Viola, you nimbly climb out of the cage from below, much to the rage of the crowd below you. Over the loudspeakers, you can hear an evil chuckling from the MC. "PETRAGH! HA HA HA HA...HALWSH MUK TRANEER! FOGGRAH ELF! ELVES SHRAKAH!"
Just as you're wondering what he could be saying an Orcish arrow punctures your calf and sticks there! Take 1d6 damage and your leg is bleeding!
Halwyr, you summon this. With a gurgling roar, the creature spreads its flesh-webbed wings, like those of a colossal bat, and takes to the sky with you on your back.
Its cry, and the sudden burst of shouting from the crowd in response awakens the nearby drakes! The one nearest to the guard tower Bolus was looking at, Drake #4, rears its head and opens its mouth to roar a challenge to the flier...
But it doesn't get a chance.
reeeEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR-KTHUMMMMMMM and there's an explosion that engulfs the entire guard tower and the drake that's resting on it, annihilating it in one shot. Bolus, Sinathel and Eldar can all feel the heat on their faces from the explosion, and the sudden bright light causes your pupils to forcefully contract, making you wince.
The remaining 4 drakes that slumbered nearby on other guard towers all around the "festival" are all awakened now, thanks to the presence of another flier in their airspace. The nearby drakes all rise from their slumber and begin taking to the skies, belching flames.
Lord Borak gets a great view of the rocket flying through the air and obliterating the guard tower. It seems that there's an outside force here that's also fighting the orcs!
Halwyr, you can easily guide your mount to alight on the cage and allow Borak to climb on. Do you attempt to take the other 5 remaining prisoners as well? Correction, 4 - one of them gets killed as you're approaching the cage.
Olivius, your mad and reckless charge through the areas between you and the southern pass is almost unnoticed. However, the explosion of sound from the destroyed guard tower is bringing all the orcs that weren't at the festival outside to goggle at the spectacle! You're about to leap off an overhang to continue down the hilly slope, and you see two orcs below the overhang. With a quick glance and a wild grin at you, Yala draws her knife, and screams! "FOR GAIAAAA!" as the pearl-diver ambushes one of the orcs below, stabbing him repeatedly in the neck! The other orc turns in shock to his compatriot and draws his saber! You're about 50 meters from where you think Bolus is. What do you do?
As Viola is nimbly working her way up, and obviously endangered in some way, she calls out to the other elf. "No thanks! Dad was always adamant about not accepting rides from strangers on betentacled hawks with one-or-more-too-many-eyes. Plus there are about ten more people than you could carry. Ima get them loose, then we can do something about the orcs!
16/18
Viola leaves the arrow where it was, cursing well above her breath and using her other leg to clamber up the line.. And then begin the much simpler (and in theory, covered) descent to the other side of the crane. Once there, she'll do one of two things, depending on what Halwyr did: she'll either lower the cage down to ten feet above the orcs... Or she'll just turn off the brakes and let it crash land into them if it's already empty.
"Suit yourself, but I owe you. You are not dying on me now and I can help with that!" Halwyr guides the creature to the cage, allowing about as many willing prisoners to clamber aboard as possible.
Halwyr will refrain from casting any spells unless the situation calls for it.
Bolus's eyelids twitch like mad as a legion of enraged ghosts scream for blood inside his head.
I don't know... what you can do... but if you can ride the... drakes... drive.. them against your murderers... then you'll have... your vengeance.. on the orcs he manages to say out load but directed to the spirits in him. .
Sinathel and Eldar might think he's going crazy.
"Sorry! Either is still a no. Both is a definite no!" she called as she continued to monkey her way around.
Olivius is naturally unwilling to leave his ally and second closest friend besides Sinathel exposed. Without missing a beat he leaps down beisde her, drawing the Spirit Dagger in the process of the fall.
Unfortunately, as Yala should know by now, melee is about as far from "his thing" as "philanthropy". He lands too far from the Orc to even bring his weapon to bear.
Bolus, you creep off south, not making any mention of bringing anyone else along with you. I'll say that Sinathel and Eldar follow you, but Dambreth seems interested in communing with Gaia, so he stayed behind a bit further.
