I've tried to balance keeping things quick with preserving the benefit of high dex. We can revisit this if it doesn't work but it's pretty similar to how I run things at my IRL table and that works well enough[/OOC]
Zyzix was enjoying the rather refreshing scenery of the morning. He had performed most of his missions in cities, getting outdoors for once was a nice change of pace. Plus, Drax was known to enjoy the outdoors as well, so getting some fresh air fit with his persona.
As he sees the burning village engulfed in chaos, Zyzix is taken back by surprise. "Oh dear, that looks quite dreadful," he says, still staying in character. As he watches some members of the caravan rush off towards the village to offer aid, Zyzix hesitates. Personally, he really didn't want to get involved in the battle. He had survived thus far by avoiding conflict, not rushing into it. What complicated the matter is that Drax was supposed to kindhearted and willing to help those less fortunate than himself. He was the kind of person that would run willingly into combat to help others. Zyzix silently curses the Veil for giving him such a caring person to imitate as he looks worriedly to the burning village.
Torn between indecision, he sees Cal rushing off to help take care of the fires. Figuring that would be the best option to keep him out of fighting while helping at the same time, he decids to go help the man. Growling in annoyance, he begins rushing after the man. He cries out to Cal as he follows him, "For heaven's sake, do try to be careful!" ((Giving bardic inspiration)). As he jogs along, he also grips a leather cord in one hand, muttering an arcane phrase discreetly as he casts Mage Armor on himself.
Upon arrival, he does his best to put out fires with Prestidigitation. He does his best to avoid combat, but if its unavoidable, he defends himself with Vicious Mockery and illusion magic. He's loath to reveal he has magical abilities, but he'll also use Dissonant Whispers on tougher foes. He would prefer to hide and then distract using illusions if combat is inevitable. His primary focus would to be putting out fires, grumbling and complaining about how the fire and soot were going to ruin his clothes, keeping to Drax's personality. His number one rule is to never break character, no matter what.
Feeling inspired by "Drax" the friendly dragonborn, and in an emerging situation where discretion is less important than action, Cal looks back the the figure racing with him casting arcane spells, and decides to establish a telepathic channel between the two. (Abberant Mind Telepathy. Takes BA, lasts 1 minute, two way telepathy. He'll keep renewing it so it stays open during this crisis, so they can more easily coordinate the rescue.)
"Drax, you strike me as someone familiar enough with telepathy not to be spooked, I've linked our minds should you need to speak to me unheard, lets get this fire under control." [telepathy to Zyzix]
In the waning light of a day marred by violence, Taya and Horros charged through the streets of Shadowdale, their resolve as unyielding as the steel they bore. To the west, the tumultuous sounds of battle drew near as they beheld a desperate stand: three town guards, their armors dented and smeared with the toil of combat, stood against a marauding band. Two towering orcs, their tusks bared in savage delight, a cunning goblin, and two human mercenaries, cloaks billowing like the dark banners of doom, clashed steel with the defenders. Behind this fray, commoners, gripped by fear, scrambled towards the salvation of a boat bobbing precariously by the stream, their escape a fragile hope amidst the onslaught.
To the south, the scene was grimmer still. A lone guard, his back against the wall, faced off against two goblins and an orc, their jagged weapons hungry for blood. Behind him, commoners huddled, cornered like prey, their fates hanging by the slender thread of the guard's valor. If the guard fell, there would be nothing to stem the tide of the butchery that would surely follow.
To the north, chaos reigned in the homes of the innocent. The shrill scream of terror pierced the air as goblins, like foul scavengers, unearthed hiding villagers. The goblins reveled in the fear their discovery sowed, a macabre prelude to the cruelty they would unleash.
As Taya and Horros emerged from the east, a somber sight met their eyes. A guard lay upon the ground, his breaths shallow, the lifeblood ebbing from his grievous wounds. In his faltering voice, he imparted his final words, recounting how the enemy appeared as if conjured by some dark sorcery, decimating the local militia with ruthless efficiency.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the iron tang of blood. Taya and Horros, standing at the crossroads of conflict, faced a harrowing choice: to the west, aid the guards and shield the fleeing villagers; to the south, bolster the lone defender and prevent a massacre; or to the north, to answer the terror-filled screams and confront the marauders within the homes of the townsfolk.
