Two prisoners sat on the ash-and-mud of the ground, shackled at the legs and sorely wounded, playing at civility and cards with their captors. With their fury suppressed but their spirits unbowed, they tossed their cards onto the too-high table in front of them as their opponents played more comfortably from a standing position. Whatever way they moved, the pain was a constant companion—but at least they were sitting, and the horrors that were their feet weren’t currently being worsened.
A half-orc crept, with a near-comical mixture of earnest effort and ineptness, along the edge of an underground river. Stepping around a bend, he spotted a pair of goblin sentries and acted.
A halfling slunk through the shadows, expertly avoiding any notice on her way to her assigned position. When things started up, she would be ready.
A tiefling climbed carefully up a slope of stone, doing her best to avoid notice but making sure that she kept the hobgoblin in her sights.
And a human sat, carefully not muttering or making any sound that might betray the group, as he waited for everyone to be finished with the part of the plan that involved stealth and not having any light for him to see by.
Rolling Persuasion (Charisma) | 1d20+3
Jason lifted a finger to his lips as he came into view of the sentries. Murmuring in a carefully pitched tone, he stepped forwards.
Rolling Persuasion (Charisma) | 1d20+7
Cassandra tossed a scrap of fleece into the air, and as it burned, a low voice that didn’t carry far at all spoke next to the hobgoblin. The hobgoblin, in turn, opened its mouth and then froze, eyes tracking across the darkness until they lit upon the Sorceress.
Rolling Stealth (Dexterity) | 1d20+7, worst of 2
Harriet put an arrow to the string of her shortbow, poised to the southwest of the firepit, having passed unnoticed by all five humanoids who might have seen her as she worked her way past them.
And then a number of things happened in very short succession.
COMBAT INITIATED
Surprise Round Begins
Rolling Initiative | 1d20+5=16
Rolling Initiative | 1d20-1=11
Rolling Initiative | 1d20+2=4
The first that either of the clerically-inclined humans by the firepit knew of what was going on was an arrow shooting in from the darkness—at the Priest.
Rolling Attack (Shortbow) | 1d20+7 | 1d6+5
6 Damage to Priest
Almost failing to penetrate the Priest’s chain shirt, it sank into his side—not lethally, but no doubt painfully. Harriet growled unhappily at the near-miss, and at the minimally effective shot, but before she could say anything or voice her complaints, her mother spoke two simple words, flicking her fingers towards the Priest.
“Magic Missile.”
Magic Missile To-Hit Automatic | 3x (1d4+1)
8 (3 + 3 + 2) Damage to Priest
“Well,” she muttered in disappointment, “that was disappointing. Jason, you’re—”
Her husband’s face was calm. Saddened, regretful, resigned, all of those things; but most of all, calm, as he moved with a mixture of grace and determination to do his duty and protect his family from any and all dangers.
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Even if it meant swinging a two-pound bludgeoning weapon with all of his remarkable strength at another human being.
Rolling Attack (Warhammer) | 1d20+7 | 1d10+5
8 Damage to Priest
There was no elegance in his blow, none of the grace that he showed in how he moved. With two hands wrapped around the haft of his weapon, he simply struck, and the hit reverberated against the Priest’s body.
For a moment, there was a stuttering of reality, as though the strike itself had broken something fundamental. The weapon rebounded, and the weapon passed through the Priest, and the Priest shattered under the blow, all at the same time—and then the moment passed, and the Priest stumbled back a step as divine power wreathed him in red. His chest didn’t quite cave in, the red coiling around him to protect him with its coils, and the moment—
End of Round 1 (Surprise Round)
—passed.
Rolling Initiative | 1d20=10
“Nice light show,” Harriet snarled. “But I’m not going to let you turn this around.”
Rolling Attack (Shortbow) | 1d20+7 | 1d6+5
9 Damage KILLS Priest
She watched as the red light faded from around the Priest as he clutched the arrow in his thigh. She watched as his eyes glassed over, and as he toppled over backwards into the stream.
“That,” she said with satisfaction and finality, “is game, set, match.”
“Fire Bolt,” her mother agreed.
Rolling Spell Attack (Fire Bolt) | 1d20+7 | 1d10
10 Damage KILLS Acolyte
“Well.” Jason slung his warhammer at his belt, stretching first one way, then the other. Checking to make sure his shield was still in place and ready to hang, he cracked his neck left and then right, nodded firmly, and turned to the goblins. “Folks, I hope we’re not going to have a problem?”
“We accept,” the hobgoblin rasped in a voice like stone grinding against stone, “your offer, Sorceress.” He paused for a moment, letting two conversational beats pass by. “And the Paladin’s as well. Even if he is an idiot.”
“Rude,” Harriet said, not relaxing in the slightest. “Just because Int is his dump stat doesn’t mean he’s not my dad, so be polite.”
“Thanks for not interfering,” Cassandra said with a narrow smile. “But your weapons are still in your hands. If you’re going to take the deal, drop ‘em.”
“Do it, you two wretches,” the hobgoblin called out in a half-snarled order. “Scimitars on the ground! Today, we are idiots, and we let the adventurers kill us, if they wish.”
Two scimitars and a longsword clattered on the stone, and then Cassandra inclined her head in a graceful gesture that meant absolutely nothing to any of the three goblinoids.
“Stand down,” she said, and Harriet’s arrow eased off of her bowstring.
Combat Ended
“Devouring darkness consumes,” the hobgoblin muttered over the other two goblins’ surprised chittering. “Cast me into the light, why are you doing this? What kind of adventurer negotiates with goblins?”
“Weird ones, I guess.” Cassandra grinned. “But all three of you were as far away as you could be from those two, and none of you are marked by the same symbols. And none of their injuries are by blades or arrows—burns, breaks, and frostbite.”
“Speaking of which,” Jason said worriedly, “we need to help these two out before they lose some fingers or toes. If I had to guess—”
Rolling Medicine (Wisdom) | 1d20+6, best of 2
“—they’re not far off of that point, but there’s still time. They need those cuts cleaned and the breaks set—I’ll handle that. Let’s get water warming by the fire, not hot but warm. Buddy, you got a name? How about you two?”
“Names?” The hobgoblin snorted. He looked as though he were about to say something unkind, but at the earnest expression on the Paladin’s face, he just shrugged. “Goblins don’t have names like humans do. Call a hob a hob; call a goblin a goblin. We’ll know who you mean.”
That obviously gave the man pause. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Goblin, find me pieces of wood, straighter is better but without splinters is the most important. Hobgoblin, take that bucket down to the stream, wash it and bring it back up full. And goblin, bring whatever of their gear is still around here. Harriet, the chains; Cass, whatever’s on the bodies. And you two, hang tight; we’ll get you two back to Mook safe and sound.”
Two pairs of eyes lifted to stare in stupefaction at the Paladin, blinking owlishly. “What the actual fuck,” the owner of one pair said eloquently, and with that, the mood was broken and everyone ran to help as directed.