You stand, and with a herculean effort, leap forward. Ground is eaten up in megalithic strides, as the gate comes into view, unlocked. An opportunity comes to mind as you accelerate further and further, putting your shoulder ahead of you in a harebrained scheme.
Shatter Them
Strength Roll=D20(13)+19=32
Target-30
The gate gives way. Wood shattering into a spray of shrapnel that screams ahead of you and claims lives with its javelin-like length, pinning goblins which were simply lounging around a small fire to walls and the ground.
The ground soaks with blood as their life spills from the injuries, muddying it slowly, portending the future that seems certain.
A call sounds out, screaming giving way to noise as above you, arrows fly into the rapidly forming mass of goblins, dozens of them, attempting a formation whilst bare of armour and carrying only what weapons they had on their person.
1-1 Hitdie opponents, Heroic Fray activates
Longbow/Flight Arrows Attacks against Mass of Goblins
Rolls=4, 13, 17, 15
Target-3
Total Damage=4d8(5,5,1,8)+4=23
The arrows sling into the mass, taking out goblins with shots through the eye, heart and throat. One arrow pins two of them together as Saewil becomes a one-woman team of archers. But the carnage there is insufficient, you charge in with a rumbling roar, eyes wide, mouth open and spittle flying.
1-1 Hitdie opponents, Heroic Fray activates
Greatsword attacks against Mass of Goblins
Rolls=10, 17, 11, 11
Target-4
Total Damage=4d12(6,8,8,11)+40=73
They were never ready. The blade slams through a half dozen on the first swing, bisecting them with jagged, horrific cuts as the unsharpened piece of steel shears rather than cuts. A few bring-up wooden shields to stop you. Paltry things, thin and wicker backed, the spray of blood through them feeds the bloodlust welling up deep within you.
Losing yourself in the sheer joy of it, you kill and kill and kill. Heads go flying, bodies mangled. They cannot stop you, their weapons weak, their armour thin, their shields fragile. The world goes red, the ground slippery with blood and guts. All that is left is their fear and your hate.
But the rage has blinded you, the hatred made you imperceptive. The ground rumbles in a deep thrum. The wizard arrives at the edge of the encampment. Wand raised and glimmering blue light dimly shining as he observes the situation, not acting yet.
The goblins bash at you, attempting to pierce through your armour.
Goblin Attacks
Roll=8,17,2,2,3,11,12,6,16,18
Target-20
Your skin bruises as their fragile attempts shatter against it, wooden spear hafts cracking, short iron daggers blunting themselves and hands leaving themselves welted and raw from the sheer friction of the mail. Blood soaking your armour renders any grappling a failed task, unable to manage anything with small hands and such challenges.
Parrying a thrown rock with your blade, you give another roar, shaking the hearts of those who surround you. That moment of hesitation is all you needed.
Greatsword attacks against Mass of Goblins
Roll=8, 17
Target-4
Total Damage=2d12(12, 7)+20=39
With wide swings you slay them, the air turns red with offal and gore. Goblins slip in the remains of their comrade as the only clear sound is fear and the screaming air at the edge of your weapon. They run, they hide, but there is no escape.
Saewil draws two more arrows, breathing deeply as she fires them off.
Longbow/Flight Arrows Attacks against Mass of Goblins
Rolls=16, 13
Target-3
Damage Roll=2d8(8, 2)+2=12
Four goblins fall as arrows pierce them together in a violent bond, their last moments spent pinned and pained. The remaining few run from your image, dripping with gore and seeking the living that remain.
A loud roar answers you from behind. Coming free of a tent is a massive man. No, a massive orc. Having a full foot on even you, their hunched over frame, tusked and brutish face combined with bulging, inhuman musculature sets this as a fight to fear.
Mail hangs off him, obviously patched together from a hundred victories, his scars an artwork telling of his prowess as a warrior. Behind him lurks a shade, cowled and dark with a spellbook on his hip. You answer his challenge immediately with a reckless charge, uncaring of what may happen.
Initiative Roll-off
William=d10(10)+4=14
War Chief=d10(3)+6=9
The orc, however, is experienced and savvy, bringing up his axe to catch you as you do this reckless act.
Attack Rolls
First Attack=15+5=20
Second Attack=16+5=21
Damage Rolls
Roll=2d10(11)+12=23
His axe blade catches you deeply in the gut, cutting to the precious guts beneath. They nearly spill out, clearly showing through smashed apart mail. In that moment of opportunity, he kicks you back, planting a boot firmly in the injury and brings down the axe on your head. The blade slams home just a bit off target, shearing a bloody trench through the side of your face instead, exposing the interior of your face through torn open cheek and chipped jawbone.
Any other warrior would be felled by such injuries, each lethal in their own right. All you feel is the hate building, the rage coiling. Slamming your blade into the ground to settle yourself, he speaks something in Orcish, a language you never bothered to grok.
And then you let loose with a sudden silent charge, picking up your blade as if it was a feather. He blinks at the charge, baffled at your survival.
3rd round, full attacks
First Attack=2+6=8
Second Attack=11+6=17
Target-15
Damage Roll=1d12(12)+10=22
Your blade cuts through his centre. Mail and sternum are similarly proven unable to stop the mass of steel you call a sword. He spits out a torrent of blood as his lungs fill with the substance before he separates, falling into two individual pieces and spilling out his vitals.
The wizard a few feet behind him stares up at you, surprised shock barely not overcoming him as he attempts to whisper words of magic and moving his fingers in arcane patterns.
Magic Missile
Damage Roll=2d4(4, 3)+2=9
Two shimmering bolts of purple energy slam forward, seeking into your chest and blasting you backwards two steps with force. Ribs crack underneath your skin and blood pools in the cavities therein.
Staring at the man, you simply grin, teeth showing in a broad exulting appearance soaked through with blood. You grip your blades haft with both hands and tense your muscles to swing as he backs away terrified.
Attack Roll=14+6=20
Target-14
Damage=1d12(10)+10=20
A mystical shield flares to life as you bring the blade down with tremendous force. It does not even slow the swing down as it pops, the last moment of the wizard's life cut through with utter fear. He splits in twain like a soft piece of timber, blood exploding and coating the surroundings in even more red ichor.
The cold breeze on your internal organs drags you back to sanity, you fall to a knee, breathing in slowly as you recover from the exertion. The fort lies in ruins, the offal of a hundred corpses spilt and choking the air.
Saewil fires shots into the very few remaining goblins whilst Alistair slowly lurks into the camp, seeking the spellbook.
You have won.
[X] Make your way back to the village, beds would be preferable, even if your wounds may be aggravated by the journey. (Rest for multiple weeks, total exp)
[X] Something else?
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The first adventure ends in an appropriately bombastic method!