The fates of many rested on the shoulders of these brave souls, and in the heart of Shadowdale, amidst the chaos sown by shadowy foes, the time to act was now.
Taya, Horros, and the caravan guards are undetected and will have a "surprise round." After they each take their actions, we will proceed in initiative order. If they do not order the caravan guards to do anything I will decide what the caravan guards do.
Through the smoke-choked streets of Shadowdale, Cal, Drax, and Bell hastened their steps toward the beacon of calamity that clawed at the evening sky. The Old Skull Inn, a once merry haven for travelers and locals alike, was now a pyre of despair, its timbers consumed by a ravenous inferno that danced wickedly against the darkening heavens.
Approaching from the south, the trio's eyes were met with harrowing scenes; to the east, the village well, a source of life now ringed with the fallen. Their bodies lay strewn about, each pierced by arrows, a grim testament to their failed efforts to quell the flames that now threatened to devour the inn whole.
To the west, a cadre of militiamen, their faces etched with urgency and fear, worked in vain with buckets clutched in desperate hands. They beckoned Cal, Drax, and Bell to take shelter, shouting over the crackle of the fire and the distant, haunting cries for help that spilled from the tavern's engulfed interior. Between gasps, the militiamen spoke of archers hidden within the forest's shadowy embrace, picking off any soul brave or foolish enough to venture toward the well.
The tavern itself stood as a maelstrom of chaos; its upper floors were alight with an angry glow, windows shattering under the heat, spewing forth embers like a monstrous hearth. From within, the muffled screams of those trapped by flame and smoke rose above the din, a chorus of terror that cut through the heart with every desperate note.
Cal, Drax, and Bell, standing amidst the tempest of fire and fear, were faced with a dire choice. In the balance hung the lives of those trapped within the burning walls of The Old Skull Inn, their fate hinging on the actions of these few, determined souls.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The flaming tavern will not use initiative yet. We are in encounter movement and action economy but since there are no enemies we will alternate between the player actions and the "world turn" (militia, archers, etc).
Getting in range of the well will result in a ranged attack from the archers. They are currently supressed by Haj's parting shots so they will not fire for 1d4 (4) turns.
Every turn, I will roll a d6 and on a 1 or 2 there will be a complication (parts of the building collapsing, enemies arriving, etc). At the end of every turn, the fire will also spread by 5 feet. If you can clear the path to the well, this will reduce to every other turn and eventually the fire will stop spreading. You have half movement speed in the tavern due to the smoke. You can move at full speed but it will require a constitution saving through or you will take 1d4 damage from smoke inhalation. Dashing will turn this into 3d4 damage.
Under the shroud of dusk, Galdric, his armor glinting faintly in the fading light, moved with purpose toward the enigmatic silhouette of the Wizard's Tower. The air hung heavy with a foreboding silence, broken only by the distant echoes of chaos that besieged the rest of Shadowdale.
As he drew near, the grim tableau of violence unveiled itself. To the south of the tower, the bodies of three town guards lay beside a fallen attacker, their final moments marked by the chaos of the skirmish that claimed their lives. The ground, scarred by the skirmish, told a silent story of the fierce confrontation that had transpired.
Ahead, three mercenaries encircled the southern door of the tower with predatory anticipation. Their boots thundered against the ancient wood, each thud a violent demand for entry. Their voices, cruel and jeering, cut through the air as they taunted those who hid within. "We know you're in there. Get out here and I promise we'll make it quick," they bellowed, their promise as hollow as the death that surrounded them.
Off to the southeast, a solitary figure worked with mechanical precision, reloading a ballista with the cold efficiency of a seasoned killer. Its deadly bolt was aimed ominously at the tower's door, ready to unleash destruction upon the next attempt to escape the sanctum.
Galdric has approached unnoticed. He has a "surprise round" do take action. Once combat starts or he is noticed we will follow the following initiative
Galdric is going to make for the ballista. If he can take out the gunner quick, me may be able to turn it against the other hostiles. So he’s going to approach and take a swing with his greatsword at the enemy manning the ballista.
Through the eerie quietude that clung to the edges of the town square, Haj moved like a shadow, his senses sharp and his bow at the ready. The Square, once a place of gathering, commerce, and communal joy, now lay desolate, the cobblestones marred by the blood of the fallen. Militiamen, who had stood bravely against the tide of darkness, lay motionless, their valiant stand ending in silence. The clash of steel and cries of the wounded seemed distant here, a faint echo from beyond the square's confines.
