Nelly snaps again at the young mage as he stands up. This annoying obstacle needed to be gone.
When the whistle abruptly stops, Nelly falls into a frenzy - biting once more, then attempting again to reach her master!
"..."
"Nooooo!" Fyrtor cries out with anguish as he sees Turion's charred body fall to the ground before him. Realizing that he is too late to do anything Fyrtor grabs the spine of his sword in his left hand and runs, headless of the threat the lion poses, into a position where he can retaliate.
"You bastard! Burn yourself!" Raising his hand Fyrtor speaks the incantation he wanted to before, then grabs sword's hilt ready to face what will likely be his death.
The old mage barely dodges Fyrtor's fire! The lion swipes at Fyrtor but misses!
Still squeezed against the wall, Kelian reaches out and slugs the junior mage with his gauntleted fist again, twice.
Hearing a two cries of agony from the room ahead -- one from Túrion, the other from Fyrtor -- Mel thinks all right, time to be brave. Flexing her wrist, she pops a potion into her hand and downs it. I hope that works in this null magic zone, she thinks.
"Out of the way, Nelly," she says, gently pressing Nelly aside. Then slides past the mage.
"Eep!" she says as she rounds Kazador to find a large, bloody lion in her path. She tries to dodge past it, but backs up as soon as it raises a paw and snarls.
A word, a gesture, a feeble thrust easily countered, a moment of burning pain, and then behind him Turion falls dead to the ground.
For a shell shocked second of detachment, all he can think is who'll take care of Nelly? and what kind of hubris does it take to remember the painful deaths of a hundred fools who thought themselves immortal, and still not believe that you could fail up until you did?
And then Muse is back in reality, more firmly present than he's felt since they began this ill-fated adventure, keenly aware of every beat of his heart, every breath of smoke and air he forces through his ragged lungs. He screams. Bellows, roars something wordless and animal, eyes solid gold, form distorted by, wreathed in the memories and soulstuff of a century long life pitched senselessly into the Great Beyond with a word and a gesture, wreathed in the green memories of an ancient being deeply in tune with nature, phantasmal trees and clinging ivy spreading to the edges of the anti-magic zone and phantasmal animals racing from the medium in all directions as he, wreathed in the red and orange memories of the fire that killed Turion, raises his glass sword in two clenched fists. Screaming something wordless and human, screaming the first word ever spoken by something that stood on two legs, screaming out his rage and hate and his intent to cause pain, he strikes with it.
Brolin swings hard three times and manages to land a significant blow upon the mage!
Mel stares at Brolin in frank amazement. "Brolin!" she calls. "His strength lies in his magic. Get him into the null magic zone!"
I hope he understands, she thinks. He seems ... rather feral, at the moment.
The junior elf is smashed to the ground and doesn't move again. The senior mage, however, floats upward five feet of the ground. Then he eyes Brolin in more severe annoyance and twitches the rod in his hand. Instantly, Brolin feels an overwhelming, freezing paralysis take over his brain! Then the mage incants a spell...
The elder mage blinks out of sight, invisible!
The lion lashes out with a claw at Brolin (33 to hit for 11 damage) then steps over to Fyrtor and bites him, grabbing a hold of the druid (15 damage and grappled) but misses with his second claw.
Still in a fury, Nelly keeps biting anything she perceives as blocking her path...currently, the oversized cat was in that unfortunate position.
All the same, her goal was to reach her Master, and after a vicious bite, Nelly attempted to get past the summon once more.
Nelly finishes off the lion! She tears hard into its rear flank the creature snarls and disappears from view!
Nelly moves forward, with a probing howl at Túrion. Stubbing the body with her nose and not getting a reaction, she takes position over him, protecting his remains.
Kazador stepped into the room, and once more was driven out by the enchantments on his mind. With nothing that he could do, Kazador backed off to let the others in.
”Can’t bloody get in with his spell.” He said, in explanation.
”Then get out of the damn way.” Algric yelled as he ran in, and looked around wildly for any sign of the mage.
Fyrtor unsure of what to do next notices Algric's confusion. "The mage is right above the sphere! But Brolin's enchanted, if we can get him to the hallway on the far side he should be ok, magic isn't working on that side either."
As he says the words Fyrtor realizes that showing what he means is better that trying to explain. First he directs the sphere to bounce up into the air where the mage disappeared. Then he focuses and with a raised hand he speaks the words of power hoping he can strike the mage.
Muse would grit his teeth if even that much motion was permitted him. Instead he focuses his attention inward, reaching out to all the memories trapped in the antimagic zone, shaping them into a spell.
"Here, Kazador," Mel says. She drops her bow and several arrows to the corridor just inside the null magic zone.
"Kelian, people are looking rough in there!" she calls. "We need you."
Then she turns and runs into the room towards the spot where Fyrtor flung his mud ball, yanking her short sword. I've never used one of these, she thinks.
