The bearded devil tries to pull itself together (literally) and makes its usual round of attacks on Vakiel, trying to kill its tormentor.
Glaive Attack: 18 Damage: 7. If a hit roll DC12 Con save to avoid infernal wound.
Beard Attack: 23 Damage: 8. If a hit roll DC12 Con save to avoid being poisoned.
The hobgoblins look nervous but seem determined to follow their commander's last order. They shoot at Grimbald in the tree (Grimbald gets +2 AC for cover).
Between Augustin and Esa, all remaining enemies are put down. It's carnage, blood soaks the ground, as well as those awful oily smudges which are all that remains of the devils.
Quickly Grimbald repairs his crossbow by putting in a new string. The bodies are searched (the spellcaster has four scrolls of fireball - he was really planning to do mischief once he got to town) and a total of 140sp and 99cp and 240 iron bits.
There is nothing magic-wrought on the bodies.
The party quickly heads back to the elves and village fighters and finds a battle underway. Hobgoblins lie dead in the killing ground, many of them torn to shreds by spike growth spells cast by probably the druid in bear form the party can see fighting the few hobgoblins that made it to the warriors, or pierced by elf arrows.
The party wade in, hitting the hobgoblins from behind and it is over in minutes.
Israfen seeks out Grimbald.
"It went more or less to plan," he says. "There were more of them than we were expecting. If it wasn't for Loren here," he points at the bear becoming a female human druid, one of Reithann's apprentices, "it might have gone poorly indeed. She castspike growthspells one after the other and made it hard for them, deadly even, to get to us. As you see, some got through, there were just too many, and our brothers the human warriors stepped up and smote them. We took some casualties but we gave much better than we got."
There are many wounded who need to be helped back to the healing centre in Albridge, and given to the younger druids magical care.
The battle has been raging here for some time. Dar Gremath has an arrow wound to his shoulder and is being healed by a druid as the party arrives.
"About time you got back," he said. The resistance leader points to the bridge "Look over there! That's Reithann! Never seen the like!"
On the south bank of the White River you see a huge earth elemental smashing enemies left and right, accompanied by smaller earth elementals that Reithann had summoned. Resistance fighters were gathered around her, dispatching wounded foes, and protecting her flanks.
"We were in danger of being overrun, and she decided now was the time to use that particular power," Dar Gremath says. "Good job too. A lot of the new Iron Circle recruits have fled and she's smashed some of the big drakes and their riders."
He turns to the party, "have a quick rest if you need it to bind your wounds and prepare yourself. Before the rain comes I'd like you out there hunting the Iron Circle general. If we can cut the head off the snake I think that will be the end of the battle!"
Before they leave, Esa has Augustin drag the spellcasters body back with them. She has him store it at the edge of camp, a note pinned to its chest that reads "Do not dispose. Property of Esa" with a picture of an angry pixie drawn beneath it.
Minor Internal Injury: Whenever you attempt an action in combat, you must make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, you lose your action and can't use reactions until the start of your next turn. Magical healing of 6th level or higher, such as heal or regenerate, heals the internal injury; alternatively, if you spend ten days doing nothing but resting, it heals on its own.
Augustin believes he’s on the right path as he simply refuses to stay down, injuries be damned he knows he’s protecting his friends and the values he upholds.
Vakiel will share with the group during their short rest ..
"I've encountered their leader before, in fact he is the reason I found myself in the tavern the night we met. I don't know much of him, he is a devout Asmodeus follower & heavily armoured employing a shield and flail in serious combat."
As the sun behind the clouds dips towards the horizon the chaotic battleground darkens and long shadows and dark spots emerge around buildings and trees. The party crosses the bridge across the White River, determined and resolute just as the rain starts to fall from the grey clouds. Their every movement exudes a sense of purpose, the heroes are here to do one thing - end this battle by killing Nazin Redthorn, the overall commander of the Iron Circle in Harkenwold.
The battlefield itself is a scene of pandemonium. The air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke, the clash of steel from some distance away, and the cries of the wounded and dying. Bodies are scattered across the torn earth, a testament to the ferocity of the conflict that has ravaged the land south of Albridge.
With weapons in hand and spells at the ready, the party advances cautiously, stepping over fallen warriors and navigating treacherous craters left by the destructive magic unleashed upon the field. The ground beneath their feet trembles, echoing the devastation that had befallen the once serene landscape.
Heedless of the drama, the rain starts to fall and soak the ground.
As they press forward, the party's senses prickle, honed by previous battles and the anxiety of the task before them. They can feel the raw energy crackling in the air, a manifestation of the swirling chaos surrounding them. A gust of wind carries whispers, the fragmented voices of comrades lost in the turmoil, urging them forward.
