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Styvanus nods and pulls his scarf up tight across his chin and nose. The team had came to an eerie silence. This was what they had came for, and now the moment was at hand. It seemed to stun the group into a momentary stupor and even the Captain found himself caught up in the same fascination with the whirling white powder beyond them. A visible cloud of the Andoran's breath billows upward from where it permeates through the scarf. A moment later comes Styv's muffled but clear order."Onward."
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The descent down the sloping rim of the valley is a long and arduous one. Snowshoes mitigate the ever-growing depth of the snow, but the snowcover hides otherwise rough and rocky terrain interspersed with jagged treestumps and shattered stone walls of ancient ruins. Naasvit grumps and snorts as he leaps through the powdery snow, rising up on his hind-haunches with little forepaws curled to his chest as he inspects the path his master is taking behind him. Talavuc, to her credit, navigates the incline with aplomb, accustomed to tracking on the steppes and snowfields of the Crown of the World.
Behind Talavuc, Teladon looks mired at times in the snow, puffs of steam issuing out of his frost-covered mask. I find no solace in reaching our destination, he muses inwardly, eyes focused out at the hazy whirl of snow and ice blurring the icy glow that radiates from the center of the valley. Strange, that. Where there should be accomplishment, there is instead dread. His stare fleetingly hooks to his side when Fenyx and Ar'Zarrcal march past him, the shambling corpse of Yvonne ambling through the snow behind them. Perhaps my time among the young races has made me pessimistic. His eyes narrow behind his mask. Let that be the worst of the maladies I contract from them.
Looking back to the ridge above and behind them, Marcellano feels the sting of the cold wind against his cheeks and in his bones. Ice has started to collect on the barrel of his rifle, and the howl of the wind has made hearing anything beyond the crunch of his own footfalls nearly impossible. Sliding his rifle off of his shoulder, he scrapes the ice off of the barrel with the heel of his gloved palm, snarling all the while in knowing that just as much ice has collected in his beard.
At the head of the group, Ordrud and Styvanus march side by side, passing a crooked pillar of shattered marble covered in six inches of permafrost. "Gods, it's so cold here..." The voice is that of Gwynn a few paces behind them, her gloved hands clasped over her mouth and nose, ice and nsow clumped in her hair and frost growing up the matte black armor of her breastplate. "I feel like I'm nine again," she muses with a shake of her head. Ordrud was right, in a way. Being captive to Thuldrin Kreed had broken her some, or so it seemed. The truth was more that failing as a leader stripped Gwynn of her bravado and sense of invincibility. Humility, more than anything, was the hardest thing she'd had to face.
Gods. Damned. Feet! Out of all of the team, Rasso was the worst-suited to arctic environments. His spindly, pointed crab legs sunk deep into the snow, and the summoner hauled himself through the deep snow like a chitinous plough, leaving a furrow of powdery snow on either side in his wake. Sand was made for scuttling, snow... not so much.
Motioning with the head of his scythe, Fenyx directs Ar'Zarrcal's attention to the mostly buried roof of some sort of stone dwelling. The structure was domed, a large portion having collapsed in on itself, permafrost crusting the exterior and concealing most of the stonework. Ar'Zarrcal's attention on the structure revealed precious little about it, save that it has been abandoned for at least years, if not centuries. A gust of polar wind whips through the valley, kicking up shards of ice crystals in howling eddies across the windblown snow. By now everyone is caked in a thin crust of ice and snow and it feels as though the cold is worsening.
Up ahead the snow has been blown smooth like the rise and fall of dunes in a desert, swirling clouds of powdery ice crystals whirl and twist in the air like dust devils. Sticking up from the snow are concentric rings of ancient pillars caked with permafrost on the side facing the winter portal. The portal itself is an impressive structure, and ancient ring of columns surrounded by a palisade of icy spears sixteen feet high, radiating outward like fans of frozen blades, save for a single gap fifteen or twenty feet wide where a blindingly bright azure light flickers and gutters like flame.
Up from the ruins the source of the arctic tornado is a physical rift in the fabric of reality, resembling a guttering flame made from nothing but icy light, expelling hurricane force winds directly upward into the sky. Remnants of branches belonging to the Forest Elder bristle up from the snow drifts, though they can barely be seen through the whirling haze of snow that reduces clear vision down to but a few feet, the radiant light of the portal itself serving as a beacon.
And no one to defend it.
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"Impossible," Teladon hisses behind his mask, slowly unsheathing his black blade from its place at his hip. While the wind down here at ground level is not as powerful as that which blows skyward, he would rather not take the risk. "The portal cannot be unguarded..."
Talavuc quietly grips her spear tightly, Naasvit hunched down at her heels. "We could be surrounded," she retorts, "I can barely even see you." Gwynn quietly unholsters her revolver, looking to Ordrud and Styvanus before glancing back over her shoulder, squinting to try and make out the forms of the others.
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"Do we even know how ter close the buggered Jadwigan arseh*le there?" Rasso asks, gesturing towards the light of the portal. He doesn't shout, but doesn't even try to whisper either, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the wind. He continues to trudge forward through the storm, intent on their goal.
