The illusion around the disguised hag sloughs off her body to Akiros's cloudy eyes. This black-skinned, hulking hag screeches as his sword cuts through her. He and Jemini can hear the hideous rasp of the hag, with the veiled voice of the illusory prisoner under it. Ghorraneaux is outside the fog that blocks his sight, but he knows that she is up there watching her covenmate get cut to pieces.
RPG Superstar 2013
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Irritated that the ruse is up after seconds wasted selling it to the hags, Nikolai grimaces and sets his mind on violence. He takes big steps forward, ignoring the nearby hag and marching on the disguised foe his friends indicate.
"What will you do when the sword comes for you? Defend yourself or threaten your pawns while I drive a burning blade in your neck?"
Skirting the suddenly appearing steel cage, the big man lifts Dragonsbreath vertically, prepared to strike from either side if the enemy moves.
Nikolai raises his blade up against the woman, ready to cut her down. She shrieks in horror and shields herself with her hands. Nikolai expects the veil to drop, for another hag to appear - but he sees only a plain woman with her blond hair matted down by blood. She looks like any one of the frontier people who he threatened and intimidated as the half-mad Stag Lord. She looks at him with pleading eyes.
"Topple that cage!" Ghorraneaux's horrid voice echoes through the courtyard as she points to the center of the room where Elsir's illusion has now covered. "I command you, dance!" With a frustrated shriek of rage, the hag disappears from view using magic. The invisible hag cannot be seen.
Wet with blood, the hag that Akiros's sharp blade bit into responds to his violence in kind. The illusion that hides her iron-hard, wart-covered skin does not make her claws any less sharp. She lunges at him, biting into the oracle's flesh. His dragonscale plate tears under her impossibly strong jaw, crushing his flesh underneath it. She rips savagely at him, rending flesh from his chest with flaying claws. The hag snatches him and holds him close, whispering his death with her hot, fetid breath. His last battle with a hag nearly left him dead - it did leave brave Corwin dead - and that hag's strength was a pittance compared to this one.
A man a few feet from Jemini darts at her. She turns to toss him aside, but he keeps coming at her. He collides with her, forcing her back slightly, and bites at her with impossibly sharp teeth. She realizes that this one must also be a disguised hag, much like the one that she bumped into earlier. She pushes the veiled hag off her and steps back. The hag swipes at her twice, but Jemini moves just enough each time to keep the deathly sharp claws from cutting her face.
Nikolai stands at the ready to cut down the woman in front of him - only to have her take a step back. His first impulse was correct: she must be another disguised hag. But as long as the illusion persists, he cannot tell if she is the true Ghorraneaux or if she is merely another hag. She gathers a deep breath and releases a spray of icy mist from her mouth. Nikolai feels the ice beginning to cling to his skin and eyes. He brings his sword up to ward off the ice, leaving a trail of steaming spray as it touches the cold mist. Behind him, Nikolai hears one of the prisoners caught in the ice scream very briefly. He blinks rapidly, trying to get the ice out of his frozen eyes, but he will be vulnerable for a few moments until he can see again.
The mass of bodies rushes to the center, shuffling to fulfill the demands of their dark master. Verik, Jemini, and Borodin all press people away, as they push and shove like zombies to try to get to the center. Only a few actually get close, and it seems that Elsir's magic is keeping them at bay. They reach out and try to pull and rattle the cage. In their minds, it is as real as metal - but it cannot be moved out of the way so long as Elsir can maintain its appearance. He concentrates on keeping the details right despite the chaos around him.
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The sounds of steel clashing and the cries of the enslaved echoed about the circular room. Though not visible, Ghorraneaux's cackling voice resonated throughout the room. Near the edge of the vast room, Elsir felt beads of sweat dot his forehead as he kept his mind fixed on the illusionary steel cage that dominated the center of the space. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion to the astute wizard. In one blink of his eyes, the wizard saw Akiros recoil as a crimson splash exploded out from his chest, before squeezing him in a bear-hug. In the next blink he watched as the man who was once known as the Stag Lord, stumbled and clutched as his eyes as a dark magic overtook him.
In the center the bodies of the mentally enslaved pressed upon the cage. These were the men and women that the founders had sought out to protect and save. Elsir could not allow them to perish through is own inaction. Breathing in and out, the wizard focused on remaining calm. What he was about to try next was only conjecture at best.
Focusing on the whirling threads of fate that dominated the room, Elsir stretched out, seeing a solution. Time! Time was the problem! the Wizard knew. He had to focus in order to maintain his spell, not leaving him any chance at breaking his concentration for even a moment to attempt another. But he also knew that there were many possibilities in this moment. The founders of New Haven stood at a crossroads of conflicting timelines. In one they would all die. In the other they would remain victorious. And in the third... the most possible, at least one perished. Elsir was determined to not see that happen.
Reaching outward. The wizard concentrated, testing and teasing the other realities that were happening simultaneously around them, seeing the moment, that Elsir knew one of his other selves must surly be at.
Elsir thought, finding the one, bright, shining thread that he could see among the hundred other jumbled knots of fate.
::Akiros fell to the ground with a slump. Blood leaking from him. The hag cackled wildly as a peasant forced its way through the illusionary cage and a pall of yellow smoke began to billow outward, causing the ragged, torn man to gasp in pain before falling to the floor as his eyes rolled back into his head. Elsir cried out, ripping out the scroll from his bag. The cage had already fallen. Now.. now all that was left was to survive. Holding the ancient parchment up with shaking hands, the wizard read from it, aloud and clear. The magic of the elves. Something he would have dearly wished to protect and record vanished in a stream of light, infusing the rest of the group with the speed of stolen time.::
The wizard thought morosely, fearing what he was about to do next, but unable to see any other solution. Tugging and pulling, Elsir shifted the stream. He grabbed it with all of his mental might, siphoning his alter-self's spell just as it came into completion, transferring the effects onto his own time stream.
