The spectral blades of fallen Sky'Tor cut at the hamstrings of the fleeing soldiers.
Then it sprints in a smoky blur toward the Black Knight, moving in to a flanking position with Chops and the shade of Anvinder.
"Hey fellas," the bird squawks to the nervous guards around the pit, "Your little party just got crashed, and there's some real scary folks about to come your way. If you wanted to surrender or run now, I'd only laugh at you a little."
Ragnar lashes out at one of the fleeing soldiers.
"Solvistania, clear this mess, please."
The fiendhearted elf finishes his leap atop one of the rapidly expiring sentries and with a flash of teeth and the singing of blades begins demolishing the body, splattering himself in gore and swallowing huge chunks of still warm flesh in the process. Between his own bestial growls of satisfaction and the horrible crunching of bones a particularly loud cry from the battlefield reach Anang's ever twitching ears and causes him to look up from his bloody meal. The elf's face is blank of emotion, his personality entirely subsumed in the single minded predatory shard left by the demon. A split second choice between finishing his meal and finding more prey and Anang leaps free of the bloody mess of a corpse, loping easily off in the direction of the battle.
The leader of the bunch turns around, saying "Oh, damn..." and starts to run as well, muttering "Zafina will kill me!"
And Chops gives chase. Right on the heels of the man in black, Chops rushes towards him and makes a diving tackle.
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The leader of the bunch turns around, saying "Oh, damn..." and starts to run as well, muttering "Zafina will kill me!"And Chops gives chase. Right on the heels of the man in black, Chops rushes towards him and makes a diving tackle.
Chops grabs the fleeing man and knocks him on the ground, while he struggles to escape the dworg's grasp.
Holding the man close to his massive chest, Chops pulls back on the man's head. His fetid breath, with the drying blood of his enemies staining his tusks wafts over the legate's nostrils.
"Why don't you stay put for a little while my friend. We have some questions for you.
Ragnar watches Chops drag his foe into a brutal lock-up, holding up a hand as the bloodthirsty spirits of fallen allies begin to swing at the now helpless warrior.
"No, not yet."
The pin-pricks of light that sit in the empty eye sockets simply stare, endlessly patient, grinning at the doomed man.
Ragnar strides forward through the dissipating webbing, the ring of swirling spectral flames moving with him. He releases his spear, which moves behind him as if being carried by an invisible flag-bearer. He slowly draws Sorrow from it's sheath, a terrible red glow dancing up the black and grey blade.
He lowers the tip to the knight's throat, so expertly exposed by Chops.
"You can speak now and die later, or you can die now, and speak later. Choose."
Standing only a couple of feet away from Chops, Ragnar and the captive, Duncan is in awe. His own frustration at being useless and unable to help this strange group in the rescue is subsiding, and his mind is clearing. He becomes aware of the strange aura surrounding the large man with bear head on his shoulder, and feels a thick layer of darkness woven from death, wrath and fear. "And sadness. There is much grief in this man, it is almost palpable." Switching his gaze to Chops, he observes blood still dripping from his tusks down the throat, his heaving chest and the bulging muscles as the Dworg is holding now terrified black warrior like a child would hold a lizard, capable of crushing every bone in its body, and crushing its skull with bare hands until brains and eyes gush out in a bloody mash. "Unless the rage in his eyes ignites and incinerates the black knight first,"Duncan says to himself.
Even though he can't see her, he is aware of the woman standing a couple of feet behind him. Her beauty and her presence are more powerful than the sword she is wielding. While Ragnar's presence is like a icy chill that freezes the hearts of the enemies, she is a gigantic mallet that smashes them into pieces, leaving them unable to pick themselves up again. Her domination over the field is a boon for her allies, and a bane for their foes.
There is also a Dwarf, the gloomiest of his kind Duncan has ever seen, steadfast and efficient, like a being made of metal and scars, movable fortress that plows through his enemies."More like an anvil,"Duncan thinks to himself. "No. I would never want these people for my enemies. The sheer power of their suffering is a weapon in its own right, driving them on and on through the darkness that surrounds us all. There is so much pain in them, but they look like a kind that never breaks, connected by force that supports them. Maybe their flesh can be broken, but not their spirits. This is what Shadow has done to them, to all of us. This is what it has forged them into, the weapon of its own destruction."