The sounds of pillage rose from the houses bordering the square, where mercenaries and goblins, emboldened by their bloody success, sought to plunder the homes of those they had slain. A chilling scream shattered the tense air as a goblin, reveling in the terror it wrought, unearthed a villager's hiding spot to the west.
To the north, the heavy thuds of orcish boots and the splintering of wood signaled an assault on the sanctuary of an ornate temple. A band of orcs, their weapons as ruthless as their intent, were set on breaching the temple's barricade. Within, guards struggled against the door, their faces etched with grim determination, while the commoners behind them huddled in the shadows, their prayers whispered in desperate fervor.
At the center of the square stood the mysterious figure, a presence that seemed to command the chaos itself. Atop the town crier's platform, he held the temple's priest aloft, his grip ironclad, as the clergyman's feet dangled helplessly. The two guards at his feet, beaten and bound, bore witness to the ultimatum being delivered. "Tell me where Gort is, and I will give your flock a swift end. It will be a blessing compared to the life of slavery that awaits them if you resist me." he declared, his voice cold and devoid of mercy.
The danger of engaging in combat here was palpable, the air thick with the threat of death. Haj knew that to face them all – the orcs, the goblins, the figure, and his hired blades – was to dance with death itself.
Entering from the southeast, just within earshot of the figure's grim proposition, Haj stood at the precipice of decision. Every instinct honed by his ranger's training told him that a direct confrontation would be tantamount to a death wish. Yet, the cries of the innocent called to him, a siren's song beckoning him to act.
In the twilight of the square, with the lives of many hanging in the balance, Haj found himself alone with his choices. A hidden approach, a carefully placed shot, a distraction – these were the tools of his trade, and they would need to suffice in the face of overwhelming odds. For in the heart of Shadowdale, it was not just the lives of a few that lay in peril, but the very soul of the town itself.
Haj surveys the scene knowing that his choices are limited. The only thing in his favour is that he's the only one who knows he's there, at least for now.
The only real option he can see is to try and cause confusion and distraction. If he takes out an orc or mercenary only a few will respond; but if he targets the leader then they'll all be after him (hopefully).
Calming his breathing, he raises his bow, takes careful aim at the leader and lets loose an arrow.
Aridove, with the grace of the wilds in her stride, approached the Castle Keep of Shadowdale, her heart heavy with the burden of impending battle. What greeted her was not the clang of swords nor the rallying cries of defenders, but the quiet shame of desertion. Five militiamen, their spirits broken, crouched in the shadow of the fortress they had sworn to protect, now prisoners of their own fear.
The keep itself, a bastion of strength and authority, perched atop a formidable hill, its stones as unyielding as the land from which they rose. The churning stream that encircled the hill whispered of the moat it once was, its waters an icy barrier to any who dared approach. The bridge, now a gauntlet of death spanning the void, bore the grim trophies of failed valor—bodies of the fallen lay strewn about, pierced by a hailstorm of arrows and ballista bolts, their blood a stark testament to the siege's ferocity.
A crude siege camp, buzzing with the activity of human mercenaries, stood poised like a predator at the bridge's southern end. Wooden spikes, menacing and sharp, jutted toward the gate, a forest of pikes to thwart the charge of hooves and the surge of steel. Behind this barricade, the siege engines of war—three ballistas manned by pairs of rough, battle-hardened mercenaries—commanded the crossing with grim authority, their aim set on the heart of the keep.
To the west, on a ledge just a short descent away, the rhythm of war was marked by the thud and whoosh of a catapult, its payload of flaming pitch arcing over the walls with a dreadful regularity, each impact a heartbeat of destruction. Further down, nestled at the hill's base, archers gathered around a fire that spit and crackled, its flames birthing arrows of fire that soared over the castle's defenses, some finding their mark among the defenders who stood defiant on the parapets.
The militiamen, their voices barely above a whisper, recounted the bitter irony that the keep's most formidable warriors were trapped inside, their steel and courage rendered mute by the blockade. A great feast to honor the unity and strength of the Dalelands had become a cage of helplessness.
