Moira looks warily down at her carefully contained chest. "If I expand anymore I really will have back problems."
Domitian woke with a start, his eyes snapping open and glancing to and fro in a paniced hurry. There was a half-remembered dream, somewhere at the edges of his memory, and fading fast. There had been flying, he was sure of that. The sight of Benjamin growing more and more distant. And Erastil. The old man himself, not one of his emissaries. He had been cool and calm and as still as the great trees of the forest in the calm before the storm. He'd said something important, something about his future, but Domitian couldn't quite place it...
He rubbed his face groggily, trying to get his bearings. How long had he been out? Where was he? He looked about, but it looked like most people were already up. It was hard to separate the dream from reality, to remember what he had been doing. They had done battle with the mites, and had been going through cleanup. Then there was the pheonix; his soul sang just to remember the song of it. Then the feather... the feather!
He jumped to his feet, and looked to the tattoos on his arm. Had that been real? He spun around, trying to follow the feathers up his body, and instantly regretted it as he felt dizzy and almost fell. He felt weak all over, and hungry, hungrier than he had been in a long time.
He walked out, and saw the state of the camp with some puzzlement. He saw the others, and smiled. "What happened? How long was I out?" After getting the rundown from the others, devowering some of Delan's food (absolutely amazing, this boy can cook, best food ever...) and finding out, much to his surprise, that they had almost all been out cold for days, he lets out a long sigh. It was so much to process.
Finally, he just turns to Moira and says with some astonishment "You can fly?!?"
Meha laughs and point to Moira’s chest, saying ” I believe they have gotten bigger. Perhaps you should change your fighting style a bit, let them be more open. I may not can bash a skull in, but a slip here or there in combat never hurt me. Maybe my opponent…” She sighed wistfully, as she knew she would have to be careful from now on. For the vision she was shown that had her and Dom together was one where he seemed older, but not by much. Perhaps a bit more grey in his hair, but his movements were the same.
She looked over to Dom, taking in the cut of his beard, fashionable scruffy yet well kept, his hair long enough to run fingers through. He was a handsome man, but also a virtuous one. She wasn’t sure how, or if she even should share her vision with him, for as honorable as he was, it was a very high likelihood all the members had seen the heralds of their deities and been given multiple paths to walk, and he choose a different one. She could not blame him for it, as the vision in which she played the one to walk in darkness wasn’t a role she couldn’t perform. She had training from the church in leadership and deception, let alone what her mother had taught her. That line of thought brought her to frown slightly as she stares at Dom, her mind thinking about how much of the recent information she should share with her mother.
Moira looked up from her notations, confused. "Huh. Yeah. I can. I did at least. Can't right now. Not sure why," she says, looking over her shoulders as if expecting enormous fiery wings to be there. She turns back to her notes for a few minutes but closes it with a frustrated snap. She wasn't getting anywhere. She looks at Mehaila when she speaks. She prepares her own quip when the cleric stops on her own. She was giving Dom the googly eyes again. Which was a real shame. The elf had some lovely curves.
She considered Dom too but not in the same way. He'd made it very clear were he stood on the matter. No. She was remembering the battle. How all of them worked together almost seamlessly. Knowing where they were needed, when to get out of the way, when to step in. Like companions who'd known each other for years rather than days.
"Hey," she calls out to the group as a whole. "Can anyone else use that staff Lyra has? I've seen it shape stone and wood and was wondering if we could make practice weapons. I might be stubborn but even I can see when things are changing. Something happened to us back in that fight. We moved together better than we ever had. I was hoping we could capture or retain some of that with some sparring. Get a feel for each others patterns and style."
Rose looks up, tilting her head. "Well I could possibly try to make it work. Lyra just has been in charge of them because she can use them far simpler. It would take a feat of concentration and manipulating the magic item for me to get the same results, I believe." She shrugged, knowing full well that Lyra had a gift when it came to staves with certain properties. There were others that she was sure she could use just as effectively, but those two in particular would take some practice to use well for herself.
