Kevroth merely stands there, arms akimbo, and allows Darsanga to speak for them.
She waves at the guards with a smile
"As our... leader... says. Not a very stable place back there. If possible we would like to make our report as soon as possible"
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Proud and and confident in his training, Darsanga sits astride his coal black steed. "By the Order of the Godclaw I come, by the Might of the Chain have we survived, though the Immaculate nature of the Gate do we march ever on, By Law and order does the Nail preserve us, through descruction and firey will does the Pyre aspire us, though Measure does the Wrack bring us, The Chain and Scourge order us ever onward.!!!
His voice is echoes coldly with grim promise and firm purpose from deep within the confines of his helm. His steed paws the cobbles as the other Hellknights sit their saddles firm and strong. "I am Hellknight Arminger Darsanga Barstos, leader of the group of hellknights before you. The Five have seen fit to allow us to destroy what we could in the Chaotic City of Kenabres, I saw Chaotic as it and the mighty Silver Dragon have fallen. Hordes of Chaos spawn now make it their home. We seek order from the Master of this Citadel, and supplies so that we may bring the Order of Law unto that place.!"
The clank of chains thunders behind the iron-bound gates as the portcullis is drawn. Then, with ponderous effort, the gates swing open. A half-orc paladin hooks her helmet to her belt and motions for the armigers to enter. You saw the end of the Dragon? Come. Commander Tirabade would hear your report
Kevroth urges his mount forward, leading the way inside.
"And it is our chained duty to give that report," Giosue said pleasantly. "Let us waste no time in making our submission."
She trailed the rest of the Hellknights by a few dozen feet. It was the price to pay for not riding, but she was content with the little workout. Her heavy breathing eventually slowed and she quietly whispered words of focus to herself to calm her body. She waited patiently as Darsanga made his introductions. One eyebrow arched slightly as he spoke about leadership but she was mostly unconcerned. She cursed herself as she lost control for a quick moment. Mentally she vowed to keep her emotions in better check.
As Kevroth took the lead, D'hara brought up the rear. She remained standing in the same spot until the rest of their entourage had entered through the gates and she followed in last. She took one final look at the carnage around the city before turning and entering the keep.
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Remaining silent at the gates, Ezechias appears to be lost in his thoughts, as if he trusted Darsanga with saying the proper words... or maybe it didn't matter. The half-orc pats his horse, and prods her forward, silently obeying the command to enter. It is only then that he notices the half-orc paladin. He is in fact so surprised that for a moment he fails to salute properly as he rides past. He quickly corrects his mistake then, but his thoughts run abuzz with a thousand questions about her.
The paladin, the spines and horns of her armor declaring her a Hellknight sworn to the Order of the Godclaw, leads the armigers into a small courtyard. Stablehands, some barely old enough to be a squire, take the steeds' reins and guide the mounts towards the stables. Don't worry, we have plenty of feed and stores to last a prolonged siege. Your steeds should be fine for a few days. She grimly walks out and up higher into the Fort, down dark corridors lit by iron-bound torches. The torches have the unmistakable dull shine of hammered cold iron. Truly, everything in this fortress is a weapon against chaos!
Finally, she comes to an iron-bound door etched with the sigil of the Godclaw. She knocks and a stern "enter" follows. As the door opens, it reveals a spartan room with a fireplace and a stout desk of ebony, again bound in cold-forged iron. Behind the desk, another powerful-looking half-orc sits in a full armor. Her gauntlets and helm sit to one side of the desk, weighing down a map of the city. A greatsword leans propped against the other side within easy reach. She flips through a few papers as the armigers' guide snaps to attention. Commander Tirablade, these seven armigers bore witness to the fall of the Silver Sentinel at St Clydewell.
Commander Tirable cocks an eye, the only movement in her otherwise stern expression. These seven? And they lived to tell the tale? Your discipline speaks well of your training. Report.
Giosue snapped to attention with the rest, strictly correct. Without preamble, he gave his report.
Hellstrider was a bit uncomfortable in such tight spaces. Her training ground. Even the fort where she began her training was much wider. The most obvious reason being that their commander was a centaur herself. So it was use to accomodate larger species. Not to mention most of them were on horseback most of the time.
She does give this commander a respected salute. But she stays quiet. This was not her order of Hellknights or her order of cavaliers within the Hellknights. She had no rank here to just speak up. So those more familiar with the local customs, she let them speak up
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Iavdi, already suspicious of the way the Godclaw functions, decides to keep his mouth shut here, and instead gestures towards Darsanga to proceed.
