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:ooc: Cue the soundtrack...

As the bear banner returns to the Beorning lines, a murmur passes through the army.  Those within the village have refused to see reason, and words have failed.  Now, it is time for the war-horns to be blown, to kill, and to die.  The thegns lift their voices and raise the swords in their hands, urging their followers forward with shields high, and moments later the fields are trodden beneath the feet of two hundred men.  Cries of challenge ring out from both sides as the Toft-men move to the stockade, ready to defend any breach. 

Though the wind is at their backs, still the Beornings become the target of a handful of arrows fired from holding Stánford.  Most end their flight in the thick wood of a shield, but cries of pain sound to Grimbeorn's left and right.  Without command, the Beorning line breaks into a steady run which ends only when the stockade is near.  Then the bloody work of forcing a breach begins. 


:ooc:  From here on, you'll be making two Battle tests per assault wave.   Until otherwise stated, the Engagement Mood is 4 – a bold assault, so any failed Battle roll will result in a loss of four points of Endurance.  You can switch positions after each wave, if you so desire. 

Grimbeorn (as commander-in-chief) is an exception to this rule.  Instead of making Battle rolls, he can choose to make Inspire rolls – successful rolls will lower the other TN for Battle rolls in the same location – or Awe rolls – which will lower the number of Battle rolls that characters in that area will need to make.  If he does choose to fight in the front lines (by making Battle rolls) every success grants one automatic success to someone else in the same area. 

Let me know if any of the above is confusing. 

First Battle rolls:
The main assault
Grimbeorn

:00: 1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 1, total 6

Hathcyn

:00: 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 1d6 : 6, total 6

Tate

:00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4

Anar


Inside Stánford
Bandy

:00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 3, total 5

Esgalwen


On the flanks
Arbogast

Spears jab like striking serpents and axes are swung wildly as the Beornings reach the stockade.  Bodies press close against one another as each man seeks the protection of his neighbours' shields in addition to his own.  One arrow and then another tear holes in the bear banner, but it stands firm and proud beside Grimbeorn, though he himself must hastily raise his shield to deflect the careless back-swing of one of his men.  At the forefront of the assault, Anar, already bleeding from a gash to the side of his nose, swings his greataxe in a broad arc.  Shivers are sent flying as he cuts into the still-green wood of the stakes. 

To the left and right of the banner, men carry on the assault, each desperately seeking a weak point in the fortifications. 

Inside the stockade, a runner is sent with a burning torch to light the kindling by the barn, but he is felled in seconds by arrows from hidden ambushers, his flame dying in the cold mud.  More will no doubt come once he is missed, but for now the folk within the barn are safe. 


:ooc: In the initial advance, Grimbeorn, Anar and Arbogast all take damage.  Arbogast's roll has also triggered a Hazard - let's find out where...

:ooc: Looks like there's something going on on the flanks, so Arbogast has to deal with it.  Rolling to see if he can spot what's coming in time:

Awarness 2d, TN 16

"HOLD!" comes the cry from the Fire-watcher as the left flank approaches the earthen bank beneath the stockade.  Fortune smiles upon the Beornings, and there is yet time enough to do as he bids, for here, where the ground is softer and muddier, sharpened slivers of wood have been driven just far enough into the earth to be a danger to unwary feet.  Forming a tight shield wall, the Men of the Vales advance once more, though more cautiously.


:ooc: Righto - everyone has a chance to narrate something they're trying to do as a heroic opportunity before we do the second round of Battle rolls (or equivalent for Grimbeorn).  Exampli gratia:
- Athletics to lift the beam away from the barn door, and Inspire to get the terrified folk within to follow you out
- Craft to aggressively disassemble the stockade
- Insight to spot a friend's morale already beginning to crack, and Inspire or Song to restore their will to fight. 

Let's hear what you've got! 