Frowns and nods, remembering how easily she was able to work the exploding one. " Perhaps it is tied to if you can cast spells from your god? I was able to work the fire one with slight effort. All it was was a thinking and... pushing your magic through the staff. I am unsure how else to describe it past that. Besides, you are a weapon smith. You have strong arms and legs. A bountiful chest and a smooth back to support all these. You do not need magic often, and what you would need is more so to support yourself. "
After a few seconds of thought to the combat abilities of the group, she speaks again. " You are a beautiful one woman fighting beast, and we rest are merely support. You and Dom are the only ones able to stand to the front, while I and Vetra stand behind you. Delan and Rosa and Lyra are for the back, filling in where is needed. I.... I feel we should speak more about where we fit. I can heal and sneak through rooms unseen. We know Moira and Dom can fight and take many hits. Both Lyra and Rosa are well versed with ranged items. Really its just Vetra and Delan that are mysterious still to me."
She wasn't trying to be cruel to Vetra abilities or diminish what she has done, for every time Vetra had done something, Meha had been in a different place and unable to view it. That meant she had no idea what Vetra was really good with. Vetra had impressed the other party members, and so Meha trusted her, she simply just had no idea what she could do. The only thing she does remember is the breathing fire, and she wasnt sure if that was normal for Vetra or not. She looks over to the tents of her remaining friends and says " Perhaps we should make something for them to lay in and start on the road. I feel we do not have many days left."
"And armor," Moira interjects instinctively. She smiled to take the sting out of the correction. It quickly turns into a frown at Mehaila's analysis. She wanted to refute her. But instead she starred at the fire and looked back at the previous fights. And nodded sadly. That was probably how she looked. "I guess that's the impression I've given. I actually prefer stalking silently, taking my time to line up the right shot, and ending it in one strike. If it comes down to melee I like to end it one powerful strike as well. I am not usually so...aggressive. Okay I am aggressive just not stupidly so like I have been. Just kind of intimidated by all the magic. And even though I have some I don't know what the hell to do with it so...yeah. Maybe put me further in the back."
Truth be told she felt a little useless. Delan could mediate, Mehaila could heal, Lyra had like all the magic, Dom was good at facing foes head on, Rosa could be a damn good shoot with explosive arrows too, and honestly...Vetra was probably a better fighter. And all of them had magic, well more magic. There was nothing left. In fact she hampered group cohesion more than helped it. Not quite dead weight and not quite contributing either. She knew she could do a lot with a hammer and anvil but then she might as well stay behind.
Shit. Where had all her confidence gone? Just a few hours ago she was flying high in the air. The next she felt like a bug on the ground. Actually, she could barely stand toe-to-toe with a bug. Or a grig. That was a depressing thought and the cherry on top of this pity sundae. Is it that time of the month? It better be or else I have no good excuse for the sand in my eyes.
Sensing she had upset Moira, Meha lays a dainty hand on her arm in way of support and says " Then you would do well with me then if you like to silently stalk your prey. We shall train together, me and you. Then we shall be able to work out our best advantages. I prefer to get close, it would be nice to have a trusted friend watch my back." She would flash Moira a cheerful smile, a small dimple appearing from the movement
While speaking with Moira, Mehaila notices something strange from the corner of her eye, and she then turns her large elven eyes fully towards the movement. She sees a small snake-like creature, dangerously close to Vetra's tent. She quietly points the creature out to her group, before her sense of danger causes her to try to quietly, and quickly, dash over to the opening and see what the creature was trying to do to her friend. She had a dagger out, and would throw the tent flap open, which would look very bad if Vetra awakes before noticing the slithering intruder.
" Stop you fiend! What are you trying to do to poor Vetra?!" she cries out in Slyvan, hoping the creature spoke this language, or would stop from her much larger size and presence.
The moment Mehaila placed herself between the creature and it's intended meal it lashed out at the elf. Charging forward the dragon like creature roared before launching through the air and latching onto Mehaila's neck and wrapping it's sinuous body around her as they tumbled to the ground.