::The magic whirled away from Elsir's fingers. It flowed about the room, seeking the other founders, Jemini, Borodin, Nikolai, Verik and Berrin. The wizard knew he had only a few moments left, but the spell would at least allow the others to escape the encroaching fog, when suddenly his eyes wide, Elsir *blinked*, for just a moment he saw himself, standing three feet away. Overlayed atop of each image was another founder, though Berrin was for some reason missing. Elsir felt a tugging motion as the spell dissipated and then suddenly the ghostly images of the founders, their alter selves suddenly accelerated in time. Elsir cried as the hags closed in.::
The spell was a success. The cage remained and the founders now moved with stolen motes of another time. Elsir cursed himself. He had tampered with another fate. He prayed that he had not just opened the door for a future self to one day do the same to him when it mattered most.
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Another one! Iomedae will see you laid low! Jemini calls upon her faith and divine kraft radiates out of her. Her sword is a momentary blinding flash that leaves the illusioned monster screeching as the holy pale blue glow penetrates through her defenses.
Borodin is now almost surrounded by the hostages. The press of the fetid, ragged bodies reminds him of the horrors of his past. Must...not...give in He pushes the memories aside even though the female hostage in front of him looks like a close friend from so long ago.
He tries to ward her off using his images to block her path. The hostage to his left tries to move past him and attacks the cage. Quickly he pivots on his right foot and strikes out with his left leg, sweeping the man's feet out from under him. The poor man lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him.
Verik hears the terrible sounds of metal being rent and sees the blood streaming from Akiros' armor over the throng of captives beyond his reach. As they press in upon him and try to pull at the "cage" Verik does his best to stand in their way and push them off, but soon realizes he may have to pummel them to inaction in order to save their lives. Elsewhere in the courtyard he sees Nikolai momentarily stumble from the icy blast of a magic spell, and hears another captive scream somewhere nearby. Overhead the echoing screech of frustration from the hag leader lingers in his ears.
Verik knows he has the power to compel one to either fall or flee for a time, which may spell the ultimate difference between victory and ruin. Yet, the fall of Akiros to the hag would spell almost certain doom. The decision is made - Verik must keep Akiros and the others alive long enough to lay low this coven and even the odds. With one last roar at the captives to stay back, Verik clenches his fist and clangs it against the side of his shield, summonning forth the power of pure light and energy to cease bleeding wounds and knit flesh back together, trusting in his friends that it may be enough for them to send their foes shrieking into the Abyss.
Few things force hate on Nikolai like helplessness. Though his flaming blade is imposing, and he knows where the hag stands, the sudden rime of eyes over his eyes makes him feel vulnerable. His skin turns red and Nikolai abandons controlled thought to his bloodlust. He steps to his right and swing in a wide arc to locate the hag.
The stoic ex-Ronin cannot help the roar of pain that explodes out of him as the hag bites, tears and rends at his flesh. Yet mixed in equal portions with the pain in his yell is righteous fury as well towards the abomination that she is.
Mere moments after the hag grabs him close Akiros feels the magics of his allies coursing through his being. His flesh knitting itself and all around him seeming to slow as the stolen motes of time speed up his movement and actions.
His sword arm still free, Akiros roars once more, this time a more forcused plea to his Goddess. His prayer clearly answered, the Battle Oracle swings his blade against the side of the hag, like felling a tree. Once, twice, and then again. His sword arm and blade, blessed by Iomeade Herself, move faster than seemingly possible. The first hit is deflected by the hag's iron like skin, yet two times does his sword bite into the hags blackened, disgusting flesh. It is, almost, enough.
For while his sword nearly cleaves straight through her, the hag still yet clings to life, and Akiros, as well.
Attack vs AC21:
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Hasted Attack vs AC21:
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The hag witch maintains her invisibility. It is nearly impossible to tell where she is over the chaos and the still-playing elven dirge. Invisibility is a difficult veil to pierce with simply the normal senses, for it wholly deprives the primary sense of any clues.
The hag presses Akiros close to her vile body. He can smell the rot lingering on her skin and feel her saliva drip onto his ravaged shoulder. She presses him inward, slowly crushing him and driving the very breath from his body. Akiros can feel his armor buckle under the inexorable strength of the hag. In a few more moments, it will begin to give way as she crushes him to death. He tries to lift his sword again, but finds that his arms are pinned against his side. If he cannot free himself, he knows that the hag will kill him.
Jemini seemingly dances with the hag hiding under the image of a downtrodden male hostage. Every time the hag snaps forward with its horrid natural weapons (hidden as they are under the illusion), she steps back or ducks underneath. Jemini lets the battle trance take hold, knowing that her holy blade will cut down the evil hag, whose claws only swipe at her hair as she whirls into another stroke.
As Akiros blinks to free his eyes of the rime and tries to swing his massive blade down upon the disguised hag, she steps back again and spits out a hateful verse in Giant. "Ikaw ang akong ulipon sama sa uban nga mga mananayaw! Ako pagpatawag yelo sa pagpanalipod kanamo, buang." A wall of ice springs from the ground, coalescing from a mist that grows out of the grassy courtyard. It rises up to the bottom of the lower staircase, isolating Nikolai and the frigid hag from the others - but not from Ghorraneaux on the stairs.
The dozen or more of the "dancers" press against Verik and Borodin, who try their best to keep them at bay. Two of them remain close enough to try again while the third - knocked down by Borodin - gets to his feet. One of the ragged women pushes between the pair and tries her luck at shaking the false cage loose. It is only a matter of time until one of them breaks free of the illusory enchantment and looses the poisonous cloud upon all of them.
Borodin is impatient to help his comrade free of the hag's grip but he understands that he must incapacitate the hostages first. He fights his muscle memory of bringing his blade to bear and instead uses his free hand to punch the captives. He whirls around, knocking three of them into unconsciousness.
The sound of combat replacing his sight, Nikolai steps diagonally one more time, lashing out with Dragonsbane just as he did before. He hears the cracking of solid ice build up behind him as he swings. Though the sword bites once, Nikolai's rage burns hot with frustration. The hag shrieks, but still stand, and the barbarian cannot see her.
