Round 4
Tiny arrows continue to rain down on his armor without acknowledgement. Ordrud grins that his sling's bullet hit something intangible when Izoze calls for retreat. Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. Let's hit this time. He spins up another bullet to deadly velocity with all of his might and releases it.
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Rasso sees only one other reachable target at the moment. Leaping back down off the pillar, he rams through the snow, hustling towards Marcellano. He comes to a stop next to the marine, threatening the little flying fey hovering above them with his long-necked bite, and snapping claws. "Try ter retreat all ye like, ye'll never escape our wrath. Ye chose the wrong side, now ye pay." Rasso grins up at Hommelstaub, exposing Shor's skin and blood still covering his mouth. "Get in my belly!" he roars. Should the creature try to escape, he is ready to try to snatch it out of the air with his teeth.
Tiring of the elemental and its continued barrages, Fenyx withdraws once more the object earned from their success at the lodge: the thin metal wand. A scowl and grit teeth on his face conveys plainly the frustration present—a weight he resolves need be bore no further. Extending the thin implement at arm's length, secured between his right hand's folded middle and index fingers, he hisses more than whispers the invocation to summon the latent energies of the device: "Efulvati..."
A sputter of green energies collects at the wand's tip before spiraling towards the elemental unerringly, while Fenyx falls back behind the relative safety of his companion's ranks, directing Yvonne to stand once more before him and the path of the elemental should his latest assault prove too little to conquer their foe. Yvonne trudges several steps forward through the snow in obedience, the briefest crack of a frozen exhale evident through the once-villager's rotting lungs.
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Frost this morning and
a cold wind, scatters leaves like
broken promises
Muttering under his breath an ancient passage from the "The Winds of Sorrow" Teladon whips out another arrow and adjusts his aim. Seeing through the swirling snow and darkness backlit by the winter portal, the elf draws back and lets fly with another arcane infused arrow. Shaking his head as the arrow whizzed through the swirling wind the elf sighed. Today was not turning into the best of days.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Tiny arrows continue to rain down on his armor without acknowledgement. Ordrud grins that his sling's bullet hit something intangible when Izoze calls for retreat. Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. Let's hit this time. He spins up another bullet to deadly velocity with all of his might and releases it. The sling stone strikes Izoze square in the face, knocking his head back and causing him to flutter in the air as blood -- not enough blood runs from his oversized nose. The bat-winged beast was supernaturally resistant to harm. "Orc bastard!" Izoze screams, clutching his broken nose with both icy hands, "I'll drink the marrow from your f*cking bones for that!"
Across the snowy field, Ar'Zarrcal watches Ordrud's battle, then glances at Fenyx and sees him fingering that wand he'd taken from Thuldrin. Gripping his hammer tightly with one hand, the dwarven cleric of Lissala waits to see how this plays out, watching the swirling elemental with a wary eye. Not far away, Marcellano is eye to eye with the leaf-sized Hommelstaub. Despite his tiny size, the fey has been a disproportional pain in the ass. Lunging forward with the bayonette he affixed to the rifle, Marcellano lances Hommelstaub in the stomach, swinging him off of the tip of the knife-edge and down towards snow, only to see the fey buzz back into the air clutching his grievous wound with a snarl of frustration.
Hommelstaub glares up at Marcellano and exhales a breathless utterance of the most profane words, "" With that fel uttrance, Hommelstaub's hand is wreathed in black and violet smoke as he lunges out towards Marcellano. The atomie's tiny hand grasps at Marcellano's cheek and instantly the marine is wracked with pain as a disgusting bruise blossoms to the surface of his skin and ruptures blood vessels in his eye. "You die here, human!" Hommelstaub snarls as he watches his handiwork take shape.
Rasso sees only one other reachable target at the moment. Leaping back down off the pillar, he rams through the snow, hustling towards Marcellano. He comes to a stop next to the marine, threatening the little flying fey hovering above them with his long-necked bite, and snapping claws. "Try ter retreat all ye like, ye'll never escape our wrath. Ye chose the wrong side, now ye pay." Rasso grins up at Hommelstaub, exposing Shor's skin and blood still covering his mouth. "Get in my belly!" he roars. Should the creature try to escape, he is ready to try to snatch it out of the air with his teeth.
Tiring of the elemental and its continued barrages, Fenyx withdraws once more the object earned from their success at the lodge: the thin metal wand. A scowl and grit teeth on his face conveys plainly the frustration present—a weight he resolves need be bore no further. Extending the thin implement at arm's length, secured between his right hand's folded middle and index fingers, he hisses more than whispers the invocation to summon the latent energies of the device: "Efulvati..."
