2. Phandalin

Using the confusion of the ambush and the darkness to his advantage, Alex darts forward like a striking viper. His blade slips neatly between the seams of H2’s leather armor and buries deep into the hobgoblin’s belly. The creature grunts sharply in pain.

Then Alex withdraws the blade with visible satisfaction and immediately dives back toward the brush, trying to disappear once more into shadow and foliage.

But it doesn’t work.

The bush is too sparse, too small to truly conceal him now that the hobgoblins know exactly where he is. His first attack succeeded because he struck from surprise—from uncertainty and darkness. Now every eye is searching for enemies.

Nearby, Redhawk’s arrow slams into H1 while Igrem’s crackling Zap scorches across the hobgoblin’s armor. Boggart’s glowing companion darts forward viciously, harrying the same target and forcing it briefly onto the defensive. But the armor protects the hobgoblin from the worst of it.

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H2, clutching its bleeding side, locks eyes on Alex and lunges directly toward him with an angry snarl. Its blade hacks through the brush in a brutal, aggressive strike meant to drive the rogue backward before he can vanish again.

At the same time, H1 does not rush blindly. Instead, the injured hobgoblin moves wide around the side, repositioning carefully to create a flank with its ally and trap Alex between them.Meanwhile, the two rear hobgoblins (H3, H4) maintain formation further back among the trees. Calm. Controlled. They keep their bows ready.

One arrow flies toward Boggart’s position behind the tree, aimed at the gnome despite his cover. It hits the tree instead.The other hobgoblin targets Igrem near the campfire, loosing a shaft that cuts through the darkness toward the mage’s chest.
HP lost
H1: 17 (Bloodied)
H2: 18 (Bloodied)

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Before H2 can recover, Redhawk’s second arrow follows, burying itself deep into the hobgoblin’s side—right near the wound Alex opened moments earlier.

For an instant, it looks finished.

The hobgoblin staggers violently, knees buckling as blood pours freely down its armor. Its shortsword dips toward the ground, breath ragged and uneven.

Any normal warrior would have fallen.

But hobgoblins are not normal warriors.

With a guttural snarl, H2 forces itself upright again through sheer discipline and battlefield training. One hand presses hard against the bleeding wound while it drags in a sharp breath, refusing to collapse.

He gets his Second wind.Bruised, pierced, and barely standing, H2 somehow steadies itself and raises its sword once more, hatred burning in its eyes as it remains in the fight against all reason.HP lost
H1: 17
H2: Second wind (1 HP left)
H3: 24
H4: 24