"Do not take us for the pitiful bandits; we are true warriors, chosen of the gods themselves! Your patron is no match for a true deity. Come! Come and get me!"
Jemini moves, as she speaks, southwards until she leaves the hoard of spirits and comes close to Tandlara. She whispers to her: "Sorry, the spirits didn't behave quite the way I expected them to."
EDIT:
Taisper blinks twice as the mist rises up around them. "Hm." He turns and walks straight east until he comes out the edge, a quick glance over his shoulder confirming the location of his target. As he walks he pulls his bow off his back. Abruptly he stops, at the very edge of his bow's most effective range, and drops his morningstar at his feet. In one smooth motion he yanks an arrow out of his quiver and fires, the arrow sailing over the field and smacking into the Stag Lord's shoulder.
Practice practice practice. Thanks Zander. The young inquisitor says nothing, only watches the movement of the other figures on the battlefield, waiting to see if he will need to cast aside his bow, or if he'll be able to get in another shot before the melee is joined.
Berrin holds his sword in both hands, waiting for their enemy to come closer.
The Stag Lord looks down at Taisper's arrow sticking out of his shoulder and barks out a laugh. "That is the best you can do?" He tears the arrow out of his skin, his massive hand easily breaking the shaft, and throws it to the ground. With a roar, he charges towards Taisper in retaliation. The ground thunders as his feet crash against the ground, his sword raised to strike the young man.
Berrin, having waited for a moment until the Stag Lord came into adequate range, charges forward to meet him. Coming up from behind Taisper and barely missing him, Berrin lunges forward with his sword. The Stag Lord and Berrin nearly collide, with the former landing a solid cut on the midsection of the latter. The Stag Lord seems barely bothered, turning his gaze to Berrin rather than Taisper. Despite Berrin's impressive height and stature, the Stag Lord looms over him as a man looms over a child.
Round 1, Initiative 5
Greataxe (rage, charge, power attack)
Its been an unusual experience for Corwin. Worrying about different people. He doesn't even know the names of most of the men fighting and bleeding out in the dirt. But he finds he does care. He doesn't want them to die. Seeing the Stag Lord round the cloud and attack Berrin and Taisper he lets the rage come. It fills him up, makes him strong. Maybe this is the day he dies but he swears before all the gods that the Stag Lord will feel his axe before he does.
Charging smoothly across the ground he finds himself screaming. RAAARGH! Cutting left and right with his axe, he manages to use the momentum of the charge to dip the Stag Lord's sword out of alignment and drives a vertical cut to his hip.
Tandlara races forward after Corwin, and seeing Jemini and Taispar protected by their own magicks and powers, she lays a protective glamer on him, hoping to ward him from harm as he faces the enormous Stag Lord.
I need to curse him. It has to work, it has to.
Akiros rushes forward, pulling out his impressive sword along with a steel shield. It is far larger and less elegant than the dueling swords favored in Mivon, but he wields it with considerable grace. He slips the sword into Berrin's armor expertly, avoiding the strong points in favor of the small areas not completely covered by the breastplate. He withdraws the sword slick with Berrin's blood, his eyes focused entirely on the threat to his liege. He is cold and emotionless, a deadly machine in combat.
Taisper, watching Akiros join the fray, quickly tosses his bow aside and picks up his morningstar. The spiked head of the magicked weapon flashes gold, once, when it is reconnected with his hand. The inquisitor jogs around behind the Stag Lord, his eyes glowing flatly as he gains divine insight into the weak parts of the bandit lord's defenses. In just a few seconds, he will be able to strike...
Jemini heads a long, towards the sound of fighting, "Come, quickly! It doesn't sound like the boys are having an easy time!"
The pitched battle to the northeast rages on. Large battles can take hours or even days to finish, as they are largely about holding men in reserve to handle fatigue and morale. A skirmish between two small forces can be over in mere minutes if one side gains an advantage. In this battle, both forces are almost entirely engaged immediately. Kesten Garess leads his mounted soldiers along the flank of the bandit army, having some success in striking down a few of them. One of the bandits strikes one of the horses at the legs, taking down the beast crushing its rider underneath. Several men on each side lay dead or wounded on the ground, with the two clerics doing the best they can to heal those they can save.