A sputter of green energies collects at the wand's tip before spiraling towards the elemental unerringly, while Fenyx falls back behind the relative safety of his companion's ranks, directing Yvonne to stand once more before him and the path of the elemental should his latest assault prove too little to conquer their foe. Yvonne trudges several steps forward through the snow in obedience, the briefest crack of a frozen exhale evident through the once-villager's rotting lungs.
When those green bolts strike the elemental there's a loud pop of rushing wind and a sudden eruption of electricity as its cloudy form is wholly discorporated by the destructive magic contained in the wand. With the lastg elemental destroyed, the winter fey under Hommelstaub look fearful on their high perches.
With the elemental destroyed, Ar'Zarrcal immediately ploughs forward through the snow to the nearest threat -- Hommelstaub. Coming up behind the fey, Ar'Zarrcal smashes it with a buffet of his warhammer, battering the fey aside.
Muttering under his breath an ancient passage from the "The Winds of Sorrow" Teladon whips out another arrow and adjusts his aim. Seeing through the swirling snow and darkness backlit by the winter portal, the elf draws back and lets fly with another arcane infused arrow. Shaking his head as the arrow whizzed through the swirling wind the elf sighed. Today was not turning into the best of days.
Firing up into the air, Gwynn's next shot shatters a piece of the pillar's crown away, eliciting a flinch and a shriek from the icy fey perched atop it. Fluttering its dragonfly-like wings, the pixie looks over to its comrade with a panicked stare. Gwynn curses, looking over her shoulder to where Styvanus lay face down in the snow. "G+%*~@nit."
Suddenly, Marcellano feels the cold and frost creeping up his rifle more intensely, and only then notices that his hands and forearms too are covered in ice. A dull ache begins to spread through his hands, then like needles up into his forearms. Izoze lets out a muffled cackle at that, but then quickly adjusts his attention to Ordrud, whom the other fey have had no luck in harming.
"Fall back!" Izoze shouts in spite of his limited victory against the marine. "Fall back to the portal!" The fat-bellied mephit flutters his wings and begins flying towards the icy glow of the winter portal as fast as he can, leaving the rest of the battle behind.
Seeing the fey beginning to withdraw at the craven Mephit's command, Talavuc breaks away from Fenyx and plods through the snow to Styvanus' side. On reaching the eagle knight, she crouches at his side and lays a hand on his shoulder, feeling him kicking and spasming in his unconsciousness. "Captain," Talavuc urges, shaking his shoulder, "Captain!" Seeing Talavuc move away, Naasvit follows her without urging, hopping through the snow to catch up to her.
<< | | Deep Snow, Severe Wind, Noise | The Frozen Pillars >>
Seeing Izoze flee, the tiny winter fey alight off of their pillars and begin to take flight. But the moment they do, there is a sudden flash of light from the direction of the winter portal and the howling winds become twice as strong. Gusts of wind-driven snow lift up off of the ground and one of the tiny fey is battered around by the gale force, unable to fly towards the only place he can fall back to safely. Heedless of his kin's plight, the other cold pixie flutters and weaves through the air in a struggle like a fish swimming upstream.
Izoze too struggles to maintain altitude, but his fat body and tiny, feverishly-flapping wings is soon surpassed by the faster and more agile fey that buzzes past. None, however, can hear Hommelstaub's miniature voice cursing them all over the roar of the wind, nor can they hear his calling out of their cowardice.
Izoze prefers it that way.
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Rasso chuckles as the fey begin to retreat. He shoves through the snow to get mehind Marcellano and across from Ar'Zarrcal. He plans to use the angry dwarf and marine as a distraction. Rising up to his full height, he lunges over Marcellano's back and shoulders to chomp at Hommelstaub. His teeth catch the tiny man, and he crunches down hard, savoring the atomie's minty blood. They should sell this stuff as a bad breath cure.
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Round 5
Ordrud savagely smiles at the reaction of Izoze. When the mephit sounds the call of retreat, Ordrud bellows after him, And his bones ached.
He surveys the battlefield. Captain Andoran is down and being tended by the woman. The fey are trying to retreat against the severe wind, except for one. At least we know for sure, which way to go from here, he concludes to himself. The one lone fey, who stupidly flew within reach, is surrounded by the rest of the team except for the necromancer. Things looked under control to Ordrud, but he felt himself near the edge of exhaustion. He knew he had one last shot in him, so he took it.
Ordrud pulled out another polished bullet from a pouch and shuffled after Izoze in the deep snow. He spun the sling to deadly velocity and forced the shot into the teeth of the raging gale, which pushes the shot into an unplanned arc. Ordrud starts to breathe heavy but the furious wind disperses his white exhaust as quickly as it is produced.