The creature was six feet long with a heavy build, emerald green scales covering it's entire body and propelled by a single pair of legs. Green vapor and blood trickled from the creature's jagged maw as it attempted to crush the life out of Mehaila.
Meha growled as the thing grabbed hold of her, her breathing coming shallow and fast as it tried to squeeze the life from her neck, but something in her body strengthened, and she went to try and take control of the creature holding her currently. She flexes and moves her body in ways that none present would be able to do, save for suddenly becoming a very flexible monk. Her skin takes on a bit of a rainbow hue that looked similar to her tattoo, and she was clearly trying to reverse the grapple. If she able to reverse the grapple, she would start to squeeze the creature in a manner that none present swore the lithe elf should be able to do.
Rose caught sight of the enormous creature and decided to warn Domitian and Moira of what she saw, not realizing that their elven companion was going to immediately try and engage the creature herself. Upon not seeing Mehaila readily, she decided to carefully check the tent, and the sight that greeted her eyes was a most unusual one indeed, as she saw her ally wrestling with the creature with a flexibility that honestly surprised and intrigued her. "Should I give you two some privacy?" She said, before realizing that she was actually fighting with the creature, and bleeding quite profusely from her neck. "Domitian, come quick, the thing bit Mehaila already." She called out as she maintained her distance from the creature as much as possible.
Coughing to hide her embarrassment, Moira doesn't realize what is going on behind until Rosa draws their attention. Moira is momentarily at a loss for words as to what is happening. Mehaila was grappling a dragon, snake, thing...and winning? She did some sort of contortion (had to be Calistria-trained) and somehow slipped out of the thing's embrace only to reverse the hold. That was both impressive and arousing. Ignoring any other thoughts, Moira charges towards the fray and aids Mehaila in taking control of the creature.
With Mehaila's snake-like movements she is able to reverse the grapple on the creature and begin to crush it's body with her crossed legs. The creature went mad with pain and and bit the elf again but was unable to secure a grip.
Rose takes her overly engraved staff into her hands. "Hold it still Mehaila, I don't want to hit you. I call upon the spirit of my staff, strengthen yourself and aid me. Let my aim be true, and my strike be crushing." She tightened her grip on the quarterstaff and felt the energy hum and throb through it, empowering it to be more deadly than it was before as a simple walking stick. No it was no mere walking stick, it was the channel to a higher power that granted her power and parlayed with her for gifts and boons.
Maintaining her advantage on the scaled creature, Mehaila tries to stab at its face, but was unclear if she managed to do damage with all the blood coming from her body and its as she keeps squeezing on the creature. She screams out " HELP ME!" as she struggles with the creature, being unable to do much more than hold on and continue to try and stab it every chance she got, while awaiting her companions to help out. Maybe Vetra and Lyra would manage to sleep through this.
Domitian had been off scavenging in the forest, when he thought he heard his name. He makes his way back toward camp, and tries to puzzle out what he is seeing. All that goes out the window when Mehaila cries out for help. Domitian immediately starts over to her, pulling out his falchion along the way. When he gets up to them, he reaches out, touches Mehaila, and prays to Erastil for healing.
He smiles softly as the healing magic flows through him. "Don't worry Mel, we're here. Hold it steady!"
Moira moves in to take over and grab the slippery beast just as Mehaila screams. Her calm broken by panic now, she grabs too quickly and finds no purchase on the creature's scaly exterior. Knowing that was not going to work. She takes a moment to truly focus and find a better angle.
Rose taking her staff now imbued with strength and power and raises it up. "Stop squirming and hold the blasted thing still!" She starts getting hysterical and takes a mighty swing at the creature, hoping not to hit her already injured elven friend.
Domitian's dream turned into horrible reality as the healing magic flowed through Mehaila and into the creature she was wrapped around, healing them both. Everyone else's attacks missed as the elf and the creature rolling in the dirt, each attempting to strangle the other. Latching onto Mehaila's arm the creature yanked its head back and forth in an attempt to rip the digit off.