As the reserve bandits approach on horseback from the south, Alexius stands prepared. He casts a spell with the complex hand gestures common in Cheliax, a cultural custom derived from the arcane binding rituals of their devil-summoners. Just as he appeared, a dozen Hellknights appear with magical invisibility stripped away. They stand as silent, deadly behemoths. The bandits slow their charge, for the Hellknights' reputation carries even to the lawless Stolen Lands.
The Stag Lord raises his massive sword above his head and lets out a primal roar. It carries over to his own men, who roar in response even as they fight. Akiros is the only one who seems unaffected by the battle shout. The Stag Lord brings his greatsword down on both Corwin and Berrin in a downward slash. There is no subtlety to the blow, unlike Akiros's skillful ability with his own sword. It is either dodge or die. A direct hit could likely slay a dragon where it stands. Corwin does his best to twist away from his attack, but the sword slashes deeply into his flesh. Blood sprays out from the wound, causing Corwin to take a few steps back before realizing that he still lives. Berrin, for his part, deftly moves so that his fine armor takes the worst of the blow. It dents the breastplate, nearly gouging a hole in the face of the dragon he had embossed on it, but Berrin is himself unharmed. With a vicious smile underneath his huge horned helmet, the Stag Lord steps side by side with Akiros, then roars again.
Berrin recovers quickly from being attacked by both Akiros and the Stag Lord. Switching into a more defensive stance with his upraised shield, he strikes at the Stag Lord with a low strike. He draws blood against the barbarian king, then carries the strike into a cut on Akiros's thigh. He uses the momentum of his strike to twirl into the mist of ghosts summoned by Jemini, raising his shield again to ward off Akiros's next attack.
Round 1, Initiative 5
Greataxe (pa)
Corwin's vision is filmed through a red lens. His blood streams down his leg from the sword wound. A dim part of his brain catalogs its severity but that part isn't in charge right now. With the Stag Lord disengaged he circles the warrior, passing Taisper and coming it at him from the side. His blow is only just a hit. The blow is not as hard as the one that nearly felled him but even with his death seemingly approaching he finds himself laughing.
Bet you felt that you bastard!
Tandlara rushes forwards, I need to even the odds. She stares at the Stag Lords mighty form as he fights her freinds, blood spraying on both sides, he is a monolith, a force of nature. I will not bend him. But though the trunk is mighty, the roots can be undermined.
Suddenly filled with an echo of her power of old her eyes begin to glow as she fills with arcane might, her blood singing as she curses Akiros.
Her power floods her as the words of the curse, which shudders through the knights form like a hammer blow, fade and meld into the words of a true incantation, twin spiralling circles of runes surround her wrist and her eyes glow brightly, power leaking from them like steam from a boiling cauldron of arcane potentiality, she speaks a word of power and the power is mirrored in Akiros' own eyes.
Akiros seems to take his blinding with a stoic acceptance, complimenting Tandlara on the attack while simultaneously informing the Stag Lord of his condition. "It is a wise choice to blind an enemy when given the opportunity." As Berrin takes a step forward to take advantage of Akiros's inability to see, the exiled swordsman shifts his grip on his bastard sword and strikes at Berrin with a sudden sideways slash. The sinuous strike cuts into his stomach, just below the breastplate's edge. Blood pours out of the wound, soaking Berrin's pants and dripping down his legs. The burly warrior struggles to stay standing, grievously wounded. "However, you left my ability to hear." He holds his shield up, unable to see, but still doing his best to survive retaliation.
Taisper's eyes widen in horror as apparitions of the same hideous fey from so many days ago appear to him in all their terrible glory. The patron! Oh no... The immediate effect of this brings back a flood of memories and emotions; happier times, angrier times, a wash of emotion that crushes the teenager's heart and leaves him gasping and shaken, his eyes flooded with tears.