Jemini has an infectious laughter that starts as the hag attacks, again and again - and misses again and again. "Is that all you got? Come on are you even trying?" she goads the hag. She waves her hand dismissively and brazenly steps slightly to the side and directs her attention to the disguised hag that is troubling Akiros. She makes an inviting motion to the space she just vacated, "Come you runt! Your pathetic sister is not nearly enough to get my blood to boil! Come! Come at me! "
Trapped as they are between trap and mob, Verik watches Borodin undertake the distasteful deed of doing what must be done, lest they all succumb to choking ruin. The frigid wall of ice seals off the scion of Rogarvia from the rest of them in the courtyard, while somewhere up and around them Ghorraneaux stalks them invisibly. Jemini's beautifully defiant call against the hags fills Verik with renewed hope and pride, hoping that Akiros will somehow find his opening to turn the tables against his assailant. Then the tortured mob presses forward once again in their groping attempts to breach the cage, and Verik can only do his part to stop them. He clenches his mail-and-plate fist and strikes out over his shield to hit the wretched man in front of Jemini and her disguised enemy.
"YAAA!" is all he can muster as he strikes the man fully in the nose and forehead; Verik grits his teeth and winces as he knows he has broken the man's nose with the sound of the impact and wash of blood immediately afterwards. With no time to waste however, Verik feels the potency of Elsir's chronomancy as he shifts his left foot and swings his arm back at the prisoner directly in front of him, catching the other poor sod in the side of his cheek and chin with a meaty thud.
About to give all his strength, everything he has into breaking free of the hag's crushing grasp, Akiros suddenly hears Jemini's skilled and biting taunts. Feeling the wretched creature tense and shake with fury, the battle oracle hesitates a moment, waiting to see if his allies ploy will work or not. He's betting his life that it will.
Ghorraneaux reappears on the lowest of the landings on the stairs, holding a frozen claw out. She crows at them, "If you will not dance, you will freeze!" She makes a pulling motion with her hand, drawing the heat from the air from most of the room. Ice begins to form as all the heat drains from the center of the room. The hostages all collapse, nearly dead, as the fleeing warmth steals what little energy is left in their ragged bodies. The hags' natural defenses against spell help limit the pain to the coven. The one locked in battle with Jemini shrugs it off entirely, while the one crushing Akiros grimaces in pain as she has only her tough skin to defend against the icy grip.
AoO vs AC 21: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32
Damage: 1d10 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
Crit Threat vs AC 21: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29
Crit Damage: 1d10 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
Incensed by Jemini’s taunt – and possibly wanting to show her covenmate how to crush the impertinent paladin easily dodging her claws – the hag flings Akiros to the ground and turns her attention to Jemini, who stands ready to take the attack. Akiros, coughing and off his feet, doesn’t present much of a threat to her. She steps towards Jemini, taking her attention completely off Akiros. The half-blind warrior takes the opportunity to slash at her legs, taking the hag to the ground. He is back up in a flash, sword in both hands, as he drives it downwards through her back. The annis hag stops in her tracks before falling to the ground with a thudding crush. The illusion peels away and drifts off, leaving nothing but the horrid corpse of the massive hag sprawled on the ground.
As Jemini focuses on drawing Akiros's tormentor to her, she must leave her guard down for just a moment. The hag takes full advantage, lowering her jaws onto Jemini's sword arm. She bites down hard on her wrist, trying to separate Jemini's hand and sword from the rest of her. Jemini can feel her bones breaking under the tight pressure, but she tears away her hand right as Akiros brings the other hag down. The biting hag darts a few lumbering steps away from her, so that her disguised limbs can threaten both her and Akiros at the same time and easier avoid a situation in which she might be fighting an enemy on each side. The hag swipes twice at Akiros, who is only partially recovered from the crushing assault of the first - but he is just slightly too far for her sharp claws to slash.
Nikolai can feel the terrible mind of the last hag pressing into his own. Behind its malevolent power, he can feel the faint memory of a frigid touch he knows all too well - his patron, the queen of winter. The memory of his manipulation - freedom from Choral at a great personal cost - fuels his fury. He roars and holds his sword up high, furious and mighty. His vision returns in a wave of color as he flings her from his mind. The disguised hag avoids the warrior, springing to the ice wall and scaling the side of it as if she were a spider on its own web. She scales up ten feet and looks back at Nikolai.
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As the heat drained from the room, Elsir watched silently as he fought to maintain concentration over his illusionary cage. Lines of hoarfrost crackled into existence and were quickly crunched under the boots of Jemini, Verik and the others who fought a desperate battle in the center of the room. From atop the lower balcony the wizard heard the cackle of the coven leader and his minds-eye took in the slumping of bodies as the captures citizens of New Haven fell to the blistering cold.
Fate's swirled about the room. The moment that he had seen before, were Akiros has been killed had nearly come to pass if not for the heroic actions of Jemini.
One of the first things that Elsir learned as a student at the Grand Lodge so many years before was that the simplest way to survive was to not become a target. The hag for her hideousness had a cruel intelligence about her, playing on the emotions and resolve of the founders to try to save their people. Thus far she had tried to dictate the fight, separating Nikolai from the others, forcing Borodin, Verik and Elsir to protect the glyph warded trap and creating one on one fights between Jemini and Akiros. If Elsir did not despise what she represented, he would have congratulated her on her tactics.
All of these thoughts passed in a blink of an eye to the quietly studious elf. Now that the hostages had been temporarily dealt with, for better of worse, there was a brief opening if time where Elsir could break his concentration and bring the fight to the hag. Glancing down at the others, the elf called out. I am dismissing the spell. Careful for any stragglers. He cried, before slipping into the ancient tongue of his people and reciting lilting syllables and flowing broken words that range with the echo of power. He drew his hands around him, drawing in motes of sparkling light, like a thousand, thousand captured glow-bugs. As he compleated his spell he pointed towards the crouching form of Ghorraneaux. No more of your hiding. The wizard whispered to himself, coating her and the immediate area around her in a shower of glittery gold dust.
Reflex Save DC19:
FA: 5' Step to N10
FRA: Attack Red Hag
Jemini's ploy is an incredible success, allowing Akiros to be free and take down, with two masterful strokes of his blade, the hag who had almost killed him. His attention focused on the hag he had just killed though, he is a heartbeat too late to avoid the frigid blast from Ghorraneaux as she finally reveals herself.
Despite his renewed fury at seeing his prime enemy and target, Akiros knows he must once again focus on the foe before him. Ignoring the clenching and pain of his frozen muscles, the battle oracle steps forward, hoping to flank with his ally. Calling upon all his skill and training he then unleashes two powerful, rapid swings of his bloodied bastard sword upon the hag threatening both Jemini and himself, doing his best to take her down.
