Fyrtor's sphere seems to really burn something in the air to the southeast. You hear a slight drinking sound come from somewhere but then silence from there, as if the mage has moved again. The flaming sphere doesn't seem to be affecting anything at the moment. Mel feels a tug pull her toward the tentacles but resists. The tentacles flail again but with somewhat less skill than normal.
The wizard is now in the north of the magic zone, 10 ft off the ground.
Algric broke free once more, and moved to the hallway opposite of Kazador. He couldn’t see the elf, so he couldn’t shoot or grab the foe. He had no spells to cast. He had no way of fighting back, and he could *feel* the disapproval of his god. It was, all in all, a bad situation.
Nelly knew where the mage headed. And he made a dire mistake - he came close enough that she could guard what was left of Tùrion and still reach him.
Taking a step forward, she lunges towards the smell - she wanted to bite, to tear, to rend, but she could not allow him to escape. Feeling something in her jaw, she begins to pull the elf down.
Nelly's jaws scrabble on something in the air for a moment, struggling for a grip and seems to get a hold on something!
Still glowing with Ostara's touch, Mel observes that Nelly has caught hold of something in the air -- most likely the mage. She drops her bow.
"Laeg nél!" she calls. "Laeg nél, tá sé níos laige sa halla seo. Ní oibreoidh a chuid draíochta anseo. Caith isteach é. Le do thoil?"
She raises one hand in appeal, and a faint green glow washes out of her, settling into Nelly's fur. Then she reaches down to pick up the sword she set down, steps back to make room and readies herself to grab hold of the mage.
Hearing Sylvan and her name, Nellys ear turns to listen. This was not her mistress. Nelly had no master but Túrion. But the woman elf was benevolent.
The wolf remembered when her paws hurt, and the woman made them all better. When the large wyrm attempted to grind them into paste, and the woman made it all better. Her master trusted her, and it was a simple enough request.
Maintaining her grip, Nelly shifts around, moving towards Mel, but no further than she can without covering her Master. Regardless, she is unwilling to let go of her prey.
Algric, for his part, helped Mel. She seemed like she knew what she was doing. At the very least, she and Turion had proven their loyalty beyond any doubt. It was just that elven magic was beyond his understanding in every way. Torag’s Hammer he was just a fletcher! Fighting was not his calling. This is what the Rune...he glanced over at Kazador, who was still trying helplessly to get in. For a moment he felt sympathy. His own brush with death at the hands of the elf’s magic was a glaring example of what had caused the downfall of their people. Too stubborn to admit fault of his own, he instead relented just enough to see his former theme as a failed artisan. A dwarf who had tried and failed at his craft. Someone underserving of honor or praise, but perhaps, also underserving of outright scorn. Perhaps. That last point still remained to be seen.
The old elf does not break free and is placed inside the null magic zone! He suddenly looks far weaker...
As the elf entered the null zone, Kazador’s eyes went wide. Immediately he raised Mel’s bow and snapped off a shot. It wasn’t a thought that was conscious, it was done completely on instinct. The mage had to die, and this was likely their only chance.
Hope rises in Fyrtor as the mage appears held by Nelly and Mel. He struggles against the tenticles but fails again to break free. Unable to move he looks around trying to find the aether elemental.
Fyrtor believes the elemental is hovering somewhere overhead. He is very familiar with aether elemental, having summoned them in the past.
Muse wrestles unsuccessfully with the tentacles. Despite himself, he’s feeling hopeful, but he tries to quash it down. Hope hasn’t served him well against this wizard, historically.
The elf goes hurtling out of Nelly's grasp, torn away from her.
You hear a loud crashing noise as the elf turns invisible crossing the border of the field and crashes into the ceiling.
Feeling the mage slipping from her grip, Mel tries to shift her sword blade up so that the force of his motion will slide him across its sharp edge. It cuts into him, leaving a notable gash across his front.
The unconscious, wounded body of the wizard gets flung toward the center of the tentacled zoen where it becomes visible again.
Fire erupts in the air, lashing out at Nelly and then Fyrtor.
Even free of the black tentacles, Muse feels a deep and abiding sense of hopelessness coming over him. The wizard had flown out of the antimagic field. Muse didn't even know how that was possible. We can't win this fight. He's too powerful.
For a moment, Muse stands conflicted. He has a spell that might give Fyrtor or Kelian a chance to escape. Not both. And waiting long enough to cast the spell twice would probably kill him. Fyrtor's hurt worse. I'll come back for - no he won't. He won't be coming back from Kelian. If the young man can't find his own way free of the spell, it might haunt Muse for the rest of his life, but at least his life would be longer than six seconds. Muse casts liberating command on the druid.
"Run! Just cut and run! Everyone run for the antimagic field!"
Muse follows his advice, pushing through grasping tendrils, trying not to think about the dead friend he's leaving behind, and hoping that he's just leaving the one.
