Atsu survives the demon's ripping claw, though he's getting a bit ragged. He focuses and the purple crystal in his terbutje emits a low glow and seems to trail a slight amount of purple mist as he swings it, almost like an afterimage.
He will then take a full round action charging up an item.
"They're too big for halflings. We have food and are making good time. Let's see if we can outrun them."
The riders seem to be heading towards the group, which would indicate that they have been spotted.
With the front line established, both Vaard and Teprin hold their position, ready to step in as the situation changes.
The demon furiously attacks, trying to kill before it succumbs.
Ashshar
'...if it can bleed, it can be killed.'
The next strike was to make the beast bleed. An underhanded swing was turned into a thrust at the point of contact, followed by a vicious twist of the blade.
___________________________________
Standard: Crippling Strike
The beast’s rending attacks punch right through Cole’s plating, and though he is aware of the venom seeping into his vital fluid channels, it has no effect … for now. His mind notes each plate and fiber that is torn, and some part of him — that piece of alien something that has been recently given him — is awoken, and he feels power flow steadily through his organs, slowly healing him.
But all that happens in the back of his mind. Cole, the war machine, adjusts his stance, favoring his undamaged side as he continues raining blows. The warmaul’s head crashes against carapace over and over, thundering down on the foe.
Cole's hammer rises and falls, and demonic ichor spurts and gushes from deep rents in the bebilith's armour. With a final shriek its legs give way and it slides over the edge, falling back into the depths.
Rehil shrugs. "Then we continue on our way, and will meet them."
He checks his bow and arrows, then his blades.
"Fast horses? It could be elves from Valenar. They are warriors. I thought we might go there after the jungle. Before we got tied up with dragons."
He checks his bow and arrows, then his blades.
Cole stands ready for more threats. His body is stone-still — warmaul half-raised in an aggressive stance — except for his gaze which tracks the lifeless body falling into the depths.
When it’s clear nothing else will attack, the great war engine inside his frame begins to quiet. But despite the big warforged shouldering his weapon, his frame doesn’t fully ease up. On one hand, you can visibly see the combat damage slowly, supernaturally repairing itself from the inside out. Organs close, muscle strands reknit, and even adamantine-lined armor plating wrenches itself back together. Despite that, though, Cole seems to be struggling with some other lingering effects of the battle … the bebelith’s venom, which rages its way through his system.
; fail, 2 con damage.
; fail, 2 con damage.
The usually stoic warrior bends as the venom runs its course. And while his frame seems mostly healed, he seems … withered.
He gives a weakened shoulder clap to Ashshar, “Well fought.” His monotone voice is quieter than usual, and his gaze sweeps the group, nodding at their apparent health, then lands on Atsu and Teprin. “We should move out. I don’t know how much more damage my frame can sustain before becoming more dead weight than you all can carry.”
He kicks a pulped dolgrim body down into the abyss, a far more emotional gesture than you are used to seeing from the warforged, then begins ka-THUNK-ing his way up the long ramp. “We can debrief as we march,” he rumbles over his shoulder.
Atsu slowly lowers his terbutje, the deep purple crystals still steaming and leaving trails of ectoplasm that vaporizes in the air.
"This is likely a symptom of those larger issues that we were discussing before," he finally says. "Bigger trouble is coming."
Like the warforged, Atsu is shriveled and his flesh seems to be sloughing off and rotten. He coughs wetly and says, "That creature's supernatural attack has savaged me. I am not going to be in any condition to fight for several days."
Talk looks on the approaching figures and makes sure his weapons are in easy reach. Wultram has been a steady ally so far but Tal knows nothing of these Valinar. Wultram has proven himself to be trustworthy ally, his opinion of these folk takes precedence.
"Valenar? In that case get ready to kill some murdering bastards. I would expect these to be raiders. I don't know about their relations with the halflings but back home it is practically kill on sight policy." Wultram notes on the matter, not bothering to hide his bias.
...
"You throw names around too much for someone who is so sensitive when we talk about your people. But you are right. We should be ready to kill them. We are strong, and the stories say they will take that as a challenge."
Rehil tugs the leather wraps on his left forearm tighter.
"Besides, I want one of those horses. They are famous for their speed and wind."