As you stride off south, you feel a rage that does not belong to you welling up inside. The feelings are foreign - as a Guardian, you've always had a stronger handle on your emotions than...this. This is a rage of multiple dozens of slain ghosts, amplified by the time spent as an impotent spirit haunting this valley. You feel an intense desire to draw your weapon and charge screaming at the orcs that are less than 200 feet from you. You three approach a dead, blackened log that gives you cover from the nearest guard tower, which has Drake #3 that Olivius spotted resting atop it. This path, if you were to follow it down, would lead to the stage that the orc MC is shouting into a microphone from. You hear him bellowing in Orcish, spurring the crowd on - you can't understand the words but you can tell the tone. What do you do?
Dambreth: It sounds like you're using the Divine Guidance cleric move. What is a precept from your religion? Choose one from the list on that page that I linked and describe how you petition Gaia using it, and that'll inform how I answer your question.
Dambreth petitions the Goddess for knowledge that will help his friends destroy the Beacon. He ritually slashes his left arm with a small ceremonial dagger as he kneels on the ground, begin for guidance as his blood drips onto the earth.
|
Borak casts a disapproving eye as Viola shirks the free ride. Bah, morals are the coin the meek pay themselves to justify their own demise. To not do everything in your power to live is to invite Death. Still, one who would stand in the face of an onrushing fire is to be admired. Not emulated. But admired.
Borak secures his own seat on the flying horror as best he can and waits. Air tactics are a bit outside his pervue and he'd not jinx the mage by telling him his business.
Halwyr doesn't know about the plan with the ghosts and the drakes. He's mostly just concerned that the drakes might kill them all. He's not so sure about the effectiveness of fire on the oncoming drakes, given that they seem to breath it out, and he tries to remember what he's learned about them.
...But doesn't remember anything useful. The heat of the chase is getting to him.
Halwyr decides to play it safe for the few seconds left that that is an option. Craning around, he asks the assembled escapees, "Can anyone lend me some help here? In any way?"
|
|
As Lord Borak the Despoiler sets himself in as comfortable, or, at least, as solid a position as can be had, he hears the mage's request for aid.
A slow smile crawls across his face. Why, yes. Perhaps he can be of help.
"At the Battle of Stateira II, the DragonDragoons of North Aria sallied against the Arrow-Hawk Knights of Gak. The Dragoons came on in a classic loose-V formation, but the Gakians, unable to repel firepower of that magnitude, went into a scattered Dynamic, and wove amongst and between their ranks. All it took was one pair of Dragons to accidentally fly into each other, and the bloodlust at the heart of all reptiles kicked in. The dragons got to in-fighting between tribes that only they knew of, and the Gakians were free to harass the infantry lines of Aria.
So, what I'm saying is, drakes ain't entirely...stable. So get us outa here, but if you got one on ye, make sure to get two on ye...and fly right up the middle!
Put us down anywhere along the orc perimeter. Then...the Plan thickens!"
Borak is entirely aware that he's not explained any of the Plan to the others. He simply assumes that it's so obvious that none is needed.
"Sounds like a solid idea. If anyone here's a better, quicker flyer than I am, which isn't too hard, I'd prefer they tried the maneuver." While waiting for anyone else to step up, Halwyr attempts to create a diversion by filling the farthest away drake with lethal amounts of pain, as if it is being stabbed by one hundred swords!
|
|
"You don't have to be the best, you just have to be the quickest. Start flying away now or we might not have to worry about the drakes because we've all been killed by arrows," Borak says comfortingly to the Mage.
As the bard is pierced by an arrow, Borak realizes that another piece has fitted into place!
It's interesting to see the mysterious Elven mage that summoned a flying monster from the Abyss act so nobly. The flier clings to the cage bars with its horrible claws, and screams! The prisoners don't know, but it's because the flier's taking arrow shots. The prisoners back away from the flier at first, but gradually approach as Halwyr shouts for them to come aboard. With Lord Borak's help, you're able to save 2 of the prisoners - of the other two, one is shot dead from the back of the flier by an orc arrow, to the cheers of the crowd, and the other one slips and falls from the cage. Before you can even react, a tall half-orc reaches out of the crowd and grabs the prisoner who fell, who was a half-elf. The prisoner's screams pierce the air as he's torn apart. Over all the noise and shouting and screaming, Lord Borak's voice pierces all, as he reminisces boldly about past experiences.