He is about to swing, his arms feeling like rope in their limp uselessness, but he checks himself. no. pray. you are small. you are weak. but He is not. Time seems to stop all around Taisper. He closes his eyes and prays as hard as he ever has before; prays for strength to help his companions and help himself, to help found a new civilization in these wild lands and conquer the crazed chaos of the fey that support the abomination fighting before him.
As has happened so many times before, Taisper feels the holy light of the Master of the First Vault fill him up, replacing the doubt and emptiness in his soul, crushing the fear and dismissing the weakness with casual scorn. The Lawgiver takes control of his arm and reveals to him a single small weak spot in the Stag Lord's defenses. The inquisitor speaks thanks out loud, clearly, to his Lord -- "...yracx zuo sz hunt..." -- and wastes no time; with a single smooth thrust he jabs a spike of his morningstar into the Stag Lord's side, and tears away a chunk of flesh with a violent jerk, spitting more of the beast-man's blood out onto the grass.
One day cobblestones will be here...one day...
"Don't tempt the fates Stag Lord! Surrender now, there's plenty of opportunity in these lands; your second-in-command puts great faith into who you can be. Call the word to stay my blade!" Jemini's attacks are fast and furious, with incredible accuracy and conviction each of her slashes leave bleeding gashes on the giant before her.
Surrounded by his enemies, the Stag Lord seems to be fighting for his life. From under his helmet of bone, a smile appears on his scarred lips. In the midst of the bloodshed, as the others cut and wound him, he seems the closest to happy that they have ever seen him as his end possibly nears. He delivers a crushing stroke towards the red-haired heir of Lebeda, who barely steps out of the way of the deadly attack. He carries through, spinning to attack Corwin. He sniffs the air as he turns, locking eyes with him. "I can smell the treacherous blood that runs through your veins, Surtova! That throne is my birthright!" He brings his sword up, then downward towards the mysterious man who so recently joined their cause. The greatsword splits the steel of his breastplate as if were made of soft wood, deeply cutting into his chest from the collarbone. A huge glut of blood sprays out of his body, a sight that leaves little doubt as to the lethality of the attack. Corwin tumbles to the ground, his axe slipping out of his hands as he crumbles. The warm spray of his blood covers the Stag Lord, who let's out another roar that shakes the ground. "Fall before me!"
Berrin is barely capable of staying on his feet, much less delivering a solid blow against his blinded foe. Akiros listens as he grunts in pain during his swing and raises his shield up at just the right time. The blow echoes off his shield, harmlessly deflected to the ground. Berrin backpedals, waiting to get a better position in the spirits, then shouts a challenge at Akiros. "Hey, Akiros! I hear you can't see anymore. Were you blind the day you killed that woman in Mivon too?"
Time doesn't slow down for Corwin. There is no frozen moment where he relives his life and the choices that brought him to this place.
No it all happens extremely quickly.
There is pain and then blankness and only time for one quick thought.No! I will not go!
Tandlara continues moving, though she feels the echo of her ancient power fade from her after she had rendered Akiros blind. I have to stay trying, the Stag Lord, is and has always been the real danger.
She skirts the melee and gets a clear line of sight on the mighty man before casting a spell and unleashing a coruscating dark purple ray towards him.
It flies wide and she curses, readying herself for another attempt. I have to try and weaken him.
For the first time since the expedition's meeting of Akiros, they see him strike out in anger at Berrin's taunt. He shouts back at Berrin, losing his temper. "You have no idea what you're talking about!" He charges at Berrin recklessly, despite not knowing where he is. Having heard his taunt, he has a good idea of where he is, but strikes a vicious thrust into open air a few feet away from Berrin.
Good work Berrin, that leaves the Stag Lord more open for us. But she makes no move to attack the open side of Akiros.
