"I would like to get at the weapons, but I don't relish giving up a good defensive position. It's why God created arrows. Not my God, obviously."
"You?"
"Although if we do it smart, a sortie might be just what the Cleric of Shelyn ordered," Chancre glances toward Sosiel.
"Which is the God of Arrows?" Samirah asks, sounding genuinely curious. "And more importantly, is there a God or Goddess of beautiful clothing? I am interested in finding their temple."
"A man who works as hard as you should be treated to this every evening." She says, sagely.
"I would like to hear him tell a joke as well. Maybe he already has, and we simply missed it for that stoic look on his face?" She pauses for a few moments, in thought. "When we return to Kenabres, we should celebrate. Maybe with enough of that alcohol he likes so much, he would be encouraged to tell you a joke."
"And more importantly, is there a God or Goddess of beautiful clothing? I am interested in finding their temple."
"Sadly her temple in Kenabres has never been much for clothing, but the ones in Oppara and Absalom have artists who define their worship in haute couture." Sosiel smiles, "On the grounds that clothing is worn art."
Roshan taps his chest and points out towards the stores of weapons and the advancing army.
"The decision appears to have been made," Konstantin says. Though his expression is Irrisani stone, his boon companions can barely detect the slightest lilt of pleasure in his voice. He turns to the rescued prisoners. "Fortify this place as well as you can. We will be falling back here, and likely with an army at our backs. Though perhaps not as hale an army as exists now."
To his companions: "Come. Let us make them sorry they ever heard of this place."
She points to Sosiel. "I like your style. Perhaps I will find myself in those other cities, then."
After Konstantin speaks, Samirah relaxes slightly and taps the scimitar against her leg. "ცეცხლი, ყინული, სული, და ფოლადი." Then the strides confidently towards their next fight.
"Давайте принести им зимой," says Míril as she draws her adamantine short sword.
She looks to Sosiel and Chancre. "Before we go, it would probably be prudent to have this," she indicates where an angry ox got to her with its horns, "addressed."
"There is a right way and a wrong way to pet the kitty," Chancre says.
"There is a right way and a wrong way to pet the kitty," Chancre says.
"Clearly I was doing it wrong," says Míril with a rueful smile.
Chancre lays his hands near the wound. "We need to talk about the difference between a purr and a growl."
"Is there a right way to pet a kitty with horns?"
"It depends on if the kitty is hungry or not. It's hard to safely pet a hungry kitty."
Chancre takes another swig. "The more I drink, the more certain of this I am. So it may not be too late for you yet! You could get kidnapped to scenic Egorian instead."
Chancre laughs. "I love the idea that he already told us his funniest joke, and we missed it. I wonder if everyone in ... that cold place ... has a sense of humor like Konstantin, or if we're just the lucky ones."
Chancre takes yet another drink. He peers into the flask.
"Do you want to take bets as to who and how many will betray us before we finish this thing? Or would you prefer to keep cheerful and we can act like it won't happen? It feels inevitable to me."
He looks back at Samirah. Shrugs. "I'm game either way."
With Venobya's guidance you are able to skirt the portions of the cultist army which have already made its way across the bridge. From cover, you can see a slow but steady stream of true-believers - many with scarred abyssal carved into their flesh - being formed into platoons to attack the waiting paladins.
About mid-way across the northern staging area, you see a beefy man whose leather and metal armor is shaped from a scaly grey hide barking the orders which the cultist take to heart.
On the far side of the bridge, darkly menacing, a horde of tieflings, a dark-skinned woman with short-cropped black hair, a huge wolf at her side in command.
"This was a grass-eating kitteh with horns. It was very confusing."
Chancre keeps a close eye on Míril as she does her sneaking.
Chancre keeps a close eye on Míril as she does her sneaking.
"Miril, Roshan, if you would be good enough to assassinate their commander?"
Konstantin speaks a few words and begins coating the bridge in an ice slick.
The corner of Roshan's mouth twitches almost imperceptibly and he fades into the shadows.
He moves to look for an opportune sniping spot, whether from this side of the bridge or the side behind enemy lines, whichever would provide a better location. He will also use a ki point to cast True Strike.
If hostilities begin before he can get to his chosen spot, he will use a full attack on the perceived commander from wherever he is at, using Fleet Charge to get to the best spot in the near surrounding area.
Also, how many tiefling do their appear to be? Are their more coming up behind them?
Míril follows Roshan into the shadows.
Chancre follows them. It's eerie. He watches what they do, and does the same thing.
He's very tempted to start doing a duck walk or Russian style dance.
Samirah watches the two stealthy members of the team, along with Chancre, sneaking away to make trouble for the commander. She bounces on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into action as soon as any sort of battle breaks loose.
"I believe, once the fighting starts, I will slide across that," she gestures to the ice slick Konstantin has created, "instead of waiting for them to come to us."