Halwyr, you realize that you've saved as many prisoners as you could. You have Borak + 2 others on your flier's back, and your flight is noticeably slow and sluggish from the extra weight. Your drake struggles to fly away from the crowd, and you flare your magic and inspire suffering in the farthest drake, Drake #1.
All the drakes have taken to the skies by now. Everyone can see the fire-spitting lizards take to the sky and converge on the abyssal flier...
Viola, meanwhile, shakes her head. Noble as the elf mage seems, she's not letting one of his abominations be responsible for her life. Struggling and gasping with effort from the pain of her arrow wound, she manages to reach the top of the crane. The crane's structure is about 3 feet wide - it might as well be a sidewalk to a skilled acrobat like her. Still, as she begins to make her way down it, she can feel her blood leaking down her leg. Take 1 bleed damage, ignores armor obviously. You can see orcs jeering at you from the crane pilot's seat, laughing, their hands off the controls - for now. What do you do?
Viola hadn't actually expected for there to be anyone -at- the controls. There's no way she can actually overpower an orc... so it's going to call for either more finesse, or some sharp wit.
.
Viola decides to play an oldy but a goody. She isn't exactly a master, given that she's only ever watched it done... but it should be more than enough to do precisely what she has in mind. She's going to play a game of shells with the orc, but the shells are going to consist of 'herself', with the ball being the controls. Okay, so she's going to be playing the shell game, and the orc is going to be playing whack-a-mole with the controls. Slipping up could end quite badly for her... but no risk, no reward! Let's get the crane jumping and dancing amidst the crowd below!
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the orcish festival, Yala is getting her forearms covered in orc blood. The orc she's grasping gurgles and falls to his knees as her knife punctures his neck over and over again. His compatriot is surprised but made ready by the assault, and he blocks your surprise backstab, Olivius! You struggle against his superior strength for a moment, then break free and roll between his legs.
You quickly get to your feet behind the orc's back as he turns around, and as he does, he gets a rock to the face! You glance over your shoulder and see that Yala pitched it at him, leaving him wide open for a stab to the gut. You dispatch the orc quickly using teamwork and the element of surprise, but needed more of Yala's help than you'd like to admit.
Yala tosses a coin purse to you that contains 15gold pieces, and the two of you rejoin Bolus...
Dambreth is kneeling nearby to Bolus, having slashed himself (deal 1d4 damage to yourself, ignores armor) in petition for Gaia's aid. Dambreth, in seeking answers from the divine, becomes a beacon for divine intervention. This provides just the authority and boost to power that Bolus needs, as a paladin Guardian of Terminus, to convince the ghosts to attack one of the beasts that slew them.
However, even that effort is not enough to control all of the drakes. While Drakes 1 and 2 remain focused on attacking Halwyr's flier, Drake #4, which had just been attacked by Halwyr's magics, is left exposed. Drake #3 is nearby to Drake 4 and is similarly ensnared.
The ghosts need living spirits, whole souls, as guides to possess the drakes. YOU WILL BE THE INSTRUMENTS OF OUR REVENGE! the ghosts chorus, and everyone can hear them, not just Bolus. The screeching of the undead spirits, victims of the orcs' many games and tortures, pour out of Bolus, taking Bolus' and Dambreth's souls with them.
Dambreth, Bolus, your bodies crumple to the ground. Your eyes roll back in your heads. Thanks to the ghosts surrounding this place, combined with Bolus' Divine Authority and Dambreth's pleas to Gaia, you have taken control of Drakes 3 and 4 respectively.
You open your eyes and realize that you're high in the air, over the festival. Your sharp, draconic vision allows you to see the exact details of every orc face below you. You can hear every individual scream with your draconic ears. You try to speak and flames shoot from your mouth. Your arms are wings. You have a long, sinuous, reptilian tail. You're over 20 feet in length. You feel the chorusing of an undead choir singing in your mind, suppressing the true drakes to your control.
What do you do?
Bolus is incredibly disoriented for a few moments, it's only the sight of his slumped body from an incredibly high distance and the vengeful screams of the ghosts in the drake with him that allow him to orient himself.
