Around the front of the building, one of the scarecrows shambles closer to the cleric, and in a bright flash of lightning he can see that it is not a human making its way towards him. Made of straw and old clothes, its expressionless face just seems to build upon the madness that has stricken the town. (it is about 20 feet away from Landin)
Inside the bar, Marcus is busy pushing the table up against the door. Looking at Jordon like he was crazy. "Do you think I'd live in a nut house like this?" He shouted. "Find something heavy to block the door!"
Out back the scene is just as chaotic. There are at least 3 scarecrows coming down the street, causing chaos and destruction as they go. Most of the villagers have turn and ran, seemingly overwhelmed with the surprise attack of the scare crows (they are about 100 feet from the Inn)
As Kaliska tried to maneuver the side of the rain slick inn she wedged her foot into a crack at the top on a window on the first floor. As she hefted herself up she shifted weight to her foot causing the crudely constructed window sill to crumble under her weight. She was sent skidding down the side of the building, her usually nimble fingers unable to find new purchase before she gracelessly thudded in the puddles pooling around the inn, splashing mud over her, until now, clean (enough) clothing. She quickly looked around, checking to see if her inglorious start to this, this most epic of battles, was observed. She didn’t want this particular part chronicled when she had the townspeople write songs about her heroic exploits tonight. It was reassuringly dark, and she thought she could play off the tumble as a quick pre-battle stretch… sure.
Somehow this was Landin’s fault… She sighed and slipped the bow from around her chest sliding to the side of the inn to give her a view of where Landin had run. She should keep the doofus alive long enough to make sure he knew he had ruined her fine (enough) garments. She saw the outline of what she could only assume was the scarecrow the hillbilly was all aflutter about. The shambling silhouette was dimly outlined by the pure light emanating from Landin’s weapon. She wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but if this party wasn’t starting on its own, she’d crash through the door wearing a fancy hat. She strung her bow, steadying her aim with a slow breath before letting a single arrow fly at the possessed strawman.
Kaliska's arrow flies through the dark, stormy night and manages to hit one of the scarecrows in the arm, though the arrow continues through without any apparent damage. The one things is that while they might not have been aware of Kaliska before, they were now. The three started running towards the new threat, moving surprisingly fast for something composed almost completely of hay (they are now 30 feet away from the back of the building).
"Relax, man, these tables look plenty heavy to keep a couple of straw men from busting down the door, and we've got Ursa Majora over there in case they aren't." Jordan tossed his head toward the large woman as he tugged on one of the wooden tables.
It certainly takes a moment or two, given the girth, but once she starts, she can't stop, pounding her arms in even motions as she barrels ahead towards the scarecrows. She trusts the mere sight of her's enough to have anyone with a rational thought in their skull to get out of the way, and makes a beeline for the nearest Scarecrow...
Kaliska groaned loudly, slumping her shoulders as her arrow hit her target but failed to do any noticeable damage, nothing was going right on this venture. She should have slipped out and let Lord Light do his heroic posing in the street deal and met up with him after. Too late for that now though she reasoned and she dejectedly eyed the shambling straw men lurching towards her. Well if they were straw…
Kaliska bolted to the back door and swung it open. She rushed for the fireplace, grabbing and emptying a mug that had been left on the table as she went. When she reached the fireplace she quickly dipped the pewter stein into the coals and scoping up a selection of embers she dashed back outside, pausing only minusculely to glare at the innkeeper in an attempt to underscore her previous threats of violence should the back door be locked similar to how the researcher and the hillbilly were attempting to bar the front.
When she got outside she went to the far end of the building where Landin was still in view but which gave her slightly more distance from the charging strawmen and placed the mug on the ground, close to the building where the slight lip of the roof could keep the majority of the rain from cooling her coals. She grabbed a handful of her arrows and placed them metal tip down into the embers. If regular arrows didn’t faze these ****ers, maybe a glowing hot steel tip would light up some of that demon straw they were stuffed with. She reasoned even in this weather they were large enough they couldn’t be soaked straight through. She grinned as she mulled over her self-described genius plan. And hey, even if this tactic didn’t work, at least then there would be possessed scarecrow demon things… but on fire! And then it would really get fun.
Landin planted his feet and stared down the enemy. He kept his mace to the side, ready to swing as soon as the threat entered his strike zone. The muscles of his wiry arms were taunt, strained against the promise of a necessary battle.* He could see clearly in a sizeable ring about his person thanks to the holy light his mace emitted, beyond that shadows crept in, but he could still decipher his surroundings between his clean righteous light and the more menacing, red-hued, flickering light of the flames the towns people now battled.
He had studied this maneuver, perfected it, and he was ready! He rolled over the attack in his head; he would throw a leveled swing with his mace, which would hit the target solidly in the torso. This promised not only injury but likely winding of the target, a clear tactical advantage. His mental preparation was cut short by the air singing by him as an arrow whizzed and cut through his target’s arm. The enemy turned from him and lunged towards Kali who disappeared inside. He stood agape as the opportunity for his carefully planned attack vanished as the targets skirted his strike zone in their new course towards his ward. He didn’t understand, on paper his plan was perfect. Things didn’t work out here like they should, not like his books promised they would, not like had trained for.
He only stared a moment, a second of being off balance in the face of these new events. But his stupor was punctuated by a single sudden thought – Kali was now in trouble and he had to protect her! He didn’t have time to wonder why his attack failed, he had to get moving. He lurched forward, running after the lead of the scarecrows. He needed to create a barrier between them and Kaliska, she was just a untrained trouble maker, he was a warrior and this was his duty. When he was just behind the lead of the pack he swung his mace. The earlier leveled swing, but this time he aimed at the back of the figure rather than the chest. He quickly calculated this attack had less chance to wind, but larger chance to knock the opponent flat-footed as they stumbled to regain their balance. Not what he had wanted initially, but an efficient attack and one that he hoped would divert their attention from his traveling companion.
She grinned as Landin jumped into the fray. He had drug her into this, she reasoned him offering to take the brunt of the assault was the least he could do. That being said, she was willing to help out in a role that got slapped around a little less than a tank. Kaliska grabbed the shaft of one of the arrows; its tip glowed dully with mottled orange as she withdrew it from the smoldering coals. Kali leveled her bow, placing the scarecrow at Landin’s back in her mental crosshairs. She trusted Landin to deal with the one he had swing at without aid and opted instead to take one who had not yet been assaulted in the hopes of taking it out of play before Landin was swarmed by possibly too many enemies to focus on any one effectively. She pulled the bow taunt and with a steadying exhale let the string go.