Turook manages to pull Vaenic away from the group for a private word. Still uncomfortable with his newly advanced rank, he hesitates. Checking to make sure they are out of earshot of the rest of the army, he eyes the cleric, watchful for any clues the man's face might betray. "Sosiel – we haven't much time, so I'll cut to the meat of it. We're about to face off against a demon army twice again our number, but something is wrong. I'm not sure what you and Aron are up to, but the worry is plain on your face. We can't go into battle with liabilities among the officers – I need to know if this will affect yours or Aron's ability to command."
Turook feels the weight of his own words hanging in the air, awaiting the cleric's response.
Nebbin looks confused for a moment at Lucius' words but then relaxes as he glances at Aron.
"Oh, yeah. Maybe you just needed some air? You didn't look that good this morning, but you look much better now!"
The big man smiles genially.
Nebbin nods as Turook lays out his battle plan.
"I guess that's all right. Should we go fight the demon?" he asks, the latter with an unhappy expression of fear and concern.
As battle-leaders gather to plan, Turook addresses the crusaders. "Our reconnaissance has revealed the tiefling army conceals a Brimorak among their numbers - creatures so vile an abhorrent that even their blood is caustic. As we hold the advantage of surprise, it would do well to take as many of them out at range as possible"
Nodding to Saoirse he adds, "The knights can use their divine healing gifts to negate this advantage."
Saoirse nods towards Turook and Aron, "Good work, both of you. Now... this Brimorak before us is either extremely confident or foolhardy. They've left themselves open to several attacks... heh, Captain Miphos would say 'this is textbook Saoirse,'" Saoirse's voice turns to a deeper though still feminine inflection of her former Captain's tone unconsciously as she quotes him. Giving a short once over of the small general map in the tent, Saoirse looks back up to the group, "We'll go with Turook's ambushing plan, its a good one, starting with a ranged volley will hopefully deal a crippling blow to the tieflings and prevent them from causing too many casualties to us. The ford also gives us a clear line to charge with while they scramble under the volley. I do have a request of each of you however, I'd like all of you to break from the main force and attack the Brimorak directly while I direct the army. Nurah's description makes me leery of committing our army against such a foe. Its a long road to Drezen, and I'd like to get there with as many of us intact as possible. Does anyone disagree with this plan?"
Saoirse looks over those assembled in the tent, seeking opinions.
”I’d be happy to help cut the head from this serpent.” He pauses, considering, ”One thought, though. We should have Turook and the scouts do some recon. See if they are equipped to fight at range. If they’re not, you could direct our men to hammer them from range until they decide to come out from their little turtle shell. In the open, our mounted combatants should have an advantage, despite the numbers. Otherwise, the plan sounds solid.”
Turook nods sharply. "Intel can make or break a battle. I'll coordinate with Vaenic."
Turook and Sosiel come back from scouting after a close call of being almost spotted by the guards at the enemy camp. Thankfully, they report that it doesn't appear to have an embunkered enemies, the army's stats should be: DV 12; OM +4, Tactics standard, withdraw; Special darkvision, sneak attack, spellcasting. The brimorak demon is definitely the commander and wherever she commands the tieflings are emboldened (Cha + 2).
"Stars, that was close!" Turook curses as he returns to the command tent. "A squad of tiefs got so close, I almost got hoofprints on my hand!"
Laying markers on the battle map, the half-orc lays out enemy troop positions. "They are a harrying force – it looks like they overwhelmed the ford in the night – and luck puts us in that very position to turn the tables. They have numbers, but lack surprise, archers and the training of our forces."
His face darkens, as he places a large red marker near the center of the enemy placements. "It's definitely a brimorak at their head. They drive their minions hard – they will likely fear her more than us; and fight to the death."
Nebbin pales as the battle plan is finished and orders quietly given. Bile rises into his mouth at the idea of fighting, and he sets his hammer down, wiping his hands on his leather pants.
The massive bow -- too big for most men to even bend -- feels like a snake in his hand, but he knows others are counting on him. Forcing down the butterflies in his stomach, he checks his weapons again and waits for someone to tell him what to do ...
Lucius thinks something unkind about a half-orc denigrating the demonspawn's ancestry. On the other hand, in the valley of the blind, a one-eyed man is king.
Like Nebbin, his gut sinks to think of hte danger ahead. He reaches down for the hellish whispers that reassure him of his great destiny - a destiny that will not the thwarted by a mob of demonspawn, led by a single third-rate demon. Equally reassuring is the heat he can feel build in the palm of his hand - hellfire hot enough to burn even the tieflings' abyssally-tainted flesh.