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Unable to dodge the small fey's damaging touch, Marcellano winces in pain - physical pain he is used to, but magical pain is something rarely felt by the marine. His rifle, meanwhile, begins to magically ice over - his hands freezing along with it. With a crack, he breaks the ice forming over his gauntlets that threatens to freeze his weapon in place, and tosses the rifle on the ground with a crunch as it hits the snow. Pulling out his trusty cutlass, Marcellano grips it as tight as he can with both hands and swings it at the fey, hoping to bisect the little bastard, his strength more than enough to overcome the creature's inhumane durability against attacks that are not assisted by Cold Iron.
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Snow whirled and whipped around what must be the winter portal. As to where it led was a question that might be answered later on. The question of where was without a doubt important to know, but that was for after the combat. Keening and shrieking like the moans of the dead, Teladon forced his head down and pushed forward against the howling cyclone of baneful, frigid air. The portal was like a beacon, at any moment reinforcements might spill outward from the other side. Looking to his left as he left tracks in the snow the elf saw other members of the team locked in combat with one of winters minions. Throwing himself against the wind that at times felt as solid as a wall the elf rushed through the snow towards one of the nearest stone pillars, sliding just to the right of the human captain. His legs burned with effort and he clutched his bow tightly in his hand. Looking back, the elf could see that his tracks had already been filled in from the raging storm. It was both beautiful and intimidating, the fury of nature harnessed. It sent a chill down the magi's spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Seeing Izoze flee, the tiny winter fey alight off of their pillars and begin to take flight. But the moment they do, there is a sudden flash of light from the direction of the winter portal and the howling winds become twice as strong. Gusts of wind-driven snow lift up off of the ground and one of the tiny fey is battered around by the gale force, unable to fly towards the only place he can fall back to safely. Heedless of his kin's plight, the other cold pixie flutters and weaves through the air in a struggle like a fish swimming upstream.
Izoze too struggles to maintain altitude, but his fat body and tiny, feverishly-flapping wings is soon surpassed by the faster and more agile fey that buzzes past. None, however, can hear Hommelstaub's miniature voice cursing them all over the roar of the wind, nor can they hear his calling out of their cowardice.
Izoze prefers it that way.
Ordrud savagely smiles at the reaction of Izoze. When the mephit sounds the call of retreat, Ordrud bellows after him, ”My bones are back here you cowardly, bat-winged freak!” And his bones ached.
He surveys the battlefield. Captain Andoran is down and being tended by the woman. The fey are trying to retreat against the severe wind, except for one. At least we know for sure, which way to go from here, he concludes to himself. The one lone fey, who stupidly flew within reach, is surrounded by the rest of the team except for the necromancer. Things looked under control to Ordrud, but he felt himself near the edge of exhaustion. He knew he had one last shot in him, so he took it.
Ordrud pulled out another polished bullet from a pouch and shuffled after Izoze in the deep snow. He spun the sling to deadly velocity and forced the shot into the teeth of the raging gale, which pushes the shot into an unplanned arc. Ordrud starts to breathe heavy but the furious wind disperses his white exhaust as quickly as it is produced. His hands were shaking, fingers prickling with numbness, fatigue was starting to finally set in.
Unable to dodge the small fey's damaging touch, Marcellano winces in pain - physical pain he is used to, but magical pain is something rarely felt by the marine. His rifle, meanwhile, begins to magically ice over - his hands freezing along with it. With a crack, he breaks the ice forming over his gauntlets that threatens to freeze his weapon in place, and tosses the rifle on the ground with a crunch as it hits the snow. Pulling out his trusty cutlass, Marcellano grips it as tight as he can with both hands and swings it at the fey, hoping to bisect the little bastard, his strength more than enough to overcome the creature's inhumane durability against attacks that are not assisted by Cold Iron.
The slicing blade of the cutlass cleaves into Hommelstaub's body, sending a dark line of violet-colored blood spraying down into the snow. His tiny hand clutches at his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers and icy eyes wide. "N-no-- Izoze-- Izoze you coward!" The tiny fey flutters down and lands in the snow, clutching his stomach and exhaling ragged breaths -- alive, but barely so and unable to move. He struggles, lifting one small hand up as wintry energy begins to gather around it, unaware of what is approaching him.
Rasso chuckles as the fey begin to retreat. He shoves through the snow to get mehind Marcellano and across from Ar'Zarrcal. He plans to use the angry dwarf and marine as a distraction. Rising up to his full height, he lunges over Marcellano's back and shoulders to chomp at Hommelstaub. His teeth catch the tiny man, and he crunches down hard, savoring the atomie's minty blood. They should sell this stuff as a bad breath cure.
