In a landslide, 100% of you have decided to take our Lone Wolf from mouse to man and kick the Brawl Brothers in their well-protected groins. Whipping our spear out from ... now that I think of it, where does the well-heeled warrior stash a six-foot length of metal-tipped death when sauntering about town?
Anyway. Whipping our spear out from its undisclosed location, we launch ourselves into bloody combat. With a +7 combat skill differential, this ought to be a cakewalk. Twirling my pencil confidently, I close my eyes and stab the "Random Number Table" and get ... a one. Suddenly I'm flashing back to my D&D days, when people from hundreds of miles away would come to me when they needed a blown dice roll. I was a legend.
That means we inflict seven points of damage to the Trouble Triplets, but take a savage backslash ourselves for four points. Ouch!
The next round goes better as I "point" a seven, meaning we completely avoid danger while inflicting fourteen in return. By my math that kills two of the blighters, leaving only Captain Stripy Drawers. Third time pays for all as I earn a six, gutting him for twelve points while taking a paltry one.
We are triumphant! It was a bit of a costly battle, losing us five total precious hit points, but we have finally washed the stink of cowardice from our karmic reputation. Also, we'll probably never be welcome in this particular tavern again, but such is the cost of victory. Maybe we can convince the mice that the time has come to overthrow their evil human overlords and start running the place themselves.
Regardless, I eagerly await the impassioned embrace of the lusty and grateful tavern wench as our reward!
Feh. Never a lusty tavern wench around when one is required. I hope we at least took the striped codpiece as both a souvenir and fashion accessory, because that thing is awesome.
So what now, intrepid adventurers? Head on out to our rendezvous, or try to play Columbo and track down the killer?