Her expression sobers, and she takes another, smaller, drink. But half a smile still lurks on her face. "I am very able to remain cheerful and make those guesses. After all, I suspect most everyone to be capable of treachery and betrayal until they prove otherwise. It is easier than being surprised and disappointed by someone I put faith in. Hmm, perhaps that is my problem with religion." Another drink. "As to the how many, and who? If I cannot say "everyone", I will guess at least two of the people we travel with will work against us, or have been this entire time."
She watches the fire for a few moments as she contemplates names. "Did you already have some of our companions in mind when you asked me this? At this point in our journey, the only people I really trust outside of our group are Sosiel, Anevia, Irabeth, Pan, and Aravashnial." It's clear that she feels no guilt about suggesting everyone else is capable of working for demons or cultists, and just as clear that it's nothing personal.
Chancre nods as Samirah posits her guesses. "I hold that everyone is capable of betrayal, but most choose not to. Two was also my guess."
Chancre takes another drink. "I did have some people in mind, but then I got to wondering why we break up the couples when we go out to battle. Anevia and not Irabeth I understand, since Anevia traveled underground with us. But why Sosiel and not Aron? Are we so convinced of our martial prowess that we undervalue others'? Is it just easier to keep with the same people? Are we trying to set up Aron and Irabeth? I hope not, because I don't think that would work."
Chancre stares into the fire, and snorts. "My God gives me the ability to tell if people are lying. And I don't use it because I want to believe people are honest."
He shakes his head. "This whole rooting out evil stuff is a royal pain."
"I believe, once the fighting starts, I will slide across that," she gestures to the ice slick Konstantin has created, "instead of waiting for them to come to us."
"I would expect nothing less," Konstantin says with a hint of amusement.
"I would expect nothing less," Konstantin says with a hint of amusement.
Samirah pops up to brush a kiss against his cheek in lieu of a wink.
Samirah nods along as Chancre speaks about his career path, sipping occasionally. "It is a good observation," she starts. "I like to imagine we bring who we bring to fill the gaps in our own skills. However... that maybe is not true depending on you who talk to about it. If you asked me, and I made the decision, I would bring Sosiel instead of Aron simply because I like him more. His outlook, the appearance of his open honesty. I would bring Irabeth instead of Anevia, because I have established a slightly better rapport with her and I admire her skills in battle."
She shrugs. "Do you think it would be wise to make a change at the next opportunity? Request that Irabeth and Aron sortie with us? I would have no objection." Another pause. "And Nurah. I have not yet seen much of her, though she seems very interesting." "Interesting" here seems to have several meanings.
At his last comment, she leans towards him slightly. "Who says you must continue to root out evil? That is not to say it is not a very useful thing for you to do, but..."
As the 'stealthy' group sneaks, the sharp-eared pick up the sounds of shouts and bowstrings from the north where the first ranks of the cultist army start to engage your own paladin army.
*Cultist army does not have a ranged OM
Closer, Miril has made it into striking distance with Roshan and Chancre with her. Ice slicks over the bridge - causing a few tieflings to slip.
Konstantin's words and gestures are unfamiliar as he summons a crackling ball of electricity which he hurls, in a lightning bolt, down the bridge at a column of tiefling army.
Making good on her comment to Konstantin, Samirah takes a bit of a run at the ice to really build up the momentum to slide across it. Weapon at her side, her hands held outstretched towards her enemies, hair blowing out behind her, and yelling out something in Ignan that is most likely a battle cry.
Roshan
magic: +1/+1
masterwork: +1
Pt.Blank:+1/+1
Deadly Aim:-2/+4
Bard:
Roshan rises up out of the shadows. Several meaty thunks follow as heavy blades pierce yielding armor and flesh. A single gong as the metal bulwark successfully turns away one of the flying talons. Surprise, the word the monk mouths possibly matches the look on the Commander's face, or at least, that is the hoped for outcome.
From her vantage point in the shadows, Míril fires two arrows at the Cultists Army's Commander.
[ooc]Surprise Strike Shortbow Attack:
From her vantage point in the shadows, Miril fires two arrows at the Cultist Army's Commander. The arrows sink in injuring the man. As his eyes start to pick out Miril's placement, Roshan rises up out of the shadows. Several meaty thunks follow as heavy blades pierce yielding armor and flesh. A single gong as the metal bulwark successfully turns away one of the flying talons. Surprise, the word the monk mouths possibly matches the look on the Commander's face for the brief moments before his death stuns his troops.
(+1 Nurah's inspire, +2 Anevia's battlefield advantage)
**cultist army takes 11 points of damage
** Konstantin deals 13 points of damage to the tiefling army
** Samriah deals 9 points of damage to the tiefling army
** Tiefling army deals 6 points of damage to Konstantin army
Tiefling army is utterly destroyed.
Kon's lightning bolts rip through the army even as Samirah lets loose with a powerful cone of fire followed by a blade that parries and slices. The tieflings, under the cool command of the wolf-rider, responds with a barrage of arrows, turning the sky above Konstantin dark. Although many of the arrows hit Konstantin, the army does not survive the confrontation - many fleeing the city rather than face such fury.
