Fighting off the confuzzlement, Antal grows quiet, his entire body wreathed, momentarily in the chill of the darkness between the planes. With great swiftness, the cold shroud appears on the strange creature, surrounding it and freezing all it touches.
The creature shrieks as Jametor's ray slams into it, knocking out a handful of teeth from more than one mouth.
"Hey Firiel, did you notice anything of value on those monsters when you were hugging it...or was it hugging you. You know, right before it ate you."
Jametor laughs.
"Too soon?
After his vision clears and his confusion fades, Njord rubs his eyes and looks at the sword in his hand and the defensively poised ifrit. ”Sorry ‘bout that Asht. I didn’t hurt ya did I?”
Shudder. "Yes, if we had fled, those things would have been at our backs, but I think we could have stayed far enough away to avoid their - magic or whatever - and maybe lead them to be a nasty surprise for someone else." Shudders again.
Asht'el eyes Njord suspiciously, a new experience for him, his hands raised and fingers tensed as if to unleash a barrage of magical power at the man-bear. He gradually calms, running a hand through his hair, chasing sparks through it with his fingers as he collects himself. "No, you didn't hurt me. But I'm glad you couldn't see, or that could have gone very differently, eh?"
Jametor looks around.
"Who needs some healing? Let's get healed up and continue. Was there anything of value on whatever these are?"
Njord wraps a brawny arm around Asht’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze. ”Har! You could say that again!”
Fíriel still feels a bit weak, but says she can push on, so the group sets off once more. After about ten more minutes of hiking, Asht'el notices an elven scout in the distance, running toward the group from the direction of the camp. Panting, he finally reaches the party and holds out a sealed scroll as he tries to get his breath.
Friends—
A group of our scouts, led by Kaerishiel, is in serious need of your aid. He and his men have taken refuge in a ruined tower, but are now surrounded and unable to retreat. The drow are preparing to destroy the tower; please make haste there and defeat the drow before they succeed in their plan!
The handwriting is hurried, but recognizable as Eviana's. The spot indicated is a few minutes from the group's current location.
Jametor looks at his friends.
"Well, which way do we go?"
Quizzically, "You mean to reach the tower?"
Turning to the scout, "What can you tell us about this tower? And are you able to aid us?"
"Fine with me, yes, any information would be a great help."
The messenger shakes his head. "Sorry... I have to get back. I don't know anything about the tower... I heard Eviana say that as far as she knows there's nothing there, it just happened to be a place they thought they could hole up and wait for reinforcements. I guess they didn't realize the drow might try to destroy it..."
He frowns. "Look... Kaerishiel saved my life once, many years ago. If you can get him out of this..." he trails off and shakes his head again, his voice regaining its measured "messenger" tone. "I need to get back."
Giving the party one last look, he turns and trots back the way he came.
"Well I suggest we head over to this tower and before we get too close, perhaps we make Randall and Firiel invisible and then let them scout out the surroundings, what do you think? I only have greater invisibility prepared."
"Har! Sounds like a good plan", Njord offers. "Randall, Firiel, you two up for it? It'll be dangerous."
Randall gives the girl a concerned look, but nods. "I'm up for it, but if they find me, I plan to bring them back to you. Hate to have the fun without my friends."
Jametor looks at Randall and grins, "Just remember when you see fire. Stop, Drop and roll. My kinda fun can burn."
"Great, now we get to save the only elf none of us like or trust. At least someone seems to respect him, if he really saved the messenger's life," Asht'el grumbles. "But your plan sounds like a decent one, Jametor. Maybe you can tap me with the levitation wand just before we head into the fight, so I can get off the ground in a hurry if I need to and not waste a spell?"
As the group approaches the tower, it becomes clear that the situation is even more dire than Eviana's note proclaimed. A second tower stands not thirty feet from the crumbling ruins which must be the refuge of Kaerishiel and his troop. Atop the second tower, two or more drow can be seen moving about behind the high wall.
The tip of a ballista bolt barely protrudes from the wall on the top story, pointing roughly in the direction of the ruins. The drow atop the walls seem to be working to reposition the ballista so that it points directly at the already-crumbling tower!
A sudden yell makes the group aware that they've been spotted!
Asht'el doesn't like that they've been spotted, and aims to do something about it. He raises his left hand and pinches the tips of his fingers together, rubbing them back and forth and producing a sprinkle of glowing golden dust. He catches a small pile of the dust in his other hand, then hurls it at the top of the tower.
Two shouts of anger are heard from atop the tower as Asht'el's spell takes effect, but the drow nearest the group fights off the magic and points his finger accusingly at the attacker.
"Jametor, invisible would be good."
Fíriel follows Randall toward the tower, drawing her dagger as she goes.
The drow atop the walls continue to yell loudly, with two voices being heard cursing spellcasters and at least one other voice calling for 'the Brute' to be released. The drow who fought off Asht'el's magic hisses arcane words and continues to point, and suddenly a large mace appears and swings at the fiery-haired fellow. The swing goes wide, but just then a crossbow bolt arcs out from the top of the tower and slams into Jametor's shoulder.
Jametor winces at the bolt protruding from his shoulder, letting out a curse.
Turning his eyes to the top of the tower he raises a hand and through gritted teeth says a command phrase and a tiny bead of fire streaks from his finger. As it tops the tower and the high wall, Jametor says, "Boom" and the bead explodes in a loud whoompf.
Cries of pain are heard from atop the tower.
Using the distraction provided by the elf's spell, Njord retrieves his bundle of special herbs and grinds them in a meaty fist. With a laugh he brings the crushed concoction to his face. "Keep 'em pinned down Jametor!"
Asht'el points one long finger at the drow on the rooftop, unleashing a barrage of force bolts, hoping to hit the one who tried to attack him with a mace of magic.
"Can one of you toss me that flying wand?" calls Fíriel softly. For the time being, she pulls out another wand and taps herself with it.
The drow who'd pointed at Asht'el is struck full-on by the magical barrage, and cries out in pain and outrage even as he reaches out to steady himself against the wall.
Randall begins climbing up the wall; it's difficult to tell whether or not he's been noticed with all the yelling above.
The drow Ash had targeted frowns and ducks behind a crenelation, disappearing from view. The conjured mace continues to attack, while another drow appears by the wall and aims his crossbow at the party.
Jametor moves over to Firiel and whispers "I have a better plan." With a wave of his hand and a softly spoken word, he casts a spell.
Fíriel moves back toward Jametor, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Randall and hoping he'll be okay.
Were-Njord rushes the edge of the tower and begins scaling it.
As Firiel returns to the group, but before Njord leaves to climb the tower, Asht'el bestows magical speed on them all, wishing Randall were close enough to benefit as well.
Jametor reaches over and picks Firiel up. "Next stop, raining death from above."
Randall spares a glance back at his friends and notices the tell-tale effects of their magic and grins to himself. He idly wonders how many of the dark elves he'll find above.
There's a cry of alarm from atop the tower as some of the drow realize there are climbers. One of them continues to work on adjusting the now-singed ballista, while the others fire on the intruders and the mace below continues to harass Asht'el. One drow, his eyes still sparkling from Asht'el's earlier spell, motions quickly with his hand and flies up into the air!
After firing their bows, the drow drop them and draw glinting steel blades.