Power attack vs AC 21:
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Hasted Power attack vs AC 21:
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Somehow Borodin sees the blast of cold coming. He moves past an unconscious hostage and puts one of the hags between him and Ghorraneaux. She takes the brunt of damage and is then brought low by Akiros whom she dismissed to her doom. Unencumbered by the need to protect the cage from the hostages, Borodin is free to attack the vile she things. With a brief incantation he invokes a protective shield and rushes to the remaining hag on their side of the ice wall.
She turns and scowls at him, but he squares off, looking for an opportunity to strike.
As Borodin closes swiftly on the hag, one of her clawed hands - hidden by the illusion of a human hand - whips out and lashes against him. Despite his magical protection and the half-dozen images around him, the hag gets a lucky strike that gets under his chain shirt near the bottom. It leaves a bloody gash on the bottom of his abdomen, which is painful but not debilitating.
Verik suffers through the numbing cold, finding to his dismay that raising his shield does nothing to protect him from the onslaught. Moments before he was standing fast against the captives, looking for a way to incapacitate them before they succeeded in breaching the trap. Now, he lowers his ice-coated shield to see them all on the floor around him in various stages of near-death - vivid images of the Battle of Stagfall come back to him in that moment, filling his mind with revulsion at the chaotic carnage and suffering that has been inflicted.
"The poor blasted...WELL S#*@!" Knowing that he has only moments at best to try and sustain the fallen, Verik looks around not knowing even where to begin. It is in that moment that he sees Borodin make the tactical decision to cast and range off to help Jemini and Akiros in their own desperate battle. Elsir's words of caution followed by his clever golden dust-magic to blind Ghorraneaux where Verik could not nevertheless emboldens him. I can still save them, but that hag must be dealt with!
"You blind-batted hag whore! We've all had quite enough of your prattle about dance! May the Lawgiver SILENCE your precious landing and leave you deaf as well as blind!" With a series of quick gestures the key symbol on Verik's chest glows with a fierce golden light, its intensity matching a similar steady glowing mote of light at the feet of Ghorraneaux that is different from the dust surrounding it, even though it does not touch her directly. Verik expands his hands out expressively, and so too does the golden mote on the landing expand out to shimmer across a spherical area around the landing and nearby stairs, above and below the landing before the glow fades and is imperceptible to the common observer.
"How about that skulker! What? Didn't catch that last?" Verik holds up his hand to his helm in a mockery of listening for her response, then with a last angry gesture picked up from Berrin he turns to survey the most afflicted, stepping to where Borodin had been in case the one poor captive decides to move towards the space where the cage had been.
Jemini moves out just in time, the jaws that would've torn through her throat instead only tear a deep wound into her shoulder. Close! Without the swiftness of Elsir's time magic this could've ended for me right there! She calls upon Sarenrae to tide over the worst of the wound before acknowledging the hag. "You can do it, huh? But you're feeling it, aren't you? The shifting tide? The momentum in battle? Have you made peace with yourself, with your soul? Are you ready for what comes next?" Jemini's words, in contrast to moments before, are almost kind; as if she took pity on the monster. This does not deter her though: she steps into the blind spot created by Borodin and attacks with quick accuracy - two strikes that catch the illusioned hag left and right of the throat. With a gurgling final word the creature falls to the floor.
Something unusual happens when Nikolai sees past the rime of frost and catches the hag climbing up the wall of ice. He gestures with Dragonsbreath and shouts "Coward!" As he does so, the flames gouting from the greatsword flare and brighten. This is customary, but also bursting with tongues of fire are his forearms. Thick draconic claw extend, curling around the pommel of the blade, flaming orange-hot around the unscorched leather wraps.
Nikolai barely notices in his fury, but a small part of him is grateful the others can't see him. In his rage, he resolves to bring down the hag so obviously committed to retreat. Another small part of him tries to process his situation. Ice. Walled off. Approaching minotaur. Was this a trap for me?
But his mind has little tolerance for paranoia in the heat of combat. He steps to the wall of ice and plunges his sword in strraight with all his power. Letting it steam and soften, he then takes a broader stroke to hack under the hole he made. The ice sags a little, and a crack runs up the wall. CHunks of ice fall to either side of him.
The Stag's roar as he strikes the ice turns bestial. Almost draconic in its volume and ferocity. The ice splinters, cracks, melts, and cracks some more, until ice and steam and water give way. Amid a crash of falling blue stones, Nikolai's form appears through the wall, with the hag overhead clinging precariously to her fracturing perch.
"Come to me, whore! Let your body test itself against these flames!"
As the conjured wall of ice crumbles under the assault of the enraged juggernaut, the "woman" clinging to one side of the wall scrambles to find purchase. She barks a guttural demand from Ghorraneaux - "Assist me!" Her plea hits the wall that Verik has erected keeping sound out. As the wall wholly crumbles into melted pieces, she finds nothing to grab onto that isn't loose ice. She collapses on the ground, hitting hard on her back with Nikolai standing above her menacingly.
Verik and Elsir each deprive Ghorraneaux of one of her senses in a twin magical assault - the former her hearing and the latter her sight. Unable to summon her potent magics, the hag witch simply stops and readies her ice-rimed claws for any being that approaches her. She continues to blink, unable to get the glowing motes from Elsir's spells from her eyes.
The hag spits out a mouthful of blood - both its own and Jemini's. She stands up straight to her full height under the illusion and cries out in a final attempt to drag down the others with her into the Abyss. She snaps her jaw at Jemini, closing them on air where the paladin stood half a second before. Simultaneously, she swipes through one of Borodin's illusory doubles, shattering it into a wisp of colors. In a rage, she turns to Akiros and plunges her sharp claws into the crushed shoulder of his dragonscale armor. She digs her arms into the muscle as blood runs through her fingers. She pulls Akiros towards her, trying to rend him to death in the moments before her enemies beset her.
The frigid hag gazes up from the ground at the fuming, frostbitten form of Nikolai Rogarvia. Her illusory eyes widen in fear. She knows that she must drift from sight to bear some chance of survival against the onslaught of his fiery sword. She feels the veil of invisibility begin to raise, but the coming blade tears her concentration away and the spell dissipates like fog in wind. The hag grits her teeth and stands, knowing that it gives Nikolai a deadly opening. The warrior brings his sword in a sideways stroke, right to left, as the sword bursts forth with licks of flame. Black blood explodes out of the hidden hag, whose skin begins to burn and peel at the wound.
