Grinning and joining in with the cheering Berring pumps his fist in the air along with the men Nikolai gives the troll heads too, wondering if he'd be seeing a water hole named 'Talking Heads' with the skulls propped outside as a sign soon. That's what he'd do anyway. Maybe he'd suggest it to someone, maybe push some gold to the persons way and see he couldn't be persuaded to the idea.
Smacking the mounted Akiros on the thigh he grins up at him and gives him a thumbs up, walking up to Verik he claps the priest on the shoulder and tells him he did a good job and to Borodin he offers a 'well done' before nodding to Jem and going back to Valnyr. Nikolai and Jemini might desire to rouse the men, Berrin would and could if he was needed, but now it was not he noted with some satisfaction, moral was high, victory near complete, and men would celebrate for days and nights without any words from him, he knew his silence and his smile would suffice.
Fighting along with the founders was the feeling Berrin had near forgotten, the clear beauty of martial combat, never doubting who was friend or foe, no politicking, just a clear direction of what needed to be done, a singularity of purpose that the whole group partook in without qualms or doubts. Berrin had missed this since the earlier days of hunting bandits and scouting the lands before Newhaven, and so, with a grin on his face, Berrin went to comfort a friend, a friend that had trusted Berrin completely and remained still where Berrin left him to run at the troll, despite his every instinct to panic and lash out, Valnyr stood stock still, rooted to the spot Berrin had left him.
Sensing his approach the mount takes a step toward the warrior as he reaches out to pat it's muzzle and soothe it with his voice.
Turning to Elsir Berrin inquires if Valnyr's eyesight will heal, frowns at the response as he tries to figure out what the hell the elf was talking about, hells, he was even worse than Tandlara sometimes, and finally nods, hoping the answer was positive but staying with the horse and partaking in his joy and returning calm as his eyesight returns.
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Riding south to hunt for Hargulka Berrin observes the same scene as Nikolai, pausing to view the pursuit he wonders how to calm the centaurs in their bloodlust, score were being settled for certain, and would they even listen to his orders? Turning to Nikolai he gives the only answer that makes sense to him. "My men have their orders and I trust their commanders to see them followed as they can. I have already ordered quarter to be given as I knew Jem would wish it, and I see you are taking more a liking to her thinking, which I hope is a good sign as both your souls rest on that fate, but the centaurs will have to follow their own convictions. They fight with us and for us, but they fight their own kind now and I'm thinking the resentment runs deep. The best we can hope for is that their leader is as wise as ours. We must pursue Hargulka and place our trust in them to do what is right."
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Reaching the southern edge of the battlefield Berrin wonders if Hargulka has escaped completely, the wilds were wast and the troll king knew them. Berrin could track but with the grass trodden down by thousands of monstrous feet, finding a lone pair of troll footprints would be impossible, even with the footprint book Berrin had lugged around with him since leaving Restov.
Lumbering down from Valnyr anyway Berrin is scaning the mud and completely unaware of the worgs approach until Red Eyes speaks up. Startled at the worgs voice Berrin listens to his report with growing eagerness, they'd catch Hargulka yet! Especial with talking blood-hounds on their side. Wondering briefly if Reggie could be taught to speak Berrin swings back into Valnyr's saddle and decides that would be a bad idea, the bloody thylacine had been sleeping in his room since forever. It might get embarrassing if the thing didn't have the decency to keep his mouth shut if it found a voice.
Verik stands as the men cheer and echo the sentiments of Nikolai Rogarvia, whom some are calling openly as the 'Dragonlord' - they in turn have been named 'Trollslayers' by Nikolai's own praise of their bravery to stand and not be cowed. It is the first time Verik has heard such direct praise by the Last Scion of Rogarvia's own mouth to men he would consider his lessers, the words spoken so adroitly in the moment to inspire and garner true loyalty. Verik stands and listens as he calls Jemini his 'Queen' to which he so strenuously objects to in his mind, but yet in the same breath calls her 'First Amongst Equals' which embodies the principles of the Founders Charter. Verik stands there and does not intrude in the profound moment, silently regarding Nikolai and his actions, weighing words, meanings and intentions upon the many scales in the Banker's mind, much as he often has done since the Return. A rather melancholy thought occurs to Verik that he has probably thought more about Nikolai Rogarvia and his actions more than any other friend, colleague or enemy he has ever known. Perhaps second to only one other, one which gives him little more comfort in the thinking than Nikolai himself.
Thus it gives Verik nearly a surprised start when Berrin clasps him on the shoulder. He nods and smiles to his longtime friend and compatriot, though the smile and returned words of praise do not give warmth to the Banker's eyes, which remain distant and haunted since the morning's arrival. Still, duty and toil prevail in the mind of the Banker, and as the roar of the soldiers subsides Verik draws forth his wand and moves forward to do his duty, healing Nikolai of his gashed wounds along with several other soldiers in the vicinity.
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Verik's face is marked with clear concern over the wounds of Red Eyes and his brief tale of battle gone awry with the fleeing Hargulka, though he says nothing aloud. Here in this place of the wilds, the rules of governance and what is considered either merciful or weak is far beyond Verik's jurisdiction to judge. Instead he visibly occupies himself with a stirrup on his borrowed smaller saddle that was adjusted too short for him, the dapple gray mare chewing on her bit while he keeps a firm hand on the reins.
It is almost a surprise to him that Nikolai looks to him in expectation, though the relative subtlety of it is not lost upon the cleric. He searches the warrior's face for confirmation for a long moment, then with seeming nonchalance over the matter he shrugs in acquiescence and dismounts. "This can help us all." is all Verik says audibly.
He walks up to Red Eyes, the Abadarian's eyes now tinged with true concern as well as a critical appraisal of the wound's severity. "Greetings to you, Red Eyes. I am heartened that on another field of battle we meet now as allies. If you agree to it, I can use my power to heal you and your fellows enough to continue your hunt - they must be within the area of my influence, but I shall walk it off for them to see."
