Arikor stops for a moment, and runs his hand along the blade, arcane power seeping into its surface for the next strike. He twirls it again as he slows his approach, and grins wickedly. He lifts his left hand, and points to the plated drow.
"Come now - one on one? Surely you aren't weak enough to need any of those attendants! Face me, or be torn apart by one less formal than I!" Arikor pleads, the tone of a gentleman kept in check, withholding his irritation.
He takes a stance, blade out, and seems more than prepared for a duel!
Seeing the new opposition Ruhk almost hesitates, but being in the grips of battle lust he decides that he will face his fear of Dock-alfars head on, by the sharp edge of his axe. However the idea of falling to cowardly arrows and bolts is not something Ruhk fancies, and so decides to take such weaklings out first.
Ruhk charges the leftmost crossbow drow, withholding his normal bellows for once, instead attacking in angry silence.
Imzel pauses, hanging to the rear of the group as they charge him. Her crossbow is drawn, while a hand makes a few gestures to conjure forth invisible armor.
Move within 30ft crossbow bolt to drow in leather armour @ 3 o,clock.
On spotting the enemies of his land and those who attack his home, Oz levels his crossbow at the first one that comes into his sights, as he steps up he unleashes the bolt... *twang* as soon as the bolt leaves the crossbow he drops it to the floor.
Arikor grins, and moves up towards the plated wielder, blade singing through the air as he glided along - a deft charge to start a most graceful duel! His hair was lifted by the rush of air, sending it flowing behind him, and he allowed himself no quarter into this duel he had made - and struck for the first blow!
Coming behind the others, Danata sees more drows and slows down. Focusing and muttering words, a faint glow surrounds him.
Initiative
Perception
Isn't Glorgrim back at the library with Sera, still? Was waiting for you to post before I posted.
Reluctant to start fighting while there was yet anything of import to be learned, Glorgrim merely advances forward, hands open and empty.
The robed figure continues to ignore the newcomers, his hands moving in the arcane patterns, his voice a steady drone. Not so for the drow.
First the plate and chain clad Drow sneers with delight at Arikor, "L'lotha shu daewle ulu jivvin..." drawing his blackened sword from, its sheathe, he rushes to meet Arikor head on.
Blades clash as the two Elves parry and thrust, before Arikor's blade slashes once across the Drow's cheek, drawing first blood. The Drow reels away, Then in perfectly inflected chondathan, "You think I give a cup of rothe piss about Elven honor?" His hand flicks in a quick motion and one of the other drow raises its cross bow and sending a bolt into Arikor's gut!
Seeing his new friend being ambushed, Ozwalf steps forward a pace and raises his crossbow, all around him seems to go silent and still, and the young man pulls the trigger.
His bolt flies with deadly accuracy, burying itself right into the drow's eye socket. the black elf tumbles to the ground, writhing in his own death throes.
Lastly Ruhk charged the last of the Drow, His axe held high. his jaw clenched, he brings his axe down upon the drow. The blade cleaves through armor and smashes into the poor sots ribcage, embedding itself in the freshly made corpse.
As the Drow falls, Ruhk spies the Robbed figure within the circle, and sees to his shock that the hooded figure is no Drow, but a man.
The robed one's eyes dart to Ruhk, a look of panic in them as he raises the stolen dagger high. Ruhk has an impending sense of dread if does not react... so he does.
Imzel doesn't know what that mage is doing just yet, but the witch is aware that any spell or ritual accomplished successfully will most likely not be in their best interest.
She draws his Crossbow, concentration as one hand moves in a few arcane gestures with a spoken word while also trying to decipher just what this man is doing...
Ruhk leaves his axe burried in the Drow and lunges for cleric, tackling him with his shoulder, but he's too late. The dagger slit into the man's wrist and blood splashed just as ruhk shoved him away. The cleric tumbles out of the arcane circle while his blood splashes the floor, setting the arcane sigils aflame, with Ruhk in the middle of it all.
From nowhere a torrent of blue flames erupts around Ruhk, spinnging and swirling in a vortex as tall as the Northman.