Esgalwen signaled for the flight of arrows and the torchbearer died. She and the Beornings had positioned themselves in hides around the barn. She would litter the ground with Toft-men before allowing spark to be placed to kindling.

The idea to rush the barn door and free the people was ever in her mind. Will they be safer without or within? she pondered, as sounds of battle began to rage. From the gates, the cries of men and women could be heard and stray arrows began to fall around the streets of Stánford - fired from archers who were unaware of what might be hit.

A Beorning muttered something to her right, "We must get them now!"

Esgalwen looked from the man to the barn and back again, her mind struggling with the decision. If we free them, they can move to the opposite side of town where the fighting has not engaged. Surely the Raiders are all massing the gates where Grimbeorn attacks.

"Yes," she said. Her mind cleared of doubts. "You three with me! We shall force the barn door open and secure the prisoners. The rest of you...keep us from being harried by any Toft-men!"

Esgalwen ran with the three Beornings towards the barn doors and the massive wood beam that held it closed. Once there, they all put shoulder underneath and heaved upward.

---

:ooc: A roll to get the barn open. Not sure if I get any benefits from other people helping, but this is just Esgalwen's strength as rolled. Add to it if you want, Paul...or detract.  ;)

TN 14 athletics 2d

:ooc: :%: Great success!

---

The beam was lifted up and over their heads and then it was dropped to the ground, making a dull SLUMP sound in the mud.

Esgalwen backed away, her bow once more in her hands with an arrow nocked, as the Beornings pulled upon the barn doors. The villagers inside looked out in terror, not knowing if death had come for them, but the fear was quickly abated when they saw their kin beyond.

"COME!" cried one tall Beorning, his beard and mustache clattering with beads. "YOU MUST AWAY!"

The villagers of Stánford exited the trap and were quickly ushered by their kin away from the skirmish, in a direction that would lead them to the opposite side of the town.

The Ranger, pleased with the results, signaled to the three men who had followed her, "Now we hunt!"

Do we have an assault wave roll to see how we are doing before we narrate?

:ooc: My plan is to do those at the end of each wave - the PCs kinda lift their heads from whatever they've been doing and see how the tide of battle is going. 

Hathcyn heard the crash of wood and metal all around him. The cries of the men, indeterminable, between friend and foe sounded all around him. There were some voices that he knew, seasoned men, calling to their kin and comrades as they pushed against the stockade. The ash pole of the standard tugged in his hands as the wind whipped the banner and ever his attentions were made to ensure that Grimbeorn was not surrounded or beset upon from a side. Hathcyn knew that only his body would act as a shield for his lord as the banner took all of his attention. No idle hand for a shield and only in dire need would an axe or blade be available to defend him.

The standard bearer was not idle in his charge. Grimbeorn's spot on the battle field was marked for friend and foe to see by its presence.  The long stride of Hathcyn stepped upon a cross bar of the defenses, the standard held aloft in his young strong arm and the ram horn of the dwarves blew a long clear note above the din of the battle.

"THE CUBS OF THE BEAR ARE UPON YOU!"

:ooc: Awe Roll to intimidate and inspire.
(https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/Themes/default/images/dice_warn.gif) This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 1d12 : 3, total 3
(https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/Themes/default/images/dice_warn.gif) This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 2, 3, total 10

cross posted while you were posting Paul. Roll is as is.

:ooc: I forgot to give you the requested Inspire roll:

TN 14 inspire 2d; noble lineage - roll 2 feat die, keep better of two

:ooc: Well that sucks... at least I do not have to worry about the :~~: result, but my two success dice fall on snake-eyes!

Okay, in for a penny, in for a pound - Esgalwen is already miserable so she will spend another :vv: to see this through.  :csu:

That makes that 15 result. If the TN's are 14, we have a success. If the TN's are 16 or higher, I will save my :vv: point.

 :ooc:
 :00:
Hope if it helps.