From his vantage point he sees Olivius and Yala safe which reassures him that they don't need his protection for the moment, he also sees a bizarre non drake flying creature with four prisoners being attacked by two drakes and the fourth Drake acting as confused as he feels.
Need to coordinate Bolus thinks. He's a Guardian, not a grunt.
Gaining control of the drake's body he tests to see if he can control the drake's ability to communicate with other drakes with a Drakish screech and speech.
and dives down to do a fly by flame attack on the orcish stage.
It doesn't go well
The elf bard puts aside the pain of the arrow wound for the moment, bolting down the crane's structure to get to the driver's compartment. The orc at the driver's seat grasps the controls as you get closer, shaking the cage and the crane to try and jostle you loose, but too little, too late. The elf makes a flying leap and grasps the upper edge of the open window slot, using the momentum to slip inside the compartment. There, she's less than 6 inches away from the angry face of the crane operator.
What follows is a brief but intense dance within the cramped driver's compartment, the orc trying to draw his weapon but Viola shoving it back into its scabbard, baiting him into smashing his fists into various spots on the control panel, shoving levers and smashing buttons!
You hear and feel the crane moving. You dodge a swing of the orc's fist by throwing your body backward, and you accidentally turn off the emergency brake. With a groan, the crane drives forward into the mosh pit of orcs! You're panting with exertion and you realize that, even though the driver hasn't laid a finger on you yet, there's blood from your leg all over the compartment. Take another bleed damage. What do you do now?
Having a great deal of fun with this, Viola doesn't give up just yet... instead, she tries to get him to follow along in time with her inner metronome! She takes a moment to snap off the arrow-head as she clambers about in the cockpit, as part of her own beat, tugging the thing free from her leg with a wince... but continues trying to get the guy to drum with her, creating a rhythm that seems somehow ancient despite the obviously modern instruments she's working with. Her two-part rhythm working to heal her, even as her magic is twisted in some way...
Dambreth feels a loving hand remove him from his body and place him within the wonderful flying creature. He feels the animals fear and confusion as his soul invades its body. Fear not brother...the goddess of the world itself has placed me here to stop something that is prepared to destroy us all, including the other drakes and your friends the orcs. I mean to stop that.
Dambreth swoops down towards the beacon itself and flames it.
Olivius barely has time to take stock of the chaos when Bolus and Dambreth collapse. The screaming of the ghosts doesn't help sure him that things were alright.
Suddenly, two of the drakes start acting... funny. It's only when one of them attacks the beacon that he puts two and two together.
So there he was, hiding behind a log with Yala and Dead Guy while a crane plowed its way through a crowd of orcs. He didn't even know cranes could move like that! He takes a moment to catch his breath and passes two of his fire/acid bombs to Yala.
Now you won't have to use rocks. he smirks. Thanks, by the way.
Halwyr has noticed that drakes 3 and 4 have broken off pursuit, still following the other drakes but not attempting to attack. He thus prepares to end the chase quickly and decisively. "Everyone hold on to something...Yeeeaaah!" he warns, breaking off into a triumphant yell as he he urges his bound demon into a screaming power dive towards a ridge devoid of orcs.
High above the melee, Dambreth and Bolus are circling on wings of drakes. Bolus cries out in words made of flames, speaking the strange tongue of drakes - but the authority he wields is of his human form, not this drake form he rides. One of the drakes pursuing Halwyr, drake 2, breaks off and attacks you instead! At least you lured it away from the prisoners...
You do a dive-bomb fly-by attack of the MC orc on stage, but Drake 2 pursues you! It's a nimbler flier than you because it's been a drake all its life, and it tackles you midair, sending you flying into the stage itself! Take 1d10 damage, piercing 1, from the rending claws of the drake and from the collapsing stage structures all around you. Onstage, the orc crowd gasps as the lights spin crazily overhead and the MC's yells of terror are broadcasted over the speakers...
Dambreth has a different target in mind. Belching flame from his mouth, he flies off away from the festival itself, deeper into the valley where the actual beacon rests on a singular altar. All around it are kneeling priests who bow over and over again before the beacon. As the cleric in drake form flies closer, the beacon flashes blue lightning into the skies...and the drake is unexpectedly struck by the energy as he tries to burn its source! Dambreth, you come out the other side of your attack feeling...strange. The skin of your wings feels thinner, but the flames in your belly burn hotter. What did that beacon do to you?