Yet he does not attempt to hide that he's a Pyre, instead holding his head up high and displaying his markings all the while keeping a sharp eye on any Godclaws he could see.
Iavdi, already suspicious of the way the Godclaw functions, decides to keep his mouth shut here, and instead gestures towards Darsanga to proceed.
Yet he does not attempt to hide that he's a Pyre, instead holding his head up high and displaying his markings all the while keeping a sharp eye on any Godclaws he could see.
[dice=Perception]1d20+7
** spoiler omitted **
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The half-orc paladin stands to attention and reports his own account of the events that occured. Words pour out of his mouth as if he needed to say them, to utter them so that they'd leave his heart and his mind.
"Commander Tirablade, Ma'am. We witnessed it all, starting with the invasion of St. Clydewell Cathedral Plaza by the demon army and the failing of the Kite's wardstone. It flashed briefly, but then the swarm came and the wardstone did nothing, as if its magic had been warped by abyssal taint. The mighty Terendelev herself stood to defend Kenabres, but in the end she was no match for Khorramzadeh, commander of the demon army. He slew her in front of our very eyes, but her last thoughts were somehow for us. She gazed into our very heart and found us somehow worth of saving, as our strength of arms wasn't enough to face the enemy there and then. We stood together, united behind Measure and Chain despite our different order, and fought the demons hard. Whether we made a difference today remains to be seen, but we are proud to say we steeled ourselves and sent back more than a handful of demons back to the Abyss. However, all around us there was only death and destruction. Chaos reigning supreme." While he speaks, despair seems to extend its grasp into the paladin's heart. Raising his head, he offers a determined look to the commander. "We're ready to go back, Ma'am. There is still much to be done. What are our orders?"
D'hara stood stoically behind the others, hoping not to be noticed. She wasn't scared or shy; she was concerned that her facial tattoo would cause a disruption. One hand occasionally reached up to ensure her scarf was still in place while her other hand flipped the mask dragon scale over and over in her fingers. It had been a long time since she had felt nervous. Military officials, religious fanatics, even powerful magic users didn't bother her, but standing in a room in a fortress while chaos erupted elsewhere was beginning to grate on her nerves. The longer this took, the more chaos reigned unchecked.
Caiman see Tirablade's mouth quirks, the closest the severe woman has come to emotion throughout the whole exchange. You are alive, that alone is worthy of merit. Many armigers died in the fighting, taken in those first few moments of the attack. Other soldiers, with far more experience, fell in the hours of fighting after. I, myself, came to my position only recently because my superior fell to a murder of vrocks.
She stands and gazes the ought the arrow slit at the burning city. Stilll, the measure and chain bind us. We are of one purpose and mind beneath its rigid discipline. We have been trained for such horrors, our will molded and shaped on the anvil of duty to be shield and armor against the chaos of this world. I will see this city safe, and that gods-foresaken portal closed!
She turns, her black enameled armor a second skin, it bends and and flows easily about her as she moves. I would examine the scales, and have them tested. We have several spell casters of the Order of the Gate and priests within our walls. These scales are rare, and powerful items. The remains of a dragon such as she are not to be taken lightly. her tone is cold and sure. These are statements of fact, no matter how they are worded, any veneer of politeness is simply a matter of courtesy. An ebony box bound in cold iron with silver runes sits open on her desk. The meaning is clear.
Once all the scales are placed in the box, she flips the lid closed and returns to her seat. Rest this night, all of you. Quarters fitting your needs and station shall be made available to you. On the morrow, we shall meet again and discuss how best to use your... Her eyes harden as she casts her gaze over the assembled armigers, particularly when them she locks eyes with D'hara and Giosue. Talents. Dismissed
She turns to her papers, not sparing a moment further for the armigers. The door opens, and another armiger opens the door. Come. Each Order has a tower within Fort Nebarious. You will have armiger cells within for as long as you require. Our smiths and stores are open, as well. For those unbound to an order, you will stay in the barracks by the stables. Anything further is lost by a profound THUD. Soldiers yelled, and the clatter of armored feet rushing towards the gates echoed throughout the halls. The Fort is under attack!
"Never a dull moment. To arms then? " she asks as she turns, already getting her lance.