Suddenly standing there in his dirty, ripped shirt, still helpless, he feels as if all his own deeds against are worthless compared with the horrors and trials this company has suffered. Brushing his hair from his face, Duncan spits out on his palm a bloody jewel that had cut his mouth when the soldier kicked him. He spits out the rest of the already coagulating blood, and wipes the spit and gore from the jewel with his thumb, revealing an embedded green dragon in the centre of the ruby. Making a fist around it he presses it to his mouth and says to himself, "Maybe I have found that something more I was searching for. Or, rather, if has found me. I would be honoured to stand side by side with these people, kill with them, bleed with them, die with them..."
He lifts his gaze back to Ragnar and Chops listening to the interrogation of the prisoner.
Ilona continues her confident stride coming up alongside the others to face the armored warrior.
"Zafina won't kill you, because I'm going to kill her personally. Your men are dead or running for their lives, the prisoners are free and here you are. Give me a reason not to let my boys play with you before sending you back to Izrador's cesspool."
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The man under Chops pales and starts to shake, but he remains adamant in the face of danger, or at least it seems so. "You will die, heretic! Zafina and Harzar will return with the rest of our forces and they will kill you first, and then hunt those cowards that left me! I will be sacrificed to the glory of our God, along the Beast and the Whore, but I will see you die first!" By his shivering you can tell that his courage is false.
Gilian looks round to see the mayhem the group just caused. Dead guards, weapons lying on the ground, ghosts summoning, and both Chops and Anang's mouth full of human blood.
My... What impression are we going to give to people when we get back to more civilized places? We look even mode demonic than the worst inquisitor. Let's put some order in it.
As Ilona, Chops, Ragnar one one of the prisoners deal with the head of the group, she turns to Sorok and Solvi.
"Sorok, Solvistania can you help me round up the prisoners and break their chains? While we do that, Pebble, please gather all the weapons and bodies of the guards. We need to bury them as soon as possible."
Moving towards the prisoners, she puts herself in the path of Anang and her voice lashes out to him to put him out of his trance.
"Get a grip. NOW!!! It's not the time to let it loose. You've done it before and you're stronger than it. So come back to yourself, NOW. And when you've done that, go and check on the beast their leader was speaking about"
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** spoiler omitted **
I will be sacrificed to the glory of our God, along the Beast and the Whore, but I will see you die first!"
Ragnar slips his hand into Ilona's, a strangely affectionate gesture in the midst of all the death and mayhem. He glances around at his ephemeral companions who flicker in half formed outlines in the ghost-light, completing the circle around the terrified man.
"True" he says to one of them, "I'm sure he will be surprised. Among other things."
He looks to Ilona, a strangely amused expression on his face. "My brother thinks we should let him find out what is really waiting for him on the other side. Apparently he and Anvinder have a bet."
He turns his attention back to the captive, content to let Ilona explain to him the full error of his notions.
Solvistania looks over at Gilian and nods wordlessly. Leaving the Erenlander prisoner to his own devices she moves to assist in removing the chains from the prisoners. Moving over to the collar affixed to Duncan, she runs her fingers over it, and looking for a weak spot, cannot find one.
”Ask this one how to release the collar’s enchantment”
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Solvistania looks over at Gilian and nods wordlessly. Leaving the Erenlander prisoner to his own devices she moves to assist in removing the chains from the prisoners. Moving over to the collar affixed to Duncan, she runs her fingers over it, and looking for a weak spot, cannot find one.
”Ask this one how to release the collar’s enchantment”
"They belong to the Calambrian Guards. This Zafina is their leader, and they serve someone high in the ranks of the Devout. I was able to piece together that they are searching for places of power for their dark church to harness, and creatures rich with energy for sacrifice, to quench the thirst of the Dark one. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to hear much more than that.
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"They belong to the Calambrian Guards. This Zafina is their leader, and they serve someone high in the ranks of the Devout. I was able to piece together that they are searching for places of power for their dark church to harness, and creatures rich with energy for sacrifice, to quench the thirst of the Dark one. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to hear much more than that.
** spoiler omitted **
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1d20+6
views as well as geographical ones, both sides jockey for control, fighting a secret war of intrigue and betrayals, creating countless fractures in Izrador’s control within which the resistance can take root.
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Standing only a couple of feet away from Chops, Ragnar and the captive, Duncan is in awe. His own frustration at being useless and unable to help this strange group in the rescue is subsiding, and his mind is clearing. He becomes aware of the strange aura surrounding the large man with bear head on his shoulder, and feels a thick layer of darkness woven from death, wrath and fear. "And sadness. There is much grief in this man, it is almost palpable." Switching his gaze to Chops, he observes blood still dripping from his tusks down the throat, his heaving chest and the bulging muscles as the Dworg is holding now terrified black warrior like a child would hold a lizard, capable of crushing every bone in its body, and crushing its skull with bare hands until brains and eyes gush out in a bloody mash. "Unless the rage in his eyes ignites and incinerates the black knight first,"Duncan says to himself.
Even though he can't see her, he is aware of the woman standing a couple of feet behind him. Her beauty and her presence are more powerful than the sword she is wielding. While Ragnar's presence is like a icy chill that freezes the hearts of the enemies, she is a gigantic mallet that smashes them into pieces, leaving them unable to pick themselves up again. Her domination over the field is a boon for her allies, and a bane for their foes.
There is also a Dwarf, the gloomiest of his kind Duncan has ever seen, steadfast and efficient, like a being made of metal and scars, movable fortress that plows through his enemies."More like an anvil,"Duncan thinks to himself. "No. I would never want these people for my enemies. The sheer power of their suffering is a weapon in its own right, driving them on and on through the darkness that surrounds us all. There is so much pain in them, but they look like a kind that never breaks, connected by force that supports them. Maybe their flesh can be broken, but not their spirits. This is what Shadow has done to them, to all of us. This is what it has...
Solvistania looks over at Gilian and nods wordlessly. Leaving the Erenlander prisoner to his own devices she moves to assist in removing the chains from the prisoners. Moving over to the collar affixed to Duncan, she runs her fingers over it, and looking for a weak spot, cannot find one.
”Ask this one how to release the collar’s enchantment”
"Let me have a look, you may have missed something.", adds Gilian as she spots Solvi frustrated look.
"No, you're right, I can't see anything either. Maybe when we get to the forge, Sorok or Ragnar will be able to do something."
Duncan watches two women as they inspected his collar. He realized that they are the main channelers of the group, giving support for their fighters from the background. Suddenly, as he heard the voice of the slender snow elf, and the small dark haired woman, he felt soothed. The lithe form of the elf might have fooled somebody else, but he senses that she is strong, that there is much energy trapped inside that body. Her eyes burned intently while she examined the collar, almost making him for a moment that she is going to rip it apart with her bare hands.
Then the small Erenlander woman approaches him, looking at the collar with businesslike efficiency, and Duncan senses that she is as powerful as the elf girl, only that her focus lies elsewhere. „This one is also embittered, but there is something more in her. There is more hope. Yes, she is one who cares the most, the lifeline of the company. Without her they would probably be dead by now, and not only in their bodies. She is their rudder..."
"Before I thank you all for rescuing us, allow me to remember some manners and introduce myself. My name is Duncan, Duncan Bloodforged, a warrior fighting for freedom. Not much than that, I'm afraid, but as much as my skills with weapons and meager channeling abilities, can help you, I am at your service, for I owe you a great debt, and my sword will fight for your cause, whatever it might be, as long as there is enough life in my body do wield it. If you would have me, of course."
He makes a gallant bow, and for the first time they can see his charming half-smile and blue eyes that look both hard as steel and compassionate at the same time, with sharp eyebrows that indicate true benevolence, but appear as if they can make his gaze ferocious and frightening, if he wished so. His face is very handsome, features regular with strong chin that makes him look determined and steadfast. His posture is also unusual, especially in these dark times, but there is elegance and grace in his movements, and noble, but not arrogant, bearing. At first glance, it is obvious that his ancestors were more than commoners, despite the simple linen shirt and rough trousers, stained and in some places torn, that he is wearing.
Solvistania, on the gallant bow from Duncan, flashes back in her mind to her days back in Erethor, and the civilised manners still carried on even as the fight against the Shadow continues. She looks into his eyes and senses the emotional scars, all too common in these times, and thinks, This one remembers the civilized ways, and also carries them in his heart and soul as a barrier against madness. I could learn much from this one...perhaps I need to.
She returns his bow and curtsies in return, "I am Solvistania, and a member of the Bonebearers. You do me honor, Duncan."
Ilona grins wickedly.
"So, you do realize that when we kill you, then the ghosts get their turn right? Die fast or slow, or live. Your choice."
Felina hides from the fleeing soldiers, and sends to the Beast,
** spoiler omitted **
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Most of the soldiers disappeared into the forest, where they will soon become pray to the wolves or other beasts. Dense birch and oak forest prevents even Muni's sight from following them. You stand amidst the carnage, surrounded by whimpering prisoners who seem more terrified of you than they were terrified of the guards that beat them.
