(I don't believe so, but if he manages to take out the one by the door, he will ask if Aranea would like to take the party outside. With his signature smile, of course.)

(I believe there are still the 2 orcs in the dining room with us?)

Aranea transfers her Hex to the newcomer orc and focuses her attentions on it, intending to pierce it straight through the heart.

Rapier Attack: Attack: 19 Damage: 10

Hex Damage: 5

[T'laren, corner of the house makes more sense.  Shooting through both sets of windows, the Orc would have at least 3/4 cover and maybe full cover from you.  But from the corner of the house, a 12 is enough to hit.]

T'laren's arrow and Barkas' shillelagh are enough to murder the Orc due west of the druid.  Inside, Droknin's magic sword and Aranea's rapier cut down the Orc north of the Leonin.

The surviving Orcs mount a last, desperate offensive...

Attack on Droknin:  10

Attack on Barkas:  17  Damage:  6

Attack on Neral't:  22  Damage:  9

Two orcs remain outside, and one is left in the dining room.  The rest of the house and environs appear quiet.

The blow scatters Neral't into wisps of shadow, but they reform ten feet away and momentarily solidify further as T'laren flickers between long enough to loose an arrow at the orc.

Attack: 23 Damage: 12

Barkas turns to the next orc and swings at him wildly with his shillelagh, but then he nearly closes his eyes, forms his body in the frame of an archer, twingling lights begin to glow on his body and another burst of energy shoots out at the orc, arching toward him.  

Shillelagh : 8 to hit, for 9 points of damage.

Starry Archer form (at disadv) : 16 to hit, for 11 points of radiant damage to the orc.  

Droknin evades the strike from the lonely Orc in the room. "It looks like it is just you and me. I will offer you a chance to surrender, unless you would like to join your companions."

Persuasion/Intimidation: 0

(If the Orc does not surrender.) "Well, do not say that Ol' Droknin here did not give you a chance..."

Talon Attack: 13 Damage: 14

(If the Orc attacks Droknin, he will use his reaction to swipe his tail to avoid being hit. Add 4 to his AC)

Aranea will try to help Droknin in persuading the orc to surrender. She points her rapier at the orc threatningly and says, "We can make your death especially slow and painful. Best to surrender and tell us what we need to know, and we'll let you live."

The Orc looks back and forth between Droknin and Aranea... then spits on the floor between you, continuing to brandish its great axe.

Droknin then immediately slices the Orc in half at the waist, Talon cutting through like a hot knife through butter.  

T'laren and Barkas eliminate another Orc outside.  Barkas' melee attack is ineffective, but a blast of radiant starlight catches the foe in the face and brings him down.

The last Orc turns tail and tries to flee to the west.

T'laren sights down his arrow, raising it a bit to account for distance, and looses it to streak after the orc.

Attack: 18 Damage: 11

The Orc staggers, badly wounded, but he continues to limp away across the fields.  

[The Orc has no path to cover within the range of your weapons.  If you intend to shoot him down before he escapes, T'laren can describe how that happens.]

With the Orcs gone, the farmhouse is still and quiet, but for the dripping of blood from the many, many dead Orcs in the dining room.

T'laren and Neral't calmly stalk forward, the elf flickering from one position to another as he calmly reaches back, feeling for marks he left on the nocks of the arrows before selecting one and drawing it out, fitting it to the string in tempo with his strides before stopping to draw it back. The orc dips to his right, trying to weave, as T'laren and Neral't swap places and the arrow leaps from his bow to catch the orc in the torso, dropping him.

T'laren has another arrow fitted to the string as he scans the buildings and the treeline. If all seems calm, he'll walk to the downed orc to retrieve his arrows and search the body quickly.

Investigation if needed for arrow recover or body searching: 11

((He shot a total of 9 arrows, and would be looking to recover them all and sort into re-usable vs need repair/rebuilding.))

T'laren is able to find/repair/reassemble 7 of his arrows.  There is no movement anywhere else on the grounds, but for the wandering of loose pigs and few ducks milling about on the pond.

The Orcs each have a greataxe, and each is wearing hide armor that seems to be fashioned from the pelts of some kind of spotted mountain goat.  Between them, they carry a total of 27gp, 15sp and 69cp.  Finally, one of the Orcs carried a potion of healing in a stopped crystal vial of dwarven construction.  It must be something they stole or traded for, as it clearly wasn't made by the Orcs.

