Larric gauges the situation a bit more closely. If it looks like the monfoxels are making any headway against the pressure curtain, he puts a bolt into whichever one looks to be getting through the quickest. If it looks like they're held in place long enough for him to get another shot off, he puts a shot into one of the mutant wildcats. But I'm betting he'll shoot a monfoxel.

(OOC: If we get through this alive, I shall praise the inverse ninja law.)

He grimaces, none too pleased at this turn of events. He goes to cover Dale to allow him to retreat if necessary. Protect the ranged guys and all.

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

...Dale is not a ranged guy. He has a sword.

That said, making sure we're in position to protect each other is probably a good move.

So.

Larric is putting a lightning arrow into- scratch that plan, he's aiming for one of the mutant wildcats, then scooting for the cover of the melee fighters.
Dirt is either shooting another ballista bolt or switching to the axe depending on range.
Dale is getting ready to fight but I'm not sure who against.
Alfred is getting close enough to Dale to support him.
I'm feeling a bit lonely out here... At least I've got a wall of my own making in the way.

(OOC: For some reason, I thought he was. Ah, whatever. Protecting the wounded guy, then.)

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

Unless I've miscalculated, I should be on the inside of the pressure wall/differential Larric created, just forward of Dirt and Sir Alfred. Actually... this is something of a miscalculation. The wounded guy on point does not equal the height of good ideas. Dale will take a swing at the first monfoxel that comes through, then back away from the advancing critters in good order, thus allowing Sir Alfred and perhaps Dirt to have flanking attacks on whatever follows me.

Some covering fire from Rohal would be appreciated in the very near future.

The three monfoxels are struggling to get through the barrier and failing; they're stalled this round, will think of trying to find the edges of it next round. The wildcats aren't that smart, and are trying to force their way through- one succeeds, and Dale moves to engage it.

The sword practically drags him forward, he's not sure if the sidestep and swipe at the neck of the thing in passing is his idea or its- but the wildcat's head and body separate in mid- leap. Then both of them start to dissolve in mid air. A thick cloud of greyish-white and a thick cloud of reddish- grey mist and a long, fading dying scream.

Dirt accidentally did exactly the right thing earlier- shooting and disabling the creature that had the mass and momentum to burst clean through and scatter the barrier, and let the lighter ones through. The deer are the creatures you need to worry about now, and Rohal shoots at one- the thing is moving forward too fast, the arrow goes through it's hair but not through flesh.
Alfred has his action held to deal with this, and the two confront each other- good footwork keeps him out of the way of the razor antlers, but it dives forward inside his guard before he can recover stance for a good swing at it. Barrier is weakened- not collapsed but weakened.

The thing in the mound has reacted to the sword's magic, and it is moving.

He head-butts it. If successful in stunning it, he will attempt to cross-check it to knock it down and will then bring his hammer down on it.

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

OOC:

...OK, Alfred has GOT to win a prize for demented tactics.

First he tries to stab things to death with a hammer.

Now he's getting into a headbutting contest with an animal that has pointy, pointy, oh so very pointy anthers.

What's he going to do for an encore, challenge a giant porcupine to a wrestling match?

(OOC: One, I was under the impression he was wearing a helmet and two, to clarify, he trying to hit the thing on the nose. With the impaling motion with the hammer, he didn't exactly have room to swing without hitting Dale. Impaling was a legitimate way of knocking it down so he could finish it off with proper hammer use. With this thing, it's sort of under his guard and head-butting is the quickest action he has.)

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

The cougar-beast dissolves!? in mid air after being struck... this might be bad. Very, very bad. No time to think further on it right now, but damn.

To the others: "There is a presence here beyond the creatures. Guding them somehow... and it's coming for us, me, right now. Larric, this would be a good time to ready your sorcery. Whatever it is, this thing is mystical and strong."

Assuming he has the chance before all hell breaks loose, Dale will try to strike down the other cougar-beast before it struggles through the barrier.

Yes, Alfred has a helmet. Whether he has been taught any secret deer wrestling techniques by the ancient masters of Santa-Fu, I kind of doubt- but under the circumstances it's not that bad an option. The human knight has hands, it doesn't, the advantage at close quarters should belong to the ape in the tin suit. The thing evaded his hammer swing by charging him, closing the distance too fast for the hammerhead to make contact.

Although the dice bear Simon out on this one. The actual meeting of skulls is (saved by reroll from being entirely) catastrophic as Alfred nearly, oh so nearly, puts his own head through one of it's horns as it meets headbutt with headbutt. Nearly fumbled attack and superb defence- a riposte that Alfred scrambles out of the way of with a new set of dents and scores on his armour. On the other hand, he has opened the range- for himself anyway, it is now in the middle of the party.

The other deer has the second wildcat and one of the monfoxels now sheltering behind it as it tries to push its' way through the wind- wall barrier, it's leading them in; struggling at present.

When he gets stable once again, if it hasn't gotten too far from him and is still attacking him, he aims for its groin. He'd yell, "Fore!" but I don't think golf has been invented yet. If not, he won't pursue and instead go for the other deer to keep more from getting through, swinging for what's convenient.

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

OOC:

Mutant deer: "You wanna headbutt? I was BORN to headbutt! I was MADE to headbutt! BRING IT!"

IC:

OK, the deer trying to take point is unexpected. Larric switches targets again- lightning arrow into the deer, on the assumption that the wildcat and monfoxel have less mass and ability to penetrate a pressure curtain by pitting main force against magic.

If I remember the order of initiative- the deer, then Larric, then the wounded bear-mutant to finish off the round, followed by the monfoxels, Dirt, and Dale in the next round.

The deer struggles through against what is actually a fairly impressive pressure wall before the enchantment on the arrow is complete- easily storm force wind equivalent- but can make it no further; what happens is the wildcat and monfoxel both leap out from behind it to attack, and the wildcat jumps at Larric-

a sudden change of target occurs, and the cat takes a lightning arrow in the chest. It was already in mid air and moving, and there's not quite enough momentum in the arrow- Larric gets hit in the chest and knocked back by a dead and slightly crispy cat. The bear is dragging itself towards you on three limbs, the other two monfoxels are far apart coming round the flanks.

Two deer both through the barrier, one monfoxel through and two others flanking. Dirt, Dale?

Choppy choppy. I'll try to slay the deer that just came through the barrier, hopefully as it is staggering forward.

Steadying a staggering Larric, Dirt will engage the next deer to charge in with his axe, hopefully before the bear makes its way to the barrier.

OOC:

I would fondly hope that shooting out one of the bear's legs at least makes it take a round or two longer than normal to get to us...

Already has; it should have been there this round. As it is- again, any sensible beastie would be going away to lick its' wounds. Dragging itself towards you is more evidence, as if it were needed, that something warped is going on. Not news, I know.

That sword again has a very strange effect, and now that it happens again the taste becomes more comprehensible- it's something along the lines of a banishment. Dale swings for one of the deer, it tries to fend off with antlers, he manages to steer the blade around it and plunge it into the deer's chest- not a kill, but a definite wound, and it ripples, as if reflected in water, out of focus.

It also doesn't feel right. Not how it's supposed to be done, the words are wrong, the tingle of it up the spine is wrong- this isnt justice, isn't setting the balance right, isn't guarding the gates. It feels more like murder for fun.

Alfred was going for the same one. It's too busy trying to still exist to attack; the hammer sweeps down and up in a broad arc, crashing into the thing's hindquarters. Sledgehammers shouldn't leave a trail of blood. This does- the thing's spine is broken; it collapses to the ground.

Dirt's attacking the second; has to get out of the way if its' trying to gore him, manages to slash it across the shoulders but not enough to drop it.


It's market time, which is why the late reply- helping out in the workshop, and even when I'm not in late I'm usually too fried to type sensibly. This isn't even one of the bad years; times were, the working day got longer and longer as the mood of panic deepened, until the last few days it was basically nine to four- four AM, that is. Nineteen hour days are not fun. Not that bad this time; yet.

(OOC: Well, that worked out better than expected. I was hoping for just comedy with that.)

He goes to administer the coup de grace before heading to help Dirt, going for its right knee.

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

To review:

The wildcats are dead. One deer is effectively dead, the other is being beaten up by an ogre. The monfoxels are still alive and trying to get around at us.

In other bad news, the bear will be here shortly.



Larric winds up for another crossbow shot, steadying on the bear to put a lightning arrow into it- try and soften it up some more before it closes with us. He will then probably be busy dodging monfoxel jaws and trying to fight back by bludgeoning with the butt of the crossbow out of reflex.

OOC: I'm going to be out of town for the next week and there is a good chance I will be unable to post again until Monday, November 12. I will make the attempt but in all fairness, cannot promise anything before next Monday.

IC: Let's see... Dirt is fighting the last deer, the bear is still limping toward us and the monfoxel (bastards) are attempting to flank the air distortion. Sir Alfred is moving to help Dirt. For now, Dale will hold his ground. He is splitting his attention between one of the monfoxel's and the bear, being more concerned with the monfoxel for the moment. Those damned things are vile and sneaky and if the last time is any indication they will be coming primarily for Dale and Larric. There is no great pleasure in using the enchanted blade this way, but necessity makes for unusual partners.

It is...over. Not the game or anything, but the succession of insane back to back days of unpaid semi- skilled labour at the workshop; basically someone in the group owns a workshop making things for the re- enactment trade, and twice a year there's a major market, and usually several of us go in to help out and make things.
For virus related reasons there were fewer of us on deck this year, so the days got very long indeed; twelve hour days last week, eighteen hours on monday, nineteen on tuesday, seventeen on wednesday (which I did miss a bit of) and an ordinary nine or so today. Wouldn't be legal if I was actually getting paid. If I wasn't mad to do that in the first place, I'd soon have gone that way. And I'll be doing it again in March.

It may take me until next Monday to recover, in fact. What actions are needing acted on, apart from that? Sorry, but I really am quite fried.

Hm. The deer evidently has some sense of tactics- moves to put Dirt between it and Alfred, as Dirt moves after it it charges while he's in midstep, trying to knock the two of you into each other; knocks Dirt off balance but doesn't floor him, and leaves a large bruise.

Bred for viciousness and relentlessness, monfoxels are fairly bright, but not massively so- as witness the one which goes for Larric, the one that came through in the wind shadow of the now dropped deer; leaps, trying for soft spots- gets a crossbow butt in the face, bites into it; reflex, don't let go, wars with hey, this is wood, and it is about to try again when Rohal stabs it in the eye with an arrow. It falls, and should be jumped on at your earliest convenience.

What next?

OOC: [reviews for benefit of other PCs]

If the surviving deer just made its move-

That means, I think, that it's Larric's turn to make an attack- with the event that just took place being the monfoxel's attack roll countered by Larric using his club skill as defense. Then the bear. The wildcats are dead and out of the picture, so Dirt and Dale go next, then the monfoxels, Rohal, and Alfred.

[Doesn't Rohal making his move mean Alfred gets another shot in at about the same time? No worries]

IC:

Larric really isn't the type to finish off downed enemies. He glances around- if the bear is nearly upon the party, that's his target, if not, it's one of the flanking monfoxels. In my honest judgment the monfoxels are probably going to be upon us too fast to permit Larric a reload; if I'm wrong about that I'd love to be corrected. The bear, on the other hand, might take that long to arrive. I don't know.

In order of priority:

1) If the bear is nearly upon the party, Larric goes for straightforward again- arc lightning into the bear, then dodge for all he's worth. He'd run aside as fast as he can on the beast's crippled side to avoid being charged effectively. A three legged bear won't be able to move fast and certainly won't be able to turn gracefully.

2) If a monfoxel is going for Larric directly and going to arrive before the bear, the shot of high-tension goes into it instead. Then (assuming the bear is nearly upon us) he starts dodging the bear, as above.

3) If there's enough time to reload the crossbow before the next monster makes it to him, replace "lightning bolt" with "lightning arrow" in the above plans.

He'll apologize after the battle. Trying to recover, he goes after it again, aiming for torso this time.

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

You're actually doing very well; not nearly as bloody a business as I had been expecting. Hmm...

Larric does take a shot at the left hand monfoxel, but it's numbers are good- dodges out of the way, lets the bolt almost get it and then flattens itself against the ground, the bolt skimming just overhead.

The bear has stopped moving, and appears to be twitching, shaking- the thing in the mound it affecting it, could be a heal, likely not- could be trying to take control of it directly, or possess it.

Could be too late; it's almost run out of friends. Who ever started that nonsense about blunt weapons not shedding blood? My arse. Hit something that hard- hard enough to set bone splinters pinging off armour- oh yes, there is blood. A lot of it.

Alfred gets extremely lucky, as the deer totally misreads his speed of reaction, assumes it has a couple of seconds to gore Dirt before he can recover for another shot, and lines itself up a sitter. (Defence critical failure.) Ribcage cracked and ribs splintering like so many eggshells, pieces thrown fifteen, twenty feet into the air. (Three to hit, called shot, one on the damage.) It's dead and gone, and it's blood smells funny. You may want to find a cleaner stream after this to rinse your armour off.

The two monfoxels, one attacks Dale and the result is almost too fast to follow, goes for the throat and he practically has to hook it off with the quillion of the sword- nearly cutting his own face off in the process- lands and springs back almost instantly aiming for his groin, hooked away again; Dale just manages to fend it off, but that was close.

The other tries to leap on Dirt's shield, use it as a shield from him, leap over it and bite him on the nose; it just sticks it's head up over the rim of the shield when Fifi pops up and intecepts it in mid leap. Its' front paws move, it's back paws don't- collapses to the ground paralysed.

It looks like you're winning, so far.