She halts just shy of the burning orb of fire, clicks her heels together, feeling the familiar jolt of speed come over her. Ai, Ostara, how did I get here? she wonders wildly.
But then she stills her mind. By following my faith, she thinks. I never wanted this. I love peace. But this man is an enemy of peace ... and if I am called to war ... then so be it!
She lunges upwards, hands outstretched to seize hold of one of her own people's most powerful mages.
Kelian moves into the room, clapping Kazador on the shoulder as he passes. Once inside, he reaches -- and a faint breeze stirs the room, soothing hurts on all present.
Algric launches a fantastic shot at the mage's likely location and you hear it hit home!
Fyrtor's mudball hits the wall with little effect.
The fire doesn't seem to be burning anything in particular but who would be able to tell anyway?
Mel feels like she has a hold on an arm or leg or something! And it doesn't seem happy at all! She hears a voice curse in a low voice
"You'll pay for that, kin-traitor!"
As Mel ran in, Kazador took a shot at the mage. Or at least where the mage seemed to be. He had fired a bow before...but it was a far cry from where his true talents lay. Still, at least he was doing *something*, which was better than standing and watching while his comrades fought and died.
Now that Kelian and Mel are within range, Muse takes moment to find his center and cast his spell.
Brolin manages to haste everyone except Kazador.
Mel feels her grasp empty all of a sudden. Then you hear some words spoken on the southern side of the open area but you aren't sure where.
The sound is coming from the furthest southwest portion of the zone where magic works, 10 ft off the ground right up against the ceiling.
Suddenly, a familiar sight greets you. Writhing, rubbery, black tentacles burst up from the ground filling the entire area where magic can work. It grasps everyone on the ground and squeezes hard! Even if you weren't bound by the tentacles, it would be difficult to move through this terrain.
Fighting against the tenticles Fyrtor struggles to locate the mage. After what seems like an eon, though it's only a few tramatic seconds, he catches a slight bending of the light for a moment. Pointing as best he can while wrestling with the writhing arms he calls out, "There! He's in that corner... near the ceiling"
It's like being buried alive. That's not hyperbole or metaphor, having the breath crushed out of him by these tentacles is exactly like being buried alive. Something squirming and wet wraps itself around the eyes he was unable to close, and then he's blind. The tendril pulls, and he feels his head move with it, neck shrieking out silent protest.
He needs to put it all out of his mind. Focus on his breathing. Being paralyzed with magic is strange, because normally you're either unaware of your breathing in and out, or you're in full control of it. When held your breathing is automatic, and you're keenly aware of it. It's deeply unpleasent. The challenge, he knows, Legacy tells him, and he'd tell Legacy he knows if he could move his tongue and lips to mouth the words, the challenge is taking back control of your breathing.
Taking back your lungs, that's the hard part. After that, arms and legs come easy. You just can't let anything distract you. His enforced measured breathing is distracting him. The tentacle against his open eyes is distracting him. He tries to ignore both.
Muse makes a fist. Clenches it, unclenches it. Wriggles his head free of the grasping tentacles and wipes his eyes with it. Breathes heavily, now that he can. It feels like he can't get enough air into his lungs, feels like he's being crushed inside his mithril armor, but he can't muster the energy to fight against the tentacles. Being paralyzed forced Muse to clear his mind and meditate, focus. But being crushed by conjured tentacles, righteous hate and malice come right back to him, and losing himself to the antipathetic flood seems more attractive an option than introspection of any sort.
He roars.
Mel spins, her sword slicing through the tentacles before they can grasp her. The severed stumps writhe and bulge with fresh growth even before the original tips hit the ground, but by then Mel has moved on, picking her way between Brolin and Nelly. Several thrashing tentacles whip her painfully as she goes.
Reaching the comparative safety of the further null magic zone, she sets her sword down and pulls her spare bow. She scans the room. "Up there!" she points at the mage's location.
Kelian cannot reach the mage; nor can he do anything about the tentacles. And so he ignores them. Once again a faint breeze rustles through the room, healing the hurts of all present.
As the breeze fades, he raises his head and peers intently at the corner Mel and Fyrtor have indicated.
Nelly shrugs off the tentacles, snarling and biting at them, then lifting her nose and staring in the same direction Fyrtor is pointing.
Kelian detects some evil but doesn't know its location.
Having broken free, Algric fired off another shot.
It turned out that shooting at an invisible enemy while being assaulted with magic was...difficult.
”Elf! Yer friend lies dead. Ye’re magic will run out before our numbers. If ye surrender now, ye have my word that I’ll nay kill ye for yer crimes, but will take ye prisoner instead. Refuse?”
He fired a shot at where the elf was supposed to be. He wanted the elf dead. But was it worth losing more comrades over? No. The sight of Turion’s body was like a dagger to the heart. It was another death that he felt weighed down his soul. What if it was Mel next? Or Fyrtor, or Brolin? Death was inevitable in war, he knew. That simple truth had been repeated to him incessantly from childhood. But it didn’t make the loss any easier, and it was a price he’d avoid if at all possible.
