conversations: human
conversations:  Act 1: Fear of the Unknown 
   Scene 1: The Halfling Village, Early Autumn; Sunset.  
  
  The summer had been unusually short, autumn had come early to the forest. Leaves fallen from the trees were already being pushed around by halfling children with fallen branches into large piles, which they jumped in. Usually from rather disconcerting heights.
  
  The crisp night air had just begun to set in as the days began to shorten, and the frost had begun to settle on the ground. Several people walked through the clear area, near one of the largest piles of leaves, by the Council Hall. There was a loud crack, and a piercing scream.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  Roll for initiative. You're all wandering around the square. We're going to be playing without Merklor it looks like, so... bad news.
   
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zendra Smallbottom 
  
  Zendra loved this time of year. Sure, it was busy for her, what with everyone trying to store the wood they needed for those cold winter nights, or just for the comfort of light in the darkness. But there was something about the colours, the smells, the life of the autumn that she loved. It was one of the few times she spent most of the time smiling, at least when she could get into town.
  
  Hearing the children's squeals of delight as they jumped into the leaves always put her in a good mood. While she hadn't been as into the leaf jumping as many of the skyscratchers, she had done more than her share. More than most of the groundpounders did, and far, far more than many of her siblings. Why, she could recall perfectly the time...
  
  The crack, unexpected, unwanted, pulled her back to the present. The scream drove her to act.
  
   
   Spoiler 
   (1d20+3)[ 6 ]  Initiative.
   (1d20+12)[ 32 ]  Listen check (if necessary) to figure out where exactly the scream is coming from. Where she will be headed.
   
conversations: Dreamshifter:
conversations: human
conversations:  Celyn 
  
  Celyn loved fall and this year it had come a little early.  Walking in the open night, her face broke into a broad grin and she sprinted ahead, the frost crunching beneath her feet, and leaped off a small ledge into a pile of freshly fallen leaves.
  
  Brushing the leaves off herself she smiled and walked on toward the cleared area and was startled by a cracking sound and a disturbing scream.  She looked in the direction of the sound as thoughts raced through her head.
  
   
   Spoiler 
    Initiative  - (d20+7)[ 15 ] 
   
conversations: Kazai:
conversations: human
conversations:  Luigi walks slightly behind Laius humming a new song he is writing. He has always enjoyed spring and fall the most. Mainly because its not as harsh as the other seasons. To him they also seem more relaxing. Seeing that he has fallen behind Laius he runs ahead to catch up with him the frost crunching loudly beneath his small feet. Upon reaching him Luigi hears a loud crack and looks around before looking to see what Laius does.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
   (1d20+3)[ 4 ] 
   
conversations: drum-n-bass:
conversations: human
conversations:  Laius winces as yet another treedwelling little runt leaps from his high perch, yelling enthusiastically as he drops into the humongous pile of leaves. The scarred veteran's deep brown eyes narrow as he heaves a long sigh that mists up in the chill autumn air.
  
  Ever so slightly, he shakes his head, marveling at the exuberance of youth and the innocent bliss of the children before him. In the cool darkness beneath his helm he smiles as they chase about, girls and boys, young... and not-so-young, tousled heads tossed back in laughing... wading through a sea of crackling crimson and gold...
  
  ...and suddenly the cries of delight turn to cries of anguish. The crimson of the fallen leaves turns into a fluid, scarlet sea, soaking into the sorrowed soil of a shattered land. Cries for help, cries of agony, cries of despair...
  
  ...the cries of silence scream into a sable, sepulchral sky. The starless vault above glaring down in oblivious cold, Laius shivers right down to the very depths of his soul. He failed them. A thousand lives, a thousand dreams snuffed out in a flood of unholy fury.
  
  He still feels the shackles on his arms and legs, the heavy oar in his broken hands, the unending scourge of the goblin tyrants, every lick of the whip a reminder of those unjustly slain from the ruin of Drevlin Dale whose agonized souls still scream for vengeance...
  
  Laius blinks and the memory fades from his vision. The scowl on his face is set, no more does he smile. He is much grateful to this nameless little town of his kindred for taking him in when he washed up on the nearby shoreline but he somewhat resents their innocence and insists on performing patrols for the town's safety and security.
  
  Suddenly, his trusty mount, the massive mastiff Truefang, of heavenly descent and mist-hued coat,  stops in the fresh-fallen snow and growls low. Laius grips the ashwood haft of his namesake weapon, its winter-keen point glinting in twilit tones.
  
  Suddenly, a loud crack, all-too-horribly familiar to the war-torn knight-errant, cuts through the serenity of the night, forever marring the peacefulness of the kids at play. Truefang, the hallowed hound that he is, bays at the noise and spins to face it, hackles rising, dagger-like fangs bared.
  