"No rest for us it seems" she huffs as she hurries to get to where the battle is
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D'hara mentally grimaced as the dragon scales were collected from her. She briefly consideried trying to conceal one but finally decided against it. It was not appropriate to withhold things from superiors. She didn't consider this Tirablade to be her superior but based on the others' reactions, at least some of them did and she didn't wish to disrupt the proceedings. The sooner they were done here the sooner they could move on. She hoped to see the dragon scales again. Normally she wouldn't entertain the thought of personal possessions but she tried to justify to herself they they were also useful tools. Besides, they were extremely unique and a reminder of the threat of chaos. So what if they served several purposes, the best tools did.
Learning that the Order of the Wrack had a tower within the fortress served to inspire her mood. It didn't really make her happy, but knowing one's place in the heirarchy allowed her mind to relax and focus on other things. Of course that calmness was disrupted as the call to arms was initiated, but at least the focus remained.
The gates open, and the Hellknights assemble. Most charge forward, leaving a strong defensive force to man Fort Nebarius from attack. The charging Hellknights shatter the demonic hordes assaulting the fortress and then press on through the courtyard into the streets beyond.
As the Hellknights pass, a horde bursts out from the sewers and charge the gates with naught but the armigers between them and the ruin of Fort Nebarius.
"This is it, for Law and Order" she lowers her lance, and charges past the first demon she can see, trying to impale it, before it can act, as she does so
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Ezechias prepares for battle, steeling himself against the demonic wave about to crash into the Armiger ranks. He raises his scimitar, and shouts a battlecry. "Measure and Chain! Prepare to withstand their charge, brace!"
The paladin wards himself with a translucent shield of faith marked with the symbol of the Dawnflower. Scimitar in hand, he waits for the demon to come, protecting Giosue.
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Kevroth draws his duelling blade and places his palm against the blade, "Prince of Hell, imbue this blade with your righteous laws." A soft white light glows from the blade. He looks up and to his right, watching for the signal to advance.
"Lo there do I see my teacher,
Lo there do I see my Sisters and my Brothers!
Lo there do I see the line of the Hellknights back to the begining.
Lo they do call to me!
They bid me stand with them,
WHERE LAW IS ETERNAL AND EVERLASTING!
The prayer goes up, he could hear over the clash of steel and cries of men the chant going, giving him power and rooting him to the moment. There were so many Brothers and Sisters fighting now, he would never stop so long as one lived on he would push the horde of chaos back to its pit!
Looking to the assembled team, he raises the cold iron morningstar and waves it about his head in a dramatic arc, "This is where we Fight! THIS IS WHERE THEY DIE!
D'hara moved up to take cover behind the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, freeing her cold iron spiked chain as she went. Kneeling down on one knee, she once again summoned the innate protection of order gifted to her by her master.
Kevroth moves forward with D'hara, taking position on the other side of the fountain.
"Gratiam tuam Tithe Volucrem," Giosue intoned, his breath frosting into icicles that gathered in a plain before him and then rushed forward with a gesture to slick the ground beneath two of the dretches.
Iavdi: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Kevroth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Giosue: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17
Ezechias: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 13
Darsanga: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7
D'hara: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
Chakat: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Schir: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Dretch: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3
"This is it, for Law and Order" Hellstrider lowers her lance, and charges past the first demon she can see, trying to impale it, before it can act, as she does so. Her lance is level, her eyes burn with grim purpose. Her hackles curl in a wicked snarl. The courtyard thunders with the power of her feet on the cobbles. It rings with the death throes the dretch. The lance catches the fiend in the mouth and runs out the back of its head. The dretch's head bursts into a swarm of stinging gnats that block the chakat's eyes and fill her nostrils. Just as quickly, they disappear, along with the remains of the fiend.
Iavdi heels his steed and charges a fiend, glaive lowered, ready to strike!
The glaive cuts deep into the dretch's side. Insects and slime spill from the wound, puddling in great slithering heaps at its feet.
"Gratiam tuam Tithe Volucrem," Giosue intones, his breath frosting into icicles that gather in a plain before him and then rush forward with a gesture to slick the ground beneath two of the dretches.
slipped!
The fiends snarl and try to stand, but their feet slip out from under them, sending them to the ground!
D'hara boldly moves forward to take cover behind the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, freeing her cold iron spiked chain as she goes. Kneeling down on one knee, she once again summons the innate protection of order gifted to her by her master. The stones of the fountain near her become perfectly measured. Even the water seemed to splash in measured, precise, drops. Chaos has no hold over her!