The robed cleric pulls himself to his knees, looking in horror and dread as the tornado of blue fire surrounds another, "Nooo!" he wails,
To Ruhk's terror, the vortext draws smaller, spinning in towards him on all sides, first he steps backward, and then forward, trying to escape but it is to no avail, and Ruhk the Dandy is bathed in fire.
But while this scene is horrifying to those who watch, Ruhk feels no pain, and in fact hardly any heat, but all around him he hears a voice, deep and resonant,
You have been chosen
And just as quickly as they erupted, the flames smolder, and Ruhk stands in the center, a few faint trails of smoke wisping around him, a look of utter bewilderment blankets his features.
And in his hands, is a staff. roughly seven feet long from base to tip, smooth save for a curved clawlike shape that tops it. And it is black, not just painted, but the entirety of the wood itself is pure black.
:
Arikor sneers, and gasps as the bolt pierces his gut. He growls in Elvish, and does not bother to start a performance now. In fact, he would rather do a duty to his kin - defend his race against this foul offspring of elves. And that included himself.
"You should, for then you might live a longer day! For now, you're mine!"
He runs his hand along the blade, as if to wipe the blood away, and lets the runes glow brightly as he strikes!
After this, for a moment, he watches Ruhk leap in, and be bathed in fire - he can only pray to his deities that the man survives... and notes he holds a strange staff as it fades away.
The vortex of fire surrounding Ruhk causes gasp escape from Danate´s lips, but as soon as it appeared, it also disappeared. In the middle of the incantation circle, Ruhk was standing with Blackstaff in his hands. Recalling the memories and writings of his grandpa in book, Danata realised this must be the staff of Khelben.
Ignoring this and catching his eye to rest alive drows, Danata raises his hand and dagger flies from his hand towards one of the drows
Knowledge(Arcana):
"Ooooh this is bad right cause that's blackstaffs blackstaff, or is it good?" Oz's eyes then dart to the Cleric "Oi you don't move!"
As he waves a glowing bomb his way.
Ready action if the cleric moves I throw a bomb at him.
Seeing blood seeping around the wound in Arikor's gut, Glorgrim goes strangely calm. These ones were not interested in talking. As if of their own accord, his hands have become fists flowing at the drow.
Confused at the turn of event, and scared almost witless by the fiery vortex, Ruhk Staggers backwards for a moment, then his anger takes over and he lashes out at the priest with the staff in his hands.
"You wanted this!? Well then, you can have the blunt end!"
Arikor's blade dances off that of the Drow warriors, back and forth the two move; thrust, parry, swipe.
In a flash Arikor brings his off hand around, grabbing the Drow by the forearm and spinning him, his blade slicing into the Drow's now open side.
As he does, Danate's dagger sails past, sinking itself in through a crack in the dark elf's armor, he lets out a pained gasp, little more than a wheeze.
As the vile warrior stumbles back, Glorgrim takes up the fight, his fist cracking bone and bending steel, moving so fast they'r almost a blur.
As the Dwarven monk ends his assault, the drow warrior slumps to his knees, blood running from his mouth, nose and eye, as well as a number of wounds and cuts. he smiles wickedly at Arikor, "Three... to..one.... so much..." he falls forward, catching himself on all fours and vomits a font of blood, "...for Elven honor." and with his last taunt, the Drow warrior slumps over, dead.
The hooded cleric snarls and screams at the sight of Ruhk holding the staff, and from his back he draws his spear, its shaft a deep black and its blade a pitted dark grey.
As soon as he moves, Ozwald throws a vial of glowing orange, but the enemy is to quick as his speak thrusts outward, tapping the vial to explode harlessly to the side, bouts of flame and cinder raining down around him.
Ruhk charges in, staff swinging down like a club,
"You wanted this!? Well then, you can have the blunt end!"
The priest's spear comes to bear, blocking the larger man's strike, "Oh it will be mine, but first I'd rather you all just died!" On the priest's last words, his eyes cloud over to darkness and from his body shoots tendrils of pure shadow, each that dissipates in an instant after wrapping themselves around all present.
