Targos
She meets Alalla's eyes. "Living with Arundel, I never claimed friendship with any person. 'Twas not in my nature. Not until I nearly died in the snow, and an angel on wings of light found me. And now I lead a village." She rubs her eyes and looks back at the children. "I still have many rough edges to smooth away, but with friends such as you, I will do better."
Halla meets Alalla's eyes again and holds out her hand. "Friends?"
When Al approaches him, he looks up at her one eye (a thought tugs at him, but he ignores it) and nods. "What is it you wish to know?"
She glances back at Zenithral. "That angel is a good man. But he has his flaws like the rest of us. He didn't mean to hurt you either. He was afraid of what you would think of him when you learned about Erestor. Just so you know." Al gives Halla a wink, then her smile fades.
"Halla... could you do me a favour when you get to Kuldahar? Can you get a message to my tribe somehow? Let them know I haven't forgotten them, and that I'll be back as soon as I can to see how they're doing."
Al sits next to him and tries to think of how Ras had used the Gem yesterday. After a moment, ad a few more furtive glances, she replies quietly. "Will I have a greater negative effect on the army if I try to convince orcs to follow me away from Gruumsh and from the army, or if I try to convince them I speak for Gruumsh, and that they should turn on the army?"
A large stewpot sits abandoned over some coals that are nearly cool. Whatever filled the pot earlier smells like edibility was never part of its recipe. The spoon is nearly glued to the inside of the pot by the meal's leftovers.
Or he can work with what he's got here at the palisade.
"Two masters of bow in challenge! Who will win?!"
"Will my friend Alalla be a greater force of good if she steers her fellow orcs away from Gruumsh and the oncoming army, or if she uses her unique relationship with Gruumsh to convince the orcs to fight?"
He ignores the urge to touch the turnip sitting in the pocket of his cloak.
Mumbling a few words, and running his hands from the middle to the ends, blue crackling runes light up along the length, and a string is created by a tendril of lightning itself. You also notice for perhaps the first time that Vincent is very wirey. Despite his speed and dexterity, there is very little muscle on him.
"That should do. Care to go first?" Vincent guestures towards the target.
Zenithral glances at Ug and smiles. Let's put on a show, shall we?
"Certainly." He walks up to the barrel, briskly turns around, then counts out sixty paces, approximately 150 feet. He turns, knocks, and fires in one smooth motion, the arrow smacking home.
He waves his hand in a sweeping gesture. "Your shot."
Rolls
Longbow vs Barrel - (1d20+12)
(11) + 12 = 23
Damage - (1d8+5)
(5) + 5 = 10
"Not bad, but I think we can do better."
Rolls
Longbow vs barrel - (1d20+10)
(11) + 10 = 21
Damage - (1d8+6)
(1) + 6 = 7
Lightning damage - (1d4)
(2) = 2
At this point, the curtain of night has fallen fully over Targos.
Zenithral waits for the echoing boom to die down and the silence to drag on.
"Your shot."
Rolls
Longbow 1 vs Barrel 1 - (1d20+12)
(20) + 12 = 32
Damage - (1d8+13)
(1) + 13 = 14
Longbow 2 vs Barrel 2 - (1d20+12)
(20) + 12 = 32
Damage - (1d8+13)
(8) + 13 = 21
Longbow 3 vs Barrel 3 - (1d20+12)
(20) + 12 = 32
Damage - (1d8+13)
(7) + 13 = 20
Bursting Arrow - (2d6+12)
(11) + 12 = 14
Al gasps, then laughs loudly, hand firmly over her mouth. "Wow, Zenithral! Save it for the army!"