Ezechias prepares for battle, steeling himself against the demonic wave about to crash into the Armiger ranks. He raises his scimitar, and shouts a battlecry. "Measure and Chain! Prepare to withstand their charge, brace!"
The paladin wards himself with a translucent shield marked with the symbol of the Dawnflower. Scimitar in hand, he waits for the demons to come, standing guard beside Giosue.
Kevroth boldly strides forward to stand beside D'hara next to the perfectly splashing fountain and the precisely-cut flagstones. The hordes of the Abyss will shatter against his stout shield and sword!
Darsanga's voice echoes from deep within his helm. It rings with the dark
"Lo there do I see my teacher,
Lo there do I see my Sisters and my Brothers!
Lo there do I see the line of the Hellknights back to the begining.
Lo they do call to me!
They bid me stand with them,
WHERE LAW IS ETERNAL AND EVERLASTING!
The prayer goes up, he can hear it over the clash of steel and cries of men the chant going, giving him power and rooting him to the moment. There are so many Brothers and Sisters fighting now. He will never stop so long as one lived on! He will push the horde of chaos back to its pit!
Looking to the assembled team, he raises the cold iron morningstar and waves it about his head in a dramatic arc, "This is where we Fight! THIS IS WHERE THEY DIE!
The horned demon extends its hand over the ground and is whispers unnatural words. Mi vokas al la estroj de la dektria kavo! Al mi, mi alvokos miajn fratojn!
anything under 21% is a success
The air bends and twists about the courtyard. Geometric shapes lines open in the twists, following a perfect and sublime pattern that is the antithesis of all demonkind. But, just like all things born of the chaos of the Abyss, the three geometric sigils are each different shapes. One, appearing next to Darsanga and Kevroth, is a contorting spiral, ever bending and twisting upon itself, the inside impossibly becoming the exterior. A second, near to D'hara and Ezechias, is a cube of pipes forming right angles in all directions. A third, far beyond the fountain, is a series of ever-unfolding triangles. From out of each shape, another horned demon strides out. They raise their fists to the air and roar with mad fury!
Stinking Cloud on Giosue's group DC 13
all three made
Stinking Cloud on Kevroth's group DC 13
protection from chaos
Stinking Cloud on Hellstrider and Iavdi DC 13
all three made
DC 11
Attacking Iavdi
hit
Three of the dretches speak bizarre, unformed words. Sinjoro Senfina Cebaot, plenigu la aero kun via fia gasoj! As they speak, foul green mists billow from their mouths, as thick, roiling clouds. The clouds blow through the courtyard. But, the foul humors are for naught against the iron discipline and constitution of Hellknights!
Sinjoro Senfina Cebaot, frapi timon kaj honton en viajn malamikojn! One of the dretches roars to the sky. A swarm of locusts bursts from his opened mouth. It flies up to the sky, taking the great shape of a leering demon. But, Hellstrider is an armiger of the Order of the Nail, a Hellknight! She has seen the horrors of Hell, her will and soul have been forged upon the anvil of the Measure by the hammer of the Chain! She does not know fear!
The final dretch roars and launches itself at Iavdi. Maggots writhe between its rotting fangs, it's shattered claws rip and bash at Iavdi's armor. The claws splinter against the armiger's armor, but its teeth find a single chink in his perfect armor, although the blow is but a minor one.
Chakat: -2 AC (charge)
Iavdi: -2 AC (charge)
Giosue: grease
D'hara: protection from chaos
Ezechias: shield of faith, and life link on Darsanga and Giosue
Darsanga: shield of faith on Iavdi's horse. Vow? Unsure of how the diplomacy check works.
Stinking Cloud: 2 rounds.
As the demon stepped into their reality, D'hara tried to recall anything she had learned about the goat-headed spawn. One thing she recognized was the horns. Creatures with horns liked to use them, usually. She briefly recalled her own horns but the thought quickly faded in the heat of battle. She whispered a quick prayer before dancing around the creature. She knew she had to try to surround the creature to keep it from moving away so she stalked around it just outside of it's reach until she was west of it, then she stepped up to it, chain twirling around and around in her hands as she moved.
She wheels around, her trusted lance ready to strike yet again. She charges past once more, aiming to impale yet another spawn of chaos
she will opt to charge one that is already in melee to make use of flanking bonus
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[dice=Attack, AoO]1d20+7
[dice=Damage]1d10+6Seeing the disgusting thing splatter its blood and gore across the mounted knight does not faze Iavdi, and he again strikes out at the dretch in melee with him, although this time with his spiked greaves.