But, perhaps that can be understood. Two amongst you have blood dripping from their mouths down their chest; spirits howl around tall Northern death-shaman; blood-eyed she-elf stands just a little bit aside of everyone else, like some mad wild cat, ready to descend into violence at the slightest provocation...
Perhaps they have a reason to be afraid of you...
Chops slowly and deliberately, shifts his weight and leans back. At the same time, he pushes the legate harder down and performs a push-up. He then pulls up on the legate's chest and works his legs around his abdomen, getting the man into a leg lock, so it looks like Chops is sitting on his back. Then he takes a mouthful of water out of his waterskin and swishes it around for a minute before spitting it out onto the back of the man in blacks head. He pours some in his hands and rubs the blood off of his face.
"Blech. Solvi? Hey babey, I was wondering if you could cast one of the spells that clean things up on my face. I got this nasty taste in my mouth."
Solvistania's eye's flash dangerously at the term uttered by Chops, but she does not reply. Waving her fingers around in a complicated pattern, she calls on her innate magic, and points at Chops, where the blood on his face starts evaporating. Once his face is clean, she points at Anang and soon he is cleaned off as well.
Ilona turns to the frightened prisoners. As she walks towards the scarrering of huddled people, warmth seems to radiate from her, her smile touching each person as she makes eye contact, sharing and inspirational personal moment with each of them.
"I know you're frightend, I was too once. You've just witnessed violence no one should have to see, but the shadows made it necessary. You're safe now. We're here to help you, like we hope to help others.My name is Ilona, and we're here to help."
Diplomacy
She goes over to each person, offering a hand up here, kneeling to share a few comforting words there, determining the needs of the hungy, wounded and tired.
"Gillian over there is a talented healer. Is thre anyone who is deeply in need of attention?"
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One of the prisoners, an older man with blacksmith's muscles and burns on his arms, raises his eyes from the ground and looks straight at Ilona. "We are mostly fine, lady. They kept us hungry, but not starving. They needed us for sacrifices. That woman in the pit, though, she was raped and beaten almost every night. That changed somewhat after they caught that purple critter, but not very much. She is the worst of us."
Ragnar's eyes flash at the man's words. A deep rumble echoes in his chest and a muscle in his jaw twitches. The air temperature in the clearing drops suddenly, prickling the skin of those near the towering northman. The spirit torches deepen to bloody crimson and the faint outlines of the vengeful dead hiss and snarl. The grass around him begins to yellow and die.
He rips the sword, shield and helmet free from the Shadow servant's hands, casting them aside and clamping his hand down on the man's throat. With a slow and powerful surge he lifts the man back to his feet, inadvertently lifting Chops along with him.
The length of thick chain Ragnar wears as a belt unwinds itself and snakes slowly up and around the man's neck as Ragnar simply stands for a long moment, staring into the soldier's eyes as the breath is choked out of him.. He shifts his grip from the soldier's throat to the chain leash, finally letting him breathe once more.
"Let him go." He rumbles to chops in a voice that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Without waiting for a response, Ragnar moves leaving blackened and dead prints where his feet fall and frost and rime spreading in his wake as he drags the helpless soldier behind him across the still twitching bodies of his men, yanking him roughly towards the pit.
He looks only to Ilona as he passes, his face full of death and rage.
As the soldiers disappear Anang slips toward the body strewn scene of the battle, his body bent near double to keep below the level of the scrubby undergrowth. The dark pits of his eyes are trained on the dark armoured figure at the centre of the group and he silently circles the group so that only Ragnar stands between him and the downed soldier. At the sudden drop in temperature Anang drops even lower, his ears flattening back against his skull and his lips peeling back into a silent bloody snarl. When the the huge Dornman begins dragging the soldier toward the pit Anang moves with him, edging slightly closer with each step.
Ilona's eyes flash with a fury that seems to reflect Rgnar's as she meets Ragnar's. The already alabaster skin on her hands goes white from the intensity with which she grips her blade.
Emotion seems to wash off of her in waves, anger, pain,sorrow and an almost palpable aura of vengance.Those between Ilona and Ragnar fond themselves caught is a nerve wracking loop of emotion, the intensity almost too much to bear.
Catching Gillian's eye she moves towards the pit, wordlessly falling in alongside Ragnar her every movement almost vibrating with barely contained emotion.
Solvistania moves over to Chops and helps him to his feet. She watches the departure of Ragnar and Ilona without comment, but the passage of them has caused her emotions to rise, only to be quashed by her iron control.