"Demons, for all their power, are cowards. If this brimorak leads through fear, it will do so from behind - to drive its troops forward and instill a fear of retreat. This does serve our purpose - we do not want any deserters fleeing ahead of us, warning of our approach."
"Still, it leaves the demon exposed. We are, so far, undetected, and thus hold the initiative. Dame Palelight can lead her paladins, the rest of us may be able to slip around their camp, and decapitate this monster once its forces come toward the river. Turook, can you lead us in undetected?"
"With their intimidating master slain behind, and our better-trained troops ahead, the demonspawn will break, and rout, and fall before our swords as wheat before the scythe."
Thom stands resolutely with his friends and army, peering out through his hound’s face to watch the enemy. He moves little except to nod along to Lucius’s speech.
Inside, his emotions roil like a bubbling cauldron. Fear. Anxiety. Uncertainty. But behind them all … driving driving everything else to the edge of his mind … fury. An all-consuming righteous fury that is only partially his own and is aimed at the demon who hides somewhere across the field of battle.
Today, they will begin to take the fight back to the Wound.
A squad of paladins line up with their bows in plain sight, either side of the road hiding the remaining halves of the army. Their armor glints in the mid-afternoon sun as they raise their bows and fire upon the tieflings at the ford.
The first volley strikes somewhat but the response is immediate. The brimorak's terrible voice shouts in the distance and tieflings spill out to attack. What seems like 200 of the creatures form a ragged line that the second and third volley strikes well. Another two volleys and the tieflings, now around 100 strong, seem to falter but the brimorak's voice drives them on. They get close and the squad retreats back a hundred yards.
The tiefling army comes to the point in the road where the flanking halves of your army come to crush down like a vise, the squadron of archers having dropped their bows start to charge forward with their weapons drawn.
The first few seconds of the attack are devastating to the tiefling army. The teeth of the ambush's jaws close and kill three quarters of the tieflings outright. The demon commander's voice no longer drives them as fear grips them, causing their attacks to cause little or no damage. In the next ten minutes, the tiefling army is entirely decimated. The paladins give a cheer to Iomedae.
******
Thom roars a cheer along with the men around him, then turns to give Saoirse a mounted salute.
His focus quickly shifts back to the battlefield, his eyes scanning the carnage for his assault team’s mark … the brimorak. He itches to dig in his heels, to close on their quarry … but he impatiently waits for their signal.
When the signal does come, Thom sets off at whatever pace is necessary to keep up with his teammates, though it’s obvious from the way he rides that he’d prefer a comfortable, steady pace.
"Shold we expect trouble as we close on it?" he croaks as he watches for unseen threats in their path.
Nebbin spurs his mount forward, bow back on his back and hammer gripped in his meaty hand as he tries to avoid the blood and gore on the road in a race to get to the demon before it escapes.
His muscles tense as he gets ready to get off the horse as quickly as possible.
When the signal does come, Thom sets off at whatever pace is necessary to keep up with his teammates, though it’s obvious from the way he rides that he’d prefer a comfortable, steady pace.
"Should we expect trouble as we close on it?" he croaks as he watches for unseen threats in their path.
"I always expect trouble; and I'm rarely disappointed." Turook grumbles, running alongside the team's horses. Scanning the battlefield, he searches for signs of the brimorak.
Lucius looks nervously at his horse, thinking of trying to control the beast (or reach his magic) once arrows begin to fly and the smell of tainted blood fills the air. No. It will not do to be thrown from the back of his horse, nor to be trampled underfoot as it panics.
He barters with the infernal whispers: small promises of future service and devotion in exchange for the swiftness of a devil on the wing.
Loading his crossbow with one of the evil outsider bane bolts, Lucius sets out with his group.
Thom looks on jealously when Turook—then Lucius—sprint quickly across the field. I don't know who has it worse, he thinks as he bounces clumsily along, me or this poor horse.
Wow. I thought I was fast, but Lucius can really run! And Turook.
Ok, we'll assume then that you all attempt to sneak.
AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 16 (-2 to all when raging), DR: 2/-, Cold resist: 1
Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +2 (+2 to Fort and Will when raging)
CMD 17
HP 44 (52 when raging)
Rage: 0/12; Mythic power: 0/5 (1d6+1 surge); Legendary power: 1/2 (1d6+1)
Effects: -2 AC for charging
Having maneuvered around the bulk of the fighting, Nebbin gulps nervous as Lucius gives the signal to attack. Feeling the usual sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, he charges forward.