Taisper cannot focus. Nothing is going well, which is fine, that's gonna happen, but he is not adapting, not staying focused, and his confidence is shot and he's letting it all get to him. The Master Hunters back home would flay him alive for such terrible performance. As he shuffles to his right, seeking a flanking position, he grits his teeth and tries to regain his balance and focus.
A yammering, babbling noise has started in the back of his mind, quietly, but is increasing in volume with every passing second. His eyes light up when he watches Akiros expose his side to Jemini, but his face falls in stunned surprise as the paladin fails to -- or chooses not to -- take advantage of the man's blinded and vulnerable state. It is the final straw, distracting the inquisitor to the point where he loses all connection to the divine and his morningstar misses the Stag Lord completely, whistling harmlessly through the air. wh-what is she DOING?!
Jemini's fury comes too a haphazard halt, "Taisper! FOCUS!" With her partner's concentration broken her own assault is lackluster - too much emphasis on defense. She summons what reserves she has to topple the Stag Lord's defenses, but it isn't enough. The Stag Lord takes another attack that draws blood, but he doesn't even flinch. "TAISPER! YOUR TRAINING!! ATTACK!"
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Jemini Lebeda, daughter of Oleksandro and Sarrona, has always seen a kaleidoscope of possible futures in all that she does. This advantage has served her well, placing her out of harm's way and in the right places at the right times. It is this very talent that brought her to the Stolen Lands, into the lands claimed by the Stag Lord, and to this moment. Time slows as she watches the huge bandit king prepare to thrust his massive weapon at her. A thousand possible futures flash before her eyes, with thousands of possible futures spawning from each choice. As she watches his sword come up against her, the possibilities coalesce: hundreds, then dozens, then a handful, then two. She sees just two possibilities to choose from, a singular choice that will have rippling consequences throughout what might be.
The first vision she sees, clear as day as the Stag Lord's sword comes ever closer, is her own death. His sword will pierce her, driven straight back to the hilt. Her life will be extinguished immediately, her spirit escaping her body as she falls to the ground. The Stag Lord will roar in victory, tear the sword out, and attack Taisper, but the Inquisitor of Abadar will have time to step out of the way.
The second vision is of Taisper's death. She sees herself sidestepping the greatsword, moving out of the way just in time. The Stag Lord will roar in anger and bring his sword to bear in a downward swing against the young man behind him. Taisper will not be fast enough to dodge it, the heavy blow tearing through his body without so much as resistance from his armor or his blessings. He will die with a shattered body, barely having enough time to ask Abadar why he has abandoned him.
Jemini has a choice to make: her life or Taisper's? The Stag Lord will kill one of them in the coming seconds, and her ability is suddenly a terrible burden of foreknowledge. She closes her eyes for a moment that seems to last forever, a moment that ends as soon as it begins. As she opens her eyes, she knows that she has made up her mind.
Jemini's visions of the future coalesce into certainties. Die or choose death. She knows with absolute certainty that her gods are watching over her, right now. That this is a test as much of faith, as it is of their ability to tame these Stolen Lands.
Taisper! No! He's still not ready, why are you looking in such dismay? Don't you see the Stag Lord before you? You may not die yet, Taisper!
Jemini's decision is made almost before the scales can be drawn. The greatsword of the Stag Lord plunges into her womb with such finality that her life fades from her as she feels the hilt push against her ravaged belly. I am ready for it. You won't get him Stag Lord! Justice will find you...
The Stag Lord's roar of victory echoes through the plains, his wild eyes turn to settle on Taisper. That frozen insect will die now and the usurpers will be vanquished. He swings his-- the weapon does not follow, with rage he looks back to the corpse of the paladin, why is she smiling? Serene?! Her dead hands have closed around the blade, not yielding the sword. With another roar, this time of anger, he tears the blade free, leaving Jemini's womb a barren sickly mess after birthing a giant sword. Turns and swings it at Taisper - but now the inquisitor is not frozen anymore. The blade swings through empty air.