Despite the blood and violent way Mehaila was being thrashed about, Moira stayed cool. And when the moment came, she lunged.
She pried it's jaws apart enough that the elf cleric could escape. She then let the jaws go, ignoring the intimidating snap they made. Grabbing it around the throat, she pulled it away, careful of the wagging tail. She'd be fine taking it to the ground but only when she had absolute control. "Grab it's tail or take a swing! Don't care which!" she says in a strained voice.
Moira's is able to grab on to the creature's jaws and grip firmly, the muscles in her back and arms rippling as she she slowly pried the powerful jaws off of Mehaila. As the elf scrambles away the creature begins to scream in pain as the powerful fighter begins to pull the two halves of it's jaw further and further apart, flailing ineffectively at the human as she began to rip the creature in half starting at it's jaws.
Slips free from the beast as Moira helps out, though her arm was mostly useless, being nothing but shredded meat and tendons. She didn't care though for as soon as she stumbled back, Moira was starting to rip the creature in half. Mehaila went in to help, finishing the job with a few stabs, hoping to fell the creature, having Moira distract it as she came on its flank and stabbed it well enough to cause it to start bleeding from the wound she caused.
It made a mistake. Moira felt it loosen its jaw ever so slightly when Mehaila stabbed it. No good hunter ever let a good opportunity go. Now that it's jaw was past the point were it could apply it's full force, she was straining against skin and tendons. And those were much weaker. Still it fought though. Swiping claws. Lashing tail. But it was a loosing battle.
Moira purposefully fell over and used the force of the landing pull past the breaking point. With a hissing exhalation, she gave it everything she had. And with a pop and sickening, crackling sound, the jaw gave. With it came several inches of red flesh. For good measure, Moira grabbed an arrow and stabbed it through the roof of it's mouth and into it's skull.
Moira panted on the ground for a few seconds, the creature laying on top of her, before finally pushing it off. Her arms twitched slightly and the veins looked grotesquely prominent. That was going to hurt in the morning. "Next time...someone...stab...the damn thing," she said between inhales. She sits forward and stands without the us of her arms as they just swung there limply. She tries to stretch them out and winces at how weak she feels. That was really going to hurt.
She looks over at Mehaila and rethinks what pain is. That must hurt. "Uh. You okay?" she asks rather pointlessly. She couldn't do anything to help even she wasted. "Can you heal that?" When she or someone else does she nods and sighs in relief. That was a really close call for several people.
"Dom. Can you skin and clean that," she says flopping an arm towards the tatzlwyrm. "I don't think I can grip my knife right now."[b] She wanders a few feet away and mumbles something under her breath as her fingers twitch. A gallon of water appears over her head and drenches her barely outstretched arms. [b]"That's the stuff." She repeats as necessary.
After the fight with the tatzylwyrm it took some time for the camp to settle down. While the wounds to Mehaila's neck and arm were easily healed her armor had several holes and rips from the creature. Moira's clothing just couldn't seem to have the blood washed out of it and was left with a faint pinkish splatter in spots.
That night the spirits of the party were lifted however as Delan whipped up a delicious meal of spiced tatzylwyrm meat with some sauteed sweet roots that Lyra had collected while the party slept. The delicious smell was enough even to wake the exhausted druid and magus and they woke long enough to partake of the food before stumbling back to their tents and falling back asleep.
There were no problems throughout the night and Lyra would wake before dawn as she normally did to commune with nature to the rising of the sun. The rest of the party would have a hearty breakfast of more tatzylwyrm meat before breaking down the tents and following Shezen to the south. It would take most of the day to cover the fifteen miles and the black scaled kobold would hunker down on the lee-side of a hill.
"My clan is two hills south of us. What we do about Tartuk?" She asked. During the trip she had filled in the party to the troubles of her clan and the evil actions of the purple-scaled kobold.