Worried that Verik won't be able to heal the room effectively (and potentially restore some of their foes to fighting form) Jemini quickly dispatches both with two swift strikes of her blade - one for each hag. May Pharasma grant you nothingness; I pray this is the last that your malevolent souls torment existence.
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Standing at the edge of the circular room Elsir's mind quickly uncatalogued the possibility's and likely outcomes of the battle as it unfolded. He predicted that Verik would call upon the power of his god to save the people who were near death. That was almost a one hundred percent likelihood. The icy wall now stood breached and the former Stag Lord held his flaming blade over the wounded hag. Her chances of escape were minimal, with perhaps a seven percent likelihood. Akiros was greatly wounded but Elsir did not believe the man would retreat. Statistically it made sense, but the man's blood was up. As for the case of Borodin, that was a mystery however. There was something about the man that unnerved Elsir. The elf knew that he was not of this timeline. Predicting his actions became difficult because in some way the elf knew that he was an outsider that existed at least partially outside of this line of time.. he was for all intents and purposes an aberration. Shaking his head, the Wizard gazed out with cool, blue hued eyes. What would be his next move.
Theoretically the only remaining threat was the leader of the coven. She had shown herself the most powerful and despite Elsir and Verik's dual approach to limiting her effectiveness, Elsir was unwilling to allow even a single small shred of probability adjust her likelyhood of surviving. No. The hag was his target. Everyone else was locked in combat or had their own fight to deal with. Elsir had no commitments. He would deal with her.
Moving his hands fluidly, the archivist called upon yet another of his first learned spells. Like many he knew or regularly used it was not flashy or powerful, but it was extremely useful. Squeaky iron door hinges and stuck wine corks had been his first targets so many years ago. Smiling faintly the wizard shook his head. It had all been fun and games. Now it was a different world, but the spell despite the years since he learned it had not lost it's effectiveness.
As the spell completed itself a large glob of shiny black oil covered the landing and the wall behind it were the hag stood crouching. He watched it as he weaved the spell past the vile creatures innate resistance causing her to slip and fall. Silently the elf smiled. After all of the pain and suffering she has inflicted to the captured citizens it seems appropriate that she should know her last moments alone, deaf and blind on her knees. Let her try to cast a spell now.
Nikolai observes the splatter of black blood against the wall of ice. Deprived of her tricks, betrayed by the fear in her eyes, the hag will be dead in seconds. The barbarian raises his weapon and chops savagely through he hip and thigh.
Nikolai spits on the twitching form of the hag as he walks over her. The spirits of his victims, or of those tortured by Choral before him become visible in the rising steam. They claw and tear at the hag's body for satisfaction.
For Nikolai's part, he drives the blade down into the hag's body for punctuation as he looks beyond the ice at the hags further into the room.
Borodin is ready to lash out against the horror in front of him but Jemini lays her low before he can recover from the hag's last strike against him. With no enemies but Ghoraneaux remaining he leaves caution aside and rushes to engage, hoping he is quick enough with Elsir's enchantment on him.
This could be a stupid move. he berates himself as he jumps over the ruins of the ice wall. If you die, then you die. It wouldn't be the first time...
As Nikolai stands over the hag with his sword skewering her, the illusion peels away to reveal a horrid sight: Ghorraneaux herself, with her blue-black skin and sharp claws grasping at the blade. As Borodin sprints up the staircase to cut down the piteous copy, he finds that she has begun to dissolve into snow and ice. Quickly, it becomes apparent what has occurred: Ghorraneaux placed herself and her coven under a veil and mind blank while issuing commands to her simulacrum-created doppelganger via whispering wind. The lesser version of Ghorraneaux had some of her spellcasting abilities, but ultimately the arrogance and pride of Ghorraneaux kept her from unleashing her own magical powers until it was too late. Had she not been intent on toying with the group of adventurers in her fortress, she would have likely been able to wipe them out quickly. In her arrogance, she overcalculated her strength - and her allies.
With Nikolai standing over her, the dying witch spits up a mouthful of already-coagulated blood. "You think this is victory? This isn't victory for you. If Tahngruun isn't here, where do you think he is? Hargulka..." Ghorraneaux coughs, sending another spray of blood out. "He's likely already marching upon your city. Ashes! Ha! Haha!" She begins to cackle as she gurgles for breath. The wall of ice cracks and crumbles, melting and collapsing as she death draws closer to her. Her illusions, her charms, and her plans all disappear with the magic.
Even as Verik hears something from the dying hag near Nikolai, he is already summoning the power to try and save the fallen captives. No time no time, if I attend each one I will only save three or four out of...but if they reach the trap we are fini...no I must!
Fist to shield, Verik summons the power of pure light and energy once more, shaping it around Nikolai's fallen "Ghorraneaux" and one of the fallen hags near Jemini and Akiros, trusting that Jemini's strike with her holy blade was enough to finish the other hag utterly so that she does not revive.
The warmth of the healing light melts ice and turns bluish-tinged skin back to pink as blood starts flowing again in veins and arteries. Verik sees several of the captives start to stir from where they had fallen. Master, please let my desire to save these people not turn into the biggest deadly joke of northern Avistan in this Age... He clears his throat and shouts loudly to all those that can hear him. "GOOD PEOPLE, HEAR ME! THE HAG WHO TRIED TO KILL YOU IS DEFEATED AND SILENCED! BACK AWAY FROM THE CENTER OF THIS ROOM AND MOVE TOWARDS THE GOOD ELF!" Verik points hastily to Elsir. "GO THERE PAST HIM TO LIFE AND SAFETY AND...AND WATER TOO!"
Once the remaining hag melts into snow, Nikolai spends no time. He barks out to the spellcasters "Contact Sanctuary! Find out if she's bluffing?"
He then takes strides to the unopened door where the minotaur was supposedly waiting and tugs on the handle. He is all strength and no patience.
Nikolai tears open the door, finding a long corridor. He walks down it, using the blade as a torch. It seems that the slipping fortress opens into a small natural cavern. Nikolai quickly checks and finds no one inside, but he does find what is likely the minotaur's living quarters in the labyrinth. It appears lived in - and recently - but the minotaur is nowhere to be found.