Cursing and gasping, the pain echoes through Danate body. Feeling weak and seeing white and black, Danate stumbles forward (avoiding AoOs). Hatred growing inside towards this man and desparation of wanting to stay alive, the magic gushes through his body and fill him as he swing his arm towards man and send his dagger flying with rage
Hand of Apprentice: Dagger
Critical Confirmation
HoA: Dagger Damage
What have we gotten ourselves into? thought Glorgrim.
This needs to finish quickly!
Glorgrim charges the priest, seeking to prevent any more tendrils of shadow forming.
Roaring in outrage at the pain, Ruhk manuvers around the evil cleric to flanking him with Glorgrim before once more swinging the staff at the wicked little cleric, no longer bothering with the whole "taking them alive" thing after that display of evil power.
"I'm going to make you eat that spear, and then...I'm going to get Illmater clerics to pray for your black soul, just to torment you!"
Imzel's eyes widen behind the mask as she recognizes the staff..and then further when Ruhk's initial use of it involves smashing a Drow. Her thought is cut short as the priest unleashes a surge of sickly darkness, gasping from the pain.
Seeing the color leave Danate's face as he stumbles away, the witch moves to him, wisps of light dancing across her hand. It reaches for his shoulder, restoring his strength.
Oz seethes with pain as the negative energy pours over him. He picks up his crossbow and begins to cock it.
Next round he will attack the priest Ruhk is fighting.
Ill roll now to save time.
+2 dex +1 PBS -4 Combat
"I'll miss most likely, but I have to try"
"Fiend, we will not die so easy, Defend yourself!
edit: +1 dmg from PBS makes it 8.
Arikor screams in pain as the tendrils lash into his body, driving more pain from the bolt's wound. The blood around it seems to boil as his body reacts, and he almost falls to a knee. Almost.
With this pain fresh, he attempts to calm his mind, and starts to sing an elven hymn - bolstering himself and his allies whilst he recovers from the wound.
Danate is the first to strike, swiftly moving to pull his dagger from the corpse of the fallen swordsman, he hefts it by the blade and sends it end over end, burrying itself into the Cleric's shoulder.
Pressing the group's momentum, Glorgrim charges in, fists and feet flying away; a right hook to the cleric's ribs, a left jab to his temple and finally the dwarf's foot comes up to kick in on Danate's embedded dagger.
His skin bruised and his wounds, seeping blood, the cleric lets out a howl of rage and thrusts his hand onto Ruhk's chest, "I will not be denied!" As it connects a wave of black energy hits Ruhk like a ton of stone, and across his brow, shoulder and chest his skin slits as if cut by a knife.
The large northman snarls, turning back on the cleric, battering his hand aside and jabbing the top of the Blackstaff into the dark cleric's throat.
As he stumbles back, his spear falling from his grasp as he clutches his throat. The Cleric recomposes himself, eyes filled with rage as he reaches for a dagger sheathed at his side.
The action is never completed, as a crossbow bolt burries itself straight into the dark priest's adam's apple. His eyes go wide in shock as blood pours down his throat, and he topples backwards to the dirt, blood oozing out from his throat.
Ruhk raises the staff over his head, growling in anger, ready to finish the cleric once and for all, knuckles whitening over the black wood as his entire body shakes with rage.
Slowly he calms down, knowing that he cannot break his own sense of honor for a creature like that. Lowering the staff he turns to look at the others.
"Save him, he is to be executed!"
Something else occurs to Ruhk and he bends down and picks up the dagger the cleric used in the ritual, then he holds it out so Oz can see it.
"This the dagger that he stole you think? Elminsters dagger? Make sense he would use it."
Ruhk then looks down at the staff in his hands, a look of awe in his eyes.
"Chosen..." He mutters to himself.
As he looks down at the staff, Ruhk feels a torrent of knowledge flood through his mind, simply too quick to really process. He gains a glimmer of how the world works beyond the mortal realm, concepts that seem alien to him are suddenly crystal clear, but then gone again.