Angry at her army's desertion, the wolf-rider charges onto the bridge, the ice not seeming to hinder her steed's movement. From the far side of the bridge she fires her longbow () but Samirah parries the arrow.
Konstantin raises an eyebrow at the fleeing tieflings. He shrugs and turns to the wolf rider, pelting her with deadly snowballs.
Samirah only briefly looks disappointed, then like she expected nothing better from their enemies.
But at the approach of the wolf rider, a sunny smile breaks out on her face.
"Oh, nice shot! But let us fight woman to woman." She says, gesturing with her scimitar while closing the distance between them. "სანამ ჩემი ხვლიკი კლავს ყინულის." This last comment is muttered.
Roshan
magic: +1/+1
masterwork: +1
Pt.Blank:+1/+1
Deadly Aim:-2/+4
Bard:
Roshan's attention turns to the wolf rider, he admires her tenacity, but her efforts are a hindrance, not a benefit. Four (Five?) more blades, one gleaming with radiant energy fly toward her, two strike home letting her know that there is more to worry about then just what lies before her.
But at the approach of the wolf rider, a sunny smile breaks out on her face.
"Oh, nice shot! But let us fight woman to woman." She says, gesturing with her scimitar while closing the distance between them. "სანამ ჩემი ხვლიკი კლავს ყინულის." This last comment is muttered.
The woman lets her gaze flicker from Samirah to the rest of the group, a small smile growing on her lips that doesn't match the fatalism in her eyes. "Oh aye," she says, letting the bow slip down as she pulls her own scimitar. "And your name? So that I can engrave it on the cup I'll make from your skull."
"Samirah Basri," she offers a bow and dramatic sweep of the arm while keeping her chin up to maintain eye contact. "It is a name that is much more likely to be found on the lips of those who ran in fear today than it is to be engraved here." She taps her temple. "You can take the name with you in retreat, now, if you'd like...?"
Míril shakes her head. To no one in particular, she says, "Что с этими людьми? Чашка сделана из черепа действительно не будет вредна для здоровья."
Míril shakes her head. To no one in particular, she says, "Что с этими людьми? Чашка сделана из черепа действительно не будет вредна для здоровья."
Roshan cocks an eyebrow and merely makes a sweeping gesture at the surrounding landscape.
Chancre will cast spiritual weapon if it appears Samirah needs any help.
The only mass combat tactic that occurs to me is using the shield to blind foes within 20 feet, which can be done twice per day.
Please consider this sort of thing my actions until I can get within regular cel coverage again....
Míril shakes her head. To no one in particular, she says, "Что с этими людьми? Чашка сделана из черепа действительно не будет вредна для здоровья."Roshan cocks an eyebrow and merely makes a sweeping gesture at the surrounding landscape.
"OK. Point taken."
"OK. Point taken."
Roshan grins broadly.
Roshan's attention turns to the wolf rider, he admires her tenacity, but her efforts are a hindrance, not a benefit. He waits to see if Samirah actually needs any assistance in her duel.
On the icy bridge, the two planetouched eye each other for a moment. In response to the Samirah's offered retreat there is only the slightest of shakes. The ice on the bridge begins to sublimate, creating whisps of fog and vapor. One breath of absolute silence where the clash of battle north seems to fade away leaving just the quiet field of dead and dying, then the wolf-rider springs forward. And Samirah's blade mets nothing but flesh, cleanly cutting down the woman, who tumbles from her steed, blood mingling with the frozen ground.
**Seeing weakeness in the ranks, Irabeth switches the army to agressive (-2 DC, +2 OM, +2 dmg)
(+1 Nurah inspire, +2 Anevia Battlefield advantage, +2 agressive)
** Chancre using shield to blind the cultist army - -1 DV
Kenabres knights deal 6 more points to the cultist army - doing enough damage to rout the enemy
Meanwhile, Chancre moves towards the rear of the cultist army, using his shield to blind the masses at the perfect point to weaken their defenses, a surge of knights from the protected lee of the prison building - supported by more arrows from their allies on the roof - and the cultist army breaks under the strain of injury and the loss of the charismatic man who keep the banned dregs together.
By now the sky has turned a deep red as the sun creeps down to the horizon. Bloody but hale, Irabeth comes forward. A grim smile, a nod, "As much as I'd like to use the prison buildings for the night, I think it would be better to make a secured camp in the buildings near the bridge, so we can reinforce Kamilo." Having offered her suggestion, Irabeth waits to see if the commanders of the expedition have a better plan.
A strange look passes over Samirah's face, very briefly, as the other woman falls to her blade.
She sheathes her weapon, smile returning as she walks back to Irabeth and the others. "I am in favor of any idea that involves our group securing more of this area than less." She replies. "No sense in allowing our enemies to gain any sort of foothold in the night." Her eyes wander toward the sunset; she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, basking in the glow of it.
Konstantin nods. "Agreed."