The party's eyes dart across the battlefield, searching for any sign of the enemy general amidst the buildings and skirmishes. Several buildings are on fire, although the rain is slowly winning that battle. Through the billowing smoke and flickering flames, glimpses of adversaries emerged, their armoured silhouettes clashing in brutal combat. Yet, Nazin Redthorn remains elusive, concealed within the heart of the pandemonium.
With each step, the party's determination grows, fuelled by a mix of unwavering loyalty to the rebel cause and the people of Harkenwold, as well as a thirst for justice. They navigate through the harrowing battlefield with a mix of stealth and force, their movements calculated and precise. Blades whistle past, arrows whizz through the air, but the party seems impervious to the chaos, focused solely on their mission. They fight some minor skirmishes, but just as often they are seen and left alone. Perhaps it is because they look too dangerous, or perhaps the Iron Circle troops are thinking they are allies, whatever the reason, at those times the party are looked at, then passed by.
Finally, amidst the havoc, a figure clad in plate mail armour riding a huge black warhorse catches the party's attention. Nazin Redthorn has his flail in his hand and is issuing orders to his troops with unwavering resolve. His presence exudes a palpable aura of authority, commanding respect even amidst the chaos. He is flanked on foot by two heavily armoured devils of a soldier type the party have not seen before. They look hunched and muscular, and are covered in thick armour which even covers their faces like some kind of mask.
A surge of adrenaline courses through the party's veins. Nazin Redthorn is the person who caused all this death and suffering, the representative of the hated enemy. With renewed vigour, they cut a path through the tumultuous battleground, their battle cries blending with the cacophony of war. The clash of steel against steel reverberates as the party engage enemy combatants, deflecting blows, cutting them down or blasting them with spells, and pressing ever closer to their ultimate objective.
The battle for Albridge rages on, but the party's focus remains unyielding. They close the distance, locking eyes with the enemy general, their shared destiny entwined in that fleeting moment. It is a clash of wills, a testament to the relentless spirit of both sides.
In that charged instant, the chaos of the battleground fades into insignificance, the clamour muted by the intensity of their gaze. It is a dance of fates, each knowing that the outcome of this encounter will determine the fate of Harkenwold, maybe the entire Nentir Vale. Maybe even more than that.
Then of course, Nazin Redthorn spoils the dramatic moment by barking a laugh. He dismounts and hands the reins to a young Iron Circle soldier and turns towards the party, readying his shield at the same time. He has short red hair and beard turning grey, some facial tattoos and the build of a warrior. He wears heavy plate armour, and carries a flail that seems to be giving off steam every time rain hits its spiked ball. Nazin Redthorn eyes the party before speaking. "You're the mighty heroes who have caused me so much trouble? Forgive me if I laugh.Vakiel, so this is where you've been hiding. Well, well. Consorting with the enemy, that's punishable by death, so we'll get that out the way too. Once you are all dead my victory is assured. Except for you, dwarf," he says, pointing at Grimbald. "We'll get the torturers at work on you to tell us everything you know about the Primal Spirits."
Other Iron Circle troops appear from buildings. The battle is on.
The map. I put you where I thought you might be, Grimbald and RL heading for cover, the meat shields at the front. Esa is on the roof of the building, out of melee range of everyone.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As everyone approaches the battlefield, Esa perches on a roof. "Keep your distance, everyone. It's time for a BBQ." She pulls out a Scroll of Fireball and casts the spell, aiming the flames at the leader and minions. 28 fire damage
Augustin looks at Valkiel and Grimald, you fellas stay close. It looks like they may be after you for something.
Augustin raises his voice and yells
"It is time to end this Nazin. The Iron Circle have no place or business here! You had two choices here. Surrender or die. You have chosen death and us crazy nuts are your executioner. Everyone else here has a choice to lay down your arms and return to your families. We will not stop your retreat, but let this be your last warning."
Brothers and sisters of Albridge, (Augustin blow's his horn) and know that this is the beginning of the end for Nazin and his followers. Here this and know that what was done today was secure the future. Here this and know that your losses were not in vain.
Nazin here me and know that this is the sound of your final moments."
In the distance there is the sound of faint barking and the clatter of paws can be hard. It intensifies over the course of Augustin's speech as 5 Valenar Hounds coming running into the picture and take down enemies with a pack mentality and covering our flanks. using their Burst of speed trait to cover huge distances to avoid moving as a pack but more to converge on the enemy as one.
"YOU have it? By Asmodeus' blood this is a fortunate day, getting the Hunter's Horn AND the Acorn in the same day. This whole campaign has been worth it for that alone. I don't suppose you have the other artifacts? That would save me a lot of time."
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Enemy turn 6
The bearded devil tries to pull itself together (literally) and makes its usual round of attacks on Vakiel, trying to kill its tormentor.
The hobgoblins look nervous but seem determined to follow their commander's last order. They shoot at Grimbald in the tree (Grimbald gets +2 AC for cover).