Verik heals the wounds and injuries of Red Eyes and his pack with Abadar's blessing. Exhaustion of the long day of battle begins to grip him. He knows that he cannot summon the divine healing of the gods as many times as necessary. His instructors in Absalom always taught him that this was because of the lower-hierarchy defenders of the faith had not yet proven themselves as a prudent investment of divine energy; Abadar, though powerful, only has finite power and must invest wisely based upon an appropriate return. His resources, like those of the arcanists accompanying him, are far from infinite. But he should have enough magic remaining at his disposal to confront and defeat Hargulka. He smiles just a bit, knowing that Abadar's investment in him will be returned greatly once the troll king falls.
Healed and invigorated, Red Eyes barks an order to the others in his pack. They burst into a race, running to a scent that they can smell. The Founders spur on their horses - borrowed or otherwise - to follow along. The strange group of humans, an elf, and several worgs follow the scent of the troll and his bodyguards to the final confrontation. They ride hard and fast towards the wooded hills, knowing that he is only a few minutes ahead of them. They thunder along, pushing the horses hard, and arrive at the edge of the woods within half an hour. As the forest comes into view, they catch sight of one of the trolls slipping into the treeline. They spur onwards, getting to the edge of the forest not two minutes later. "The trail is fresh," explains Red Eyes. "This way."
The worg leads them into the forest. The tall oak and elm trees provide cover for the trolls from their pursers. Red Eyes deftly runs between the trees, but some of the Founders aren't gifted riders. Their pursuit slows a bit. Suddenly, they hear a booming voice from somewhere in front of them. The woods are too thick to tell precisely how far away it is. "Come to die, have you? I am going to eat each one of you, and then I'm going to gather a thousand more of our kind and raze your city to the ground! I will eat every man, woman, and child upon your throne!"
Nikolai guides his horse toward the voice. "Perhaps to tell this thousand how you fled while dozens of trolls died in your last attempt. Make certain you advise them to ask Nagraundi and the minotaur as to the cost of following you. Remember to tell them that fire burns."
Hargulka spits out in rage from the woods. "I trusted that fool, and he let them get trapped in front of the bridge. Little matter. That won't save you in the slightest." His thundering voice echoes through the forest.
The cleric wants to retort and respond to Hargulka's outrageous boasts of defiance, to cry out and refute them as sheer lunacy given the pasting he just took. However, it is not Verik's moment to do so. It is Nikolai's moment, and he seems to be doing just fine on his own.
Verik does however move forward to keep pace with the others and give an urgent reminder to them in a low half-whisper. "Remember that he has crafted enchantments against fire, and possibly one or more other wards and protections!"
"Then we'll beat him 'till he stops moving, remove every scrap of jewelry and clothing from his form and then pour acid and fire on the corpse." Berrin replies grimly to Verik.
Slowing Valnyr to a careful approach Berrin eyes the foliage suspiciously, wondering where the troll king might hide his bulk. The end was near, but not in hand, so Berrin was careful. Let Hargulka talk, it might reveal him.
Raising his voice, Berrin addresses Hargulka. "They don't need to ask the dead, plenty live to tell of you folly, Hargulka. Of the thousand you cowed into following you a good sum still breathe to curse your name."
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Quietly Elsir followed behind the others. It was likely becoming apparent that the Elf was not a man of many words. When he had an opinion he expressed it, but speaking for the sake of hearing his own voice was a trait that the wizard did not possess. Silently, the archivist considered the options before him. He had spent hours thinking through this conundrum on the ride from the ruins of the elven fortress to this battle-field. Elsir had known that the vanguard of trolls would be the most dangerous of the regular troops. He had planned for that and thanks to his proficiency in the summoning of elemental magics he had been able to assist the armies of New Haven in turning aside the trolls. During his calculations, Elsir had also accounted for each of Hargulka's lieutenants, the two-headed troll, the minotaur and the wisp.
As the group followed Red Eyes, Elsir frowned thoughtfully. The time was almost at hand. By the worg's estimation the founders would reach the troll in less than a quarter of an hour. Knowing the limitations of his spell, and the potential havoc that might be caused should the wisp be allowed the ambush the founders in mid-fight, Elsir moved his hands carefully he a series of practiced gestures while intoning the halting yet flowing words of power. As he did so the wizards blue eyes flared white for a moment before returning to their luster. Elsir smiled faintly. The spell would last for an hour. Shades, spirits and yes.. whisp would be as clear to him as the sun.
Continuing onward, Elsir prepared several other arcane enchantments from his quickly fleeting list of memorized spells. The first spell was an enchantment of far-speaking. One of the easiest in the wizards reputare, this would allow Elsir to speak from a distance to any of the founders with only a whisper. The last spell was another that enchanted his vision. Whereas before Elsir had used the power of the second circle to view the invisible and unseen, this spell allowed for him to view residual magic in the form of a radiant aura.
Completing his final spell, Elsir nodded to the others while calling upon the power of the whispering spell to relay his message. ::I am aware Banker of his enchantments against flame. I all know what will happen if we do not defeat him and that is an alternate thread I am not willing to travel down. Regardless, I have prepared myself for this eventuality. When the fight begins I will enchant each of you with the power of stolen moments of time. As soon as that is done I will attempt to negate any enchantments that are active on him. I believe that is the best way I can be of service.:: Pausing slightly, Elsir looks around the group, taking his time to consider the probabilities and uncertainties inherent in the moment.
Frowning in thought, Elsir looks in the general direction of Hargulka's voice. ::I would remind each of you that the Wisp had not yet made an appearance and this bothers me. He will be immune to my magic, have the power to fly and make himself disappear. If it appears, it will fall on someone more martially inclined to deal with.. I have contingencies in place should that eventuality occur as well. It's invisiblity and flight I can counter. It's resistance to magic I cannot.::
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Borodin takes the opportunity during the exchange of insults to prepare his defenses as well. On the completion of his first incantation three clones pop into existence. Now there are a total of four Borodin's riding atop a borrowed horse. The four men now cast another spell. This time a nearly imperceptible glow surrounds them momentarily and then disappears.
He looks at Elsir and whispers "I'm ready as I'll ever be. Let's pray this goes as well as the other encounters we've had today."