"No, Jemini, no! You son of a b+~&+!" Berrin rushes past Akiros, eyes filled with rage over the Stag Lord's killing of their friend and leader. The blinded swordsman swings at him with little effect as he throws his shield to the ground and grabs his longsword firmly with both hands. He knows that his life is forfeit, that he will soon be as dead as Jemini is, or at least on his way like Corwin. The Stag Lord is simply strong, too strong, but Berrin Myrdal is not the sort of man to go down without taking his enemy down with him. He lunges forward, thrusting his sword as hard as he can into the Stag Lord's chest. It plunges deep into him, only to see Berrin twist it at the last minute. "This is for Jemini! Taisper, get him!" He defiantly brings his face close to the Stag Lord's helmet, roaring in what he knows is his final stand.
Round 4, Initiative 5
hp 21/21, AC 16
Ma:
SA: blindness with hero point for DC 25
Tandlara's alien mind trembled as it processed the all too human drama in front of her, the blood, the gore, the voilence, the reckless fight to maintain a tiny lifespan for just a few moments. Her body trembled at the terrible desperate power unveiled in the melee before, at the stunning vitality of humanity. Her fading power clutched at desperately, she tried desperately to turn it on the Stag Lord before she failed, it is the elven way of war to act before disaster. It is the elven way to sit without passion in the maelstrom, to direct it and prevail. It was the elven way to stay distant from others, for a long live builds too many scars on an all too mortal fragile heart.
Corwin fell the ground in a spray of bright red blood, so voilent the blow that blood splattered Tandlara's face even away from the conflict, in the shock she wiped blood from her eyelashes and stumbled forward, her sensitive hearing growning painful in the din of battle, he vision narrowing, narrowing just in time to see a serene expression cross Jemini's face, just in time to realise what she meant to do.
Tandlara fell to her kness as the sword pierced Jemini, she saw their moments together flash before her, watching Jemini and Svetlana share the moments only women understand as Tandlara sat nearby, feeling welcome, Jemini's strength as she led them, her kindness as she spoke with them. Jemini her newfound sister, her daughter, the mother of a thousand virtues, rend and torn by the Stag Lord, defiant to the last even as the flower of her existance was trampled. My. Dear. One.
Something inside Tandlara snapped, and she felt the power rush back up in her a terrible well, a font of subline rage. But this was not the implacable fued-anger of an elf, this was not the timeless vendetta of an eternal being. It was hot, fast and brutal. It was a taste of blood, it was a badger defending its den, it was a forge fire to hot even for steel, it was infinite, momentary and terrible. She felt the draw reach out, she felt the awesome power wrench her shuddering into the air like a marrionette, Riddleskin burst from his pouch glowing, he floated infront of her, and in his tiny black eyes she saw nothing, her old friend was gone, a vessel now for her rage, her incandescent power, this was not a thing of the Sovyrian, this was not a power of preservation. Through Riddleskin's eyes she felt her patron, the attention turned on her in full, the bargain being paid in blood.
She clenched her fist and the bond burned, Riddlskin replaced by blue fire, her rage burst the dams, flowing out of her and in through the Stag Lords eyes, wordless feral.
Too human.
It failed. The moment passed, and it cost her something deep within her, the power spent, her familiar gone, her friends dead. Tandlara felt something break but she could return to elven detachment, and so was lost in the depth of human sorrow. She crumpled like a broken doll, tears running down her face, a high heart-wrenching keening bursting from her lips.
There is a voice inside Tandlara's head. 'Good, my dear. A beautiful sacrifiiiiice. Youuuur caaaaalllls have been noted. Youuuur teaaaaars are nooooot in vaiiiin.' With a rush of energy, the darkest and foulest magic she has ever felt, waves of death flow out from the bereaved elf. The grass withers and dies around her feet, a circle where no life will ever live again. The Stag Lord's eyes turn to her, and they meet for the briefest of moments. If the Stag Lord were to live to be an old man, he would never forget the utter hatred in those eyes. They are the last thing he sees as his vision is snuffed out. His eyes burst like over-ripened grapes, covering his face in dark ichor along with Jemini's lifeblood. He growls out his scream, a primal roar of pain that brings a cruel smile to her lips. It triggers a brief memory from a lifetime ago, the roar of the dragon that stole her love in his fiery breath. This is for him as much as it is for Jemini, for Corwin, for Berrin and Taisper and Verik and Zander.