Esa will launch a Firebolt at one, nat20 for a 26 to hit, 1d10 damage so a critical would be 10+5 (rolled a 5) damage?
Augustin continues to trade blows with the hobgoblin commander:
20 to hit 8 points if damage
if he’s dead GWM the easiest bloke to kill:
19 to hit 8 damage ( 2 psychic).
Augustin just looks wrecked at the moment
Between Augustin and Esa, all remaining enemies are put down. It's carnage, blood soaks the ground, as well as those awful oily smudges which are all that remains of the devils.
Quickly Grimbald repairs his crossbow by putting in a new string. The bodies are searched (the spellcaster has four scrolls of fireball - he was really planning to do mischief once he got to town) and a total of 140sp and 99cp and 240 iron bits.
There is nothing magic-wrought on the bodies.
The party quickly heads back to the elves and village fighters and finds a battle underway. Hobgoblins lie dead in the killing ground, many of them torn to shreds by spike growth spells cast by probably the druid in bear form the party can see fighting the few hobgoblins that made it to the warriors, or pierced by elf arrows.
The party wade in, hitting the hobgoblins from behind and it is over in minutes.
Israfen seeks out Grimbald.
"It went more or less to plan," he says. "There were more of them than we were expecting. If it wasn't for Loren here," he points at the bear becoming a female human druid, one of Reithann's apprentices, "it might have gone poorly indeed. She cast spike growth spells one after the other and made it hard for them, deadly even, to get to us. As you see, some got through, there were just too many, and our brothers the human warriors stepped up and smote them. We took some casualties but we gave much better than we got."
There are many wounded who need to be helped back to the healing centre in Albridge, and given to the younger druids magical care.
The battle has been raging here for some time. Dar Gremath has an arrow wound to his shoulder and is being healed by a druid as the party arrives.
"About time you got back," he said. The resistance leader points to the bridge "Look over there! That's Reithann! Never seen the like!"
On the south bank of the White River you see a huge earth elemental smashing enemies left and right, accompanied by smaller earth elementals that Reithann had summoned. Resistance fighters were gathered around her, dispatching wounded foes, and protecting her flanks.
"We were in danger of being overrun, and she decided now was the time to use that particular power," Dar Gremath says. "Good job too. A lot of the new Iron Circle recruits have fled and she's smashed some of the big drakes and their riders."
He turns to the party, "have a quick rest if you need it to bind your wounds and prepare yourself. Before the rain comes I'd like you out there hunting the Iron Circle general. If we can cut the head off the snake I think that will be the end of the battle!"
Before they leave, Esa has Augustin drag the spellcasters body back with them. She has him store it at the edge of camp, a note pinned to its chest that reads "Do not dispose. Property of Esa" with a picture of an angry pixie drawn beneath it.
We settle down in a pile to rest as soon as the words leave Dar's mouth
Augustin just collapses and nurses his new wound (noting he has taken magical healing) before falling hard asleep.
Augustin's new injury:
Minor Internal Injury: Whenever you attempt an action in combat, you must make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw.
On a failed save, you lose your action and can't use reactions until the start of your next turn. Magical healing of 6th
level or higher, such as heal or regenerate, heals the internal injury; alternatively, if you spend ten days doing nothing
but resting, it heals on its own.
Augustin believes he’s on the right path as he simply refuses to stay down, injuries be damned he knows he’s protecting his friends and the values he upholds.
Vakiel will share with the group during their short rest ..
"I've encountered their leader before, in fact he is the reason I found myself in the tavern the night we met. I don't know much of him, he is a devout Asmodeus follower & heavily armoured employing a shield and flail in serious combat."
As the sun behind the clouds dips towards the horizon the chaotic battleground darkens and long shadows and dark spots emerge around buildings and trees. The party crosses the bridge across the White River, determined and resolute just as the rain starts to fall from the grey clouds. Their every movement exudes a sense of purpose, the heroes are here to do one thing - end this battle by killing Nazin Redthorn, the overall commander of the Iron Circle in Harkenwold.
The battlefield itself is a scene of pandemonium. The air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke, the clash of steel from some distance away, and the cries of the wounded and dying. Bodies are scattered across the torn earth, a testament to the ferocity of the conflict that has ravaged the land south of Albridge.
With weapons in hand and spells at the ready, the party advances cautiously, stepping over fallen warriors and navigating treacherous craters left by the destructive magic unleashed upon the field. The ground beneath their feet trembles, echoing the devastation that had befallen the once serene landscape.
Heedless of the drama, the rain starts to fall and soak the ground.
As they press forward, the party's senses prickle, honed by previous battles and the anxiety of the task before them. They can feel the raw energy crackling in the air, a manifestation of the swirling chaos surrounding them. A gust of wind carries whispers, the fragmented voices of comrades lost in the turmoil, urging them forward.