You have little time to wonder. The priests that were bowing to the beacon get to their feet in rage, blasting fireballs of magic at you from below!
Meanwhile, in the crane driver's compartment...
bum-bum-kssshhh, the beat goes, as the orc swings his fists twice and then smashes the window of the crane.
bum-bum-SMASH as an orc tries to come in through the broken window into the driver's compartment, and Viola dodges a punch that accidentally impacts on the new orc's face.
There's healing in the rhythm that Viola uses, and once the arrow's gone, the bleeding stops, and she feels 100%...but as she looks down to check her wound for just an instant, she's suddenly grabbed from behind! An orc from the mosh pit you've driven into has reached into the cabin and grabbed your arms, holding you briefly still! Smirking, the crane driver draws his saber and makes a quick sideways slash at your belly! What do you do?
Near the southern guard tower...
Yala accepts the grenades, her hands trembling a little bit. You can tell she's got a ton of adrenaline going through her veins right now. She grins a little, uncertainly, then gestures to the chaos of the festival nearby. "C'mon," she says, "Your friends probably need our help. Whoa! What the hell?"
Her voice turns to a shriek of sudden surprise when Halwyr's flier, overburdened with prisoners, swings low overhead with a gurgling roar! Immediately behind the flier comes drake #1! This one's got mean eyes - it's the one that ignored Bolus' command to fight the orcs, and this one actually has an orc riding it! (That could be why it didn't rally to Bolus' cause...)
Regardless, the orc is laughing as the flier crashes to earth just beyond Eldar, Sinathel, Olivius, and Yala, sending Lord Borak, Halwyr, and the prisoners scattered, but unhurt. Roaring with exultation, the rider goads his drake onward, pouncing from above on the downed Abyssal flier! Your creation, its body riddled with arrows from the orc crowd it was flying over, screams a death cry as the drakerider commands its neck be torn out! What do you do?
"Everyone get clear! Get away from the drake and and the demon! Except you two," Halwyr shouts, then drops his voice to a whisper, summoning to his mind the words of some of his most powerful Abyssal death magic. "I have something in mind for you two. Sorry about this," he calls to his downed creation. Halwyr lets his power pour forth through his fingertips, letting it flow until it connects with the orc and the drake, sending up a ground-churning explosion of fire and concentrated lightning!
Dambreth feels a power growing within himself (theirselves? - he's not sure) after being hit by the bolt. His desire to destroy the beacon burns hotter than ever just as the drake's fire grows powerful. He dodges fireballs as he first climbs then swoops like a gigantic bird of prey towards the beacon, flaming fire as he dives.
Holy *%!* Olivius curses as the scene unfolds and the new mage casts his spell. His cover is just barely enough to save them from the rampaging beast and the death magic getting thrown about. He sees Yala's condition and smiles. She was at her best now. She has already shown a remarkable instinct for battle, and now was the perfect time to test it.
Battle was chaos. They were born to chaos, this pair, and now it was time to dance the dance of death.
He smiles at her, getting that same look he had when he lept down the mine shaft in the side of an active volcano or dodged toward the drake in the park.
In short, he was just as high as she was, but showed it less.
Don't use them on the drake! Is all he says before winking and darting off to the side, around the area where reality was going all screwy. His hands flash one, two, three times as he runs and throwing knives spin toward their targets.
Bolus leaps for Drake #2's throat seeking to wrestle it down on the ground and cause maximum damage to the panicked orcs.
Viola tries to use her legs to kick the sword back into its hilt, but is far too late in doing so. As a result, she tries to gauge the orc's swing to pull her body parallel to the earth just as the orc swings, hoping to cause the orc to slash his friend rather than her. She lifts her legs to his shoulders, seeking to wrap them around his head and pull... just to make sure he can't check his swing in time.
Succeed or fail, Viola will try to use her newfound (if bleeding!) position to break the first orc's grip on his weapon by throttling him into the side of the crane, arm-first.