The babbling suddenly becomes a shriek, and parts of Taisper's brain just shut down. He knows that he will feel this, but that will come later. He understands in only the vaguest way a sentient being can understand. The teenager is simply not home.
He floats out and above himself, and watches as Jemini's body lightly floats to the earth, like the feather of an angel's wing, lightly landing with grace and beauty. So blessed, even in death.
A force turns his head away, and he watches as the lawgiver stands behind him and redirects his arms, his limp and useless arms that were about to miss the target yet again, and drives the morningstar into the side of the Stag Lord's neck and violently tears out about an inch of his carotid artery.
He watches as the Stag Lord falls to the ground, a colossal crashing nothing at all like the graceful, almost elegant fall of Jemini's corpse.
He watches himself say something but cannot hear the words.
He sees Jemini's punctured form, he sees poor Corwin, lying on the ground alive but so badly hurt; Berrin, still standing but also so hurt. He sees Tandlara weeping, and he sees himself, covered in the blood of others, but completely unhurt.
Completely unhurt.
The voice says you failed kid, and you failed bad, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it is me
Reality rudely reasserts itself and Taisper is back in the moment. He puts a boot on the Stag Lord's head and turns to face the other side of the battlefield. He screams, and it is the scream of a man who has lost family. It is the scream of a man trying to find order in the worst kind of chaos, it is the scream of someone who is no longer remotely sane.
""
Silent tears pour down the golden-eyed inquisitor's face. He holds his weapon aloft, the head glowing faintly with divine power.
The Stag Lord crashes down to his hands and knees, the sword falling from his hand. The blood flows freely from his wounds as the life force quickly ebbs from him. All eyes from the battle move to their skirmish. The battle has been equally short and brutal, with dozens dead on both sides. Alexius turns to see, while his illusionary Hellknights dissolve from view. They see the Stag Lord, a man of immense power and strength, brought down by the brave sacrifices of the expedition of free men and women. The Stag Lord's helm, that great horned skull, falls to the ground. The man underneath has a face burned beyond recognition, with scar tissue rippling in waves across his bald, scarred skull. He looks up for a brief moment, eyes torn out by Tandlara's dark magic. His shaking hand reaches to a ring on a necklace under his armor, a token too small to notice before. He holds it out, trembling as he breathes his last, and utters a chilling warning.
"Choral. Is. Coming."
With a crash that shakes the ground, the bandit king of the Stolen Lands falls to the ground. The ring falls out of his dead hand. It is a small ring, much too small for the Stag Lord's fingers, which each seemed as thick as a man's arm. It looks like it was made for a child. The top of the ring has a seal on it: a two-headed dragon, with one head breathing fire and the other holding a sword.
Still weeping Tandlara manages to come to her feet and moves over to Corwin, she kneels before him, and brushes the hair of his face, trying to compose him, while avoiding staring at the immense wound he bears. Then with a shock her keen elven eyes notice his chest rising and falling.
Gasping, with tears still leaving tracks on her smooth cheeks, she grabs the bottom of her tunic and tears several large strips from it, leaving her midriff exposed almost to her ribs. She carefully cleans the wound, then binds it on both sides, lifting the man gentle from the sides, unable to truly move his impressive bulk.
She can tell the bindings aren't anough, but they will stop him from dying immediately. With a hope rising in her heart she stumbles over to Jemini, but she knows what she will find before she checks. The beautiful woman's fire is extinguished, her body ruined, and her spirit fled. Kneeling to beside Jemini she cleans off her face with a remaining bit of tunic and smoothes her hair as she weeps, silently now, for her fallen friend.