The party's eyes dart across the battlefield, searching for any sign of the enemy general amidst the buildings and skirmishes. Several buildings are on fire, although the rain is slowly winning that battle. Through the billowing smoke and flickering flames, glimpses of adversaries emerged, their armoured silhouettes clashing in brutal combat. Yet, Nazin Redthorn remains elusive, concealed within the heart of the pandemonium.
With each step, the party's determination grows, fuelled by a mix of unwavering loyalty to the rebel cause and the people of Harkenwold, as well as a thirst for justice. They navigate through the harrowing battlefield with a mix of stealth and force, their movements calculated and precise. Blades whistle past, arrows whizz through the air, but the party seems impervious to the chaos, focused solely on their mission. They fight some minor skirmishes, but just as often they are seen and left alone. Perhaps it is because they look too dangerous, or perhaps the Iron Circle troops are thinking they are allies, whatever the reason, at those times the party are looked at, then passed by.
Finally, amidst the havoc, a figure clad in plate mail armour riding a huge black warhorse catches the party's attention. Nazin Redthorn has his flail in his hand and is issuing orders to his troops with unwavering resolve. His presence exudes a palpable aura of authority, commanding respect even amidst the chaos. He is flanked on foot by two heavily armoured devils of a soldier type the party have not seen before. They look hunched and muscular, and are covered in thick armour which even covers their faces like some kind of mask.
A surge of adrenaline courses through the party's veins. Nazin Redthorn is the person who caused all this death and suffering, the representative of the hated enemy. With renewed vigour, they cut a path through the tumultuous battleground, their battle cries blending with the cacophony of war. The clash of steel against steel reverberates as the party engage enemy combatants, deflecting blows, cutting them down or blasting them with spells, and pressing ever closer to their ultimate objective.
The battle for Albridge rages on, but the party's focus remains unyielding. They close the distance, locking eyes with the enemy general, their shared destiny entwined in that fleeting moment. It is a clash of wills, a testament to the relentless spirit of both sides.
In that charged instant, the chaos of the battleground fades into insignificance, the clamour muted by the intensity of their gaze. It is a dance of fates, each knowing that the outcome of this encounter will determine the fate of Harkenwold, maybe the entire Nentir Vale. Maybe even more than that.
Then of course, Nazin Redthorn spoils the dramatic moment by barking a laugh. He dismounts and hands the reins to a young Iron Circle soldier and turns towards the party, readying his shield at the same time. He has short red hair and beard turning grey, some facial tattoos and the build of a warrior. He wears heavy plate armour, and carries a flail that seems to be giving off steam every time rain hits its spiked ball. Nazin Redthorn eyes the party before speaking.
"You're the mighty heroes who have caused me so much trouble? Forgive me if I laugh. Vakiel, so this is where you've been hiding. Well, well. Consorting with the enemy, that's punishable by death, so we'll get that out the way too. Once you are all dead my victory is assured. Except for you, dwarf," he says, pointing at Grimbald. "We'll get the torturers at work on you to tell us everything you know about the Primal Spirits."
Other Iron Circle troops appear from buildings. The battle is on.
Nazin Redthorn and the two armoured devils.
The map. I put you where I thought you might be, Grimbald and RL heading for cover, the meat shields at the front. Esa is on the roof of the building, out of melee range of everyone.
Roll for Initiative:
Enemy initiative - 15.
As everyone approaches the battlefield, Esa perches on a roof. "Keep your distance, everyone. It's time for a BBQ." She pulls out a Scroll of Fireball and casts the spell, aiming the flames at the leader and minions. 28 fire damage
Augustin looks at Valkiel and Grimald, you fellas stay close. It looks like they may be after you for something.
Augustin raises his voice and yells
"It is time to end this Nazin. The Iron Circle have no place or business here! You had two choices here. Surrender or die. You have chosen death and us crazy nuts are your executioner. Everyone else here has a choice to lay down your arms and return to your families. We will not stop your retreat, but let this be your last warning."
Brothers and sisters of Albridge, (Augustin blow's his horn) and know that this is the beginning of the end for Nazin and his followers. Here this and know that what was done today was secure the future. Here this and know that your losses were not in vain.
Nazin here me and know that this is the sound of your final moments."
In the distance there is the sound of faint barking and the clatter of paws can be hard. It intensifies over the course of Augustin's speech as 5 Valenar Hounds coming running into the picture and take down enemies with a pack mentality and covering our flanks. using their Burst of speed trait to cover huge distances to avoid moving as a pack but more to converge on the enemy as one.
Nazin's eyes go wide at the sight of the horn.
"YOU have it? By Asmodeus' blood this is a fortunate day, getting the Hunter's Horn AND the Acorn in the same day. This whole campaign has been worth it for that alone. I don't suppose you have the other artifacts? That would save me a lot of time."