With a hack, then a cough, Rasso spits out an unbelievably small sickle into the snow, caked in fey blood and gore. Sliding his tongue around his teeth, Rasso plucks something papery from his right incisor and spits that out too, along with a multi-faceted pebble with runic writing on it. This one had more grit than the others.
Despite the howling wind, Gwynn raises her pistol and fires up at the top of the pillar where the last of the nearby fey is hindered by the wind. Her shot doesn't even strike the pillar, and with that the last of the rounds in her revolver are expended. Cursing the damnable wind, the Andoran soldier snaps the cylinder of her revolver open and shakes the empty shell casings out into the snow. "Where's Styvanus!?" Gwynn calls out over the roar of the wind, squinting against the wind-blown ice and snow to try and find the Captain, now partly buried by drifting snow beside Talavuc.
Snow whirled and whipped around what must be the winter portal. As to where it led was a question that might be answered later on. The question of where was without a doubt important to know, but that was for after the combat. Keening and shrieking like the moans of the dead, Teladon forced his head down and pushed forward against the howling cyclone of baneful, frigid air. The portal was like a beacon, at any moment reinforcements might spill outward from the other side. Looking to his left as he left tracks in the snow the elf saw other members of the team locked in combat with one of winters minions. Throwing himself against the wind that at times felt as solid as a wall the elf rushed through the snow towards one of the nearest stone pillars, sliding just to the right of the human captain. His legs burned with effort and he clutched his bow tightly in his hand. Looking back, the elf could see that his tracks had already been filled in from the raging storm. It was both beautiful and intimidating, the fury of nature harnessed. It sent a chill down the magi's spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.
<< | | | : The Frozen Pillars >>
Finally, the last of the winter fey alighted off of his pillar and flew like a glittering bolt through the air, sparkling wings leaving icy after-images as he hastily buzzes towards the seething blue light from the winter portal. Talavuc watches the fey pass overhead, helpless to do anything with the wind as strong as it is. She crouches down beside Styvanus, brushing the snow off of him.
"We have to keep moving!" Gwynn screams over the roar of the wind, but the notion of leaving Styvanus behind and pursing the fey to the winter portal looks unpalateable to Talavuc, who looks up with snow and ice caked into her dark hair.
"Cap's-- he's unconscious! We can't just leave him here, he'll die!" Protesting advancing any further, Talavuc looks over to Teladon, Naasvit -- mostly buried by the wind-driven snow -- mimics her motions, standing up on his hind legs with forepaws curled to his chest, ears folded back and eyes narrowed.
Ar'Zarrcal marches up to Rasso, Marcellano and Gwynn, ice crusting his beard and raised shield. "They could call for reinforcements," the dwarf sternly asserts, "but we cannot catch them at our speed. We are at an impasse." He looks back to where Fenyx is, watching the nercomancer for a few moments before looking back to the others. "Do we wait for the Captain, or abandon him and pray the lady of runes grants him strength to catch up?"
Ar'Zarrcal's question was swallowed by the sudden crash of lightning amidst the snow storm. A stroke of brilliant lightning drives down and impacts the tall post at the top of the snow-covered yurt up ahead. The sound is a deafening snap and the flash dazzling. Smoke and sparks shower from the top of the post and the blinding after-image of the bolt is seared into the eyes of those who saw it for several long moments after it passes.
More lightning flashes within the heart of the winter portal, and the powerful storm's source looks to be growing with intensity.
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Snow Lightning
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Ears affording still nothing, Fenyx peers out from the comfort of his thick, black cowl to stare at vague forms of allies in the snows beyond. He can no longer see any signs of immediate threats. Unsure of what is even happening still, he places his left hand on Yvonne's right shoulder and wills her to move forward. Trudging through the snow in silence, the lightning nearly causes the wizard to throw himself prone on the snow strangled ground. He begins to wonder if he will retain any of his senses by the time they make the portal. Thoughts of what they'll even be able to do should they make it in the first place are stifled. That was a bridge meant for crossing in a few moments. Best now to focus on the footing ahead.
Looking ahead to Ar'Zarrcal, Marcellano, and Rasso, Fenyx gestures strangely at his head, briefly tapping the right side of his head with the palm of his right hand. He shakes his head and calls out "Aukin teer!" Not being able to account for the howl of the winds around him, the call is feeble and difficult to make out. Seeing the confusion on everyone's faces, he nudges the zombie forward once more, using its frame as a small measure of shelter against the frigid gales and snow squalls as the pair continue trudging forward.