Aridove understood the gravity of the moment. If the ballistas were not silenced, the veterans within would remain caged, and the town's hope of liberation would wither on the vine. Her mind raced with the possibilities—of stealth, of guile, of the cunning that nature itself employed so effortlessly.
(( ok I created a campaign, please go ahead and add your character, we will use the campaign for dice rolls from here on out https://www.dndbeyond.com/campaigns/join/47926191514801110
ooc thread is here: https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/play-by-post/184776-echoes-of-empire-ooc-thread))
(I’m also on an east coast. Different continent, though. By the way the link to the OOC thread has an extra empty space at the end, this is the correct link: https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/play-by-post/184776-echoes-of-empire-ooc-thread )
|| Tryncaryn - Halfling Monk/Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak || Berry - Fairy Barbarian - Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver || Taya - Mysterious Fighter - Echoes of Empire || Myrla Stardust - Wood Elf Rogue - After the Fall ||
[OOC] East coast, here. Pacing works for me. Honestly, I like the 24 hour post window.[/OOC]
[OOC] Here is how we're going to handle combat and initiative: https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/play-by-post/184776-echoes-of-empire-ooc-thread#c3
I've tried to balance keeping things quick with preserving the benefit of high dex. We can revisit this if it doesn't work but it's pretty similar to how I run things at my IRL table and that works well enough[/OOC]
Zyzix was enjoying the rather refreshing scenery of the morning. He had performed most of his missions in cities, getting outdoors for once was a nice change of pace. Plus, Drax was known to enjoy the outdoors as well, so getting some fresh air fit with his persona.
As he sees the burning village engulfed in chaos, Zyzix is taken back by surprise. "Oh dear, that looks quite dreadful," he says, still staying in character. As he watches some members of the caravan rush off towards the village to offer aid, Zyzix hesitates. Personally, he really didn't want to get involved in the battle. He had survived thus far by avoiding conflict, not rushing into it. What complicated the matter is that Drax was supposed to kindhearted and willing to help those less fortunate than himself. He was the kind of person that would run willingly into combat to help others. Zyzix silently curses the Veil for giving him such a caring person to imitate as he looks worriedly to the burning village.
Torn between indecision, he sees Cal rushing off to help take care of the fires. Figuring that would be the best option to keep him out of fighting while helping at the same time, he decids to go help the man. Growling in annoyance, he begins rushing after the man. He cries out to Cal as he follows him, "For heaven's sake, do try to be careful!" ((Giving bardic inspiration)). As he jogs along, he also grips a leather cord in one hand, muttering an arcane phrase discreetly as he casts Mage Armor on himself.
Upon arrival, he does his best to put out fires with Prestidigitation. He does his best to avoid combat, but if its unavoidable, he defends himself with Vicious Mockery and illusion magic. He's loath to reveal he has magical abilities, but he'll also use Dissonant Whispers on tougher foes. He would prefer to hide and then distract using illusions if combat is inevitable. His primary focus would to be putting out fires, grumbling and complaining about how the fire and soot were going to ruin his clothes, keeping to Drax's personality. His number one rule is to never break character, no matter what.
Feeling inspired by "Drax" the friendly dragonborn, and in an emerging situation where discretion is less important than action, Cal looks back the the figure racing with him casting arcane spells, and decides to establish a telepathic channel between the two. (Abberant Mind Telepathy. Takes BA, lasts 1 minute, two way telepathy. He'll keep renewing it so it stays open during this crisis, so they can more easily coordinate the rescue.)
"Drax, you strike me as someone familiar enough with telepathy not to be spooked, I've linked our minds should you need to speak to me unheard, lets get this fire under control." [telepathy to Zyzix]
I got quotes!
Street Skirmish
In the waning light of a day marred by violence, Taya and Horros charged through the streets of Shadowdale, their resolve as unyielding as the steel they bore. To the west, the tumultuous sounds of battle drew near as they beheld a desperate stand: three town guards, their armors dented and smeared with the toil of combat, stood against a marauding band. Two towering orcs, their tusks bared in savage delight, a cunning goblin, and two human mercenaries, cloaks billowing like the dark banners of doom, clashed steel with the defenders. Behind this fray, commoners, gripped by fear, scrambled towards the salvation of a boat bobbing precariously by the stream, their escape a fragile hope amidst the onslaught.