Hargulka and the Founders exchange threats through the forest as Red Eyes and the pack leads them to the scent. They spot the troll king through the brush and the trees less than a hundred feet ahead. As long as his endurance lets him keep up the rapid pace, their horses are faster. He turns as he spots them, ready to bring his claws down upon them. The worgs rush forward with barks and howls, intent on engaging the few troll bodyguards who remain. They fall upon them fiercely, leaving Hargulka for the Founders. As dangerous as the worgs are, they are still outmatched and cannot defeat the trolls' regeneration; they are buying time for the Founders to not have to fight his honor guard as well.
Verik dismounts and sends his borrowed horse backwards a few steps. Nikolai also dismounts and lets Akiros bless him with size again. He grows rapidly, becoming as large as the trolls himself. The rest of them prepare quickly for the inevitable confrontation. Elsir's keen vision spots a tiny bit of movement up in the treeline. Sure as he predicted, the will-o'-wisp is here to protect Hargulka. It likely will attack at an inopportune time, but it doesn't seem to realize that Elsir can see it. It simply floats in the air, biding its time invisibly.
Hargulka roars at them through the trees. "What are you waiting for! Come and die!" He drops his body as if to receive them, holding his clawed hands out to the side. Each of his hands are two feet across at the palm, with claws thicker and longer than their swords. He bellows in a war rage as his honor guard fights with the worgs.
Hargulka roars at the Founders, clearly frustrated at their victory in the Battle of Hydra Bridge. Borodin turns is horse and jumps down out of his saddle. He swats it on the rump to coax it away from danger but not so hard as to send it fleeing though the forest.
He crouches down and gathers some soil in his hands. He rubs it between his palms letting most of it fall away. What is left dries his hands from the exertion of the chase and helps in the adhesion of his sword grip. He pulls Augur out of its scabbard, drawing a specific path in the air as he invokes a single arcane word. An acrid odor emanates from the blade, and those closest to him can see that the blade is weeping acid.
As Verik dismounts and ensures his borrowed mount is turned in the opposite direction from snarling trolls and worgs, he hears Elsir's whispered words in the manner that Taisper had once used for private discussions, and breathes a reply.
The final banter echoes back and forth through the trees as Verik summons the power of Cobblehoof's wings to aid him in moving quickly to where the battle needs him most.
Hargulka stands proudly and arrogantly, wearing armor forged from living steel over his massive frame. In a show of strength, he growls and grabs the nearest tree. He wraps his sharp claws around it, pushing and pulling near the base. The wood cracks as he snaps the tree into two pieces. With a crunch, the tree collapses in front of him. The heavy branches of the oak block part of the path near the stream, cutting off access to him from that direction. "I'm going to eat your wives and children. I might save one of you, eat just your arms and legs, so that you have to watch!"
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::Hargulka is not alone! The wisp is with him, to his right and across the stream. Be wary.:: Elsir spoke quietly through the shared bond of whispered speak. Quickly dismounting from his horse, Elsir spun his hands in a series of complex gestures, touching upon the quickening of stolen moments and the promise of better futures. Knowing that he could not encompass all of the founders in the bounds of the spell, Elsir choose to not target himself. While a powerful spell, it had limitations and would be best use on the others.
Clicking his tongue Berrin guides Valnyr forward carefully with his sword out, eyeing the troll, full of suspicion. Taking a round bend past the trees Berrin guides Valnyr through bush toward and into the stream, making his way to the enemy.
Verik nods to the whispered words of Elsir and instinctively looks around a moment before shaking his head and turning to the task at hand. Already Jemini had moved foward, and so he does so as well to give them all the best indirect aid that he can muster. With Elsir's arcane speed infusing him, Verik finds he could move about with ease, picking his way in and around the brush and trees to where the ripped tree's canopy lies upon the ground. For the moment, it provides him adequate cover to pray and survey the situation.
"I rinnar ass su iriluhussuhrph nuhphs a su Li'azphuhus sa phuhu ziszaruis surruhrph sa saru za zaiss rirsi'auhr su Mi'arsus'r rsui'asil uhruhar izar suru si'arsr, i'auhsuhrph sil rzass-i'asn i'ars ruhuss-i'ars, zuhsrs zui'ahuruhrph su rhuhss i'ars surasu a suhr ais i'aphurs a Wau, i'ars si'as a uhr uhshsu ais Qiuur."
As it did before at Dragonshead, Verik weaves together a mighty blessing that rolls out in a great golden wave from his hand and symbol; the wave of golden light seems to briefly pulse and infuse with every one of his allies that it touches with the faint sound of harmonious chimes as it passes by. To Hargulka, however, the chiming sound turns irritably high-pitched and discordant - the golden light hisses around the troll and avoids his touch like some brief angry swarm. A moment later and the visual and audible aspects of the Prayer are over, but its effects seems to linger in each of them for good or for ill.
Verik hopes his powers reach to the wisp as well, but he has no way to judge the effects on a flying and invisible foe. Instead, he nods to Jemini and places a hand on his warhammer, ready to move when she gives the command to close the gap.
Nikolai considers dropping his bow and charging into the troll sword in hand. Instead, he feels the wash of magical power cover him and decides to wait until his friends found better position. His magically altered height gives him a clear view of the monster beyond, unblocked by the felled tree or thick bushes.
He lifts the massive bow—also altered under Akiros' spell, and let's an arrow fly. His movements are given haste by Elsir's spell, and he reflexively fires three arrows in the normal space of two.
The Dragonlord is no great archer, but his first arrow carries his fury all the same. It sinks deep into the Troll King's chest, bloodstained arrows protruding through the beast's skin.
The other two arrows fly wide past Hargulka's head, but Nikolai has commanded his adversary's attention.
"You will die here, Hargulka. You would be outnumbered if it were you and I alone."
"Such hatred. Your thoughts and actions are blasphemous onto Sarenrae; and in finding you beyond redemption she sees to end you swiftly."
As the party slows and approaches their foe, and insults and challenges are thrown back and forth, borrowing Verik's wand Akiros calls down Iomeade's protection upon both himself and Kydal.
