A mercenary.. As if August needed any reason to justify this battle. It was likely clear to the both of them that exhaustion was taking hold, considering the sloppy swings that were easily dodged. August might just survive this yet.. and he would be damned if he would die today by a sellsword's hand.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Another grunt escapes August's mouth as one blow connects but is buffered by his armor, the other dodged thanks to the slightly slower swing likely from the exhaustion that is consuming them both. That familiar itch in the back of his head has suddenly returned, not as strong as previously, but nevertheless there.. as if to remind him. However, he was determined to finish this as a duel, whether that came from his own ego or some sense of soldier's code who was to say..
The leader backs up from your swing, but stumbles and does not quite move back far enough and in effect waits for your attack to hit. August's sword slips right into the leaders neck, sending him tumbling to the ground in a mess of blood to bleed out and die.
Around you all the other fighting has stopped, and your whole squad was just watching the fight...over the bodies of the dead enemies.
As his opponent fell, August let out a breath of exhaustion as he turned his attention to his squad who were apparently just as successful. Live to fight another day.
August sheathed his sword after taking a brief moment to make sure there were no further attackers, giving a nod of approval to his men before checking to see if there was anything significant worth taking from the fallen mercenary. At least the silence was a welcome reward.
August left the mercenary and his possessions, for the simple fact that he was a solider and not a scavenger. The basic creed which separated the military from the mercs and most humans from goblins.
"Right, not the best fighters.." He responded to no one in particular after Flameblade's comment, doing his best to ignore his injuries (dammit how deep was that graze?) as he turned his attention to Schenkle. "It is odd, a distraction perhaps? Hm, let us continue on. If they were meant to delay us we best continue our patrol and reinforce the flanks."
"Did we bring a medic? I would prefer not to bleed out pressing forward and make the captain reconsider his decisions."
"No, I'll just do better to avoid sharp objects.." August chuckled coyly despite the shiver of pain that echoed through his body. He could walk and lift his sword, as they said in training, that was all that mattered. "Continue to keep an eye out for any ambush as we press forward."
With that he gave a simple nod as they reformed to continue onward. Fighting the groans of his body, August took a moment to remove his shield from his back and equip it. He preferred the ease of having an arm unencumbered in battle but with his already battered armor, to say nothing of himself, he required another means of protection.
"Yes, we've completed our objective and picked off the stragglers.. best to regroup with the main force. We've earned our rounds of ale and bread for the day."
Balthor Flameblade "Bread? I will get me some meat!"
Your unit moves back to the main force....and little looks like it has changed.
clerk Stedd Tallstag comes over with a scroll and takes down your report. "Good work, you can rest and treat your wounded...and see the captain tomorrow"
Ah the life of a soldier. Fighting for your life one minute followed with uneventful periods of boredom. Sadly, even with a flicker of guilt thinking about his father, August realized that it was not that different to the common life of a farmer. Though at least the meals and ale were provided, and the company mostly interesting. See far away lands, meet people different and similar to you.. and kill them.
After giving his report to the clerk, August takes some time to get patched up, grab a drink and some food with his men before retiring for the night. Unless someone or something grabs his attention, he is back at the captain's tent in the morning.
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A mercenary.. As if August needed any reason to justify this battle. It was likely clear to the both of them that exhaustion was taking hold, considering the sloppy swings that were easily dodged. August might just survive this yet.. and he would be damned if he would die today by a sellsword's hand.
Another swing, both hands gripping his longsword.
17 damage 6
The leader grunts again as your sword cuts into his shoulder, but this time much deeper. "Nice hit!"
He swings again, two wide swings....
14 7
17 7
You might just live through this..
August blocks one of the swings with his sword while stepping aside the second, swinging his sword around again in another attempt.
18 damage 6
The leader grunts again as your sword cuts into his chest. He clenches his jaw closed tight, and does not say anything.
He swings again, two wide swings, again, as if he only knows the one attack
10 12
14 5
Another grunt escapes August's mouth as one blow connects but is buffered by his armor, the other dodged thanks to the slightly slower swing likely from the exhaustion that is consuming them both. That familiar itch in the back of his head has suddenly returned, not as strong as previously, but nevertheless there.. as if to remind him. However, he was determined to finish this as a duel, whether that came from his own ego or some sense of soldier's code who was to say..
No fair fights, only ones you survive..
Another swing.
18 damage 4
The leader backs up from your swing, but stumbles and does not quite move back far enough and in effect waits for your attack to hit. August's sword slips right into the leaders neck, sending him tumbling to the ground in a mess of blood to bleed out and die.
Around you all the other fighting has stopped, and your whole squad was just watching the fight...over the bodies of the dead enemies.
As his opponent fell, August let out a breath of exhaustion as he turned his attention to his squad who were apparently just as successful. Live to fight another day.
August sheathed his sword after taking a brief moment to make sure there were no further attackers, giving a nod of approval to his men before checking to see if there was anything significant worth taking from the fallen mercenary. At least the silence was a welcome reward.
The mercenary leader does not have much, clothing, leather armor, sword, a dagger...and a pouch with ten gold coins.
Balthor Flameblade "We got all of them. They were not the best fighters. And they have little on them to loot"
Eric Schenkle "The area looks clear......this group seems to be alone. Little odd....but they have poor tactics."
August left the mercenary and his possessions, for the simple fact that he was a solider and not a scavenger. The basic creed which separated the military from the mercs and most humans from goblins.
"Right, not the best fighters.." He responded to no one in particular after Flameblade's comment, doing his best to ignore his injuries (dammit how deep was that graze?) as he turned his attention to Schenkle. "It is odd, a distraction perhaps? Hm, let us continue on. If they were meant to delay us we best continue our patrol and reinforce the flanks."
"Did we bring a medic? I would prefer not to bleed out pressing forward and make the captain reconsider his decisions."
Balthor Flameblade "No healer. Are you baddly hurt? We could fall back?"
Eric Schenkle "I've kept an eye out.....no large numbers of troops have moved past us. I would have seen them....or heard them."
"No, I'll just do better to avoid sharp objects.." August chuckled coyly despite the shiver of pain that echoed through his body. He could walk and lift his sword, as they said in training, that was all that mattered. "Continue to keep an eye out for any ambush as we press forward."
With that he gave a simple nod as they reformed to continue onward. Fighting the groans of his body, August took a moment to remove his shield from his back and equip it. He preferred the ease of having an arm unencumbered in battle but with his already battered armor, to say nothing of himself, he required another means of protection.
The unit reforms their lines. You can see most are wounded, but only with slight wounds. Moving along, the land looks clear of enemies.
Balthor Flameblade checks for tracks, "Nothing has moved through this area"
Eric Schenkle "We should circle back to the force."
"Yes, we've completed our objective and picked off the stragglers.. best to regroup with the main force. We've earned our rounds of ale and bread for the day."
Balthor Flameblade "Bread? I will get me some meat!"
Your unit moves back to the main force....and little looks like it has changed.
clerk Stedd Tallstag comes over with a scroll and takes down your report. "Good work, you can rest and treat your wounded...and see the captain tomorrow"
Ah the life of a soldier. Fighting for your life one minute followed with uneventful periods of boredom. Sadly, even with a flicker of guilt thinking about his father, August realized that it was not that different to the common life of a farmer. Though at least the meals and ale were provided, and the company mostly interesting. See far away lands, meet people different and similar to you.. and kill them.
After giving his report to the clerk, August takes some time to get patched up, grab a drink and some food with his men before retiring for the night. Unless someone or something grabs his attention, he is back at the captain's tent in the morning.