She waves Gilian to go with them, "They speak the truth. She has been ravished, and will need healing, as will the Beast.". She issues a mental message to Felina, informing her the others are approaching.
She then addresses the blacksmith, "You are free to leave. Though the others have fled, I will say once they have rejoined with the main contigent of their forces, and Zafina, they will return."
She pauses for a moment while she cleans Chops off, then she finishes, "It would be safer for you if our paths separated. We are also...hunted by the Shadow."
He rips the sword, shield and helmet free from the Shadow servant's hands, casting them aside and clamping his hand down on the man's throat. With a slow and powerful surge he lifts the man back to his feet, inadvertently lifting Chops along with him.
Chops slowly gets up with the prisoner as Ragnar rages and tries to pick him up despite Chops weight bearing down on the man. Slowly, Chops rises to his feat with the prisoner as Ragnar pulls.
"Let him go." He rumbles to Chops in a voice that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Chops holds on to the prisoner a moment, resisting Ragnar's pulling. The prisoner gives a yelp as he feels the irresistible force of Ragnar against the immovable object that is Chops. "You're losing it man. Don't turn into one of them," and he lets go, allowing Ragnar to drag the black man towards the pit.
nightflier, what kind of a sword did the black knight have?
Duncan just stands for a couple of moments, observing, trying to determine the pecking order of the group. As Ragnar starts draging away the prisoner, Duncan looks at the sword and the shield of the captured servant of the Shadow, worried that it might have dark god's enchantments.
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Solvistania moves over to Chops and helps him to his feet. She watches the departure of Ragnar and Ilona without comment, but the passage of them has caused her emotions to rise, only to be quashed by her iron control.
She waves Gilian to go with them, "They speak the truth. She has been ravished, and will need healing, as will the Beast.". She issues a mental message to Felina, informing her the others are approaching.
She then addresses the blacksmith, "You are free to leave. Though the others have fled, I will say once they have rejoined with the main contigent of their forces, and Zafina, they will return."
She pauses for a moment while she cleans Chops off, then she finishes, "It would be safer for you if our paths separated. We are also...hunted by the Shadow."
"We can not run away as long as long as these collars are on our necks. And where can we go, anyway? We do not have food or winter clothing. We do not have arms to defend ourselves from wild beasts or wandering orcs. We are doomed anyway. Our deaths will just last longer, that is all", he finishes with a sigh.
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nightflier, what kind of a sword did the black knight have?
Duncan just stands for a couple of moments, observing, trying to determine the pecking order of the group. As Ragnar starts draging away the prisoner, Duncan looks at the sword and the shield of the captured servant of the Shadow, worried that it might have dark god's enchantments.
AS soon as the long sword leaves warrior's hand, wisps of shadow-stuff along the blade disperse and it becomes just a piece of dull metal.
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Solvistania moves over to Chops and helps him to his feet. She watches the departure of Ragnar and Ilona without comment, but the passage of them has caused her emotions to rise, only to be quashed by her iron control.
She waves Gilian to go with them, "They speak the truth. She has been ravished, and will need healing, as will the Beast.". She issues a mental message to Felina, informing her the others are approaching.
"What beast? I thought that that a&@%~!! summoned the beast to kill us. Now we need to heal it?" He rubs a massive hand against his forehead in frustration. Then his head clears a bit. Girl in the pit. Raped. This is what got Ragnar so riled up. What's he going to do? He squeezes Solvistania's shoulder gently and thanks her before hurrying off after Ragnar and Illona. "Wait you two! Save a piece of that scumbag for me!"
When he catches up to Illona, he says to her. "How long do you suppose those soldiers are going to stay away before they get bold enough to come back. They didn't act as if a group of disciplined shoulders should, yet they were clearly a well trained unit. If whatever spell that spooked them wears off, they may be back with reinforcements. We should probably hunt them down."
"We can not run away as long as long as these collars are on our necks. And where can we go, anyway? We do not have food or winter clothing. We do not have arms to defend ourselves from wild beasts or wandering orcs. We are doomed anyway. Our deaths will just last longer, that is all", he finishes with a sigh.
Solvistania replies with a note of acid in her voice, "You have your freedom, that should suffice." Certainly these people did not wish to be back under the yoke of the Shadow!
She looks over at the bodies of the fallen soldiers, and continues, "We can help you remove the collars, if you travel with us to our destination, and also equip you, enough to survive. As for where you people can settle, let me consult my lore."
She takes out her lorebook, and scans it for a moment, looking for possible places for these former prisoners to relocate to.