As the Founders begin and position and prepare themselves for battle against the Hargulka Akiros feels the now familiar magics of Elsir descend upon him. Through subtle touch and emotion, the Marshal of Newhaven causes Kydal to race around to flank the fearsome troll. The intelligent warhorse carries his rider close enough to be able to attack with a bow but far enough to avoid with long reach of their doomed enemy. As they move, Akiros takes the measure of Hargulka and calls out to him, the derision and challange clear in his strong, iron hard voice "You were told, troll King, and you made your choice. You were given the option for mercy, far more so than you deserve. Yet, unsurprisingly, you chose to continue in your evil ways. Now, you shall face Justice, and you shall die alone and unmourned, as is your just reward."
As he speaks draws back upon his mighty bow, unleashing an arrow that sinks deep into Hargulka's thick hide.
Akiros
Kydal
As Valnyr steps into the stream to surround Hargulka, the will-o'-wisp sparks into view - eager to take advantage of the wet, armor-wearing warrior. It crackles with electric power as it seemingly emits a malicious chuckle. It shoots two rays of electricity downwards at Berrin, hitting his metal armor and coursing through his body. He feels the snap of lightning flowing through him, out his metal boot, through the stirrup. Valnyr yelps in pain as the electricity courses through him as well, flowing into the water. The will-o'-wisp then fades into invisibility.
Hargulka rips out Nikolai's arrow, letting the bloody wound start to heal as he laughs hatefully. "Of course I hate you humans! You are nothing!" He plucks the second arrow out, showing that Akiros's shot did not pierce his thick flesh.
Jemini moves swiftly out of the way of Nikolai's approach. Her hand glides along the length of her blade; as she does so the familiar silver sheen of holy energy appears. She prays to Sarenrae, thou who is the sun in our lives, shine brightly, so bright as to penetrate all who would dwell in the darkness - her prayer is accompanied by a change in the holy light, it appears more intense, as if concentrated into an impossibly sharp blade that envelopes the physical weapon inside.
Borodin closes to just outside of Hargulka’s reach and takes a defensive stance. He keeps track of where his companions are so that he can time his attack accordingly. He takes the opportunity of being so close to taunt the Troll King.
”Yuia knugh, I’n su'ag ur aftft xuia' anlsx sh'aast. Luuk a'uiang. Yuia’'a ftaan ftaasan. E'an ur xuia saka a ragh ur iat ghush xuia, ghhas ut xuia' Qiaaan guung su gu su xuia ghhan tha rungt uias xuia tghiaanga'ag xuia' ftats thhantha as th'iathung Santhsiaa'x? I’g ghag Yuia knugh, I’n su'ag ur aftft xuia' anlsx sh'aast. Luuk a'uiang. Yuia’'a ftaan ftaasan. E'an ur xuia saka a ragh ur iat ghush xuia, ghhas ut xuia' Qiaaan guung su gu su xuia ghhan tha rungt uias xuia tghiaanga'ag xuia' ftats thhantha as th'iathung Santhsiaa'x? I’g ghaga' a ftus ghu'ta shan ghhas gha ha'a lftannag. Yuia’g fta ftassa' urr ftassung iat hathk xuia su ftust.a' a ftus ghu'ta shan ghhas gha ha'a lftannag. Yuia’g fta ftassa' urr ftassung iat hathk xuia su ftust.”
Hargulka seems totally confident in his ability to defeat the Founders. He roars at them loudly, shaking the trees with the might of his voice. The hulking brute of a king shouts, "Nothing! Do you know how many humans I have killed? HUNDREDS! What is a few more? The skulking humans assassins sent after me screamed and wailed as I ate their flesh one limb at a time, begging for mercy! But I will show you NONE!" As he shouts, the torn flesh from Nikolai's arrow continues to heal in front of them.
These heroes have seen terrible things - harpies that would steal men's minds, hags and doppelgangers, a power-mad dictator in a dark future, even his winter-bound patron - but Hargulka's bellowing roar shakes them all to the core. All of them close enough to feel it in the pits of their stomach feel fear, despite all they have faced before. All except Jemini. The regent of Newhaven remains strong and serene in the face of his bluster, sword shining and raised to strike him down.
Nikolai lumbers through the trees, past the brush that barely reaches his knees as he chooses his steps. His muscles are tired and he knows his greatest battle of the day lies ahead, so rather than committing to a few seconds of single combat with the troll, he times his approach to match the others. He steps over the fallen tree with one leg and brings his blade crashing down on Hargulka.
The enchanted flames wash over the troll without piercing his magical protection, but the sword bites deep. Nikolai wrenches the blade free from Hargulka's cloven ribs, prepared to defend against counterattack before striking again.
"Save your words for whatever god will have you, troll. Your throne is sundered."
Verik's quip to Borodin on his goblinspeak dies upon his lips as Hargulka bellows forth his most dreadful challenge to them yet - despite the safeguards and discipline of his mind, the fear grips him utterly in a way he has not felt before. He stands and shakes, noting that Nikolai's large form comes forth and gashes the troll with yet another determined blow - Nikolai is a force of nature that cannot be quelled. Verik doesn't know how he was immune to the dreadful grip of fear, but he does know why Jemini stands unperturbed, a shining force of Light and Weal that cannot be dimmed.
Verik knows fear upon the field of battle can be as worse as any blow to the body, and so from his mind springs an prayer to help those that he can, even if he is to succumb to it. "L-Lawgiver I implore thee! L-lend your inevitable Will to this battle and deprive this monster the affliction that tries to undo the resolve of my allies!"
For both Borodin and for Berrin, they somehow feel as if a mighty colossal construct stands just behind them then, shielding and absorbing the fear that grips their hearts and boxing it shut in an unbreakable cage of emotionless metal and magic. The moment of the Lawgiver's presence is fleeting, but the fear is sucked away from them, and they know that part of their minds is now shut off from that particular emotion for a time, though they cannot fully explain it.
With nothing more that he can do from that vantage point...and absolutely no desire to move in the direction of Hargulka and Nikolai's bloody fight, Verik moves in the opposite direction to get closer to Berrin and Valnyr, drawing his warhammer with a ashamedly weak grip as he does so.