Kazador fires an arrow but he doesn't have a way to shoot at the mage from where he is standing. Thankfully, the arrow doesn't harm any of his friends in the middle of the room.
You hear the mage utter some word and the world seems to skip a beat, as if something suspicious just happened to time itself.
You suspect he just used time stutter.
The tentacles assiduously grappled everyone again (6 damage)! Suddenly, a strange-looking elemental appears overhead! Fyrtor recognizes it as an aether elemental. It turns toward Kazador and makes a beckoning motion! The dwarf feels something reach inside the null magic field and yank on him but he resists and keeps his feet.
You think the mage actually just moved, though you don't know how he got to his new location so quickly and quietly. He is now in the southeast corner of this area, 10 ft off the ground.
Battling with the tenticles Fyrtor fails once again to free himself. With a wordless a cry of frustration he gives up the attempt. Why! Why is it never enough! Why must I watch as those around me die! Why am I never strong enough!
Fyrtor gazes at his friends while the tenticles tighten around him crushing his body, mirroring how the loss does his soul. Noticing Nelly's odd behavior he blinks back tears of anger and dispair as he follows the wolf's gaze. I'm sorry we failed your master.
"Damn you!" Fyrtor screams, his voice breaking as crushing hopelessness presses on his mind. In an act of desperation he points and wills the sphere to strike home.
Kazador looked around, not knowing where the mage was. He felt his heart sink. This was all going so poorly. And there was nothing he could do! Unless...?
”Blast it!” He yelled out. ”Alright lads. Keep him busy. I’ll go get Lord Stonehammer and the Rune Warden. Don’t let him follow me, and get as many spells out of him as ye can.” As he left, he muttered (loudly) in Dwarven, that the warden was supposed to stay as fresh as possible.
With that he went around the corner and out of sight. He was a bad liar, he knew. But what else could he do? At the very least this might take the wind out of the mage’s sails. Make him feel the need to conserve his most powerful spells. Or potentially even try to flee. Either way, the ruse was all he could do.
Mel is free of the tentacles thanks to the null magic zone; but she is once again an archer with no visible targets. She quickly reviews her allies' status:
Túrion is dead, and Nelly appears intent on guarding his charred corpse. He might have had something on him that might prove useful in this situation; but Mel does not think Nelly is likely to let anyone touch her master's corpse. Especially not in the middle of a fight.
Nelly appears to be peering at something, but if it is the mage, he is around the corner and well out of reach.
Brolin is within her reach, but Mel suspects that she cannot heal him while she herself is standing in a null magic zone, and re-entering the room would very likely result in getting trapped in the tentacles once again.
Kazador is trapped in the null magic zone by spell-induced panic, and could not reach the mage to attack him even if he were free to move in.
Fyrtor, Algric and Kelian are all tangled in the seething mass of tentacles; none of them are within Mel's reach, even if she had something useful to do for them.
"This is beyond me," she whispers. "There is nothing I can do."
She raises one hand to the holy symbol that she wears about her neck, and prays, a short but fervent prayer: "Ai Ostara, en tiedä tahtoasi täällä; mutta jos se kuolee, niin odotan käveleväsi kentälläsi."
Kelian is not sure exactly where the mage has gone. Fyrtor seems to have sent a ball of fire into one corner, and the wolf is looking in the same direction; but there seems to be nothing here.
The tentacles squeeze and constrict about him, but he stands serene, unafraid, and reaches out once more to heal his allies.
In a moment of puzzled clarity, he realizes he is still holding the torch, which seems less important now. He tosses it gently back into the hallway they came from, where no one is likely to step on it inadvertently. It rolls across the floor and clatters to a halt fetched up against the wall.
Mel feels peaceful energy pouring over her and a sense of deep serenity.
Fyrtor, his arm still raised attempts to cast a spell to reveal the mage, but just as he begins the words of power a tenticles strikes his outstretched arm and the swelling power is lost.
Stuck in the mage’s spell, Algric felt despair grip him. What could he do against such power? He realized that he was going to die here. Looking up at the ceiling, the cold reality filled his heart. The same villain that had led to the murder of his son was going to kill him. And no amount of rage was going to stop that.
So he lay down, closed his eyes...and prayed. Prayed that Torag would have mercy on his soul. Prayed that when he died he would see his family again. And prayed that his god would bring about justice for all that transpired here.
Algric feels a jolt from his god. It suddenly becomes clear to him that Torag would never encourage a dwarf to pray when there was fighting against a clear evil he should be doing instead!
Algric opened his eyes. Knowing that he was still going to die, he resolved to at least go down fighting. It was the only way to see his family again.
Nelly easily shrugs off the tentacles, as if they were toys. She snarls in the Mages direction, staring directly his way, and shifting weight in anticipation of a pounce, clearly ready to attack if the mage left himself open for even a moment..