With the grounds and buildings secure, the party finds themselves together in the dining room, sorting the loot from the Orcs.  This room contains two wooden trestle tables flanked by benches.  Cattle skulls on the walls add to the decor.  Several empty bottles of wine are scattered around the dining room, along with a crate with several more unopened bottles.  The Orcs must have brought it up from the cellar.

Aranea, this was your first time seeing Droknin in combat.  The Leonin barbarian assumed a more monstrous, bestial form, with a barbed tail and a shaggier, prickered mane.  He seemed a terror in battle, cutting down most of these Orcs on his own.

Droknin, you would have once again been impressed with the performance of Talon.  It may not be as satisfying to wield as your double-bladed Mlinzi, but there is no question that the weapon is highly effective, seeming to find the weak spots in an opponents defenses all on its own.

T'laren retrieves his arrows and any coins from the running orc, leaving their weapon and armor on them for now and returns to the building as he sorts through his arrows, discarding those bits that are damaged beyond repair, inspecting some of them and adding them back to his quiver, setting others to be set aside to be worked on during the quiet hours of the night when his non-elven companions are sleeping. He selects a couple arrows from the leather wrapped bundle on his pack and adds them to his quiver to fill it back up. 

"We should sweep the area. Well done.", he gives Aranea and Barkas a nod of respect before stepping back outside, Droknin he knows is more than capable, but it is the first showing the newcomers have given of themselves. Despite saying 'we' he takes it on himself... though perhaps the we refers to Neral't as he doesn't wait for anyone to join him,  Neral't and him moving in coordination, occasionally switching places. He will check the cellar first, before stealthily walking the perimeter, checking in on the ruins of the barn and smithy, seeing if the outhouse is occupied, and walking the edge of the pond.

Besides more orcs lurking about, he's looking for signs of the farmer or any others who may have called this home prior to the orc takeover, scanning the farm regularly, as well as looking for tracks and indications that anyone made it out of here... or didn't.

Stealth: 12

Perception: 12

Survival: 7

Droknin takes a deep breath, cock his head backwards and shakes his mane around. His fangs becomes less sharp and pronounced, his tail goes back to a normal furry one, and his mane becomes less shaggy. With a jovial smile, he bellows. "What did I tell you my friends? Truth be told, a walk in the savanna may have been harder than dealing with these unworthy foes." The Leonin cleans Talon's blade, and admires the human made weapon. "I must admit, I doubted at first, but this sword has proven to be very effective."

In the cellar, T'laren and Neral't make a discovery.

The cellar has a dirt floor, walls of mortared stone, and an eight-foot-high plank ceiling braced by wooden pillars.  More crates of wine bottles sit along the bottom of the cool stone walls.  Shelves along the walls are lined with skulls made of butter and protected by a thin coating of wax.

Tied to a chair is a large figure with a burlap sack pulled over his head.  The burlap sack is stained with blood and the figure grunts when he hears someone approaching.  It takes a full minute to remove the hood and gag, and cut through the thick rope bonds holding the man to the chair.  He rises, slowly and unsteadily.  His face is bruised and his nose is broken.

"This is my farm..." he says when he is free.  "My name is Alfonse Kalazorn.  What's become of the Orcs?  If the battle is still on, give me a weapon."  His tone is confident, but based on his condition, you're not sure he would last very long in a battle.  Luckily, he won't be put to the test today.

"Easy, easy. We just killed ten... were there more? I'm T'laren Farsiel, we've been tasked by Townmaster Wester to deal with the orc threat." 

"Droknin! Kalazorn's down here! Alive! Give me a hand?", he calls up to his large companion.

"You need some water...? Wine?"

If the man insists on standing once he's freed, T'laren will support him, but look to hand him off to the stronger leonin if he comes down to the cellar.

Barkas walks into the house, the twinkling starry forms on his body disappate and he seems to relax somewhat.  He walks up to T’laren, Droknin and Aranea, giving them all a smile and an exhalation of relief.  He turns to Droknin and says “What happened to going on three?  We were planning it all out, our approach, maximal impact before we were detected, and you wade right on in there.  Going in on one.  Who heard of doing anything on one?”  Barkas gives a little laugh and then touches Droknin on the shoulder, joking with him.  He says “Thought you and Aranea were going to get sliced up in here, had to slow them down the best we could.  Now, who else might be in here?”  