Nearly breaking his teeth as his muscles tense under the electricity coursing through is metal-encased body Berrin jerks around a bit involuntarily, bouncing around in the saddle under the wisps onslaught. Regaining control of his muscle movement Berrin struggles to control Valnyr, the powerful warhorse tensing and preparing to dump Berrin into the river and running off, kicking and screaming, his muscles suddenly freeze under the inhuman howl coming from the troll king. The blood seeps from Berrin's face and he feels Valnyr go rigid under his legs, the warhorse freezing in place at the powerful monsters display of ferocity.
Then hearing Verik's surprisingly soothing voice and the cold seep out of Berrin body he nudges Valnyr forward, vary of the wisp's reappearance, and makes his way along the stream and into melee with Hargulka.
Barely avoiding a heavy swipe of Hargulka's paw, Berrin swings at the massive arm as it swings past, nearly severing it off.
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Elsir had a plan. He had foreseen this combat. Following the events of the battle with the minotaur and the advisor, Elsir had predicted with reasonable assurance that the wisp would be present during this final fight and true to his estimation, it had been correct. Now three paths lay before the elf. In the first he would counter the ability of the wisp to do further harm through it's electrical blasts. In the second, he would negate the enchantments that were in effect upon the troll, Hargulka allowing for the others to attack with impunity. In the final path, Elsir would use his reclaimed wand to attack the king's weakness.
In only a few moments, the founders had lain terrible wounds to the troll, but the wizard knew that this was no simple troll. Rather he suspected that this one had powers of regeneration far outstripping a normal one of its kind. Elsir had to make a choice. If he did not negate the wisp, Valnyr and Kydal might very well die. If he did not deal with the troll, Berrin might die. It was not a difficult choice.
Pointing the blackened wand towards the troll, Elsir waited. The wizard knew that even magic had weaknesses and protection from elements could be overcome with a powerful enough.. or precise enough blast. Waiting until just after Nikolai swung at the troll with his flaming blade, Elsir summoned the power of the wand, causing the bolt of fire to scorch along the same path that the dragon lord's blade traveled, hoping to seek out a momentary weakness in the enchantment against fire.
As the superheated ray lept from the wand, Elsir smiled. He knew what would happen next. The troll would roar with pain and know fear as it's skin was charred for the first time since it had worn the ring. And then suddenly Hargulka stepped out of range. The spell failed. The troll roared with savage glee.
Elsir felt a chill run down his spine. It was impossible. The elf thought before stopping himself. No.. not impossible, only highly improbably. Elsir was shaken.
The will-o'-wisp reappears, winking into view just on the other side of the stream. Its skull-like visage appears in the glowing orb just as a blast of electric energy bursts forth from it in a straight line. The lightning runs through Berrin and his mount, then Nikolai and Jemini on the other side of the downed tree. Part of the trunk explodes as the electricity bursts through it, leaving a smoking hole. Each of them are bolstered by Verik's and Elsir's magics, making them faster and more resilient. The electricity courses through each of them, reaching out from the main line of lightning with arcs that grab onto them and flow through them. Berrin and Valnyr collapse to the ground as the horse gives out under the power of the electrical shock. Nikolai smokes as the lightning flows out of his feet into the ground, even after blasting through whatever cover the trunk gave. Jemini dodges to the side, protecting herself from the worst of the lightning a moment before it arrives.
Akiros was human. He felt fear. He had felt it many times throughout his life. So, when Hargulka roars with the full extent of his ferocity and prowess, Akiros feels it, as fear weakens his limbs.
However, until fairly recently, until his reunion with his Goddess, Akiros had long been accustomed to relying on himself. He had been alone warrior, Ronin. A warrior who called no man master, but yet held fast to his own, personal, code of honour. It was that code that had allowed him to remain loyal to the man who had saved his life, Nikolai the Stag Lord, despite their vast moral differences.
Now, it was this code, this willpower, this deep resolve, which allowed Akiros to overcome his fear. Thus, through sheer force of will, Akiros banishes his fear, places it beyond himself, to a place it cannot affect him. The weakness and unsteadiness in his limbs gone as if it had never been, the Battle Oracle tightens his jaw and commands his valiant steed to move into position to flank with the others against this fearsome foe.
Trained well in the ways of war, Kydal goes on full defence, protecting himself against the Troll King's fearsome claws.
The lightning bolt cracks around Bordin, sending splinters of wood showering past his face. The sound is deafening and the brightness makes him blink a few times to expel the ghost images imprinted on his eyes. He can see now, most of the tree trunk in front of him disintegrated, leaving him a path towards Hargulka. He leaps over the ruined trunk positioning himself across from the mounted Akiros. He presses the attack but the big troll lashes, out forcing Borodin to abort his action.
Jemini spurs fowards with magical alacrity, weaving behind the tree and around Akiros and Kydal. Each step is meticulously plotted and purposeful, ending her movement exactly opposite the hulking Nikolai and cutting off Hargulka's last route of possible retreat. The troll king roars at her as she dashes towards him, but she is far too swift to fall prey to a swipe of his massive claw. She raises her sword and slashes down at him in the back. The stroke bursts with light and power, sizzling his flesh with holy might. "You are not long for this world, Hargulka. Make peace with the fact that these lands belong to humanity and civilization now!"
"It isn't my throne that is sundered!" Hargulka roars back at Nikolai, slashing at him with one of his massive claws. Nikolai brings up his flaming sword to parry the strike - only to watch his claws shear straight through it. Nearly half of the dragon-forged weapon falls to the ground, hitting the fallen trunk and scorching it badly. Hargulka barks out a mocking laugh. "Another gift from my queen as the price upon your head!" He demonstrates his claws for a moment to all of them. They are flecked with a dull silver metal: adamantine. In a flash - surprisingly fast for a beast of his size - he brings the second claw down upon Nikolai. He rakes it across his face, neck, and chest. Nikolai spurts blood as Hargulka brings his first claw back and rakes him a second time, driving him to his knees. The injury seems more than Hargulka's brutish physicality, as if magically augmented by something more. He turns from Nikolai, sure that no man could survive such a greivous wound, and lunges towards Akiros. He bites the warrior through his damaged and dented armor, ripping through flesh and muscle still tender from the magical healing. Akiros nearly passes out in pain as Hargulka swallows a chunk of his flesh and licks his lips. He turns his attention to Jemini. "You're going to be the most delicious one of all of them, aren't you?"