And finally finished playing monkey-in-the-middle, covered in blood and sweat, she tries to twist free from the orc who has a grip on her arms using her grip on the crane-orc as leverage, even as she pants. Dangling upside down, from her legs still clinging to the crane operator, she goes for the sword, if she managed to knock it free. Whether or not she succeeds, she twists upwards into a tumble and tries to leap out of the now-broken window to try to clamber to something verging on freedom!
|
|
Lord Borak picks himself up from where the flying demon had unceremoniously thrown him, and stands clear as the mage's pyrotechnics go off.
Still, there's only a 13% probability that either mount or rider will be stopped by that, and he'll not let his rescuer take on the the pursuit all alone.
Besides, pursuit was part of the plan. He had counted on two rider chasing them, so this is more a crises than opportunity.
Well, _everything_ is an opportunity.
Raising the arrow he looted from the corpse, Borak calmly steps in front of the mage after his spell has stopped and assumes the stance of his Reactive Tactic.
"Come on then! You have slain our mount, but will you now let us go free?" he shouts at the orc. It doesn't matter if he understands him. Continued conflict stands at 86% regardless.
To the mage, he whispers, "I can hold him off, so continue to lay in to him, and a happy sword&shield we'll be!"
The wraithlander will try to aid his bleeding companion. The one called Viola Lark
He moves as if gliding across the surface and in a quick motion slashes at her attacker
First, the hillside group...
Olivius, the heightened chaos all around you, the death and destruction that sprung forth the moment you pressed the trigger on that RPG, have adrenaline of unprecedented levels flowing through you. Time slows down, and your eyes can pick out exactly where they want your daggers to go in a heartbeat. Your arm curves back as you twist your body partially around, flinging the daggers one, two, three, as easy as breathing.
Your ears have been listening for the sounds of your thrown daggers all your life, and even amid the madness of battle you can still hear the quiet, satisfying hisss as your daggers pierce the air.
Your first dagger pierces the rider's eye and remains buried there. Your second dagger punctures his palm like a stigmata, ripping his grip clear of the reins. He screams in pain, but his orcish constitution allows him to remain gripped to the drake's back, clinging with his muscular legs.
The orc pitches forward, facedown on the drake's back, clutching his hand and howling. Thus, he gets a faceful of Halwyr's magic. The drake recoils as the dead blind-flier that Halwyr summoned is ignited in noxious gases, causing an explosion from within. The flames from the resultant blow-up engulf the rider's face, leaving it blackened, and he falls limp from the saddle. His heavy boot catches in the stirrup, and his body is crushed underneath the drake as the drake falls to the ground to escape the abyssal flier's explosion. The drake is down, but not out; it's just stunned very momentarily.
You all feel the ground trembling beneath your feet. The explosion from Halwyr's magic has an unintended side effect, weakening the ground beneath your feet! There's a sinkhole near where the body of the flier was, and it's widening rapidly...in the direction of Dambreth and Bolus' unconscious bodies!! You see Eldar dash off into the crowd of orcs like a wraith, trying to get to the prisoner cage in the middle; what do the rest of you do?
Second, the drakes...
Bolus, your damage calculations are correct.
The Guardian drives his host onward, spurred by the fury of the undead within him, and tackles the drake that was biting at him. You and the other drake are entwined in a grappling battle that thrashes in random directions, sending fire or a stray lash of 10 foot tail into the crowd. Your unbridled ferocity takes the drake off-guard, and the two of you roll off of the stage and into the mosh pit! From the stage ruins behind you, the orc MC climbs from the rubble and exults in orcish! This is how the orcs do festivals!
"BRASH GRABBA!" you hear from behind you; no longer over loudspeakers, but the MC is used to making himself heard.
You crushed a few orcs already during your fierce struggle with the drake (enemy drake:9/17 HP), but this clan is famous for breaking drakes to their will. After the initial rush into the crowd, some of the bolder, bigger orcs begin to circle you on the ground, brandishing weapons. They're moments from jumping you and pinning you down, what do you do?
Meanwhile, further in the valley, Dambreth is embracing the terror his drake form instills; the shadow of his wings overhead causes some of the less stout-hearted orcs below to flee the area. You see orcs fleeing in all directions when you divebomb the beacon, and one of them opens up a trapdoor in the side of the structure! You breathe your fire on the crystal, but one of the priests defies you!