I wish it had been me. You had so much still to do.
Verik approaches the battlefield, trotting across the clearing to reach his fellows. At first he seems relieved, for he can see his cousin looming tall over his fallen enemy, as well as a standing Berrin’s breastplate glinting from the sunlight, and Tandlara moving from a fallen man to someone else. They have prevailed, with Taisper’s words clearly heralding the Stag Lord’s demise. Soon his face changes to one of concern, and as he approaches his eyes drift to Tandlara, kneeling over someone unseen behind the massive fallen bulk of the Stag Lord. His cousin’s face seems crazed and contorted. Verik’s mind races as he ticks off his companions. And then he knows who is missing. He can see Jemini’s form now, lying just beyond the Stag Lord, unmoving. Still. Silent.
“Jemini! Wh…why are you all just standing there if she cannot get herself up I…no No NO!”
He sprints the remainder of the way to them, past his dear cousin, whose look of madness and fury sends chills down his spine, to tear-stricken Tandlara, whose look of utter grief hits him like a knife thrust to the heart. He falls to his knees at Jemini’s body near Berrin, but he knows, he KNOWS by Berrin’s grim face that it is too late. He holds his hands out over her dreadful wound, as if he could cure it, take it all away. Verik’s face is twisted in a mask of pain.
Why? Why Master? She…she was not yours I know, but she was a Servant of Light, and would have done your work here to bring Order and civilization to this place! Does she not deserve more than this? Why would you forsake her! Why would you forsake me? T…Taisper was here to do your Will, could have stopped him before he struck! Damn you! Why why why why why why…NO!
Verik gasps then, as he has not allowed himself to breathe despite his windedness in reaching them here. The tears start to flow freely now, but he says nothing, his eyes shut as he twists his head in some internal struggle only he knows, his hands still out just inches over Jemini’s body, visibly shaking.
No. No that is not what has happened here. I…I know that, though I want to be selfish. I…please forgive me, Great Abadar. I know you have helped us this day, aided HER, where you could, but this was the contest between Chaos and Law, between Weal and Woe. I know it. A sacrifice was made to prevail here. I will not turn from your Light now, Master. She gave her life to see Order come to these lands, and do your Will. I have to make sure that has meaning now. Forgive me…
“I cannot revive her…” Verik’s voice breaks and he pauses before continuing on, looking up at Berrin, withdrawing his hands. “I cannot bring her back. By the Light of the Lawgiver, I wish I was here with you all. I know we agreed to it, but I should have been here for you. That is my burden, now.”
Verik touches Tandlara’s hand briefly as she kneels next to him, though he cannot look at her directly. He stands up heavily, and places a steadying hand upon Berrin’s shoulder, forcing his tear-laden eyes to start seeing with care, critically examining his wounds for the first time. “Gods and Keys…” He draws a sharp intake of breath, and tightens his grip as if to keep Berrin from falling over. “You should not be standing with that, though I’m no expert healer. Hold still.”
Verik calls back over his shoulder to the others. “Tandlara? Taisper? Are you hurt? Does Corwin still draw breath, Tandlara? I saw you by him when I approached. I have a little power left to channel still, and will use it to heal what can be healed.”
He looks down at the massive hulking form of the Stag Lord, his life-blood oozing out from several wounds, staining the ground around him, his grotesque eye cavities a mark of deserved retribution for what he did here. “By my Master’s Gavel, you shall not receive my blessing from this, you blasted bloody thrice-damned monster. Rot in the Abyss, or whatever place your dark patrons have prepared for you.”
"Nah Verik, I'm not hurt. Hey Berrin, here; let me help you with that." Taisper approaches the badly hurt warrior and sends another rippling pulse of healing energy through the man, closing up his wounds even more. He then gives a small sniff and walks over to the fallen Stag Lord. "Hey Akiros, I want you to listen to this sound. This is the sound of me caving in your lord's head. I want you to throw your sword down and come talk, come help get the rest of these men to surrender."
