdraws it; he seems to deem defense more valuable than the runaway beguiler.

Kinsman leaps up the stairs, taking them two and three at once, and is at the upper landing in a moment. A short dash carries him to Morika's quarters. The beguilers knocks and yells, ignoring a distressed elven patron of the Argotch cringing at the sound of the melee downstairs.

On the other side of the thick door, Morika's mind wades into conciousness, albiet prematurely. As the shifter turns her head to the sealed portal, pangs of agony spark through her head, but the urgency in her companion's voice brings her into an impaired conciousness.

Downstairs, Carver bashes into the vicious bugbear, who attempts to stave him off with a quick sword thrust, only to strike at a obtuse angle, deflecting the blade away and leaving him off-balance as the Warforged grabs the goblinoid's arm in a viselike grip. The two cross morningstar and longsword; with a snarl, the bugbear pushes back at Carver--but the artificer holds his ground and holds the enemy's arm tenaciously.

His beady eyes indicating some surprise, the bugbear killer tries to twist his hand and the shortsword in it into Carver's joints, Muscles shaking, both grapplers struggle over the blade. It haltingly jerks back and forth, waving in short arcs, but for all his foe's effort, Carver's superior hold keeps the little sword at bay.

Partash, heart pounding, utters his prayer, and il-Yannah's healing washes over him like cold, fresh water flowing across his body and his wounds. As quickly as his side was torn, the mangled flesh knits back together. As he looks back into the inn, he notes the woman, still angry as a demon, glaring daggers across the room and trying to find an opening in Carver and the bugbear's struggle to help with a strike of her scimitar.

"Scrap of tin! Duller'n'a--hhuuhgh..." she screams, first in anger, and second in shock as her epithets are interrupted by a whistling blur over Partash's shoulder that materializes as a long, barbed arrow in the killer's throat. She raises a hand, dropping the scimitar to clatter at her feet, and grasps the mortal wound as air continues to leak from her punctured windpipe and mouth in a terrible wheezing hiss. Blood falls to the floor as she falls to her knees, defeated. Outside the Argotch Inn, the arrow's sender fluidly draws a second arrow; Dragen Kessler has found the fight.

[sblock=Combat Info]
Doral Kinsman
14 HP
AC 17
AP 7
Mindlinked

Carver Banderelli
33 HP
AC 20
AP 7
Bull’s Strength
Grappling

Partash
22 HP
AC 16 + 2
AP 7
Minklinked
Shield of Faith

Dragen Kessler
37 HP
AC 16
AP 7

Morika Kevsecks
34 HP
AC 10 (flat-footed, unarmored)
AP 6
Sickened[/sblock]
 
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There were drums, drums from the dancers celebrating the victory. Morika curled up next to the fire, watching her cousins dance, leaping into the air, dancing for victory, for luck, for health and good hunting. The drumming was infectious, relentless, and soon the young shifter had to join in. She was only ten years old, but loved every minute of it. She lept and twirled, spun and twisted, hearing all the drumming, drumming, drumming...

Drumming. Pounding. Someone was pounding at the door. Damn your ears and eyes and that of your children unto the fifteenth generation you thick-headed honorless pieces of dung! Morika snarled mentally as she swam into unwelcome consciousness. Her head was already pounding with what was certain to be the grandmother of all hangovers, her eyes blurred and felt stuffed with sand, and her mouth was so foul it didn't bear thinking about. Shuffling over to the door, she yanked it over, murder on her mind. If this isn't a life-or-death emergency, they're getting beaten. And even if it is, I might beat them anyway! she thought grouchily as she looked to see who was there.

"What?" she snarled, probably looking twice as bad as she actually felt.
 

The kobold was impatient. It was slowed by this cursed cage he was forced to carry, a burden that rightfully belonged to his invisible tail. Occasionally it may have entertained the thought of leaving it behind, but no outward sign of that was visible. But a few time it made cross halfling eyes at the few common folks which crossed their hurried paths. Anyone who saw those eyes felt uncomfortable, and quickly picked up their pace.

They better be there. I am not in the mood to have to find them.
 

Argotch Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) – Doral, Carver, Partash, Dragen

With his own blood up, Doral ignores Morika's angry question and simply says in between gasps of breath, "To... arms... for battle..."

That said, he runs back down the stairs, using his spell, Whelm, on the bugbear if he is able.

OOC: After seeing Partash go non-lethal, I'd like to have a bugbear for questioning, too.
 
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Outside the Argotch Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) – Dragen

Words had no meaning. Sounds outside him were dull and unimportant.

Thump, da-Thump, Two beats of his heart. The bowstring was primed. Dragen exhaled and blinked. Somewhere ahead of him, the metal man clung to his attacker.

Here a peek, there a peek. The moments became patterns. The patterns wove themselves into the intricate dance of his heart within his chest. Here a peek, there a peek, here an ear, there a shoulder, the back of its hand danced into view.

Here a peek, there a...a swift motion from his navel to his neck to drawn in a quick breath of air, as quickly released as the two fingers upon the string, dancing backwards in a practiced arc to gather another softly feather shaft and pull it free like a hawk diving for a rabbit in a field, pulling its prey upwards to rest upon the caloused forefinger of the opposite hand, lifting upward just so to clear the distance of the shaft on the next release.

Dragen was sure that the arc of each arrow slowed in time before it hit, but he had long passed craning his head to worry over the lick of each polished and sharpened tip. Bugbears were soft, and soft things died for Dragen more easily than harder things.

Thump, da-Thump. Between heartbeats, Dragen drew back the bowstring to take another life.

So like a god, I whisper out and a life ends. Dragen smiled, truly at peace.