Grimbeorn continues his press toward the barricade for they must gain entrance quickly to end this fight.  He swings into the fray with axe and shield, and a great roar of the bears of his ancestors.  "For your people! Beornings forward!" With a great swing of his axe, he brings a raider low, skull cloven to his shoulders.

Tate sings as loudly as his throat will allow, seeking to buoy his own spirits as much as those of his allies.  He sings in the tongue of the Bardings and Lake-men, and though the words are strange to the ears of the followers of Beorn, the rhythm and tune are clearly those of the ancient Shield-wall Song.

Meanwhile, Anar, ever mindful of Rorin's suggestion, searches for a weak spot that will allow the fortifications of the Toft-men to be cast down.


:ooc: Rolling Song for Tate and Craft for Anar:

Song

:00: 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 4d6 : 5, 6, 4, 3, total 18

Craft

:ooc: Tom, did you want to roll for Bandy?  If not, no worries.

 :ooc: matt, you may roll the feat die twice because of the standard.

Bandy, hmmm let me give that a thought. If you dont see anything from me by this afternoon keep moving

 :ooc: okie dokie
 :00:

Bandy saw that Esgalwen and her band of archers had secured the barn and were working on freeing the prisoners. This took a weight off of the small hobbits shoulders as he thought he would be responsible for the whole affair.

What was he to do now? He was no great warrior to lead a charge, no one had seen him come so no one would notice him if he were careful, he thought of the spiders, and the wraith.....Bandy paused.

'who's put that thought in my head? These are my friends and though a battle is no place for a Hobbit, a Hobbit has found himself in one none the less. Time to set aside Bandy of the shire and rise to the name of Bandis Halfman, or so these folk have come to call me. If this is my home then Grimbeorn is my lord and friend, and his people my people. Time to get to work Bandy!'

The Hobbit seemingly appeared out of no where when the folk of Stanford  began to pour out of the barn. His little Hobbit voice rose above the din.
"I'm with you Gwen."

"Grimbeorn has come with an army, let him not stand alone! Your captors have their backs to you strike!"

Bandy had learned much since he had come to the land of Beornings, and no few songs had he put to memory. He recalled one now and began to sing the new anthem of the bear.

"You are the path he forged through the unknown,
Straight as a spear at the enemy thrust!
Never again shall we struggle alone.
You are his legacy.  You are his trust. 

You are the flag he raised, bloody and torn. 
You are the shield that keeps us from fear.
Great in your heart is his courage reborn,
Grimbeorn Wolf-slayer, son of the Bear! "

Until others too stood with him and took up the song.

Ace still bloody, Grimbeorn accepts Hathcyn's hand and is hoisted up on to the crossbeam of the stockade.  For a moment, bear -son and banner-bearer stand together, able to survey the entire field...


:ooc: Tides of battle roll:

... And what they see is a battle finely balanced.  All along the line, his followers press against the stakes, but the fortifications are holding and his followers are unable to bring their greater numbers to bear.  So confident are they, in fact, that a small band has left the defence of the stockade to confront the infiltrators who even now rush to find some safe haven.

Immediately before him, the Blood-moon shield-wall is strong, and only sharp spears await him, were he to leap down inside the village.


:ooc: So far, so deadlocked. Battle rolls for those fighting:

The main assault
Hathcyn

:00: 1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 1d6 : 5, total 5

Tate

:00: 1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 1d6 : 3, total 3

Anar


A failed roll here only results in 2 Endurance lost - the Blood-moon men are fighting defensively after seeing what Grimbeorn can dish out.

Inside Stánford
Bandy

:00: 1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 6, total 7

Esgalwen


On the flanks
Arbogast

 :ooc: Bandy and Esgalwen each lose four  :<3:, while everyone At the Gates loses two.
:csu: for everyone except Bandy.

Esgalwen ran alongside the skirmishers.