In the main courtyard, Verik's healing spells start reviving the prisoners. With the magic faded, they stay on the ground with no energy or vigor. Several start crying, freed from the horrors of imprisonment and torture. Verik stays close to the trap, but none of the previously mind-addled men and women make a single motion for it.
But if she lives, it should fall to Akiros to land the final blow on her.
Likely already marching on Sanctuary? We can't underestimate that threat; but... the hag would speak in definitives. She'd know if an army marches. For all of Hargulka's blustering and leadership, I thought of her as the brains, not him, Jemini ponders.
Her thoughts quickly return to the matter at hand. The victims are no less drawn by the harrowing experience than the ones they had freed back then. But they were alive. There was hope. A tear of joy mingled with regret and pity wells in her eye. She goes down on her knees, a deep long breath filling and then leaving her chest. Sarenrae! Please offer your kind blessing on these sufferers, give them a chance in the future - let them learn to leave the torture behind and awaken to a world where they can embrace tomorrow. The moments of prayer done, she rises. Her next thought is to help the individual victims. She tries to find those who need it most, who can barely move from fatigue, and lays her hand on them.
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"Argh! Damn your blasted soul!" Akiros roars out in pain as the hag's razor sharp claws find purchase in his flesh through the ruined dragonscale pauldron on his left shoulder. As well, despite his own phenomenal might, the monstrous strength of the hag is yet greater, and this mockery of a woman also manages, just, to grapple him as well.
Before the creature can take advantage her grasp on him however, the flashing blades of Jemini take the monster out, causing the hag to drop to a lifeless heap on the floor, leaving Akiros nearly dead, but free.
At the same time, Nikolai, once again able to see, and in full rage, takes out his foe in one blistering attack. An attack which results in a surprise, as the real Ghorraneaux is finally revealed.
Although he had already killed one hag this day, Akiros had sworn an oath to kill Ghorraneaux himself, and, as the Gods would have it, the opportunity still lay before him. Bleeding from several places, his armor and flesh rent and torn, the weary battle cleric drops his shield and makes his way over to the downed former mistress of the elven ruins.
His sword, dragging on the ground, sends a shower of sparks up into the air as he weaves his way through the unconscious prisoners. When he finally reaches her, Akiros stands a moment, staring down upon his enemy. He knew now that it had been she, Ghorraneaux, who had been behind Malgorzata and the rise of the cult of Gyronna in Sanctuary. This bleeding, dying, thing before him, had been responsible for the death of his friend, and so many others.
His hatred and righteous fury not diminished one iota, the Marshall of Sanctuary, the city's Protector, finally speaks "What now of all your boasting, hag, what now of all your pride? You continue your games, attempt to toy with us with empty threats of your former ally, Hargulka. He who has abandoned you? Do you see? Do you see now how that comes as no surprise? For that is as Evil does. That is why we are strong. That is why we shall never be defeated by the likes of you. It is because we care, because we love, that we shall always be victorious. As you make your way to hell, know well that this is something you shall never, ever, know, or truly understand."
Summoning the last of his strength, using both hands, the vessel of Iomeade raises his heavy blade high above his head "I swore that you would die by my blade this day, you wretched thing, and now you shall. I do this for all those innocents you have harmed, and maimed, and killed. I do this for Corwin, my friend. I do this in the name of Justice. You are no more. Die."
In the for-the-moment silent chamber, the sound of Akiros' blade slashing through Ghorraneaux's neck and clanging into the floor, the sound of Justice, rings louder, and echos longer, than possible. It seems as if an unearthly sigh echoes through the room. As if the final moments of the evil monstrosity that was Ghorraneaux had been witnessed by a ghostly audience of all of her many, many victims, and that with her death, the spirits of the slain sigh their pleasure, and their release.
As the head of the former coven leader rolls away from the rest her torso, Akiros raises his blade towards his face, his milky eyes gazing upon it as if for the first time. "...'Justice'...yes, yes, that is it. Justice was demanded, and justice you have served. You are well named. So be it."
Sparing not a second's more thought for his defected foe, Akiros cleans and sheaths his sword. For despite his massive wounds, his next thought is only for the gravely injured hostages, and so he moves to help them. It is not even a question for him, it is simply his duty. For, beyond all else, a man of duty he is, and thus shall he ever be.
Verik watches the final pronouncements of Akiros over the fallen hag Ghorraneaux, even as he works to gently coax and move the fallen captives away from the lingering danger at the center of the room. Nodding as Akiros dispenses final judgment upon her, Verik simply adds, "So it is Judged."
Verik grimaces as Akiros comes closer then, the recent channeling only serving to step the most dire wounds; the twisted metal and rended dragonscale mixed with open wounds of flesh and most likely a broken rib or two. "Ghost of Malthus Akiros," he says as he critically surveys his state. "Noble indeed to serve them over yourself, but we may have more enemies about still yet. Here."
Working to heal the most dire two wounds as best he can under the circumstances without removing armor, Verik suddenly snaps his head up and looks towards the doorway on the far side they entered to reach this place. "Cogs! I suppose that bull hasn't been found by Nikolai yet, but perhaps this Tang-goonn is outside against Zander and his men - I'll go find out and ensure Zander is all right, and fill him in on what we have discovered, then return to help search." He looks to Jemini nearby. "We need to press on in discovering what else lies here, be it more prisoners, foes or information - that hag was very clever, and those that think themselves clever typically keep records to remind themselves of it - they may have left behind information on our enemies and plans."
He pauses a moment, then hands his crafted curing wand to Akiros. "You and Jemini use this as much as you need to, though these survivors suffer much more that only time and sustenance can alleviate. Command word is...ahh...Master's Mercy for you.
The Stag tears through the cavern looking for signs that might tell how long ago the minotaur left or where his real destination might have been. Holding his blade in one hand, he turns over crates or carelessly throws furs behind him. Seeing that none have joined him, he vents his frustration with growled curses and heaving breaths.
Borodin watches as Nikolai storms off looking for the Minotaur. He can hear the man cursing and throwing things about.