OOC: Dragen shoots. Dragen has Precise Shot, eliminating any normal penalties for firing into melee. If the target has cover for some reason, barring total cover, Dragen has Sharp-Shooting, which reduces their cover to +2. He's not yet going into Rapid Shot, because I don't want him chancing a total -4 modifier to his attacks and missing. After he fires, Dragen will take a five foot step in any direction that doesn't smack him into a wall, off a ledge, or within reach of an obvious combatant.
 

Argotch Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) – Doral, Carver, Partash, Dragen

By the ancestral spirits! As the arrow flies past his head, Partash is hit with a sense of panic, realizing that he was mere moments from having his skull penetrated by that arrow. As the female attacker falls to the ground, he can't help feeling a little disgusted and a little sorry for her. May the gods have mercy on your soul...

Then Partash gets torn out of his thoughts as he hears the bugbear grunt and struggle to get out of Carver's grib. He raises his heavy mace and tries to bludgeon the creature into unconciousness.

OOC: Partash tries to strike the grappling bugbear for nonlethal damage.
 

Morika growls loudly at Doral, and the beast spirit within her rises. She crouches down, a roar ripping from her throat as horns emerge from her skull and her muscles bulge with power. A feral gleam enters her eyes as she allows the green power to flow through her, then she springs down the stairs, aiming for the first hostile creature attacking one of her traveling companions.

OOC: Free action, shifting. Swift action, casting shifter prowess (RoE pg. 190). If possible, move action by charging (Jump +13) to nearest hostile, then attack: Gore charge +9 (2d6+6/x2, B). If she can't reach a hostile this round, then she just moves to get into a position to do so next round.
 

Carver will attempt to pin the Bugbear.

OOC: Dragen, the Bugbear and Carver are grappling, so firing into that would be bad. Not sure who else is around to fight with the girl biting it.
 

Argotch Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) – Doral, Carver, Partash, Dragen, Morika

A terrible and unexpected bellow came from the upper hallway, as Morika’s entire body convulsed and then constricted in a fluid movement. Her muscles rippling momentarily as her body swelled to a mold of brutish strength even greater than her usual form. Dark and deadly-curved horns grew up form her wild hair, the final touch to her transformation.

Doral sprinted panting back to the stairs and rushed down. His hand caught the banister at the foot of the steps and clenched tightly, and he began to speak the words of his enchantment. Focusing intently on the bugbear, all the other swirling movement faded from his thoughts, as he forced the spell into the bugbear’s mind. The creature subtly checked back his actions, seeming to take on a new weariness through no apparent physical cause. He wrestled well against his metal foe, but the edge in his eyes was lacking now.

Morika leapt from her crouch, and pounded down the narrow hallway on clawed feet. She reached out and caught the wall at the end of the corridor, which opened onto a landing overlooking the lobby, preventing her momentum form carrying her all the way to the staircase.

Two heavy forms struggled in the center of the room, both of them heaving and straining against the other’s force. The bugbear wrenched hard at his arm and tried to regain a better grasp on his sword with the other, but he was unable to free himself from the adamantine grip. Carver pressed him harder, trying to twist his body towards the ground. The bugbear shuffled sideways, arching his back and pulling his body out from under Carver’s crushing form. Still, the warforged doggedly kept his hold, and the two remained locked in combat.

The bugbear had not, however, anticipated Partash’s response when he pulled away from Carver’s attempt to pin him down, and the archivist used this most fortunate opportunity to thrust the butt of his mace handle into the bugbear’s skull. He felt it connect squarely with the bugbear’s head, and the bugbear loosed a responding roar of confusion and anger.

Morika used the momentum from her charge down the hall to swing easily up onto the banister, where she paused only for a fraction of a second to assess the situation below, picking out the clear target in the knot.

Dragen also studied the combat in the middle of the room, and as soon as he saw the bugbear step slightly away from Carver’s body, his fingers moved to loose his arrow. Yet even as the feathers slid past the string, he saw an unexpected factor move into place: Partash stepped quickly towards the bugbear, also to make use of the opening.

A bold cry issued from above as Morika unfolded her muscles and launched from the balcony, soaring towards the planked floor. She impacted the ground, sending a deep shudder across the floorboards, dropping into a crouch to keep her balance. She tipped her eyes up towards the tangle before her, only half noticing Partash jump back hastily to narrowly avoid Dragen’s wayward arrow. She braced her muslces, and hardly stopping to regain her wind from the landing, single-mindedly hurtled her entire body forwards headfirst, her deadly horns flying towards the bugbear’s unsuspecting back.

The bugbear’s armor resisted her charge, but the collision was magnificent, and both horns tore through hardened leather and found flesh. The force pushed both of them forward, knocking the bugbear into Carver, whose study stance broke their momentum. The now thoroughly besieged bugbear yelled and shook from startled pain, and twisted away before the shifter’s horns could burrow in. Morika staggered sideways, her fluid movement broken, and her horns wet with blood.


[sblock="Combat Information"]Doral Kinsman
14 HP
AC 17
AP 7
Mindlinked

Carver Banderelli
33 HP
AC 20
AP 7
Bull’s Strength

Partash
22 HP
AC 16 + 2
AP 7
Minklinked
Shield of Faith

Dragen Kessler
37 HP
AC 16
AP 7

Morika Kevsecks
34 HP
AC 12 [no armor and shield]
AP 6
Shifted
Sickened[/sblock]
 
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Caver attempts to crush his foe, and bring him to unconsiousness.

OOC: Grapple for Nonlethal damage. He did get his damage in the first round, right?
 

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