hp 38/51; AC 26/18T/20FF (32/24T/26FF vs. Hargulka); +14F/+15R/+14W
keen weapon, smite evil (+6 AC, +6 hit/+5 damage vs. Hargulka), haste, bless
Berrins jaw clenches to the point of breaking his teeth for the second time in the past 12 seconds, his muscles writhing with agony as electricity courses, again, through his metal encased form. As the wood around him explode into splinters, pinging against his helmet, unheard by his buzzing ears, the world suddenly tilts and Berrin finds himself flying through the air, free from Valnyrs saddle. By some miracle, and no small part to his training, Berrin finds himself half-kneeling on the ground, watching the grass rustle with eeary slowness, gasping for breath, hearing nothing but a steady, high pitched ring. For some reason Berrin's mind draws him a picture of the grass growing in the forest, at peace in it's own existence, unaware and unconcerned with the toils of sentient beings yet no less alive than them all.
Feeling like he's standing in a far away place, not rightly sure if he's here at all, Berrin looks up and sees the twirling form of the Troll King, his massive form moving with unnatural speed and grace, yet somehow slowly as Berrin can see his every tiniest motion, every shift in muscle and small tensions as he shifts his weight, his strikes precise and accurate as he brakes asunder Nikolai's Dragonsbreath and sending the barbarian tumbling to the ground.
Berrin's eyes are drawn to the blade shard tumbling through the air with exaggerated slowness, tumbling end over end, sailing through the air and ending it's travels right in front of Berrin, the still burning shard sticking halfway into the ground.
Looking up and furrowing his brow at the strangeness of it all Berrin glances sideways and sees a smoldering form next him, large with four feet, ending in black nails, brownish colored and covered in fur. The form seemed somehow familiar to Berrin as he examined the smoldering form, it's skin blackened and fur-less in places, bleeding from an eye and it's flesh bare and bleeding all over. Valnyr? The name comes slowly to Berrin and a look of utter confusion crosses his face. Looking back to Hargulka and back to Valnyr reality slowly seeps back into the warriors mind.
His face forming into a mask of utter rage Berrin, his breath coming harder and faster, Berrin rises with an inhuman roar origination from the bottom of his being, filled with all his frustration and anger and aimed at Hargulka.
Coming up with his sword held high in both hands Berrin slashes across the troll kings thigh, nearly tearing the leg off and sending the troll king crashing to the ground, still roaring Berrin brings his sword back in a backhanded swing, tearing a flailing hand clear off the the trolls arm, and twisting the blade in the air, point toward the troll king, Berrin rams the blade with all his might into it's chest, following it through with all his armored weight, driving the blade clean trough and pinning Hargulka to the ground and bringing Berrin down on top of him.
Letting go of his sword Berrin starts pounding away at the troll with his armored fists, bringing them down time and again, beating and beating, screaming in rage with tears running down his face, crawling over the still form Berrin reaches for the throat, grasping it in squeezing, bringing the enormous head up and down, banging against ground, reaching behind the head Berrin grabs a shard of metal sticking out of the ground, a dull heat registers in his hand and a flicker of flame is unseen in Berrin's enraged eyes.
Jamming the metal shard into Harkulkas slack jawed mouth, Berrin pushes with all his might, ramming Dragonsbreath's shard down the troll kings throat with a sizzling and popping sound of meat cooking, before forcing his mouth closed with smoke and the smell of burnt meat rising from his nose.
Oblivious that the king is dead Berrin bangs the head one more time into the ground before collapsing on top of him, exhausted, sobbing, his breath coming in ragged gulps and that high pitched buzz still ringing in his ears.
'It all happens so fast' the thought flashes through Akiros' mind. An experienced warrior of near countless battles, a hero, many would say, and still the speed of battle sometimes amazed him. Not that any would ever know it, from his inscrutable features. Still, it was almost beyond belief. One moment, Nikolai is in his power, swinging his flaming greatsword, and Hargulka is roaring his might, intimidating nearly all before him. The next moment, Nikolai is down, bleeding out and nearly dead, and Berrin is straddling Hargulka's corpse, weeping over his nearly dead horse. It would be near impossible for those who had never experienced it to truly understand how rapidly the whole world could change in an eyeblink on the field of battle.
Nevertheless, Akiros is a trained warrior, and he has experienced such lightning vagaries of fate many times. Thus, is he able to react at nearly the speed of thought as well. Checking the swing he had hoped would take of Hargulka's head, the battle cleric instead slips off of Kydal, dropping his sword and coming to his knees beside Nikolai's torn and bleeding form. Placing his hand on the Dragon Lord's chest, Akiros calls out to his Goddess "Iomeade, grant Your servant Your blessing to keep this man upon the mortal coil!" and then whispers quietly "You're not allowed to die, again, yet, Nik you old #$%#@$#, you've still got far too much to do..."
CLW:
Hargulka's brutal end to his miserable existence should have brought cheer to the High Cleric, their victory over this final agent of Chaos and Woe at hand, the foul plans of their so-called 'Queen' cast into tattered ruins. Yet it brought Verik little satisfaction given the state of his comrades-in-arms. Nikolai rent and nearly torn apart. Berrin's visage a smoking and somewhat burnt husk, raging and weeping over his fallen steed. Akiros moving to keep Nikolai alive, but bearing a vicious last wound from Hargulka that was not likely to heal cleanly. At least Jemini withstood this round of slaughter, the lessons of Stagfall not visited upon her directly. That particular brand of 'glory' seemed to belong to Nikolai this day. Was he even alive? How could he be if the king's claws could sunder Dragonsbreath so? Yet Akiros had moved to the ogre-sized body of the last scion of Rogarvia, intoning a prayer, using the Inheritor's power to keep whatever life lay within him from extinguishing.