Taisper calmly takes the helmet off the Stag Lord, raises his morningstar high, and brings it down on the man's head; *WHUD*
Again.
*WHUD*
Again.
*WHUD*
The head splits. Taisper does not stop.
*WHUD*
Again.
*WHUD*
He stops, and looks at Akiros. "He's as dead as dead can be, Akiros man. What say you now? Where you standing? Talk to me."
Verik watches almost in helpless fascination as Taisper walks over to the Stag Lord after healing Berrin – healed him with more power and little effort than his own feeble channeling – and calls to Akiros as he smashes his liege’s head to mush. A sick feeling starts to take him despite all the dreadful carnage that he has seen in this short battle, but he cannot turn away.
Ghost of Malthus! Master, please please please free my cousin from this madness, this darkness, whatever this is? I should do something now, but why am I not calling him down? Why do I stay my hand? This is wrong! Wrong wrong wrong! Wrong and beyond all codes of battle! Or maybe it isn’t? Am I wrong? I am no Iomedaean, but wouldn’t our Justicars say this goes beyond the codes? Or would they stand by as I do, while one of our Inquisitors mashes his foul brains into the soil, the spikes tearing out bits even as the ball smashes them to pulp…oh Gods stop or you’re going to heave all over the…
Verik, his face ashen and his jaw clenched, finally waves a hand towards his cousin, just able to stammer out a few words, for any more would surely mean a spilling of his stomach near Berrin’s boots. “Taisper, enough man. He gets the point…”
He abruptly stops as his mind reels from the inadvertent and incredibly poor pun, his eyes briefly flickering to Taisper’s. Fine choice of words there you stupid oaf! Next you’ll start up with Taisper’s duck joke! Order your mind as you have been taught and think! Wait, if Akiros is not dead or defeated…is he hiding? Ready yourself man!
“Akiros. Akiros?” He turns to the mists, with a hand on his own bloodied Morningstar, though he no longer wishes to wield it again. Ever. “You heard the Chosen’s words! You have heard his Judgment upon your master! Surrender now, call down your few remaining men to surrender themselves, and you shall be Judged fairly by the laws of civilized men! More than fair, considering your part in all of this I’d say, and what would have been done to these folk had you been the victor. Akiros of Mivon, come forth!"
Akiros emerges slowly from the ghostly mists, which have begun to dissipate. His sword is sheathed, and he carries it with the hilt pointed forward while he holds the scabbard. He walks unsteadily, though he strides with as much confidence and grace that a newly-blind, defeated exile can walk with. He presents his sword to whomever will take it. "I am defeated. My life is yours to do with as you see fit." He raises his voice to the remaining bandits, who have ceased fighting to a man but not relinquished their weapons. "Throw down your weapons! We are defeated! We ought to have some honor and dignity in this moment! I know we will be treated fairly!" One by one, the bandits surrender their swords to the nearest enemy soldier. Alexius collects six himself before marching his prisoners to the crowd growing near the two bodies on the ground.
The battle was not without casualties beyond Jemini and the Stag Lord. Of the men they began with, the defenders of Oleg's numbers only 17 uninjured, with another 22 in various states of injury. Some will die from their wounds. The bandits have fewer without injury, but more wounded. Zander supports Oleg with his one remaining arm over his shoulders, while the other arm is wrapped in a bloody stump above the elbow. Captain Walthon, the soldiers report, died as he took a killing blow meant for Kesten Garess. Jhod was knocked unconscious by a strike to the head as he knelt to heal a man, but yet lives. Several of the bandits persuaded by Taisper fled when the battle started, but Nicholas stood fast until he was cornered and killed by the bandits he betrayed.
With their surrender, the Battle of Oleg's Field is over. Those fighting for freedom and justice prevailed, but the cost was high. The sacrifices were made willingly. A new nation was born that day. A nation that would never forget the heroism and bravery of that day.