[dice=Attack, armor spikes]1d20+7
[dice=Damage]1d6+4
Kevroth steps behind the horned demon, drawing his kukri and calling upon Asmodeus, "I beseech you, Dark Prince, bestow your favor upon your servant this day!" His kukri and duelling sword are a blur as they strike at the demon's exposed flank.
Things had become dire. Giosue stepped out of the malodorous cloud and up behind Ezechias.
"Please see to that demon's attention while I see to aiding you. This will take a moment," Giosue said. "Nec Excelsum esse, obsecro, in maxime modo exaltare obsequia nimis in circuitu est miles sine lege, ut in se, secundum certissimam percutere sine misericordia nec misericordiam cum consilio praefati percutere sine miseratione et misericordia cum predicto consilia in plenum noviens majestatis in infernis."
Iavdi: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Kevroth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Giosue: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17
Ezechias: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 13
Darsanga: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7
D'hara: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
Chakat: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Schir: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Dretch: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3
[spoiler=AoO as ride by]
both misses
Hellstrider readies her glaive once more, dropping it to the side, in a sweeping gesture. She, cuts around the rubble of the ruined Hellknight statue, in another brutal charge. Fiends lash out at her from all sides, but her perfect Hellknight-forged armor is proof against the pathetic flailings of chaos. Her eyes glimmer darkly from within the confines of her helm. She slices quick and strong into towards the fiend, but chaos grips her weapon! At the last possible moment, blood ooze from the dretch slithers down the shaft of her blade like a living creature. It rears back, impossibly, and bites her finger! It doesn't hurt, but the shock of the sheer improbability of that action is enough to throw off her aim and her glaive sails cleanly over her foe's head!
[spoiler=moving towards the dretch]
He already hit with the armor spikes, so i'm not going to re-roll the attack.
if the damage had been less, we'd have gone with the greaves
Seeing the disgusting thing splatter its blood and gore across the mounted knight does not faze Iavdi, for he has been forged in the foundries and laboratories of the Hellknights. Discipline and perfect martial training have been hammered into him by his commanders, as it has been for all armigers. The Hell-inspired golem drives his spiked boot through his foe, shattering its rubbery skull, covering his leg with sickly green blood that sizzles and pits his armor, even as it evaporates into the air. Seeing the disgusting thing splatter its blood and gore across the mounted knight does not faze Iavdi, and he spurs his horse onward, out of the stinking cloud conjured by the foul fiends. Once within range, his cold-forged glaive lashes out, cutting deep into the rubbery hide of another dretch. The thing howls like the buzz of a swarm of locusts, as its flesh parts open revealing a hollow cavity filled with squirming insects.
With cold detachment, Giosue regards the melee unfolding about him. Things had become dire, indeed. Giosue calmly steps out of the malodorous cloud and up behind Ezechias. "Please see to that demon's attention while I see to aiding you. This will take a moment," Giosue says, never once deviating from his strict tutelage. His fingers work in arcane gestures, his voice is hard and cold, like the unbreakable will of the Legions of Hell. "Nec Excelsum esse, obsecro, in maxime modo exaltare obsequia nimis in circuitu est miles sine lege, ut in se, secundum certissimam percutere sine misericordia nec misericordiam cum consilio praefati percutere sine miseratione et misericordia cum predicto consilia in plenum noviens majestatis in infernis." The arcane words are precise, the forms exact. The spell reshapes reality to the arcanist's whim, he must outline outcome and details of this work with care and rigor. As he speaks, he inscribes the spell on Ezechias' armored back in Hell script using powdered iron a small flensing knife. The powder burns hot red for a moment, and the flashes into smoke, leaving only glowing runes behind. The paladin can feel his body changing, as it conforms to the reality Giosue's iron will imposes upon it.
As soon as the horned demons step into their reality, D'hara's quick mind begins cataloging features, searching for any knowledge she had learned about the goat-headed spawn. She recognizes the horns. Creatures with horns like to use them, usually. She briefly recalls her own horns, but the thought quickly fades in the heat of battle. Still, she bends her will to the task and remembers a time, kneeling at the feet of her master as he instructed her in strategies against the hordes of the Abyss.