To the south, the scene was grimmer still. A lone guard, his back against the wall, faced off against two goblins and an orc, their jagged weapons hungry for blood. Behind him, commoners huddled, cornered like prey, their fates hanging by the slender thread of the guard's valor. If the guard fell, there would be nothing to stem the tide of the butchery that would surely follow.
To the north, chaos reigned in the homes of the innocent. The shrill scream of terror pierced the air as goblins, like foul scavengers, unearthed hiding villagers. The goblins reveled in the fear their discovery sowed, a macabre prelude to the cruelty they would unleash.
As Taya and Horros emerged from the east, a somber sight met their eyes. A guard lay upon the ground, his breaths shallow, the lifeblood ebbing from his grievous wounds. In his faltering voice, he imparted his final words, recounting how the enemy appeared as if conjured by some dark sorcery, decimating the local militia with ruthless efficiency.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the iron tang of blood. Taya and Horros, standing at the crossroads of conflict, faced a harrowing choice: to the west, aid the guards and shield the fleeing villagers; to the south, bolster the lone defender and prevent a massacre; or to the north, to answer the terror-filled screams and confront the marauders within the homes of the townsfolk.
The fates of many rested on the shoulders of these brave souls, and in the heart of Shadowdale, amidst the chaos sown by shadowy foes, the time to act was now.
Initiative for Street Skirmish:
Taya, Horros, and the caravan guards are undetected and will have a "surprise round." After they each take their actions, we will proceed in initiative order. If they do not order the caravan guards to do anything I will decide what the caravan guards do.
Taya: 13
Horros: 3
Northern foes: 1
Southern foes: 19
Western foes: 10
Guards and Commoners: 14
Flaming Tavern
Through the smoke-choked streets of Shadowdale, Cal, Drax, and Bell hastened their steps toward the beacon of calamity that clawed at the evening sky. The Old Skull Inn, a once merry haven for travelers and locals alike, was now a pyre of despair, its timbers consumed by a ravenous inferno that danced wickedly against the darkening heavens.
Approaching from the south, the trio's eyes were met with harrowing scenes; to the east, the village well, a source of life now ringed with the fallen. Their bodies lay strewn about, each pierced by arrows, a grim testament to their failed efforts to quell the flames that now threatened to devour the inn whole.
To the west, a cadre of militiamen, their faces etched with urgency and fear, worked in vain with buckets clutched in desperate hands. They beckoned Cal, Drax, and Bell to take shelter, shouting over the crackle of the fire and the distant, haunting cries for help that spilled from the tavern's engulfed interior. Between gasps, the militiamen spoke of archers hidden within the forest's shadowy embrace, picking off any soul brave or foolish enough to venture toward the well.
The tavern itself stood as a maelstrom of chaos; its upper floors were alight with an angry glow, windows shattering under the heat, spewing forth embers like a monstrous hearth. From within, the muffled screams of those trapped by flame and smoke rose above the din, a chorus of terror that cut through the heart with every desperate note.
Cal, Drax, and Bell, standing amidst the tempest of fire and fear, were faced with a dire choice. In the balance hung the lives of those trapped within the burning walls of The Old Skull Inn, their fate hinging on the actions of these few, determined souls.
The flaming tavern will not use initiative yet. We are in encounter movement and action economy but since there are no enemies we will alternate between the player actions and the "world turn" (militia, archers, etc).
Getting in range of the well will result in a ranged attack from the archers. They are currently supressed by Haj's parting shots so they will not fire for 1d4 (4) turns.
Every turn, I will roll a d6 and on a 1 or 2 there will be a complication (parts of the building collapsing, enemies arriving, etc). At the end of every turn, the fire will also spread by 5 feet. If you can clear the path to the well, this will reduce to every other turn and eventually the fire will stop spreading. You have half movement speed in the tavern due to the smoke. You can move at full speed but it will require a constitution saving through or you will take 1d4 damage from smoke inhalation. Dashing will turn this into 3d4 damage.
It is now the PCs turn. Good luck!
Wizard Tower Ruins
Under the shroud of dusk, Galdric, his armor glinting faintly in the fading light, moved with purpose toward the enigmatic silhouette of the Wizard's Tower. The air hung heavy with a foreboding silence, broken only by the distant echoes of chaos that besieged the rest of Shadowdale.