Perhaps it was Verik's failure to stand by his fellows at Stagfall that spurred him to action despite the fear. Perhaps it was a desire to show that Abadar's power was as potent upon the battlefield for light and justice as Iomedae or the Triumvirate of gods Jemini revered. Perhaps it was a deeper desire to show that Verik Jarrow was no coward. He would do his part to ensure the Founder's victory was complete, even at personal cost.
Verik swings his warhammer against the golden key-engraved shield with a loud CLANG and wills the power of pure positive energy to heal what can be healed, using his will to weave it around Hargulka's mangled corpse, embracing the savagery in which Berrin drove Dragonsbreath into the maw of the king to leave that precious bit of final violence unspoiled. He knows from experience that his power will not extend out to either Jemini or Akiros, but he gives it little mind as they have their own divine powers to sustain them.
With the weaving of the wave of energy completed, Verik musters all the courage and virtue of self-sacrifice that he can find, and leaps off into the air to confront the wisp that could surely still kill them. Verik gulps for air as he moves upwards and angles to his right around the large tree, using the speed of Elsir's hasted enchantments to propel him to where he needs to go. It seems to take hours to arrive to his destination, his heart pounding at the thought of what he may endure to save his companions, the pain in his chest an echo of what he felt at the savage attempt of Alexius Morai-Thrune to end his life. This time, Taisper was not there to bring him back from the edge of death. Well I wanted to be with them at Stagfall didn't I? Now here I am, and this is all I can do to save them. Death and mortal pain over shame and a burdened soul...did Benervan Knesh make the same choice I wonder?
Verik spies out the glowing ball of the wisp as he rounds the tree, equal to it now in height, and slows as much as he can dare without losing his momentum entirely. He knows his voice will betray him if he tries to boast and bluff their assured victory, so he throws himself into the most basic of threats, believing that may be enough to divert it and give it pause.
"HIYAAAHH SKULKER! NOW YOU DIE AS I BRING MY HAMMER DOWN TO CRACK YOU OPEN LIKE A GOOSE EGG!"
Elsir rushes as best he can through the fallen tree to assist the others. Even with Hargulka fallen and dead - an outcome that ripples through the rest of the possible outcomes - he knows that the will-o'-wisp is far more dangerous than most of its dark kind. He quickly runs through scenarios in his mind, trying to find the optimal solution for the particular threat posed by the aberration. It would take several precious seconds to reach any of his compatriots - almost all of whom were badly wounded and would be of little use in flight if shocked by an electrical discharge. Verik has already shed the bonds of gravity - but the priest alone will be insufficient against its danger. The aberration was, by its very nature, immune to almost every spell at his disposal - all but magic missile and one other. He makes his decision and points to a spot behind the will-o'-wisp, conjuring a thick cloud of golden dust in a spot that keeps Verik and Berrin out of it.
The will-o'-wisp twitches as the dust covers the area. Elsir instantly knows that he was successful, even though it doesn't have eyes. Elsir feels the possibilities of the future funnel quickly into just a few outcomes.
The will-o'-wisp floats upwards as quickly as possible when Elsir coats it with dust. Its options are severely limited by its inability to see. Verik - true to his promise - smashes it hard with his hammer as it floats silently upwards. A good 30 feet above the ground, it summons several copies of itself. Six of the floating balls move in unison, each glowing with the same golden dust. It may not be able to turn itself invisible. It seems to shake for a moment, as of sloughing off the blinding effects of the dust.
Suddenly the pain lessens a great deal and Berrin feels a popping sensation in his ears as the ring fades and the noises of combat come back. Looking up he sees the golden remnants of Verik's healing burst fade a way and, looking to the source, sees the wisp.
'Still work to be done.' Berrin thinks grimly, steeling himself and standing up, leaving the greatsword pinning Hargulk'a corpse to the ground he draws his bow and draws an arrow, draws a bead on the now gold-speckled flying skull and releases.
The arrow sails high and to the left, not even coming close to scoring a hit on an image.
Jemini stands up straight, her arms opened wide and face up to the sky. "Blessed Sarenrae, your light guides us to righteousness, your warmth sustains us in the face of adversity, your love heals us where otherwise we would fall." Her words are accompanied by a steadily increasing light that washes over her and her companions. Where wounds weep blood, they seal and heal.
It never ceases to amaze him how quickly a fight can change. He thought there was a pretty good chance that many, if not all, would fall to the vicious troll. But then, just like that, Berrin finished what Nikolai started.
Borodin drops Augur and pulls his bow, hoping for a good shot. Damn! There are six of them! He couldn’t fault the tactic though. He pulls back on his bow and releases in one fluid motion. The arrow looked like it would hit at least one of the images but an errant branch, blowing in the wind, deflects the arrow where it falls harmlessly to the ground.
Verik wills himself up and slightly out of the way of the wisp's path, then back in again to take a mighty swing with his warhammer. He strikes a second blow with martial precision, this time destroying a copy of the creature that its spell has manufactured. This time he says nothing but grimaces with determination as he brings around his hammer for yet another strike.
Elsir clambers up on and over the fallen tree. He may be an elf but it takes several precious seconds to get over it. He considers making it to Jemini to give her the gift of flight so that she can support Verik, but it would take several seconds that he gifted to the rest of his allies to move over the smoldering corpse of the troll king. He moves to the nearest, most whole ally and casts the spell upon him: Borodin. As he presses a hand against him, Elsir feels a wrongness in the motes of time from the warrior out of time. It feels like a void, a slowly sucking hole of time energy, surrounds Borodin entirely. As he withdraws his hand, the tides of time return like waves upon a beach.
Nikolai opens his eyes, looking down at his still-healing wounds. He gets to his feet, pulling out his bow as he does. He draws an arrow for the huge weapon as he groans and lets the pain of the grievous injuries from Hargulka subside thanks to healing from Verik, Akiros, and Jemini. He takes the time to spit on Hargulka, noting that half of his blade sticks out of the troll king's blistering throat.
Akiros pulls out his own bow, having brought Nikolai from the very jaws of death with Iomedae's magic. He rushes to his loyal steed and leaps upon its back in one smooth motion, knowing that only Kydal can bring him within sight of the will-o'-wisp. The horse jumps over brush and splashes through the river. Akiros spots the aberration as it comes within his sight, loosing a shot from his bow. It splits one of the copies, winking it from sight.