Round 6
Ordrud savagely smiles as his battle fury expels and Rasso gets the last dessert. Although magically warm, his body is comfortably weak after a good fight. He puts away his sling and returns to his trusted Feyswatter sticking up like a tiny pillar gathering snow.
He bellows at the team against the gale-force winds. He pauses looking for consensus.
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We've got ter get out of this storm and figure out what's going on, Rasso thinks, plowing through the deep snow over to the unconscious Captain. "I've got ye brother," he says to his unconscious friend, heaving the man up and over his shoulder. Damn son! You need ter lay off the fried bread rings...
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Marcellano reaches down to grasp his rifle, but stops short of touching it, remembering that the weapon is unnaturally freezing to such an extent that it nearly gave him frostbite through his gauntlets. Instead, Marcellano pulls out his spare cold-weather outfit and, using the insolated clothing to grasp his rifle, picks it up, preparing to wince in pain should the could seep through.
"We need to take shelter! I'd rather risk whatevers in that yurt than this damnable lightning out here. Could split a mast in two, not to mention what it could do to one of us!"
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Finally, the last of the winter fey alighted off of his pillar and flew like a glittering bolt through the air, sparkling wings leaving icy after-images as he hastily buzzes towards the seething blue light from the winter portal. Talavuc watches the fey pass overhead, helpless to do anything with the wind as strong as it is. She crouches down beside Styvanus, brushing the snow off of him.
"We have to keep moving!" Gwynn screams over the roar of the wind, but the notion of leaving Styvanus behind and pursing the fey to the winter portal looks unpalatable to Talavuc, who looks up with snow and ice caked into her dark hair.
"Cap's-- he's unconscious! We can't just leave him here, he'll die!" Protesting advancing any further, Talavuc looks over to Teladon, Naasvit -- mostly buried by the wind-driven snow -- mimics her motions, standing up on his hind legs with forepaws curled to his chest, ears folded back and eyes narrowed.
Ar'Zarrcal marches up to Rasso, Marcellano and Gwynn, ice crusting his beard and raised shield. "They could call for reinforcements," the dwarf sternly asserts, "but we cannot catch them at our speed. We are at an impasse." He looks back to where Fenyx is, watching the nercomancer for a few moments before looking back to the others. "Do we wait for the Captain, or abandon him and pray the lady of runes grants him strength to catch up?"
Ar'Zarrcal's question was swallowed by the sudden crash of lightning amidst the snow storm. A stroke of brilliant lightning drives down and impacts the tall post at the top of the snow-covered yurt up ahead. The sound is a deafening snap and the flash dazzling. Smoke and sparks shower from the top of the post and the blinding after-image of the bolt is seared into the eyes of those who saw it for several long moments after it passes.
More lightning flashes within the heart of the winter portal, and the powerful storm's source looks to be growing with intensity.
Ordrud savagely smiles as his battle fury expels and Rasso gets the last dessert. Although magically warm, his body is comfortably weak after a good fight. He puts away his sling and returns to his trusted Feyswatter sticking up like a tiny pillar gathering snow.
Marcellano reaches down to grasp his rifle, but stops short of touching it, remembering that the weapon is unnaturally freezing to such an extent that it nearly gave him frostbite through his gauntlets. Instead, Marcellano pulls out his spare cold-weather outfit and, using the insulated clothing to grasp his rifle, picks it up, preparing to wince in pain should the could seep through.
"We need to take shelter!" Marcellano howls over the wind, "I'd rather risk whatever's in that yurt than this damnable lightning out here. Could split a mast in two, not to mention what it could do to one of us!"
We've got ter get out of this storm and figure out what's going on, Rasso thinks, plowing through the deep snow over to the unconscious Captain. "I've got ye, brother," he says to his unconscious friend, heaving the man up and over his shoulder. Damn son! You need ter lay off the fried bread rings...
Ears affording still nothing, Fenyx peers out from the comfort of his thick, black cowl to stare at vague forms of allies in the snows beyond. He can no longer see any signs of immediate threats. Unsure of what is even happening still, he places his left hand on Yvonne's right shoulder and wills her to move forward. Trudging through the snow in silence, the lightning nearly causes the wizard to throw himself prone on the snow strangled ground. He begins to wonder if he will retain any of his senses by the time they make the portal. Thoughts of what they'll even be able to do should they make it in the first place are stifled. That was a bridge meant for crossing in a few moments. Best now to focus on the footing ahead.