Barkas takes a sharp breath in when he sees the man, assisting T’laren.  He starts to check him for injuries, seeing how he can help him.  He nods when T’laren speaks, saying “I’m Barkas, there’s a pile of orc bodies upstairs that we made.  Looks like we got to you in the nick of time…”. 

Medicine : 12

(Who heard of doing anything on one? LOL)

Droknin was about to walk up the stairs when heard of Barkas jest. However, Droknin turns around with a puzzled face. (As if a Leonin could have one.) Then it dawns on the big cat, and he gives a broad, sheepishly smile. “The urge to break some Orc skulls got the better of me….” He was going to add more, then Tlaren’s call gave him an out. “Ohh!! Our Elf friend seems to be in need of aid!” He runs to where the voice is coming from. 

Aranea watched with fascination as Droknin returned to his usual form, his mane becoming less wild and his teeth even seeming to shrink. He had transformed into a whirlwind of violence during the battle. It was impressive...and a bit terrifying. The investigator was pleased that the leonin was their ally. Even if they had to face down a platoon of orcs, she was sure Droknin would give them a good accounting, if not obliterate them entirely.

After gathering the orcs belongings onto the dining room table, Aranea turns to find T'laren coming from the cellar with an injured man in tow. It must be the ranch owner, and he looks much the worse for wear. Aranea is honestly surprised he is alive at all. She knows little of orcs, but she wouldn't think they would take prisoners. They seemed more the killing and pillaging type. Maybe they wanted something from the man?

"That went smoother than expected," Aranea comments on the fight before approaching the wounded man with Barkas. "You must be Kalazorn. My name is Aranea. Like my companions said, we were sent to help and defeat these orcs. Was this a random attack or were they looking for something?"

"Wester... Harbin Wester, of Phandalin?  Hmph.  Well, not where I expected aid to come from... but welcome all the same."

Barkas, Alfonse looks pretty beat up, but nothing looks like it won't heal on its own with a little time and rest.  

"They were looking for everything we had," he answers Aranea.  "A little raiding party came through a week ago.  Just four of 'em.  We beat them back with their tails between their legs and throught that was the end of it.  Usually, letting them know you'll punch back is enough to keep them at bay.  Stupid.  As soon as I saw the dragon flying over the mountains, I should have known the game had changed."

"They rolled in a few days back, in force.  Twenty, at least.  They've had me down in the cellar, working me over.  They wanted to know the schedule of traders and suppliers that pass through.  I assume they were looking to set up ambushes," he grimaces.  "I wouldn't give 'em nothing... but they stopped giving me water, waiting for me to break.  Yeah, I'll take some something to drink..." he says, gladly taking whatever is offered by T'laren.

"Were there any other prisoners?  I don't know if anyone else made it.  Some of these farmhands have been with me for years.  Milt and Earl... good folk.  I hope some of them made it.  And Bernice... that's my cow," he adds.  "Best damn cow I've ever had.  If she's alright, we can rebuild."

Climbing gingerly up the cellar stairs, he steps out into the twilight, the sun beginning to set in the west.  "Aw, Gods damn it all!" he exclaims when he sees the half eaten remains of Bernice the Cow, still hanging off the roasting spit near the pond.  He more quietly walks the rest of the grounds, noting the remains of the farmhands scattered over the property.  After a few minutes he walks back.  

"That's it, then.  No going back now.  Even if I wanted to rebuild, this place will have a cursed name, after a massacre like this.  None will work for me again."  He puts his face in his hands.  "I'm finished."

After a few moments of despair, he clear his throught.  "Listen, I'd have been on my own way to the Nine Hells if it weren't for the four of you.  I haven't much, and I don't know what the future holds for me, but I owe you for this rescue."  He retreats into the farmhouse and trudges upstairs.  After almost 10 minutes, he returns with a bundled rug.  He sets it down on the porch and unfurls it, revealing a set of mithral chain mail.  "A gift from nobles of Triboar, back from when I was the law around those parts.  Take it.  I owe you more, but its all I can spare."

He then sits down on the porch swing, looking out at the ruins of his farm, and sighs.  "So where next for you?  You say you came from Phandalin... are you headed back that way?"