Ashshar
'Rest and reflect, but do not relax until you are certain of your safety..."
Crouching where the last swing was made, Ashshar sniffed at the blood on the blade, and let out a brief hiss of distaste. A nod of acknowledgement was given to Cole, "Well fought." The blade was wiped with a reasonably clean scrap and put away as they continued up path outwards.
Over the next few minutes the riders gradually approach, their route running to intercept the travellers. It becomes apparent that these are riders on horses, moving with great swiftness across the sparse grasslands. They are wrapped in robes and leggings which largely hide their features (and protect them from the harsh sun) though the reflected glint of their weapons makes it clear this is a warband. As they come closer they spread out into a loose skirmish line, revealing their numbers to be about twenty in total, directly in the path of the adventurers.
They slow to a stop about a quarter of a mile away. And wait.
Screams and shouts still echo from the depths. Teprin says, "I do not believe that this is yet over. We should make haste back to the fort."
"I will go. They are elves like me. Trail half a bowshot behind. "
Rehil leaves his pack on the dinosaur, but keeps his quiver, bow, the long-handled curve blade, and his knife. He lowers himself to the ground, hanging from the collarbone, then ribs of the tyrannosaurus skeleton. Hitting the ground, he swipes once or twice at the dust on his chain shirt before giving it up and begins a steady march toward the center of the elven line.
Tal follows Rehil off the dino and puts a hand on hold shoulder to stop him. "I'll go. Your skill with a bow would be more helpful from afar if it came to that."
Tal keeps his weapons sheathed but close at hand while he walks out to meet the elves.
Cole's eyes are drawn back down into the gloom below, and he doesn't break stride. "Agreed, Master Teprin. Lets double time it."
As Cole marches up the cavern ramps, he looks over at the group's newcomer. "So, you are Warden Commander Atsu. You just happened to be coming down our way when those things came up?" The warforged doesn't sound suspicious .. just curious and blunt. "Not that we don't appreciate your timing."
Tal and Rehil walk towards the line of horsemen. As they get within fifty yards the horses in the centre begin walking forward to meet them. By this point it is obvious that the slender riders are wrapped in the traditional robes of the Valenar. In the front, lounging in his saddle and idly spinning his double scimitar in his fingers as his horse plods forward, is an elf in a dusty tan robe with light blue leggings and keffiyeh. Weapon belts slung with daggers crisscross his chest and a bow and arrows sit within easy grabbing distance in a holster attached to his saddle. As they get within hailing distance he languidly signals with his free hand and the horses halt. He unwinds the veil that covers his face, revealing sharp features and eyes that glitter with intelligence above a long scar across his nose and one cheek.
He calls out, "Sairail, sor air tyr ialaezaelaer. Ai aezaelaer mysti mys shor si jhori tael eil ailaer Ai thol o, os thol shor ei mesaer os eis, eil ei baelystalaes shai air sai mia sai mae caelai sai ti."
He looks at Tal, and says in Common, "Forgive me my bad manners. I am Torlaes, son of Angarid, leader of this little warband."
"I actually came looking specifically for you. Visitors to Krezent are, as you might imagine, uncommon. Our seers have noticed some... disturbances... so I have come here to make sure that there aren't any unforeseen problems," says Atsu.
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Rehil is momentarily silent. How did he know Wultram's a necromancer? Then he replies breifly in elven.
Following Torlaes' lead he switches to Common.
"I am Rehil Ecraish. This is Tal'Va'Nocht. The shy one is Wultram Denka. His special magic is turning friends to enemies with his voice."
"Oh really?" replies Torlaes with a note of scepticism in his voice, "So why is he sitting on a giant dead lizard? And if his voice is so charming, why are you talking to me instead of him?"
The group drag their wounded bodies up the steep path. The calls and hoots from below continue unabated. As they climb up, they meet a group of shulassakar soldiers trotting down the other way. They halt and salute Atsu. "Warden-Commander, I see you have found the honoured guests. We should move swiftly - the other fortresses have all reported attacks from below."
"I am talking because we have too many enemies and not enough friends. The mage's pride and suspicion overrule his brain and he insults people he talks to. "
"But he is a strong necromancer, and a good ally in a fight. We spent months together in the jungle fighting the black scaled lizardfolk."