Looking ahead to Ar'Zarrcal, Marcellano, and Rasso, Fenyx gestures strangely at his head, briefly tapping the right side of his head with the palm of his right hand. He shakes his head and calls out "Aukin teer!" Not being able to account for the howl of the winds around him, the call is feeble and difficult to make out. Seeing the confusion on everyone's faces, he nudges the zombie forward once more, using its frame as a small measure of shelter against the frigid gales and snow squalls as the pair continue trudging forward.
Ar'Zarrcal looks back towards the direction they had come in from the ridge of the valley, then back to the shadow of the Forest Elder and the whirling vortex of light and snow at its base. Scowling, the runescarred dwarf grips his shield tightly and waits against the blistering cold for Fenyx to catch up.
Tucking his bow on his back, Teladon frees his hands up and keeps one readied on the sheathed blade at his waist. The elf looks around at the others, puffs of steam coming out of his mask in intermittent intervals as he assesses the situation.
"I'll go check it out!" Gwynn shouts back to Marcellano, then hustles through the deep snow towards the yurt, her revolver firmly gripped in both hands and leveled down at her side. The blonde Eagle Knight squints against the wind and biting snow, occasionally checking the skies for signs of more fey attackers.
Getting up to the open flap on the yurt, Gwynn looks inside and makes a disgusted face, covering her mouth with one hand. She looks back, brows raised and expression difficult to read. Whatever is inside that structure seems to be unappealing. Yet, "All clear!" Gwynn shouts, keeping her back to the yurt's opening.
Further away and closing in on the winter portal, Izoze struggles against the wind, blown back a couple feet before he buzzes back with leathery wings flapping and curses in auran spilling out of his mouth at rapid-fire intervals.
Watching Izoze struggle, Talavuc grips her spear tighter and curses the wind keeping him safe. Her attention quickly shifts to Styvanus, and the druid moves to get ahead of Rasso and ensure the summoner has a safe path to get their leader out of harm's way. Naasvit hops along behind her, now caked snout to tail in snow.
<< | | | The Frozen Pillars >>
Struggling against the wind, the last of the winter-touched sprites that is visible against the glow of the winter portal int he distance pushes against the wailing howl of the wind, bobbing and weaving between snowflakes and soon disappearing into the brightness of the distant portal's silhouette.
A moment later there is a peal of thunder and a near instantaneous flash as a stroke of lightning comes down from the sky and nearly hits Rasso, blasting the snow away in a flash of steam and shower of dirt just a few feet away. As the cloud of flurries and steam clears, there is a bare earth crater just five feet from the summoner, still steaming as the air crackles with static electricity and the smell of ozone.
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Noting the inclement weather and the fear that the strikes of lightning were being actively directed against them, Fenyx abandons his self imposed tether to Yvonne's shambling, sluggish mass. Instead, he directs the corpse to head towards the yurt as he himself begins plodding hurriedly through the snow. The vanishing forms of his companions in the snow drifts and precipitation beyond were not a welcome sight, and he is as of yet unsure if they realize his current affliction. He will have to trust in their judgment for the time being. Or, at least, in Ar'Zarrcal's judgement.
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Round 7
Seeing the captain carried and the structure given the all clear by Gwynn, Ordrud pushes through the deepening snow and gale force wind toward the yurt. He sheathes Feyswatter along the way. Although breathing heavy and fatigued, he attempts to stay vigilant.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Rasso is the first one into the domed structure, hauling Styvanus' unconscious body over his shoulders. The sight of mangled flesh greets Rasso like a slap in the face on entering, as a mounded pile of bones and meat rests at the far back of the yurt. Ribcages, pieces of spine, long, gnawed bones and human skulls still partly covered with flesh and hair are mounded into a heap discarded from meals. Styvanus comes to from unconsciousnes almost as soon as Rasso brings him into the tentm blearily realizing that he is being hauled into an ice cold tent full of dismembered human remains.
A stump that the yurt is erected around has been stained a dark red, and an enormous, notched cleaver is wedged into the stomp and caked with gore. There is no sign of a fire pit in the yurt, nothing to keep warm with. As such most of the meat and bones are frozen. Talavuc enters next, covering her mouth and nose with one gloved hand, while Naasvit noses around the perimeter of the refuse heap. In short order, the rest of the team piles into the yurt as a thunderclap reports outside. Gwynn is last to enter, knocking ice off of her revolver as she does.
Crouching beside the pile of remains, Talavuc lifts a femurbone out of the pile and examines the deep tooth marks in the bone. "Troll," the druid states flatly, recognizing the tusk marks. She offers a wary look back to the others, brows raised in concern. "We can't stay here long."
Smacking ice off of his shield, Ar'Zarrcal is quick to agree. "The portal is only a few hundred feet from here, they are likely securing reinforcements as we speak." The runescarred dwarf turns his attention over to Fenyx, brows furrowed in scrutiny, trying to assess if the necromancer is well.