Borodin shakes his head and uses what is left of his magically enhanced movement to run up to the top of the stairs. He reaches the top landing and pauses to cast Dancing Lights into the room the simulacrum entered from. He stands ready for another attack but searches the room for traps and for anything that may reveal what plans the coven had in this ruin.
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As the sword fell, the room fell silently save for the moaning of the dying. Elsir watched from a detached standpoint. He was still new to these lands and was not heartless, but he knew his strengths, and he knew his weaknesses. Elsir was no healer, nor had he ever had any inclination to be. In the distance, Elsir hears the rageful bellowing of Nikolai, seeking out their foes. In his immediate presence he watches as Akiros, Verik and Jemini begin to physical healing of the maimed, captured citizens. While no expert, Elsir knew that the suffering inflicted by the hag was not skin deep. What these people had been through might take years to recover from, if at all. It was like so many things a tragedy.
As a scholar, Elsir had read about the rise and fall of nations, the extermination of races and even the near destruction of the world that had caused his people to leave. There was something cold and unfeeling about the words that were used to describe such terrible losses. It was as the words themselves could not be used to convey such terrible things. The death of one, a tragedy. The death of a million, a statistic. Elsir thought, recalling a quote from the Ulfen Warlord, Red Sickle.
But, it was sad. Softly Elsir closes his eyes. He was sure, even now he did not want to allow himself feel. The death of his wife, his human wife had nearly caused him to slide into become forlorn. Then came the death of Nicoleta only a few years later. Feeling.. feelings hurt. They could not be stopped, they marched onward and as soon as you allowed them to take hold they fundamentally changed you. They were in some way magic. Powerfully transformative, wild and usually uncontrollable.
Biting down on his teeth, Elsir shook his head and fixed upon himself his usual, placid demeanor. He would consider this later. Now was not the time, nor the place for speculation or self-reflection. What mattered now was the hag's last words that had filled Elsir with dread. Quickly, silently, Elsir began several mental calculations before nodding once to himself. Moving towards the throng of slowly recovering citizens, Elsir made his way towards Queen Jemini. Nikolai made mention of magics.. I am regretful to say I have no tools at my disposal to verify the validity of the hag's last words. Nor any that would allow me to far-speak with Sanctuary of view the city from our remote location. Face temporarily turning into a frown, Elsir sighs. Such spells exist, but they are beyond the third circle of mastery. I am sorry
The chaos of the battle fades slowly as the Founders become occupied with treating the wounds and injuries of the hostages. First captured, then enslaved, then tortured, and finally brought to the edge of sanity through Ghorraneaux's dark magic... Most are capable of barely more than grateful weeping and near-catatonic moaning. Some are missing fingers, legs, hands, and worse. It is near-miraculous and requires a continual effort from Verik to keep the entirety of the hostages alive. They sobbing wrecks cling to the Founders who stay in the central courtyard - shepherded away from the cloudkill trap in the center of the room - while the others search the remainder of the fortress for threats.
As Verik attends to one of the hostages, she explains the circumstances of their capture. The woman - missing her left leg below the knee - seems quite strong after the hag's mentally disruptive magic faded. "We are refugees from Galt," she explains with the distinct soft accent common to the people of the once-revered county. "The Revolutionary Council seized our lands and holdings, claiming that we had attained too much power. What you see is all that remains of our village, which had grown prosperous through the raising of horses. We intended to flee to Gralton or Liberthane in the River Kingdoms, but we decided to emigrate to Sanctuary. We have heard that it is a place of second chances. We were on the road when we were attacked by trolls. They took us captive, put us to work building things. There were so many - trolls, kobolds, lizardfolk, other monsters - and they had such appetites for cruelty. Many of our people died. I wanted to die. But some of us didn't. A few weeks ago, the minotaur came and collected us. He brought us here, where the hags..." She is quiet for a long moment. Long enough for Verik to notice that despite being dirty and missing a leg, she is a beautiful woman with soft brown eyes. "Thank you for saving us," she says to Verik. "My name is Aleza Bellavieu."
Nikolai searches the spartan quarters of the minotaur for any clues as to where the horned beast may have gone. He hopes to find something clear - a map of Sanctuary, perhaps, or a note from Hargulka regarding instructions. However, it seems that the minotaur made this a threadbare home beyond furs and bones. Nikolai cannot find any sort of clue - but he is quite confident that Tahngruun is come.
Elsir and Borodin check at the top of the stairs for Ghorraneaux's sanctum. They find a bedroom filled with fine items likely pilfered from the merchant caravans that Hargulka's army has been raiding. Beyond the gems, jewels, rugs, and silks - none of which are in as good a condition as when they were shipped, surely - they find a summoning and scrying circle with a cauldron in the center. Laying out are a pair of scrolls that could prove useful - a scroll of scrying and of sending, both made of tattooed ink on leathered human skin. Dozens of other skin-scrolls lay used, thrown carelessly in a corner with their magic burned out.
Jemini overhears most of the conversation between Verik and Aleza. "My name is Jemini Lebeda, I am so sorry we only heard of you recently; if only we could've come sooner. It pains me to say, you're not the first victims of monsters that we've found. Not here, I mean previously. If any good has come of that, it is that Sanctuary is at least a little prepared. I fear there may be some who will never recover a normal life - but some, I hope, will eventually find a small measure of peace."
Borodin stands there, looking down at the "scrolls". He can only imagine what horrors those below were put through by Ghorraneaux and her twisted kin. His eyes scan the rest of the room, over the filth ridden riches, but then back to the pile of skins in the corner.
He realizes after a moment that he is rubbing the dragon mark on his left forearm and abruptly stops. With a grim look on his face, he rolls up the scrolls, puts them in a case lying on the table, and hands it to Elsir. "I am not sure if you can use these, but I'm sure these are beyond my current abilities."
He is about to walk back down the stairs but turns to the elf and says "I zi'ar ras risu ui'asssil zi'as I zi'ar rizzarus sa sa uhr suhr suhnu Esruhs. Sisu susu zi'ar su assus san su Caph sa huuz Nuhhasi'auh san ussi'ailuhrph suhr si'ars. Bis i'asus sasi'ail'r uursr i'ars su rsasuhur sass il Vusuhh a suhr Tsass Kuhrph, I suhrh I i'au i'a ruz si'airu. Ta usz suhs suhr si'ars a ssui'asisur si'as zaiss ni'auhn i'ars sassisu su arurs i'ass zashuhrph ash a Si'arssii'asil."