They were approaching the rear of the enemy's lines - as the Toft-men were now focused on the palisade wall and gate where Grimbeorn led his attack. She hoped that the people they had freed were making their way to safety, or picking up their own weapons to help in releasing their town from captivity. But these were pointless thoughts, and the Ranger knew it - thoughts that bled away her focus on the sword-play about to commence.

The group quietly moved between buildings and houses until at last the enemy was revealed. The Blood Moon Raiders heard the cry of the Beorning man beside her, and they turned to engage. Esgalwen loosed an arrow into one of the raiders, the shaft sinking deeply into the man's throat. At the same time, the Beorning swung his axe and smashed it down onto his own opponent. The shapes of the other skirmishers quickly passed as they engaged.

THEY ARE WITHIN THE GATES! came a cry from somewhere among the Toft-men. BEORNINGS WITHIN THE GATES!

There was nothing for it now but to fully embrace the blood-lust, the battle rage that filled the hearts of men when death is a close companion. Esgalwen watched as the Toft-men turned to face off against the oncoming Beorning skirmishers. Not far away, the cries of battle were coming from the press at the gates. She marveled at the crazed berserker that each of the men had become. Axe and mattock swung, swords slashed, men died. It was brutal and horrific.

An arrow scythed through her leather coat and Esgalwen felt a burning pain. The force of the arrow caused her to stumble backwards, her bow and arrow clattering away from her reach.

Why are you not standing? A voice asked within her mind. Get up!

Why? answered another voice. A sad voice. A tired voice.

Men died before her - Beorning and Toft-man alike. The skirmishers were fierce but their number was depleting quickly. Grimbeorn had not made it through the gates, as of yet, and there would be no aid unless he did.

Get up! said the voice again. Esgalwen looked down at the arrow just below her left breast. Blood bubbled out of her armor. "Why?" she asked to no one, blinking hard and trying to understand the situation she was in.

A memory of the cave filled her mind. A memory of the hellish hole in the Beacon Tower, where the living ate the dead. A memory filled her mind of Orophin slowly calling to her. Then her smiling grandfather. Her frowning father.

"GET UP, WOMAN! You'll die if you do not!" Esgalwen felt terrible pain as she was hauled to her feet. Her eyes refocused. It was the young Beorning that she had followed into the fray. He held her steady, all the while holding his axe before him. "Draw your weapon, for I cannot protect us both."

The Ranger looked and saw as her company of skirmishers were now in retreat, trying to pull back from the mob of raiders. Grimbeorn's attack was going well outside the gates, but they were too few within. With a shaking hand, Esgalwen reached for Nimronyn and drew the sword free.

Run! came the voice in her head. Run away! You cannot help them anymore. You are alone. You are without hope. Run away and return to where you belong.

Esgalwen pulled her arm from the Beorning and looked at him, "This is not my fight." Her words and actions seemed dreamy and the man gave her an odd look. She turned from the battle line to walk away. Esgalwen, Ranger of Ithilien, Lady of Gondor, was broken. She was used up and there was nothing to restore her hope. The Beorning watched as she moved ten steps and then fell to the ground, the arrow snapping under her weight. He could do nothing more to help her - a savage swing from a maul ended him.

:ooc: The book says the Loremaster determines how long the bout of madness lasts. I will leave this in your hands, Paul.

Esgalwen is now flawed with Idle and she has 3 HOPE remaining and so is almost spiritually spent.

QuoteIdle
It takes a lot to stir an Idle adventurer into action. He is easily distracted, and must be cajoled to fully participate in endeavours.

If you deem it so in the next round that she finds the will to get up, I will post for her. If you think the bout lasts the length of the battle, that is cool, too. She may end up dead (stabbed on the ground) or captive, or ignored as already a dead person. Or another Beorning might try to help her, or maybe Bandy will give her words to raise her morale.

I know she only has lost 10 END, and that the arrow shot is not a killing (or even wounding) attack, but I am playing on everything that is going on with her - the primary thing being so low on HOPE.

Let me know.