As he drew near, the grim tableau of violence unveiled itself. To the south of the tower, the bodies of three town guards lay beside a fallen attacker, their final moments marked by the chaos of the skirmish that claimed their lives. The ground, scarred by the skirmish, told a silent story of the fierce confrontation that had transpired.
Ahead, three mercenaries encircled the southern door of the tower with predatory anticipation. Their boots thundered against the ancient wood, each thud a violent demand for entry. Their voices, cruel and jeering, cut through the air as they taunted those who hid within. "We know you're in there. Get out here and I promise we'll make it quick," they bellowed, their promise as hollow as the death that surrounded them.
Off to the southeast, a solitary figure worked with mechanical precision, reloading a ballista with the cold efficiency of a seasoned killer. Its deadly bolt was aimed ominously at the tower's door, ready to unleash destruction upon the next attempt to escape the sanctum.
Wizard Tower Ruins Initiative
Galdric has approached unnoticed. He has a "surprise round" do take action. Once combat starts or he is noticed we will follow the following initiative
Galdric: 11
Enemies: 12
Tower Inhabitants: 8
Galdric is going to make for the ballista. If he can take out the gunner quick, me may be able to turn it against the other hostiles. So he’s going to approach and take a swing with his greatsword at the enemy manning the ballista.
Attack: Natural 20 for a totally of 25
Damage: 13
Town Square Initiative
Haj has approached undetected and has a surprise round to take action. After his post, we will follow the following initiative
West Looters: 19
East Looters: 17
Orcs: 10
Mysterious Figure: 13
Haj: 18
Defenders: 1
Haj surveys the scene knowing that his choices are limited. The only thing in his favour is that he's the only one who knows he's there, at least for now.
The only real option he can see is to try and cause confusion and distraction. If he takes out an orc or mercenary only a few will respond; but if he targets the leader then they'll all be after him (hopefully).
Calming his breathing, he raises his bow, takes careful aim at the leader and lets loose an arrow.
Attack: 25 Damage: 8
Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
Castle Keep
Aridove, with the grace of the wilds in her stride, approached the Castle Keep of Shadowdale, her heart heavy with the burden of impending battle. What greeted her was not the clang of swords nor the rallying cries of defenders, but the quiet shame of desertion. Five militiamen, their spirits broken, crouched in the shadow of the fortress they had sworn to protect, now prisoners of their own fear.
The keep itself, a bastion of strength and authority, perched atop a formidable hill, its stones as unyielding as the land from which they rose. The churning stream that encircled the hill whispered of the moat it once was, its waters an icy barrier to any who dared approach. The bridge, now a gauntlet of death spanning the void, bore the grim trophies of failed valor—bodies of the fallen lay strewn about, pierced by a hailstorm of arrows and ballista bolts, their blood a stark testament to the siege's ferocity.
A crude siege camp, buzzing with the activity of human mercenaries, stood poised like a predator at the bridge's southern end. Wooden spikes, menacing and sharp, jutted toward the gate, a forest of pikes to thwart the charge of hooves and the surge of steel. Behind this barricade, the siege engines of war—three ballistas manned by pairs of rough, battle-hardened mercenaries—commanded the crossing with grim authority, their aim set on the heart of the keep.
To the west, on a ledge just a short descent away, the rhythm of war was marked by the thud and whoosh of a catapult, its payload of flaming pitch arcing over the walls with a dreadful regularity, each impact a heartbeat of destruction. Further down, nestled at the hill's base, archers gathered around a fire that spit and crackled, its flames birthing arrows of fire that soared over the castle's defenses, some finding their mark among the defenders who stood defiant on the parapets.
The militiamen, their voices barely above a whisper, recounted the bitter irony that the keep's most formidable warriors were trapped inside, their steel and courage rendered mute by the blockade. A great feast to honor the unity and strength of the Dalelands had become a cage of helplessness.
Aridove understood the gravity of the moment. If the ballistas were not silenced, the veterans within would remain caged, and the town's hope of liberation would wither on the vine. Her mind raced with the possibilities—of stealth, of guile, of the cunning that nature itself employed so effortlessly.
Castle Keep Initiative
Aridove and the militiamen have a "surprise round." They can take full movement and action. After they do, initiative will proceed as follows:
Aridove: 14
Southern Militiamen: 5
Ballista Mercenaries: 3
Catapult Mercenaries: 16
Archers: 8
Castle Defenders: 14