"Aleza Bellavieu," says Verik with solemn sincerity, "you are well received by us here. I am the...well I am Verik Jarrow, a servant of Abadar." He points over to where Akiros works to assist others without comment or complaint. "That there is Akiros Ismort. Three others are about elsewhere here, with others outside bearing food and the means to take you from this place."
Of course, Verik had every intention to leave these poor tortured souls to Jemini and Akiros and go check upon Zander; he had just picked up his newly prized elvish blade and was walking back towards the door on the other side of the courtyard when he spotted her looking at him. At first glance she was as disheveled and pitiful as the others. What caused him to pause his pace was that unlike the others, her eyes were clear and coherent. She was quiet, not moaning and writhing like several around her, but unlike the quiet ones she was not merely reduced to a catatonic state with a blank stare. She was there.
Without much thought as to why that was profound or important, Verik walked up to her and wordlessly offered her his waterskin, kneeling down to check upon her leg for open wounds. It was then that he heard both her story and her name.
It wasn't that Verik was unsympathetic to the plight of these unknown folk who had clearly suffered so terribly - certainly his near-insane "plan" of joining the hag's dance to save them from a final fate of the trap had proven that much. Still, Verik was never one for true compassion for those that had been considered lost, his natural disposition to keep them at clinical distance and mentally categorize them into their usefulness - or uselessness - to society. This he had mentally done last year with those they had freed at Candlemere from the clutches of the harpies; left mostly to Jemini's care during the trip and afterwards, Verik hadn't even bothered to try and learn any of their names or history, even if it were possible to do so. To the Banker of Abadar, they were simply men that had to be taken care of with funds of the coffers of Newhaven, a description to be entered into the rolls as to their potential place in civilization. Recovered. Healed. Capable. Incapable. Crippled. Insane. Unproductive. To Verik, the promise of potential for Tandlara's orphans was much more a priority for him, both for his fallen friend's legacy as well as for the prospect of their positive contribution to Newhaven if given a proper opportunity. 'This Can Help Us All' was the Abadarian motto he believed in, and in the case of the orphans it was clearly understood and logically realized. For those that had no future however, no prospects of recovering, only deserving of pity and marginal sustenance and love, Verik paid scant attention to it - other than endorsing the allocation of funds as Jemini desired.
He assumed they had another such crop as those rescued from Candlemere. Broken and beyond repair. They had been saved from death and would be given both sustenance and pity, and that was enough for the Banker to meet his requirements and move on to other matters. Thus, it surprised him when he found himself moved by Aleza's story of her village and their fate.
Nodding to Jemini's statement, he adds, "Regrettably, Jemini speaks all too accurately of other caravans and peoples lost to monsters in the south before reaching us, and for that I am sorry for you and yours. You are but a few days from Sanctuary and Newhaven, and we will bring you there and do what we can. You have my oath on it, Madame Bellavieu."
"Thank you both," Aleza says with a soft smile. "We will survive this. Galtans are a strong people, resilient. How do you think that we survived the turning of the revolutions? One must learn to adapt to survive in Galt. Now, would I be able to get a peg leg? I've always dreamed of a life of piracy, and now seems as good a time as any to realize it. I don't have the funds to pay for a scroll of regeneration, but I consider myself an entrepreneur. It gives me something to work for, now that you all have given me something to live for."
Zander strides in through the door, alerted by the emergence of the first few hostages. "Everyone all right? We found tracks outside heading east towards Candlemere. Looks like minotaur tracks." He looks around at the bodies of the fallen hags for a few moments, assessing the hostages and their injuries. "It's going to take a long time to get them all back to Sanctuary. Most of these people can barely walk under their own power, or not at all."
The barbarian returns from the hallway beyond, redfaced. Dragonsbreath is slung around his broad back in the red-scaled scabbard. His heavy breathing has evened some.
"Anything? The minotaur is gone, and we've no way to contact Sanctuary to warn them if he arrives. One of you, invent some magic. We'll need to ride our horses into the ground if we're not already too late."
Verik has a slight smile upon his face as he marvels at Aleza's humor in the face of such adversity. He is just about to comment on her notion of a "pirate's peg leg" when first Zander and then Nikolai arrive to the courtyard chamber. At first relieved at Zander's arrival, Verik's smile fades quickly with Nikolai's bold assumptions about magic. Above him in the tower, he can hear Borodin and Elsir speaking about some matter in elvish but cannot make it out.
"Nikolai, your minotaur's path has been confirmed by Zander here, so that much is correct. As to "inventing magic" to alert the...are you having a jest? Exactly how do you suppose I or 'we' can just conjure up communications?" Sarcastically, he stands up and starts looking around the floor as if to discover something. "Let us see, hmmm...where can I find a sending or dreaming spell or the power of telepathy? Anything? No well I may have an archon in my belt pouch and ask it in Celestial to fly to Sanctuary..." He pats his belt pouch at his belt and makes a half-hearted motion to look inside. "No, no archon, just coins and chalk!"
Having seen to the most dire needs of the worst off of the former prisoners, Akiros comes to gather with the other founders. Anger is clear in his clenched jaw and blazing eyes, yet how much of it is directed at Verik and Nikolai, and much towards the state of the people, and what had been done to them, is unclear. "Enough you two! This is neither the time nor place for your bickering!"
Then, turning to the Warden "Zander, how quickly could two of your fastest riders make it to Sanctuary? Or perhaps four of them, riding in relays?"
Then, noticing the missing members of their group, he raises his voice and bellows "Elsir! Borodin! Found you anything that could be of aid to us in determining the truth or lies of the hag?"
"Elsir! Borodin! Found you anything that could be of aid to us in determining the truth or lies of the hag?"
Borodin takes a few steps down towards the others and looks over the railing.
"It is a bit unpleasant, but we did in fact find scrolls that could help us. They are beyond my abilities but Elsir may have a good chance at using them. With one, we could send a message to someone in Sanctuary who is known to Elsir and receive a reply. The other is a scrying scroll. So we could in theory, observe where the minotaur is."
"There is also some degree of wealth up here in her den. Verik, would you like to do an accounting?"