Fyrtor slips free aided by Brolin's magic. He to run follow8ng Brolin but hesitates. He calls out, "He's summoned and aether elemental. It's invisable, hovering in the center of the room. As long as it lives he can try to throw us back." Then with held breath he waits to see if Kelian can free himself to run. I cannot leave the boy. Oh Lady of Mecry let him break free!
Hearing Brolin's call and seeing Fyrtor's hesitation, Kelian tries to pull himself free of the tentacles -- but they grasp him firmly.
He smiles gently at Fyrtor. "Go on. I am not afraid. I will join you as soon as I can."
Nelly just had the Mage in her fangs...then suddenly he's behind her unleashing fire at her? She is completely blindsided by the lightning-fast change of the battlefield.
And the annoying tentacles still tried to get a hold of her...she brushed them off and tracked the mage by scent, once more.
Fire singing her fur, her ward at her feat, rage and sorrow overtake the large wolf. She was an Alpha. There was no flight. If her time had come, she would not go with her tail between her legs. Not with her Master down and depending on her. Fletching her fangs, she launches herself at the mage with a desperate last assault...her jaws not trying to hold her prey, this time, murder in her eyes making clear her intent, even as she feels her body weaken as life escapes her.
Mel picks up her bow once more, but keeps her sword ready in her other hand.
"Fyrtor -- if you are free, go to the other side! Stand in the null magic zone by the entry. I believe you will be close enough to help Kelian free himself," Mel calls.
She turns her attention to Nelly. "Laeg nél! Tá a fhios ag an bpacáiste go bhfuil fianna ag stopadh nuair atá sé tuirseach. Le do thoil - tóg Túrion le do thoil agus tóg air ón seomra seo é? Fiach muid a dúnmharfóir - ach tógfaidh sé am."
Kazador watched helplessly as the mage escaped and fire engulfed the group. His comrades were dying and what was he doing? Nothing! Nothing at all. All he could do was watch them die. Perhaps Kelian could reach his bow and be pulled in? Or would it be better to just shoot randomly?
Kazador's frustration at his inability to help has been building and building. In a rage, he finally breaks through the fear lurking inside the magic of his mind.
The mage is the southwest portion of the field where magic can reach, again.
Algric cautiously inched forward, holding his bow and wildly looking around for the mage.
His heart was beating so fast that he thought it would jump out of his chest. His burst of rage had cooled into fear. This was not a foe they could beat! The mage had been bitten, stabbed, shot and grappled...and was still throwing flames around. Even the anti-magic-field failed to contain the elf! Algric had been sure that they had won. But then the elf *flew* out. And what could cause that but magic? Nothing natural flew! Proof that the elf could overcome their defenses. It was all just a matter of time until the elf killed them all. The best he could hope for was to die with a weapon in his hands. M
So consumed was he by this fear, that the fletcher was as far from perceptive as dwarvenly possible.
Kazador, for his part, forced his hands into the battlefield. As he did so he was immediately assailed by the ghostly forms of immaterial elves. Supernatural fear gripped his heart. Cold sweat immediately ran down his neck and his hair stood on end. He was about to turn to flee once more, when he saw the body of Turion lying broken on the floor.
The fear was there, but determination was greater. Another comrade was dead, and if he didn’t do something more would follow. A growl turned into a roar as he pushed his hand through the ghosts, denying their hold on his mind. Grabbing Kelian, he pulled...
Kazador yanks Kelian out of the tentacles to safety!
Fyrtor breathes a sigh of relief as Kelian is pulled free. The gods be praised He then moves into the hallway but turns reaching across the field boundary and directs the sphere to where Nelly seems to be tracking.
Fyrtor sees where Nelly is pointing and throws his flames in that direction where they smash hard into something! With Brolin's encouragement, the great wolf then snaps at something in the air and you see a small spurt of scarlet then hear something thumping gently against the wall and then the floor. Mel feels herself tugged toward the tentacles but, knowing her calling from Ostara, she resists! The tentacles try to regrab Nelly but do not.
The wizard or his body is on the ground near you. The elemental is directly above you.
Kazador heard something. Was the mage down? Was it over? It seemed like something was still up there. He wildly fired two arrows at the ceiling...with predictable results.
Algric, on his part, did even worse. He looked around, trying to determine what was going on. Paralyzed by indecision, all he could do was fumble with his arrows.
With a flick of his wrist Fyrtor takes hold of the wand in his sleeve. He extends it as he speaks soothing words. There is a blue flash and a few of Nelly's wounds knit back together.
Then Fyrtor points to the place where he'd located the elemental before, hoping that it was foolish enough to not move.
Nelly feels something tear as her jaws close...then the mage goes limp. But this time, he falls down, not up...which was good, most prey fell down.
Still, the big wolf expected another wave of flames, and sniffed for a moment to make certain the thing would stay down. The scent of blood was satisfactory.