  Laius' long lance comes down into a prepared position. In the moment that he turns, he swiftly says a prayer,  O Great Mother, O Defender, please, make me a fool. I ask of you that I be a fool for my overcaution, that may this noise be not what I fear it is... 
   "I knew this day would come"  he breathes. He then barks to Luigi,  "Comrade! Make ready to get the children to safety! Truefang smells blood!" 
conversations: Miraqariftsky:
conversations: human
conversations:  As you round the corner, in the darkening half-light of sunset, you can see the cause of the scream. Several kobolds are standing amidst one of the piles of leaves in a rough square, the largest is standing in the center. The remaining light glints faintly off of the wicked edges of drawn daggers and cruel hooked swords. Two of them have crossbows. One fires.
  
   (1d5)[ 1 ] 
   (1d20+5)[ 25 ] 
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  Laius is shot by the speeding bolt. The sniper runs up and moves a little ahead of one of the footpads.
   (1d20+5)[ 6 ] 
   
   Spoiler 
   excuse me if my combat mechanics are a little off. If I remember correctly, roll to confirm the critical, roll for damage, multiply by X
   
  
   (1d6)[ 2 ] 
  
  The footpad in the front holds something in his hand. A bright flame manifests at the end of a sharp striking motion against the sword's hilt and the footpad holds it to a pair of sticks. They ignite into a choking black smoke and the footpad throws them, and runs after them.
  
   (1d20)[ 4 ] 
   
   Spoiler 
  
  Wow. I think he rolled the 20 out of that die.
  Laius takes two damage from the crossbow bolt
  Smoke is now filling part of eight squares about between the two groups (a 10 foot cube for each.) roughly 8 feet from the footpad, offering the sniper cover. The kobold footpad is also presumably sheltering behind this cover.
   
  
  
  A guardsman rounds the corner of the pile, spear drawn and throws it at the visible footpad. The spear flies rather awkwardly through the air, and lands a foot or so to the left of the intended target.
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  Celyn comes to the clearing and immediately dreads the next few moments as she takes in the scene in front of her.  A halfling is shot by 1 kobold and another mask the two of them in smoke.  Meanwhile a guardsman hurls a spear that harmlessly clatters to the ground.  She notices a group of adventurers and a few townfolk in the vicinity and prays she's not being brash.  As the ever-present smile fades from her face she looks at the kobold who has not yet fired with disgust.
  
  Celyn looks to the gods and prays  "grant me the strength to render him useless in battle."   She casts Hold Person on the second Kobold armed with crossbow (Sniper 2?) and shouts out to the others in the area  "Help me rid our village of these vile scum!"  Turning to the civilians, dazed in their surprise,  "Get to safety and get help!" 
conversations: Kazai:
conversations: human
conversations:  One of the halflings drops into a dead run and books it out of the clearing and around the council hall. The afflicted kobold attempts to squirm and wriggle out of the spell's effect, but fails, and stands rigidly with crossbow pointed at another target.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  1 Halfling Saved: +1 Points! Please use quotation marks in your posts Kazai. It helps. Zendra is up.
   
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zendra 
  
  As she rounds the corner and sees the Kobolds attacking, Zendra's worry and panic converts to anger.  "Kobolds? Here? How dare you! Evil, filthy beasts!"  By the time she reaches the beasts part, she is yelling. But as the crossbow bolt flies true, she passes from anger, to rage.   How dare they hurt a Halfling! I will kill them all!  
  
  Spotting the exposed footpad on the end of the smokescreen, Zendra charges, drawing her axe for a killing blow.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  Zendra rages, draws her axe as she charges, and attacks the Kobold Footpad.
   (1d20+13)[ 20 ]  tohit, taking a -2 for Power Attack, and gaining +2 for charging.
   (1d10+11)[ 21 ]  damage.
   
  
     Zendra Smallbottom   
  F CG Halfling Barbarian 6,  Level  6,  Init  +3,  HP  80/68,  Speed  30
   AC  14,  Touch  10,  Flat-footed  11,  Fort  +12,  Ref  +6,  Will  +4,  Base Attack Bonus  6
   Thundering Adamantine Greataxe +1   +11/+6 (+13/+8) (1d10+4 (1d10+7), x3 (2d8))
     Masterwork Chain Shirt  (+4 Armor, +3 Dex, +1 Size, -4 Misc)
   Abilities  Str 20, Dex 16, Con 22, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 12
   Condition  None
conversations: Dreamshifter:
conversations: human
conversations:  The footpad screams and dies, falling backwards as he does. The corpse has only momentarilly been dead when it abruptly turns to black smoke, and an ear-rending, soul-scorching scream errupts from the cloud.
  
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  The Kobold is dead. Will saves from everyone.
   
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  "URGH! It'll take more than that to put me down, foul craven!"  Laius spits as the bolt shoots by, leaving a nasty graze on the part of his upper right arm that is undefended by the battered pauldron of his armour.
  