Reloading her revolver while she has a moment, Gwynn glances back out the yurt's flap at the next flash of lightning. "The lightning storm an' wind's starting to die down, but the snowfall is picking up." What do we do now? goes unasked for the moment, it's an obvious enough question.
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Ordrud is probably the least affected by the contents of the yurt, and he doesn't let it show to his teammates. He gives the yurt a quick survey, in case something discarded looks useful. After everyone has entered and recovered from their initial shock of the situation, Ordrud asks the group, "do we want to heal with spells or potions?" He rubs his wounds as the rage fatigue finally leaves him.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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It doesn't take more than a cursory look for Ordrud to recognize that the cleaver wedged in the stump is a cleaving weapon designed for someone much larger than a human. It has a subtly s-curved handle and a broad cutting edge like an axe and could likely inflict serious harm. It's big enough that a human could wield it in two hands, though with some difficulty.
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One-handed large martial weapon
3d6 20/x3 - Slashing - 12lbs
Inappropriately Sized Weapons: A medium creature could wield this wicked axe in both hands at a -2 penalty.
Ordrud investigates the troll cleaver like a child looking at a potential toy. "This looks mighty useful. Anybody mind if I put this tool to better uses?"
Rasso sets Styvanus down inside the hut, grasping him by the shoulders to hold him up while he comes to. "Ye alright brother?" he asks the groggy captain. Looking to the giant cleaver Ordrud is eying greedily, he simply shrugs. "Go fer it big guy."
Since Styvanus is still somewhat out of it, Rasso steps up to take temporary charge of the situation. "Necromancer, dwarf, what do we know of how ter close this thing? Destroy the ley lines? Go through it, and destroy whatever's on the other side?" he asks the rune lord's emissaries. "Elf, Kain, keep an eye out at the door, we don't want Mr. Troll sneaking up on us," he commands the masked elf. Turning back to Ordrud he says, "I haven't got any healing magic ter spare, ye'd better drink yer potion. Unless the dwarf or elf can patch ye up."
Rasso props Styvanus up, and wades into the frozen body parts beginning to search them for anything usable. "Gwynn, Talavuc give me a hand. We can't afford ter let anything with some use get left here."
Eying the carnage of the room with passivity that is in itself unsettling, Fenyx watches confusedly as conversations that elude him are held all around. Unaware of Talavuc's own appraisal of the grisly scene within the yurt, the necromancer begins surveying the carnage out of curiosity, noting the tusk marks on the "food" and monstrous weapon that Ordrud reaches for. It adds up, though he's not certain. It could be the troll; it has yet to reveal itself.
Fenyx, not seeing Rasso voice his question, seems to ignore the merman outright. He does note Ar'Zarrcal's own inquisitive glance in his direction, however. Removing his hood, Fenyx once again pats his ears with both hands before shaking his head.
"I can't hear." His proclamation is heard easily enough in the confines of the yurt, and that he does not blink or flinch with any peal of thunder seems to confirm the claim. Unable to satisfy any questions that might follow due to his current malady, Fenyx instead turns his eyes again to the interior of the yurt, searching for sign of danger or worth to be afforded one of his senses that have not fled him.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Gwynn pales when Rasso asks her to go diving into the refuse of bones and humanoid flesh. The gunslinger holsters her revolver and takes a step away from the door. Talavuc too offers an askance look to Rasso, but concedes with a labored sigh. To the question of the portal, Ar'Zarrcal seems delayed in responding after a long stare in Fenyx's direction.
"Closer examination is required," the runescarred dwarf explains reluctantly. "It is not but a haze of light from here. I would need to see the artifice to properly assist in determining a way to shut it down. If, at all, possible." While Ar'Zarrcal speaks, Talavuc and Gwynn get elbow-deep in the heaps of frozen bones and flesh, peeling them back away from one another, looking for anything that could be of use. Outside, the thunder rumbles once more before going quiet and the wind, too, calms down considerably.
Talavuc comes up from the gore pile with a blood-coated metal flask sealed with wax. Looking at it intently, she holds it up with an inquisitive brow and spends a moment to concentrate on it, then looks down to the pile itself. "It radiates magic," she explains, tossing it in an underhanded lob for Fenyx to take a closer look at. Talavuc had no way of telling what kind of magic. "[b]That's all I found down there with enhanced senses."
Gwynn finishes helping root through the pile and comes up bloody (but empty) handed, as the inner third of the heap had not frozen solid yet and was still moist. "Done," she exhales the words exasperatedly. Then, looking to Ar'Zarrcal she asks, "we're about two or three hundred feet from the portal. How close would you need to be?"