But she was tired...as she turned to step back to her Master, one of his other companions came, and she felt life return. It seemed her task was not yet done. The stumpy ones ineffectually shot arrows at the weird thing that was still there.
Snapping at the creature twice, half-heartedly, Nelly returned to her previous spot to continue her watch, now seeming much more relaxed despite tracking something in the air.
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Did we just win?
Muse is queasy from hitting the antimagic field, the silence in his mind where he's accustomed to spirits talking to him throws off his concentration, he hurts all over from the gargantuan tendrils squeezing and pulling at him, and the burns on his face, well, they burn. But that's not why it doesn't feel like a victory.
He ran. Worse. He abandoned his team. It was important to Muse, to his self-image, that he was the sort of person who'd risk their life if that's what it took. He'd faced down pirates and plagues, after all! Stared down sea-serpents and spat into waves taller than the mast of his ship. Because, this he knew, if you throw yourself headlong into adversity as if success were the only option, you've got a shot at, eyes ahead, seeing a path to victory and, shield first, being close enough to the action to take it.
It was important to Muse, to his self-image, that he was the sort of person who never gave up hope, who'd throw himself headlong into the jaws of defeat grasping, snatching at victory. It was important to him that when the chips were down, the whole crew could look to see him quaffing a quaff of Cayden's finest, unperturbed. Even if he wasn't really, people would see him and it'd reassure them, reassure them that the captain would figure something out.
It was important to Muse's self-image that when there aren't any good options, only degrees of failure to choose from, that he was always the last to retreat. It's a habit that's earned him a few arrows in his front and back, but he's gotten good at dodging those and has Savvy to heal the ones he can't. I can handle whatever's thrown at me, is his philosophy, so better me than someone else.
But then he'd had something thrown at him that he couldn't handle. He'd given it his all and when that didn't work wracked his brain for an oblique angle, something out of the box or stupid enough to work. But he couldn't even see the first step on a path that led to victory. So he'd ran. Worse, he'd left people behind him, because he didn't think he could save them and didn't want to die with them. But they stayed, and eyes ahead, metaphorical shields forward, they'd been there to see a moment of weakness and take advantage of it. And now Muse forced to confront the fact that he isn't as brave as he thought he was. That he isn't unconditionally brave, like Fyrtor. That he has a breaking point, and this was past it.
And then Muse realizes why it is that this doesn't feel like a victory to him. It's because it isn't. It's because he already failed, and only for a second thought "did we just win?" because at some point he'd redefined victory as "get everyone left out of this alive" from "get everyone out alive" and that realization hits him like cold water and he lowers his hat to hide his eyes.
And then because Muse isn't the sort to stand around and do nothing he draws his bow and fires an arrow at the same square everyone else is shooting at.
Mel is not entirely sure what has become of the wizard. It looks as though Nelly is snapping at something in mid-air, but from her current vantage point, she can't get a clear shot at it. She takes a moment to wipe her sword and sheathe it properly.
Seeing the rest of the party shooting at a particular spot, Kelian sets down his sword, pulls out his bow, and follows suit. To his moderate surprise, the arrow lodges solidly in something hovering near the ceiling.
Kelian's arrow hits something in the air but Muse's misses (due to cover). Then Fyrtor feels tugged toward the tentacles!
He goes sailing into the tentacles, landing hard!
The tentacles continue fighting!
”Is that blasted mage still up there?” Kazador called out as he kept shooting wherever Nelly seemed to indicate. ”Are our arrows even working?”
”Just shut yer mouth and shoot the elf!” Algric yelled back, the stress evident in his voice.
Two arrows land home!
Nelly shrugged off the tentacles once more. Those were...annoying.
Calmly, she held position over Turion. Her whole body seemed relaxed, except her head, which stared at something above her. It seemed her masters companions wanted that dead, too, for whatever reason, but if not for the tentacles, her master was safe with the mage dead.
Taking a moment to ineffectually bite at the tentacles some more, Nelly stares back up.
What WAS that thing, anyway? She had never bitten something like that before.
As Fyrtor goes sailing into the danger zone again, Mel frowns anxiously, but focuses on removing the active threat.
Kelian continues shooting ... whatever it is.
Mel and Kelian each land home one arrow. You then hear a small popping noise, as if something was sent back to whence it came. The tentacles continue grasping and struggling for quite a while though.
Observing that no one appears to be actively attacking them any longer, Kelian steps back into the seething mass of black tentacles and does his best to keep Nelly and Fyrtor alive.
Fyrtor stands up and tries to break free of the tenticles, but despite his best efforts he can't break free. Eventually the spell expires and chest heaving from lack of breath he thanks Kelian. "Thank you Kelian. Thank you for helping me. I hope that you weren't hurt too much to do so."
Kelian shakes his head. "I'm fine."