After the adrenaline wore off, and she goes to brush her hair with her left hand, she suddenly remembers why it hadn’t really helped in the stabbing. She faintly remembers it hurting because the pain starts. Her neck had healed all nice and fine, only the pink spots of healing that would go away rater quickly. But her arm was on fire, and she hits it with a cure spell, wincing when she touches it.She calls out in prayer, but it was clear it strained her to do so. The magic does help, starting to rebuild her shredded arm, fingers re-growing from small nubs, her bones snapping back into place. She whimpers and sinks to the ground, as people tended to forget the pain healing caused once applied. Her healing would feel like a lovers touch sure, but that didn’t mean regrowing skin and flesh over wide areas was faster than 6 seconds. In sure, 6 seconds later she was completely fine, no pain, but it was clear from the tears in her eyes she had suffered silently.
The next day she looks at their newest friend and states ” Revenge is a tenement of my faith. You get the best results after planning and executing it, and leaving your opponent alive enough to savor his fall from grace. However… you may wish to kill him afterwards. But let us prove he is weak and without merit. I think that would work best.”
She seemed to every night move her bedroll closer to Dom until the previous night it was next to his. She seemed in much better spirits after she woke up to seeing him. Even if he wasn’t completely naked, in his bedroll he was yummy looking. She had sighed after waking up, due to knowing it was like a desert one did not touch before their meal. She would have to work her charms to get him.
Rose would roll her eyes and shake her staff in frustration in response to Moira's comment about stabbing the creature. She did however decide to partake in the wyrm feast and when her sister finally awoke she hugged her tightly, relieved to be reunited again. "Enjoy your nap? It had been kind of hectic here whilst you were out of it." She goes on further to describe to Lyra what transpired with the tatzylwyrm and Mehaila and Moira's quick actions and the aftermath of said actions.
Moira was surprised to find her arms did not hurt as much as she expected. Sure there was some soreness and some stiffness but nothing more than she expected from a long day of hammering metal. Also surprising was the fact that she no longer had that odd connection to her horse. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was nice not to have the extra sense buzzing around in her head. But it was like something was missing. Like a forgotten memory that you know you forgot. Bah. Little extra feed and he'll be fine. Would probably prefer going back to pulling carts.
Moira had a vague idea that she was supposed to do something in the morning to get spells back. She found that out when nothing worked against the mites. So she took her cues from Lyra and Domitian when the did their morning rituals. She was sure they were praying but it just looked like they were sitting really still. She tried this, sitting still and focusing on the word around her. She snapped her head up wen she found she was nodding off. So that wasn't going to work. So she tried reciting the teachings and prayers, or what she could remember, her father had said over the years. After an hour, that also did not seem to work.
Addressing the two of them as they rode she asked, "Hey. How do you guys get spells back? I tried sitting still and what prayers I could remember but I am pretty sure it wasn't worked."
The others probably knew what her thoughts were on the subject of kobolds. Or at least these in general. Thus she kept her mouth shut and an eye out for trouble.
Lyra looked up from her journal and gave Moira a surprised look. She looked over at Domitian and pursed her lips. "You need a teacher. For some people magic is instinctive but for matters of faith you need a teacher. The rituals I was taught allow me to commune with the spirits of nature but Erastil's faith requires something else. Perhaps you should spend some time with Domitian. You and he share a faith after all."
Waking up next to Mehaila puts a smile on Domitian's face. She really is quite pretty... He doesn't say much to her beyond the normal morning greetings, but makes sure to smile at her.
------
When they are on the road, and Moira raises her question, Domitian frowns and thinks for a moment before speaking. "This sort of relationship with Erastil is decidedly different than most peoples. We who are chosen by him to act out in more direct ways, we seek him out differently than others. It isn't about specific prayers, nor even necessarily about sitting still; it is about connecting to him on a deeper level. His magic flows out of that connection."
He looks off into the distance for a minute before continuing. "For me, I think of the forest in the quiet of the night, just before morning. Absolute stillness, quiet, after the night creatures have settled but before the daytime creatures get up and about. I let that peacefulness wash over me. I picture myself in the middle of such a forest, and I feel the energy of it, the potential, the calm before the storm of activity that comes with the dawn. And my heart sings out to Erastil, to who he is, the heart of the forest, old and steady like a giant and ancient oak tree. That then feeds into me, and I feel ready to start the day."