The will-o'-wisp pulses and croaks out a sickening laugh at Verik in an alien voice. "We are not impressed. He was weak." A pair of smaller lightning bolts - no less devastating - arc out of its glittering 'body' and strike Verik squarely. His metal armor gives him no resistance to the electricity, and he feels it course through his body. The banker holds onto his hammer, even as his body grips up in pain and starts smoking and burning.
The Dragonlord notices his spittle is rich with bright red blood as the offering sizzles on Hargulka's dead body. The pain of his injuries and the sight of the steel sliver in Hargulka's throat send him into rage.
Die with them, then! he shouts as he pulls half a sword overhead and cuts through several branches on his way over the fallen log. Nikolai chooses his steps carefully, so it must be with intention that he steps on the Troll King's shoulder with a loud snap.
Nikolai's enlarged form crosses the forest floor, stepping over Berrin's horse. As he does so, he brings the blade down on the wisp in an effort to cut through. Before the flaming sword finishes its arc, a pale vaporous form of a red dragon—colored pink in the spray of blood and sweat thrown from Nikolai's body—stretches out to take a bite of the wisp.
The balance of the blade is wrong, with the heavy shard still cooking Hargulka's gullet. The sword crosses down too late to impact the wisp as it rises into the air. Moreover, the pink dragon spirit reaches between the dancing image and merely snarls at the shadows beneath the wisp.
Borodin curses his luck when he feels the presence of Elsir moving up behind him. He can sense the elf’s spellcraft and turns to see what he has in store for their final foe. Unexpectedly, Elsir reaches out his hand and grasps his shoulder.
The energy hits him like a Warhammer in the gut. Borodin doubles over for a split second, his head swimming, his muscles spasming. The sensation dissipates and Borodin finds himself hovering above the ground. He looks at Elsir quizzically as if asking what just happened.
He drops his bow and reaches out his hand towards his sword. The man out of time simply says Augur, and the blade leaps into his hand. He turns and launches himself towards the wisp.
He avoids the giant form of Nikolai as the Barbarian gets to his feet. Borodin can see now that the Wisp has just struck Verik with twin arcs of electricity but the Banker stands resolute. He lashes out at one of the images hoping to strike true. He is rewarded with a shriek of pain as Augur finally finds its mark.
Nearly panting in dealing with the pain of being electrocuted to death, Verik wants to lash out with his warhammer and bring its steel to strike down the remaining illusions that keep the wisp protected. He can feel though his momentum starting to slip with his magical flight, and knows he cannot hold his position there near Borodin without risking a precipitous fall. With an audible snarl of frustration he dives downwards and soars under and past both Borodin and the wisp, flying over the space between Nikolai and Akiros, and eventually coming level over a bush behind Akiros not far off from where Jemini stands for her channeling.
In similar fashion, Verik now channels the last of his healing power, sending the wave of energy washing over all but Elsir, Hargulka's corpse and the wisp. It is not as powerful as he has seen his other attempts, but with some satisfaction he sees that it gives them all some sustenance to continue the fight.
His flesh knitting together under the combined divine energies of Verik and Jemini and the sting of burns fading away Berrin watches in quiet satisfaction as Valnyr's wounds close, his eye stops leaking puss and his once burnt flesh takes on a reddish pink hue and he wakes with a snort.
Obviously soothed by Jemini's presence the warhorse shifts it's bulk and stands up, moving to place it's feet in the soothing chill waters, apparently forgetting the pain it had helped cause him moments before.
With his bow in hand Berrin just quietly takes aim on the wisp and looses three arrows at it with magically enhanced speed, one of it's images winking out as an arrow passes through it.
Jemini is astounded at how the ground makes distance under her feet; for a moment she mistakes it for a battle trance before realizing that Elsir's magic manipulation grants her borrowed time. She quickly makes her way to Nikolai - her hand extends out toward him before she even reaches him the whispers of prayer already on her lips and a soothing glow lights on her hand as she touches him.
Elsir pulls together magical force - pure magic - and launches it at the wisp. The aberration's innate defenses make almost all types of magic ineffective. First the conjuration of the glittering dust, and now the force missiles - Elsir exploits the few weaknesses that the will-o'-wisp has. Three purple-tinged missiles of pure force rock it back several feet. If it weren't capable of flight, it might have toppled to the ground.
Akiros shoots several arrows at the wisp, dancing along the edge of his sight. Aiming nearly straight upwards, none of the arrows come close to hitting the wisp or any of its images.
The will-o'-wisp launches itself upwards as quickly as possible. Borodin slashes with his sword, but the creature is too quick and agile. It angles until it puts Borodin and Akiros in a straight line below, along with Kydal. The wisp charges the air and launches another white-hot bolt of electricity down. Borodin twists his body, forcing it to miss him entirely. Akiros takes the blast directly, but Kydal somehow manages to avoid the shock. Akiros smokes inside his armor, barely able to keep himself standing with the pain of the lightning.
Borodin evades the lightning bolt and wills himself towards the retreating wisp. He strikes with a vicious blow but realizes that his attack was wasted on a false image.
Two glowing balls of eerie light remain now, one false and one true. The distinct smell of lightning in the air remains, mixed with the fouler smell of burnt flesh, and Verik fights to not hold his breath at the smell and what it means. Instead, he focuses on the two balls of light battling the five there-but-not-there images of Borodin. The wretched creature cannot be allowed to steal its kill after all that has happened to this point. At least, not from the true champions of the Battle of Hydra's Bridge. Verik steadies his nerves with another breath and soars forwards and upwards, focusing his eyes to discern which enemy is the true one, the gauntleted grip on his warhammer tightening. Prevail or fall, Verik puts all he has into breaking the defenses of the wretch with a direct and brazen assault.
Right as he reaches the wisp next to Borodin he swings the hammer from left to right with both strength and precision, trained now as he is to properly understand the weapon's momentum is best served when not swung like a club or mace. True to form, the warhammer hits the real wisp squarely at the side, shuddering under the force of the impact from the cleric.
"Take that EGG! That one was for the Sootscales, repaying the misery that you inflicted upon them!"