Ar'Zarrcal glances at Fenyx, then looks back to Gwynn. "As close as possible."
Outside, there was silence.
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The flask radiates conjuration magic of the healing subschool.
The flask is a potion of cure critical wounds with a caster level of 8.
Hearing no complaints, Ordrud removes the troll cleaver from the block. He wipes off the gore and rigs a sheath for it on his back. This blade looks fun, the adolescent giggles to himself.
After taking care of his new toy, Ordrud realizes that no one is offering to heal him again, so he swigs two potions of healing. We really need a dedicated healer. Potions are more precious than this, the warrior concludes to himself.
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Rasso helps the ladies search, being relatively inured to gore he does a more thorough job.
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Marcellano, entering the yurt and raising an eyebrow at the sight, shrugs it off, having seen worse in the Shackles, before taking up guard not far from the door, his rifle in hand. He aims the firearm at the entrance, ready to deliver a bullet to anything stupid enough to enter. His cutlass, should he need it, lays relatively loose in its scabard, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"Stinks in here. How long we stayin'?"
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After Ordrud finishes his potions and healing, he stows the vials to leave nothing behind and starts killing time until they move out. He begins to sift through the yurt's contents with the smallest amount of disgust of the team imagining the gore as nothing more than the cold cellar of the village where he filled his backpack with frozen meat. He wonders if he should eat again.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Out the flap-door to the yurt Marcellano can see snow falling heavier and steadier than it has their entire journey, though the wind has completely stopped giving the heavy snowfall a deceptively serent appearance; the large, fluffy flakes drifting gently to the ground. Visibility is a mess out there, worse than thick fog rolling in off the ocean. Inside the yurt, neither Rasso and Ordrud, nor Talavuc or Gwynn come upw ith anything else from the gore pile.
Outside, the silence continues; a stillness that feels like being in the eye of a storm.
Wiping minimal blood off of her hands, Talavuc looks up to Ordrud and then around to the others. "Is anyone injured still? I've a tiny bit more power left in my wand." Naasvit offers an askance glance to the pile of bones, only to have Talavuc give him a stern look of no. Those are people-parts.
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"Not anymore. Thanks." Ordrud replies, appreciative of the offer but not the timing.
He considers eating again. He always eats when he doesn't have anything better to do.
"Are we pursuing the fey? Or are we waiting for the troll to return?" He questions the team after a few moments of silence.
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Styvanus readies the cold iron spear of Andis' and leads with it's tip out the door of the yurt before he was. "We're not getting anything accomplished in this mess. We press forward to the portal. Keep your eyes peeled, the snow's thick out there."
He turns to the Chelish marine." Kain, I need you on bodyguard duty for Fenyx. Keep him safe, don't let him get lost. Can you handle that?" He inquires, commanding, but without any undertone of condescending in the Captain's steady voice. " It might be a good idea to secure a bit of that rope around each of your waists with a bit of slack as a lifeline."
He waves his hand in front of Fenyx to get the wizard's attention. "Stay.Close." He mouths the words slowly, Pointing to Kain and then holding up an interlaced pointer and middle finger to reinforce the sentiment. Once Fenyx has shown some sign of understanding, He pats the dark man on the shoulder and prepares for the cold just outside of the shelter.
"Let's move team."
With the decision to pursue the fey made, Ordrud slides Feyswatter from its waist sheath. He breaths heavy that would be a sigh for a human, because he thinks it tactically unsound to not wait for the necromancer to be at full strength. The necromancer has always pulled more than his fair share in combats, since he met him. Leaving him deaf did not make the team stronger. But the captain made the decision, and Lastwall trained him to follow decisions; however, inane they might be. And he followed some gems during his time in Lastwall.
Ordrud takes his place on the right flank of the marching order still enjoying the magical warmth surging through him from the Endure Elements.
Rasso moves to follow Styvanus, watching his back.
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Marcellano nods, lowers his rifle, and walks over to Fenyx. He waves his hand inches in front of the mage to get his attention, before holding up his rope and grinning. Without even letting Fenyx say anything or react, Marcellano loops the roop around him, tying it securely - so tight it causes Fenyx to gasp - and allowing a twenty-foot slack between the two, so that the two can have a bit of maneuvering space while simultaneously keeping the wizard on his leash. Afterwards, he pulls out one of his three flasks of Alchemist's fire and, after waving it in Fenyx's face, puts it in one of the wizard's more accessable pockets.
He then checks that his rifle is in order and turns towards Styvanus. "Ready to move, cap'n!"
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