He shrugs, almost embarrassed, but then says "Honestly, the magic parts are relatively new to me too. My mentor told me that for him, it was more about the energy of the spring storm, that a good downpour was what energized him the most. For him, in the midst of the pouring rain, he would bring to mind the spell effects he wanted to have ready. It wasn't as simple as naming a spell, he told me; he had to visualize the effect, to communicate what it was he needed done. Once he had done that, he could bring it up in a moment's notice later in the day. I've been trying to do that, but honestly beyond some healing I haven't even had a chance to try out using anything I've prepared."
------
Later, when their new kobold friend speaks up, and Mehaila gives her answer, Domitian frowns and looks thoughtful, and maybe a little bit sad. "Shezen, this is your home, so I'll follow your lead on how to approach this; but to me, a more quick and direct approach would be best. Present what you have learned to your fellows, and give them a chance to oust Tartuk. If he should try to fight, then we will be ready to deal with him most severely."
Rose agrees with Domitian's suggestion. "We can help, but because we are outsiders, would be unfortunate if he used your alliance with us against you unfairly. We will do what we can but I think you and perhaps Vetra would be seen in a more favorable light than we would." She gently urged Shezan, not knowing if she was on favorable enough terms, but wanted to make her point known to her as well.
Looking at the black kobold Lyra shrugged. "You have us and our power, as agreed by Vetra. Why fear a single being when you have allies? And if your entire tribe is in fear of this Tartuk then do you really need to fear repercussions from killing him? He is a threat to your entire clan so do not dispense with trying to convince anyone. In this case it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission. You are the clan leader's daughter, act like it."
She stopped and looked at the group. "Tartuk is a liar. Shezen has claimed that he says the great 'spirit' speaks through the devil statue we claimed from the mites but I have examined it and it is nothing more than cheap porcelain. It is not an altar of any devil of real power and therefore the odds of it being a receptacle of any kind are almost nil."
She pulls out the holly branch she uses in most of her spells and brandishes it at the group. "This hums in my hand. Is it not the same for you, Domitian and Mehaila? Do your own holy symbols not resonate with your faith?"
There was little that Delan could say outside of what had already been said. Shezen seemed concerned about how to move forward. It was obvious that she cared for her people, and was worried for their safety and about confronting Tartuk.
Finally, he rested a gentle hand on the young Kobold's shoulder. Looking her in the eye, he told her, "The most important thing is for you to do what you believe is best for your people. Whatever will keep them safe. We will follow your lead. If you say Tartuk needs to be captured or killed, then we will make sure that happens to the best of our abilities... but your people deserve better than to be lied to and treated like scummer."
He'd meant it when he told Vetra he'd do whatever he could to help her and her people. She'd saved his life and been more than enough proof that Kobolds were more than what their reputations would lead one to believe. It was going to be exceptionally difficult, but he admired her desire to create a kingdom where all races would be welcome and treated equally.
"As Miss Rosasaria said, there is a possibility that he may try to use our presence to discredit you and keep the rest of your clan from believing you. All we can do is our best to prove him wrong, should he try. You just do what you know is right, even if we're the only ones supporting you. Okay?"
Feeling a bit self conscious as Dom and some of the other members give her a strange look, she shrinks a bit, a blush rising to her cheeks as the reproachful looks. She mutters ” It’s part of my faith. You get revenge but let the opponent live, savoring. You all know this.” No matter how true it was, she still would rub her arms and look uncomfortable, as her companions didn’t share that viewpoint, as Erastil was a very direct deity, even when he was patiently stalking prey. You knew where you stood with him, and sometimes one would never know with her.