The fiend resembles a tall, muscular humanoid with the head and hooves of a demonic goat. A ragged hide covers patches of its body at the forearms and lower legs, with a crest-like patch running down from the creature's crown to the nape of its neck. Her tutors had named this type of fiend as a spite demon, a schir. And they are the creatures of Baphomet, Lord of treachery and the maze-like machinations of infectious thoughts. They are quick to violence and are among the lowliest of demons, mere fodder in the infinite hordes of the Abyss, or guards for even the most minor of demonic commanders. Like all demons, their hides are proof against even the most finely crafted of mundane steel, but parts easily beneath cold-forged iron, and they are immune to all plagues, poisons, and electricity. They are creatures of pestilence and treachery, their spittle carries with it a deadly plague--proof of the deceit within their chaotic hearts, it infects and corrupts flesh as surely as their words pervert souls and minds.
She whispers a quick prayer before dancing around the creature. The Midnight Lord hears her joyful noise even as she stalks about the fiend and brings to her mind the agonized training she endured beneath the loving whips of her kind masters. From their careful ministrations, she learned the precise angle from which to strike to cause the most pain. She knows she has to try to surround the creature to keep it from moving away, so she stalks around its left flank, just outside of its reach until she was west of it, then she steps up, chain twirling around and around in her hands as she moves.
Seeing another horned devil appear in front of his very eyes, Ezechias interposes himself between the fiend and Giouse. He conjures the might of righteousness into his scimitar "Minion of evil, I smite thee!" and strikes out at the fiend with all his faith and conviction in the grace of the Dawnflower. The blade cuts through the air, glowing brightly with the warm and gentle light of the morning sun. The demon sneers as its horns twist like writhing worms about the his gods-blessed weapon.
Across the courtyard, Kevroth steps behind the horned demon, flanking the foul creature with D'hara and her whirling chain. He draws his kukri and calls upon the rigid contract of faith he has writ between himself and Asmodeus, "I beseech you, Dark Prince, bestow your favor upon your servant this day!" His kukri and duelling sword are a blur as they strike at the demon's exposed flank, trailing the faint scent of sulfur and burning flesh. The fiend deftly sidesteps away from Kevroth's sword, only to step directly into the warpriest's bare kukri! The fiend howls in pain as Kevroth's steel stabs it deep in the back where its kidneys would be were it mortal and bound by the laws of nature and order. Ivory blood, the color of pus tinged with blood spurts from the wound, contorting in the air in a geometric puzzle.
With grim determination, Darsanga marches forward, a stern and implacable soldier in the legions of Hell. The countless stratagems, drilled into him by grim-faced and unflinching commanders, no doubt run through his head as he stomps across the courtyard. Each iron-shod step echoes off the steps like thunder, until it sounds as though a true legion of Hellknights marches from the Fort towards the fiends.
attack Ezechias AC: 20 +2 (shield of faith) = 22
miss
miss
attack Kevroth
miss (this keeps re-rolling, it's a miss)
miss
attack Hellstrider
The four goat-headed demons assault the armigers with blade and horn! Corrupted saliva drools from their fanged maws forming convoluted and unnatural shapes of bizarre otherworldly symmetry. Ezchias easily dodges the blows from his foe, the Everlight shields him from the corrupted and base demon before him. The fiend Kevroth stabbed truns on him, madness filling its eyes as he lashes at the warpriest with both halberd and horn. But, Asmodeus honors the contract and keeps his faithful servant from harm. Another goat-headed demon charges across the courtyard towards Darsanga, bloodlust burning its maddened eyes. It splashes through the fountain, halberd raised at the ready to bring down in a brutal over-handed chop! But, the fountain slows its momentum, and its cloven hooves skid to a halt only halfway across the stones.
The commander laughs and shouts out, its twists like in the armigers' minds like perverse maggots, corrupting thoughts and threatening to shatter their iron-bound will. Fools! This world is already lost! The Lord of Locusts has brought his hive to these lands! And his swarms shall devour the world, you shall be our food! Already, your people have seen the truth, and made slaves of themselves to our Lord! Its words writhe and wriggle, they worm their way into Hellstrider's mind, and she screams in pain at the unnatural thoughts intruding into her most private of places! The fiend takes that precise moment to skirt about her and strike! Its horns bash in her side, shattering her arm with a single blow, even as it sweeps at her with its halberd, laying her side open. She gasps, and collapses to the stones, still clinging to life, barely.
close on Iavdi.. incur AoOs From Iavdi
bottom Dretch
this keeps rerolling. it's a hit.