You land on the altar. The beacon it is your mission to destroy is before you, on the stone table the orcs have made for it. Even now, lightning pierces the skies overhead, originating from that spot.
The biggest orc priest present, a young but massive specimen with tattoos covering every open inch of skin, strides forward. With a wordless cry of rage, he grasps the beacon in both hands and makes off with it! He's bounding away from you down the altar's steps, what do you do?
Last but not least, Viola and Eldar in the mosh pit near the drakes...
Viola, you take a punch to the face during your acrobatics, but you're able to roll with the worst of it. Still, it was an orc punch. Take 1d6-2 from your partial success. Everything else you attempted goes off more or less according to plan. After a few minutes of intense grappling, the driver orc is wedged half-in half-out of the door on one side, the one that grabbed you from behind is facedown on the floor of the crane's interior, the driver's saber is in your hand, and you're on the roof of the crane's cabin. However, that still leaves the problem of the mosh pit of orcs in every direction around you.
You suddenly see a figure racing toward you. He looks almost like an elf in build, wielding a longsword and a shield, but his appearance is otherworldly. The arm clutching the longsword that he swings desperately all around him is bluish, the sword ethereal and sparking with electricity. He's slain three unsuspecting orcs already in his mad charge to reach you, but the crowd is beginning to react to his presence. There's nothing orcs love more than mobbing, and their weapons are already drawn. Arrows are beginning to fly through the air, both at you and in the direction of the newcomer. One already has punctured his shield and injured his shield arm, Eldar, take 1d6-2 damage. Eldar, Viola, what do you do?
Okay, no more explosions, Halwyr thinks to himself. No fliers either, can't have any more dependents. "Hobgoblin!" he shouts. "Can you take down the drake, or keep it busy? I need some time!" Halwyr sits on the ground cross-legged, beginning to cast before he notices the bodies. He shouts to the other prisoners, "Grab those guys, don't let them sink!" and resumes his spell. It begins with a barely perceptible wumwumwumwumwumwumwumwum but the young mage's purpose becomes clear as the sound breaks into a blasting . Through force of will and telekinetic power, Halwyr is attempting to close the sinkhole and control the bluff!
Bolus-Drake realizes that he's being surrounded and also that the number of orcs has not thinned nearly enough for his satisfaction (or of the ghosts inside him for that matter). Leaping off the drake he had by the throat Bolus turns his bulk around and rushes back towards what seems to be the leader of this pack, the MC. Barreling through the orcs in his way
Gotta get the beacon to Olivius so he can blow it up... The whole vow not to kill thing keeping him from just turning the Orc into Roasted Orc with his flames.
Dambreth the drake launches himself back into the air after the Orc. With a few beats of his wings, Dambreth gains altitude and then dives at the Orc looking to grab him in his claws to carry back to his friends...
Hearing the mage give orders to secure the bodies of his freinds, Olivius focuses on the task at hand. He dances across the loose ground, skipping from point to point as the earth gives way. He draws his Spirit Blade.
He runs up beside the drake's stunned head, launches himself up onto its neck, and plunges the enchanted blade down at the base of the skull.
Hm. Now that she was out of the Mosh... it was a bit windy up here. And full of arrows. But more windy. Viola was a huge fan of serene moments like this one. Times when you could just relax and take your time thinking about things.
Bored now.
Her eyes darted over the battlefield. Weird skeletal thing running towards her from the direction of an explosion of unnatural flames. Check. Another one of the crazy not-so-blind-elf's minions. Nope nope nope. Dragon wreaking havoc within the MC's stand? And fighting another dragon? Heck yes! Viola was a huge fan of helping dragons when they weren't trying to eat her. That made her choices super simple.
Step one... heal the dragon. She quickly taps out a beat, wishing she had her gear - the hissing of flying around always added in some lovely rhythm in the form of beatboxing - in order to heal the dragon. If it was gonna stick its neck out for them, she might as well make sure it didn't... you know... die. After tapping out the rhythm, and not missing a beat, she sticks her hands back into the crane, and looks at the controls, while everyone is wedged in place.
Viola bumps the controls that seemed to have a positive effect on the 'turning' portion of the crane, aiming to swing the cage like a wrecking ball. A wrecking ball designed to clear anything off of the Friendly Drake's tail.