  Truefang growls deep in his throat, pawing at the ground, baying for blood. And then the great grey mastiff rears, snarling at a sudden cloud of noxious fumes and hellish shrieks erupts from one of the yellow-scaled raiders as it is hewn in two by the black-bladed axe of Zendra the woodswoman.
  
   "DAEMON!"  yells the scarred soldier in shock and righteous outrage at the sudden burst of blackness, the soul-searing stench of sorrow and sin spewing forth in a rush of sheer unfathomable fear. He sees once more the unhallowed daemon that destroyed his family, the goblin hordes and dragon overlords that had overrun Drevlis Dale, the scourges and burning brands of a thousand black-hearted scum... and all these waves of darkness crash impotently against a rock of ages, a fount of flame from the Goddess' very hand.
  
  Laius pulls hard on his reins and growls to his mount,  "Hold steady, boy! Ye'll get yer taste o' this foul flesh yet!"  As the dog comes back down to a stable stance, the patrolling paladin casts about and sees one of the invaders already ensorceled, its other comrade standing its ground just beyond the swirling screen of smoke.
  
  Sighting down the shaft of his lance with eyes both mystic and mundane, he orients on the most imposing raider left outside the clouds of foul fumes. Clapping his ironclad knees to his dog's flanks, rider and mount flash forward in a sanctified silver streak. As Laius lashes out at the raider when he dashes past, he shouts,  "Abyss take ye!" 
   
   Spoiler 
  
   (1d20+15)[ 33 ]  Charging Smiting Power Attack (+1)
   (1d6+11)[ 16 ] 
  x3 if hit.
   48 damage  if the bugger's Evil.
   30 damage  if not Evil.
   
conversations: Miraqariftsky:
conversations: human
conversations:  The second kobold with a crossbow dies screaming, turning to more of the black mist as it was spitted on Laius' lance. If the soul-wrenching horror of the first scream chills Luigi to the very bone, this threatens to unman him.
  
  The other, remaining, halfling bystander is struck with fear a second time, and begins running in flat out panic. They make it about 40 feet, almost to the corner, hands over their head, shaking uncontrollably.
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  Come children. Let's get you out of here. Quickly now.  Luigi says hurrying after the children trying to get them out of the way of the battle and to not get killed.
conversations: drum-n-bass:
conversations: human
conversations:  The Kobolds hide behind the smokescreen. One of them jumps out, and... everything about him... blurs. His weapon seems to double up in mid charge, as he runs towards the guard, now reaching for his shortspear.
  
    (2d20+2)[ 29 ]  
   (1d4)[ 2 ] 
   (1d6)[ 4 ] 
  The second kobold whirls to attack Laius from behind with a crossbow bolt.
   (1d20+2)[ 21 ] 
   (1d4)[ 1 ] 
  The guard is stabbed and keels over as he tries to block the spectral blade with one hand.
  The bolt glances harmlessly off of Laius armor.
  The fifth kobold, leaving his trance, waves his blade in a rapid strike. It bursts into dazzling light, and its owner disappears along with it.
conversations: Aergoth:
conversations: human
conversations:  In shadowed twilight whistles
  The livid lance, winter-keen
  Judgment metes swiftly
  
  But knows Laius the War-torn
  That poor townsfolk can't long bear
  Such daemonic dooms, deadly in their gusts
  
  Forth once more they charge
  Unheeding of blasting bolt
  Limned in light divine,
  The smite smashes
  And the dog
  Bites
  
  ((Sorry for the crappy verse. Am too sleepy))
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  (Not sure if a non-lethal smite is possible. Please add compute for that, sir, if it is possible)
  Target: The kobold that went after the guard
  
   (1d20+7)[ 11 ]  charging non-lethal (hit with haft, if possible)
   (1d6+4)[ 6 ]  multiply by three, if hit
  
   (1d20+5)[ 13 ]  Truefang's attack, charging
   (1d20+6)[ 18 ]  Attempt to Trip
   
conversations: Miraqariftsky:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zendra 
  
  Still lost in her rage, Zendra charges the nearest Kobold, screaming what might be profanities, if the person saying them was gagged.
  
   
   Spoiler 
   (1d20+13)[ 14 ] to hit, with 2 points of Power Attack, for  (1d10+11)[ 14 ]  damage. Probably attacking the crossbow wielder, unless someone else is closer.
   
conversations: Dreamshifter:
conversations: human
conversations:  Celyn 
  
  Celyn watches in mixed facination and dismay as the unarmed and helpless warrior falls to the ground at the hands of another kobold.
  
  Collecting her thoughts she wastes no time, transforming her prepared Command spell and casts Cure Light Wounds on the warrior.
  
   
   Spoiler 
    Cure Light Wounds  - (d8+4)[ 9 ] 
   
conversations: Kazai: