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Situation: The companions have been discovered before their ambush on the guards outside the farmhouse could be sprung. 

Combat Advantage dice:
• Gwaithlim 0/0
• Hathcyn 0/0
• Luindîs 0/0

Situation Modifiers:
• The Fellowship has the initiative.

Physical Modifiers (complications):
• None

PC/NPC

:+~:

PARRY

:<>:

ARMOUR

:vv:

HOPE

:<3:

END

:-X-:

STANCE

:##:

STATUS

Gwaithlim Hathcyn Luindîs

• 7 (:<|: n/a) • 7 (:<|: n/a) • 5 (:<|: n/a)

• 3d (:C|: n/a) • 3d (:C|: +4) • 1d

• 12/13 • 14/14 • 12/12

• 30/30 • 29/29 • 27/27

Rearward Open Rearward

normal normal normal

ENEMY	:+~:	PARRY	:<>:	ARMOUR	:@:	HATE	:<3:	END	:csu:	NOTES
Taller guard Knot-bearded guard Red-cloaked guard Beardless guard		• 5 • 5 • 6 • 5		• 2d+2 • 2d+2 • 3d+2 • 1d		• 0 • 0 • 3 • 1		• 0/17 • 0/17 • 10/19 • 16/16		DEAD DEAD

STANCES

:-X-:

Forward - action order 1 Close combat TN 6+ parry Forward Maneuvers (https://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/tor/forward.jpg)

:-->:

Open - action order 2 Close combat TN 9+ parry Open Maneuvers (https://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/tor/open.jpg)

:<|:

Defensive - action order 3 Close combat TN 12+ parry Defensive Maneuvers (https://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/tor/defense.jpg)

:<->:

Rearward - action order 4 Ranged combat TN 12+ parry Must be 2 other PC's in Close Combat; May not use if outnumbered 2:1 Rearward Maneuvers (https://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/tor/rear.jpg)

:<>:

From any Stance Escape combat Must start in Rearward or roll TN 10 + highest attribute level of opponents Athletics roll. On success, may safely flee from the scene of combat

As Gwaithlim motions toward the farmhouse door, cries come from the fields and the figures working there begin to run, most for the safety of the tree line but two, a man and a woman, toward the house from which, with a banging of the door, two more guards emerge.  The first is helmed and clad in a bright scarlet cloak that he shoves to one side to draw a keen-edged sword.  The second is a beardless youth who nocks an arrow with the sureness of one long-accustomed to the act. 

In the smoky dimness within the hut, Esgawlen, still bound and gagged, watches as terrified hands grip a knife and hopes that, whatever else happens, it will prove to be sharp...

"Throw down your blade knave, the Thegn of the Green Stone land has come for his war-chief!"

The Beorning quickly scanned the room. Now sure that they had indeed captured Ætheldreám and they were men of his rival by deed and oath he set into them.

That should have also indicated he was in an Open Stance. That's a protection teat if it hits.

:ooc: No problems re the hit (I'm assuming on the red-cloaked guard) but I'll just make it clear that you're still outside the farmhouse.  I've included the aside about what Esgalwen sees for atmosphere.   ;)

:ooc: Oh yeah - a Protection test!

Hathcyn's blow is swift and sure, slipping with great cunning past the red-cloaked man's guard to force the breath from his belly.  But no weak link can the Longspear find in his foe's well-wrought mail, and with fury in his eyes the man presses his own attack. 

Luindîs, watching from afar, sees the young bowman preparing a shot.  Not today, child! she thinks to herself as she beats him to loosing the first arrow...


:ooc: Luindîs attacks the beardless guard (TN 17):

... but, hasty as it is, her shot goes wide, flying through the darkened doorway.  Within, Esgalwen's captor leaps, startled, as an arrow streaks in to embed itself in the side of a wooden oat-crock. 

:ooc: Matt, are you around?

Gwaithlim rushes to the hut to cover the others from where the fields were while the others deal with the remaining guards and rescue Esgalwen.  The whole situation seems utterly odd to him.

Neither Hathcyn's words nor his spear afright the red-cloaked man, who bellows "the Hill and the King!" as he buffets the Foresthelm with his sword.  Nearby, the boy-archer takes aim at Gwaithlim as the man running from the fields cries "no!". 


:ooc: They fight back!
Red-cloaked guard


Beardless guard

But the Elf, alert to the threat, steps aside before the shaft can reach him and fox-blooded Hathcyn is likewise feet of foot, never moving quite where his foe expects. 

Within the house, Esgalwen frantically tugs at her bindings seeking any looseness that might be found.  "Stop!  Please stop!" her captor cries.