Synchronicity (+2 when aided) to Borak
Having taken a few hits, he continues with his assault. These...orcs... will soon fall into the abyss of Death. He will draw attention to himself while the rest get to the objective
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Lord Borak simply nods at the mage.
The advice he gave maneuvered the here on purpose. The ground is obviously igneous, a fact he knows well, which when exposed to catastrophic explosions, is well-known to give in to subterranean sink-holes, but can often shore up after a small duration. So, too, such ground acts like a sounding-box to magical emanations, meaning that the predictable attempt the mage is using to retard the collapsing ground is destined for success.
Without worry, Borak sees the thief dealing good damage to the dragon,and he sprints to move the two unconscious bodies away.
...
Just in case.
Halwyr, your desperate spell to keep the ground from collapsing into the caverns below almost fails, until you realize...Borak's calm demeanor is for a reason. The hobgoblin nods at you, his gesture pointing out the various rents in the earth that reverberate with your magic. Directing your spell at them solidifies your effort just enough that you're able to fundamentally stop the ground from collapsing beneath the drake's body.
However, your spell took complete and utter focus for a few seconds. During that time, the ground beneath your feet shifted, and you did not have the presence of mind to react quickly enough. Rocks close together around your left foot like the pincer of some colossal crustacean, and pain shoots up from the squeeze. Take 1d4 damage, and your foot is crushed...until your foot recovers, you move at half speed, or take damage to move at full speed. I decide how much damage you'd take each time you push yourself. The two prisoners you rescued move to your aid immediately, lifting you out of the squeezing earth and supporting you in case you fall.
Acting quickly, Olivius darts across the shifting earth, dodging the stray rocks knocked loose by Halwyr's desperate telekinesis. His aggressive backstab would have punished him, were the drake not recovering from the stunning wound to the head...as it was, however, the thief's gambit pays off in spades. For the second time in one day, Olivius' Spirit Dagger claims the life of a Drake. All nearby can see the dagger glowing a brilliant white as the soul of its victim is claimed, the illumination obscuring all visible details. When the light fades away again a moment later, the dagger has visibly transformed, growing draconic scales along the back of the hilt, and remaking the hilt's crossguard into drake claws.
Meanwhile, Bolus-the-drake attempts to break free of his deadly embrace with the other drake he was fighting, his attention focused solely on the loudmouthed orcish MC. Gathering up all his strength over the protesting will of the drake he's riding, forcing himself against the restraining nets, ropes, and chains of the orcs all around him...muscling over his nearly-fallen drake opponent, Bolus nearly fails, for all of his determination! He reaches the stage, but just before he pounces, all teeth exposed, on the MC, the MC sings a long note on his microphone. "WAAAAAAAAGHH!!!" the MC sings, on a surprisingly pitch-perfect high D note, ending his scream on a rock and roll roar. Your careening charge nearly falters, and then...
From behind you, unexpected help comes! Eldar cleaves his way through the orcs viciously, his sword and shield alike killing orcs by crushing, stabbing, slashing or smashing, racking up a bodycount of 3 more of the orc crowd. Lightning bolts arc from his sword through his victims' bodies, creating chain lighting that strikes a whole posse more of them! This helps to clear a path for the crane, piloted by the mad elf, Viola! Her crane's tip smashes into the main speakers array on top of the stage, interrupting the MC's barbaric yawping! Bolus strikes!
For all that this tribe of orcs collectively tame drakes, that doesn't change that 1v1, a drake stomps an orc every time. You tear out the MC's throat with terrifying ease, Bolus, surprising yourself at your own animalistic ferocity. The ghosts in your mind scream in approval, seeking to drive your bloodlust higher. Their thirst for vengeance is not yet slaked. Oh no. Not yet.
Unbeknownst to Bolus, Viola is in trouble herself! The crowd that was trying to secure Bolus-drake now closes in around the next best target, the she-elf stealing the crane! The pilot's door is torn clean off its hinges by a raging hobgoblin in the crowd that hurls the door away, killing another three orcs that are instantly replaced. The hobgoblin has massive tusks that point downward to give it a look of a perpetual frown, and a single horn growing from his forehead. With terrifying speed he makes to grab your wrist and toss you outside the crane to the crowd, what do you do?