He hefts his massive hammer high, a primal scream roaring from his mouth as he charges forward and swings the hammer. Glowing in the presence of the demon, it seems to twitch in his hands as it nears contact, seeking out the creature's must vulnerable parts.
Lucius will launch his bane bolt at his first opportunity, then drop the crossbow, drawing his wand of magic missile.
Drawing a massive blade from his quicer on the run, Turook brings it to bear on the brimorak his silence belying the violence in his swing.
Thom reaches deep within himself, past the mysterious barrier that separates his own mind from the great reservoir of power that fuels his new abilities. With a cry of effort, he shouts out strange words of power. A bubble of warmth pulses out from him, sweeping over his friends as they ride towards their quarry.
A tingle skitters along Turook's skin as Thom's magics do their work. One with his mighty blade, he strikes at the brimorak, his swing empowered with his cold rage.
Turook's mighty attack brings the brimorak to its knees. Nebbin's powerful hammer whoomfs in and strikes the creature dead on the head. Its shoulders slump and it lays on the ground gasping in an odd manner and blood that hisses into noxious steam as it hits the ground leaks out of its ears and mouth.
"Stay clear of its blood," Turook warns the others. His blade hovers threateningly over the creature's neck.
Lucius gives a half-smile on grim contempt as Nebbin's wardstone-enhanced hammer and their new scout's heavy sword strike down the Brimorak before it can do much more than gurgle in surprise.
He peers at the floundering body, reloading the crossbow. He selects a simple cold-iron bolt. Hrmm. Brimorak can teleport, if they need to, and this one has little else to lose by fleeing, angry superiors or not. Still, it may know things that are useful.
Lucius steps over near Turook. "If it moves suddenly, kill it. If it appears to be exerting itself, kill it. If you have any reason to suspect that it is trying to harm one of us or to leave this place, kill it.", he warns. He'll kneel down to lay a hand on the demons scaldingly hot skin, for just a moment. (He'll roughly turn it over with his boot if it is currently face down.)
While the Brimorak's wounds begin to mend, Lucius places his crossbow against its skull (or as close as seems reasonable without interfering with Turook's ability to lop off its head/stab it in the heart on a moment's notice.)
"Wake up, monster." he intones in Taldane.
The demon dealt with, Nebbin spins to go help his army, before realizing Saoirse's ambush seems to have things well in hand.
K-CHUNK K-CHUNK
In his heavy armor, Thom is the last to stomp up to the unconscious brimorak. His eyes—filled with his all-consuming fury—never leave the fallen, filthy creature.
”That was well done, Nebbin. Turk.” He pulls his own blade free from its sheath, holding it ready to help bring the brimorak should it do anything but answer the team’s questions.
The demon groans in pain after a handful of seconds. Noxious smoke streams from the creatures mouth when it opens the eyes. Lucius, almost overcome by the fumes, repeats his question in Abyssal when the creature doesn't respond.
The brimorak looks up and smiles grimly, "Their heads serve as decorations now." This earns the demon some discomfort as the point of the bolt Lucius has against its skull is pushed upon. At Turook's question the creature responds "I don't know, I'm simply to guard this ford until called or report to my commander if under threat."
At Nebbin's inquiry, the demon laughs uncomfortably and says (again in Abyssal) "Drezen is Drezen. I've never been there."
Turook looks to Lucius for translation of the demon's words. Knuckles white on the grip of his blade, he watches the brimorak's body language for signs of deception, or attempt to escape.
Lucius in unimpressed by the demon's answers. Of course they didn't tell a pint-sized pyromaniac anything useful. Only needed a demon just strong enough to keep the demonspawn in line...and look how useless they were against Mendev's finest.
Lucius clears his throat. "If you have nothing useful to tell me, monster, then you have no reason to be alive. I will try once more. Who is your commander, and when would he expect to be hearing from you? How do you normally send such messages?"
"And let me assure you we'd like nothing better than to be as creative as we can to make sure your death is as painful as we possibly can ... so feel free to make him think you have some kind of value to us."
The brimorak looks back and forth with darting eyes. He sighs and whispers a name in Abyssal. "Exorius."
As soon as the name escapes the demon's lips, a piercing shriek rends the space in your minds. From the shadows cast on the ground by Nebbin's tremendous body, a wispy, clawed hand reaches out, makes a gesture and a gem appears in it. The brimorak's body convulses then seems to flow into the gem, which retracts into the shadow.