She would blink when Moira asked them about the way they got their powers back, and she nods in part to what Lyra says, as her method was different, but it did normally involve the use of her holy symbol. She pulls out the worn metal symbol she uses, and shows it to Moira saying ” This is what I do. I hold this in my hand, and I think about someone I am pursuing either for their body or a revenge, and generally that does it. I feel this… brushing of her presence, and sometimes when I ask a question I receive a general feeling of an answer.” She wasn’t trying to be vague, but hers was a more sensual touching religion, as anyone who she had channeled healed or touched with her healing hands would understand that brushing to a lesser degree.
As the others offered to support the Kobold, she spent some time thinking. There was the statue Vetra had, but it wasn’t the only one they found in the mites belongings, and she wondered about that. Some were not very well done, but the dragon statue seemed to be a higher quality. She tried viewing it with an eye to figuring out if it is from some religion or something else.
Shezen sat quietly and listened to everyone's advice, nodding several times and frowning once or twice. She looked up sharply at Lyra's suggestion and mulled over the possibility of pure violence fixing the situation. Finally she came to some sort of decision and looked around. "Who carry statue?"
Vetra reached into her bags and pulled out the ugly statue before handing it to Shezen. The black scaled kobold rolled it in her hands before staring into the statues eyes. When nothing happened for several long minutes she raised the statue into the air and slammed it down on a small boulder buried in the ground near her feet, shattering it. She waited for several pregnant seconds for any kind of reaction before giving a tooty smile and standing to her full 3 foot height. "I kill betrayer. You come?" she asked hopefully before turning on her heel and heading towards her home again.
Rose nodded, gripping her staff firmly in her hands and looking to see the responses from the others. "If it must be done, then let's do it." She says with conviction and determination.
Moira didn't like kobolds in general. But this one was growing on her. She smiled a little when she saw it smash the idol on the ground and very confidently say it was going to kill the betrayer, this Tartuk character. She might even come to like Shezen. "I'm in."
Domitian smiled as the statue hit the ground, set his face in a hard, determined look as Shezen declared his intentions. This thing has clearly hurt many in this community, turning them against each other... He lets out a brief sigh, then says "There is something to be said for honesty of intention. I'll back you up as well."
Delan watched and waited as Shezen shattered the statue, alert for something to happen as a result. Thankfully, nothing did. Delan wouldn't hesitate to nod along with the others. "Absolutely." He'd already had to deal with his own tyrants slaughtering his family and subjugating him.
He'd be damned if he sat by and let the same horrible things happen to others.
Grins wickedly and checks her daggers once Shezen destroys the statue. She didnt know what it was from, but she did know that anything most kobolds would think of as evil would best be better off dead. " You shall have my daggers." Mehaila nodded. She was ready to settle this betrayer of the people.
Without hesitation Moira lurches forward, her sword moving in a blur and striking deep into the purple kobold's shoulder in a spray of blood. He screamed as he staggered back and flickers of flame began to appear around his hands in with dangerous hissing noise. Everyone feels a gentle caress across their shoulders as Delan's magic sank in.
From where Mehaila had stood a moment before the air shimmered for an instant before the magic settled in completely and the elf snuck around the edge of the room quieter than a shadow. Rosa and Domitian enter with arrows nocked and take up shooting positions from the doorway, their aim shifting as they attempted to shoot around Moira without hurting her. With so many people already in the room Lyra and Shezen turn their backs to watch the hallway behind them to prevent any flanking by the other kobolds.
Moira follows the attack with a vicious backhand swing. She prepares to attack again when she hears something off. She'd heard enough casters to recognize the mumbo jumbo but it wasn't coming from the creature before her. It was coming from the...left? Yes, the left. Was there another or was the one in front of her even real? No, this one had to be fake. No caster ever stood their ground against a melee opponent. It just wasn't smart. If she heard the other caster, likely someone else did too. And their magic would do better to flush them out. All she needed was an opportunity.
"Someone's casting over there!" she yells pointing vaguely left in case anyone missed it.