Arikor stumbles over to the rest of the group, and stops his hymn as combat comes to a rest. He sighs, exhausted, and sits down beside the body, only to fall on his back. He closes his eyes for a moment, and smiles, his hands running over the wound.
Gripping the bolt, he removes it from his body with a grunt, and sets it beside him. He holds his blade in front of him, straight up, and inspects it one time, noting the drying blood on it. He still wears a smile.
"I say, that was... entertaining. Should be careful with something of that nature, Ruhk - consequences and repercussions. Think of that always, if you ever attempt to use such a thing, and it goes for all of you."
Without even thinking about it, Arikor realizes he's on the ritual circle - and blinks. However, he shrugs it off.
"Are we ready to return to the town then? I could use a bit of tending to."
Threat ended and the cleric disabled, Danate sighs and turns to face Imzel. Thanking her Thank you Imzel... for a moment I felt really bad there and smiles. Danate touches his head and stay like that for a while. New images and feeling spurs in his head, visions and knowledge just rushing but in bizarre order. Looking at the others, he stays silent but soon comments That was... really bizarre and dangerous. I feel the need to sleep, since no idea what happened, but feeling little dizzy.
Approaching slowly cleric after a while, Danate grabs his dagger and turn to look at others.If no one doesn't have anything against it... we should go and secure this man to Lord prison. I feel weak and most of my spells were exhausted and giving glance to staff, which Ruhk now possess and we... or actually Ruhk now possess the Blackstaff. If not objecting, I would like to take look at it, but there might also be other changes, but don't have means or ability to find out now
Standing there, in the rain, with water flowing freely down his face, Ruhk looks down at the blackstaff, slowly a single tear runs down his face, hidden away by the rain.
Slowly he straightens, and begins to laugh, not a friendly laugh, a bitter one, filled with the bittersweet knowledge that now; he really is what they accused him of when they exiled him.
"Now...now you are right father, now I truly are that which you spoke of!"
Ruhk spits, trying to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth, and after waiting for someone to staunch the evil clerics bleeding he rummages through his clothing, looking for a symbol to tell which god he worships. Then He hoist him over one shoulder, grabs the spear of the fallen foe and the blackstaff and silently walks towards town, head filled with bitter memories.
Imzel moves on the fallen priest once the danger has passed. Her mind wonders on the Blackstaff, now in Ruhk's possession. Does he even know what it is he holds? Or the power it represents? The witch shakes her head slightly, as a white wisp covered hand moves to halt the priest's slide toward death.
Or maybe, Imzel thinks, this man who holds the staff is exactly what I sought out to find.
"If you are needingk healing, please, come close."
Oz looks down at the dagger "I don't know, I have never seen it we'll have to show it to Gareth he will know if is the dagger that was taken"
Internal monologue
with a grin on his face "Man that was a good shot, lucky but I bet he never saw it coming! Now I know why mum and dad where adventures this is so exciting!"
"I don't think this will stop here, they seemed pretty determined, we should get ready for another attack before we get caught relaxing again."
Oz looks at Imzel shyly "Madam if you could heal my wounds?" he bows his head as he asks.
Arikor lays a little longer before standing up, struggling to do so. He pick up his blade from the ground beside him, and drops it as he stands up, the point landing in the ground. He blinks, and stretches his arm, then picks it from the ground and sheathes it in the scabbard.
He walks over to Imzel, with a bow and polite gestures.
"Kind woman, would you but gift me with your Art? I could use the removal of my wounds, for they grieve me so!" he performs, and smiles brightly after.
Either way, Arikor will thank Imzel, and then proceed to leave towards the town, softly teasing the hilt of his blade as he walked.
Imzel, once she is sure she has stabilized the priest, moves on to her comrades. Each is touched with a small burst of positive energy. The witch glances at Ruhk and Glorgim, apparently checking to see if they require any aid as well.
The crossbow bolt is pulled from the cleric's throat, the bleeding staunched, and his arms bound. Imzel does what she can to heal her new companions.
As this happens, Valen approaches the group, a pair of guardsmen, clad in chainmain and leather, each bearing a tabbard with the Silver Falcon on green field crest of Lord Azalar.
"Our captives have been secured in the dungeons, some of Azalar's soldiers are starting to filter back from their rounds," he casts an appreciative glance about, "Not that it seems to matter to you people..." he laughs and claps Arikor lightly on the back, noticing the staff in Ruhk's hand, rather than say anything, the young swordsman goes quiet for a moment, before his smile returns and he looks back to everyone.
"Lord Azalar's arranged for you to have lodgings in the Twisted Tower for this evening. What say we get this lad to the dungeon, and get ourselves to bed."
Valen turns to the two who accompanied him, and motions to the two Drow corpses, "strip the gear and burn the corpses."
Arikor but graces Imzel's hand and allows himself to but barely touch it as she heals his wounds - and gives a smile as he moves away.
His moving was interrupted afterwards by a pat on his back, and he but grinned for a moment - such were the men of the Dales.
"Burning them is too good for such trash. But, it is a means. I'd like some time with the prisoner we have back at the Tower, when all is said and done - as long as nobody minds."
He pats Valen on the back in turn, and nods, noticing the changes.
"Yes, I know. Let it be - that cannot be undone."
As Ruhk walks towards the tower with the cleric over his shoulder and the staff in hand he scowls deeply, it is clear that whatever happened to him in the circle has left a foul taste in his mouth, and made him especially bitter. He ignores the rest of the people and just walks, scowling and focused completely on the tower of in the distance.
Oz smiles at Imzel gratefully and looks towards Ruhk as he scowles.
"Hey wait!" Oz walks up to Ruhk and speaks to try and ease his burden, Oz talks in a quiet tone with a gentle smile on his face "It was Ruhk right? Don't trouble yourself about what just happened, you likely have no idea what has gone on, to be honest neither do I, but I can tell you a little about that staff. It has always belonged to a great mage and is a symbol of that mage's power, normally it would not be handed down like this, but it appears it was meant to be in your hands you have been chosen for a great destiny! Whoever wields that is known as the Blackstaff. Although Mystra has been taken from us for now, there are still many who worship her and her greatest servant lived in that very tower amongst the people of this village, so do not be sad you'll always be welcomed here for what you did today, be true to your heart and what you believe in and fate will guide you, just be wary many people will seek it's power and thus seek you, be careful please. My name is Oz by the way nice to meet you."
Ruhk looks down at Oz as he speaks, his eyes narrowing, and while he listens his grip on the staff tightens, his knuckles withening, inside him rages an angry need to strike out, but Oz and the others fought together with him this night, and one does not attack an ally.
"Chosen you say, well, if we had been a minute later, this villian would be holding the staff instead of me, I'm not sure of that makes me "chosen" or not you know."
Again Ruhk scowls, his scar stretching as he does so, making his face seem even more brutish.
"I was cast out, you know...for studying magic, I wasn't a caster, but they didn't care about that...and now, i have a lot of knowledge in my head from that fire...if someone, like Danate or Imzel were to explain a few things for me, I think I might be a wizard. The fire burned some things into me...knowledge I lacked before."
Ruhk starts walking a bit faster, angry stomping steps.
"I was cast out ber being something I wasn't, and now my only goal is to become that which I was not, to give my exile meaning...and now that I have almost reached that point...it doesn't feel any better, the taste is still as bitter!"
With that, Ruhk falls silent, mouth closed shut against all reason.
"But you weren't late boy, were you?". Ruhk stomps away from Ozwald and spies a hawkish looking old man with pointed features, a neatly trimmed beard and raven hair peppered with grey. "Gods El, I know we didn't see eye to eye but this is what you left me?" he chides, giving Ruhk a once over before looking the Northman straight in the eye. "You've got a lot to learn. "
Ruhk blinks incredulously and the man is gone. Furthermore, no one seems to have seen him.