Top Dretch
crit
dead as dreams
Now, Hellstrider (who is at 1 HP, still gets an AoO.. because the thing is in her threat range and is still in her threat range.
miss
The one that lived gets to attack.
crit?
miss
prone dretches?
other 2 cast Cause Fear
Ezechias
D'hara
and no one's afraid! poo
The two dretches near to Iavdi press in to attack, heedless of the danger the armiger's glaive poses. Their lack of discipline is their undoing as Iavdi brings his blade straight down, cleaving one of the fiends in twain! The corpse wriggles and writhes on the ground, sprouting foul tentacles and legs like some foul centipede as the twin halves of its crooked maw gnash at the air before bursting into a swarm of flies. Hellstrider uses what little strength remaining to her to lash out at the fiend nearest her, but her body is weak, despite the iron will of training! Her spirit is strong, but the flesh is weak! Her lance blow is too low to the ground, and the fiend easily leaps above its point. But, her strike proves a sound ploy, and while the beast's attention is upon her, it gives Iavdi ample time to twist his halberd in his armored grasp and reverse his thrust, cleaving deep into the creature's side, sending insects and blood spraying everywhere!
The prone dretches pull themselves up from the grease. Thick strands of viscous fluid run down their backs and arms, as they thrust their clawed fists into the air and roar unintelligibly. The other two again move their mouths, somehow forming arcane words, despite their grunts and slobbers. Timu teruron Sinjoro akridoj! Tertremo kun la sondado de lia nomo! Feaer pulls at the armigers' minds, but all remain firm and resolute in their discipline. Their wills are iron, their minds steel.
Hellstrider: -2 AC (charge), also, at 1 hp. Also, infected with gray pox (in 1 day she will break out in pus-filled gray sores and suffer 1d6 STR damage)
Giosue: grease under 2 dretches (which are prone)
D'hara: protection from chaos 19/20 rounds (AC: 19 vs. attacks made by Chaotic creatures, +2 resistance bonus to saves against effects created by Chaotic creatures), True Strike,
Ezechias: shield of faith, and life link on Darsanga and Giosue
Darsanga: shield of faith on Iavdi's horse. Vow? Unsure of how the diplomacy check works.
Iavdi: Large on map, but only because he's on his horse
Stinking Cloud: 1 rounds.
With the schir's attention turned to Kevroth, D'hara swung her spiked chain low towards the demon's legs. As the chain wrapped around the demon's appendage and the spikes dug into it's flesh, she spun in a complete circle, pulling the tangled chain as she went. Midway through her spin, she caught sight of the blood pouring out of Hellstrider. Hold on Hellstrider. We are coming she thought to herself.
Grateful that the demon's attack missed him, Kevroth bides his time, knowing well of D'hara's tendency to trip her opponents. Once she attacks the demon between them, he grimly cuts at the creature again. As his weapons blur, both protecting him and attacking the demon, they move in precise patterns learned within the walls of Citadel Enferac. Kevroth reaches into the strength of his faith in Asmodeus, summoning the magic with the speed of thought, "Like the walls of mighty Enferac, Dread Lord, guard me from the corrupted touch of these agents of the Enemy." The red-laquered holy symbol on his chest flares briefly with light, a glowing symbol echoed on all sides of Kevroth.
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Ezechias dodges the schir's halberd, finding himself shielded with his stalwart faith and force of conviction. His arm rises again, bent on cleaving through demonic flesh.
This time, the cold iron curved blade arcs through the air in a more precise manner, like a crescent of pure light reminding that Sarenrae hasn't forsaken the crusaders struggling for their lives. "Perish, and send this piece of news back to the Abyss, foul spawn. This city does not belong to the Lord of Locusts. This city is under the protection of the Hellknights orders, striking and raising their shield as one. Begone!"
She nearly falls to the ground, her body almost failing her, but now was not the time to succumb to the forces of the abyss. No. She was a Hellknight. And she would fight
She steels herself, her end may be close, but she will do as much as she can while she still draws breath.
"You still have to face me. So face me!" she declares as a last resort at the demon infront of her.
She begins to lash out, first with her two front claws, before she steps back and tries to impale it with her lance
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Giosue concluded his spell and Ezechias began to swell in size. He stepped back and conjured another ice slick to bedevil the schir facing Ezechias.
"Gratiam tuam Tithe Volucrem."
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