Mehaila quietly slides into the room, edging around the side to get the drop on Tartuk, but something seems off. Moira gets close in and absolutely starts to slaughter the caster, yet there is still chanting she can hear to her left. This gives her pause, and while she can not locate the exact location, the left side of the room seemed to be the best bet. She doesn't warn her group however, as it could just be her ears playing tricks in the low ceilings. She gingerly approaches, using all her time to make sure she isn't surprised by bumping into something.
Domitian doesn't pick up on the displaced casting, but Moira's words give him pause, as does her hesitation in continuing to strike the caster in front of her. He looks around the room, but doesn't see any place for his bow to strike. He keeps glancing around the room, bow at the ready, waiting for his opportunity.
Well, this was an awkward space to be fighting in. Delan decided it would be best for him to hang back and focus on spellwork this battle, instead of trying to swing his sword around in Kobold sized rooms. Letting the other's take the fore, Delan hung back with Lyra. Letting her keep an eye on their backs and assuming she would say something if they were set upon on the rear, he continued to sing courage to his comrades.
However, over the chaos he heard Tartuk's voice. It wasn't coming from where Delan could see the Kobold. Moira heard it as well, calling the alarm. Unsure where the voice was coming from, or what was going to happen from it, he quickly and carefully cast a spell to erect a magical shield around himself for extra protection. Then, with his sword raised defensively, he tried to see if he could pinpoint where the voice was coming from.
Ooc: defentively casting cleric domain spell Shield, grants +4 AC.
Rose let loose her shot at the Kobold before them, and watched Moira swing at it, and Domitian fire at it as well. Something was...off... When Moira announced a sound, a chanting to the one side of the room Rose tried to refocus upon it. She could hear, incantations, magical words being woven. Upon realizing what the hidden figure was trying to do she immediately reached into her bag and started to mix a concoction. "Something hidden is trying to flee! Quickly before it escapes!" She hurled the concoction she mixed, watching it fizz some as it struck a nearby wall and an explosion of flash flames engulfs the area. Rose and her allies were spared though they could feel the intense heat flow around them.
As everyone's attention is shifted to the left the figure fighting Moira straightens and the wounds vanish as the purple scaled kobold smiles. "Nice try big'un. If only your brains were equal to your ti- AH"! the creature screamed as it shimmered and vanished. The reverberations from Rosa's bomb echoed down the chamber as the chanting was interrupted and a familiar voice snarled. "Fine! Bring it on!!"
There was a pregnant moment as a bead of fire blossomed over shimmering kobold hands before shooting out into the middle of the group. In slow motion Dom's arrow seemed to slowly release, the wooden shaft bending back and forth as it was pushed by the bow string. As the bead of fire expanded into a ball of roiling flame that engulfed most of the room the invisibility fell away from Tartuk's malicious grin. Protective magic shimmered around the kobold as the paladin's arrow penetrated spells and scales with a splash of blood.
There was a shimmer next to Tartuk as another invisible figure erupted from nothing and Shezen launched a fusillade of screaming attacks as her wakizashi blurred and bit into Tartuk's side, purple scales and red blood flying in every direction. "Die traitor!"
"Crap," is all Moira can think as the little bead of light flies from the kobold's hand. Fireball. A mage's bread and butter. She should have expected that. She should have made for cover before it ever left his hand. Now all she had time to do was throw her arms over her face. It might just save her eyes and lungs. As her arms crossed, she noticed fire was already surrounding her though the bead hadn't exploded yet. And when it did, the part of her already covered by flames was warded from it. She still ended up pretty severely burned on her lower body but she was still functional. Still able to fight. She turned to the kobold and practically growled, "You will pay for that."
Rose had a triumphant smile on her face as her explosive seemed to do exactly what she had been hoping to accomplish. Unfortunately there was a all too familiar streak of light and a similar detonation to her own erupted around her. She found herself unable to get out of the way in time, gritting her teeth as her body screamed in pain. Her nerves were alight and she felt pretty raw all over. She turned to try and loose another attack on the foe, but Moira had beaten her to the punch and was already dealing the bastard a rather savage blow. She kept herself ready in case Tartuk had managed to survive the assault.