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Trudging through the snow, rifle out, Marcellano speaks not, instead trying to keep an eye and ear out for any sign of movement - doing so, however, is obviously a difficult task due to the weather. Luckily for him, he is well protected from the freezing, biting cold - not only is he still wearing his snow-encrusted cold weather outfit, his spare one still in his pack, but thanks to the recently imbibed potion, he is actually feeling somewhat comfortable - at least, except for what isn't covered by his clothing.
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Round 1
Ordrud is cold. The wind howls blowing the snow sideways. While he has steadfastly refused to drink any of his initial potions of Endure Elements, in order to prove to himself that he can endure the cold, arriving so close to a magic portal generating winter crosses his limit of practicality. He does not want any chance to contract hypothermia and foul his abilities in battle, which must remain sharp for the guardians of the portal.
He fishes out a potion of Endure Elements from his backpack and drinks it.
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He would need to get closer to the Portal. With the wind and snow blowing in his face, examining the portal from a distance would be next to useless. Closing the portal was not enough. The nation of Shalast must understand how they function and how to stop them. If they could create one portal, they could potentially create another and Ar'Zarrcal had no desire to see his homeland frozen in ice.
Though he considered reaching into his pack for the potion to endure the bitter cold, a part of him welcomed it and so he did not use sorcery to shield himself. True he had no desire to live in such a climate, but for the moment the cold gave him a welcome relief. The numbness and stinging pain in his fingers focused him on the matters at hand and prevented his thoughts from wandering through the cobwebbed pathways of his tormented psyche.
With his shield raised high, Ar'Zarrcal pressed onward, keeping a short distance behind the Eidolon infused Merman. His gaze swept outward, searching for enemies hidden by the gusts of wind and snow or traps waiting beneath the drifts for the fools who rush forward.
He did not bother to touch the Sihedron that hung frozen about his neck, for the Rune-Lord of Greed had with surprising generosity bestowed upon his servant's flesh a multitude of scars, runes, and brands which could together serve the same purpose of a symbol of iron, gold, or wood. In low words that were punctuated by his steaming breath, Ar'Zarrcal called upon the guidance of Lissala to aid him at this moment of imminent revelation. He could feel the power of the ancient divinity flowing into him and let it instruct his movements.
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As Talavuc walks at a steady pace near the back of the group, she pauses long enough to sort through her satchel and find one of the flasks provided by the council before they set off on this journey. Popping the stopper she downs the surprisingly warm tonic, catching sight of Teladon standing tall against the cold, staring off into the snow motionlessly. Naasvit bounds ahead through the snow, hopping from divot to divot his furry body makes in the windblown surface.
"Do you sense anything?" Talavuc asks of the elf, moving to stand beside him. Teladon looks out to the portal, its light reflecting dull of the surface of his mask, then back to Talavuc. He shakes his head in a subtle indication of no, then considers more fully her question.
Lifting a hand to his mask, Teladon curls two fingers into a precise gesture that traces out a sigil in the air at the same time a forceful, "Aum'shavyat," is uttered, and his eyes shed light within the dark holes of his mask. Teladon looks back out to the snow, concentrating on the eddies and currents of magic itself, rather than wind.
"Nothing," is his hushed response, "yet." A puff of steam issues out of his mask with each syllable.
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Styvanus stops beside Ordrud and follows his lead in pulling a vial from his pack. He shivers and nearly drops the container, but hoped that none noticed. The teams proximity to the wintery portal would push all of them to the their limits, and the Captain had no intention of allowing himself to succumb to the cold. His team needed him.
He popped open the vial and soaked the thick potion, instantly feeling a measure of comfort amidst the shrieking cold.
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Fenyx thinks to trust to what little of his rime-infused bloodline shields him from such environs, though as they continue approaching the portal he is forced to admit that even such a boon pales in comparison to the frigid wrath permeating the area from the gaping portal ahead. Though a prudent investment, the snowshoes also struggle with the trek down and through the snow blasted area, and his runebound scythe is a welcome companion to assist for the uncomfortable march onward. Remembering the gifts afforded them by Andoran before the expedition set out, he rummages through the satchel affixed to his belt and retrieves one of the vials therein. The swirling liquid emanates a soft azure radiance from within its viscous depths. Removing the small cork, he downs the object in a single gulp, drawing the thick and furred sleeves of his dark robes across his mouth to remove any wayward droplets before they freeze to his face.
Warmth flooding his joints and beating back the cold that once threatened to gain purchase in his spindly features, he presses onward once again, silently hoping his companions are incorrect about the likelihood of an ambush, though knowing deep inside that they speak truthfully.
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As the group marches through the snow, another set of ancient columns comes into view. Two of the six pillars lay toppled over, mostly buried by the snow, casting long shadows away from the direction of the winter portal's watery glow. Beyond the pillars a dark, domed shape can be made out, corners flapping in the wind, resembling a huge tent of some kind. Among the whirling snow and howling winds, Ordrud becomes suddenly aware that they aren't alone in the blizzard!
<< | | Heavy Snow, Strong Wind, Noise | Frozen Pillars >>
Three dark shapes moving through the air are just barely visible and give the half-orc just enough warning to steady himself. But attack does not come from the three dark shapes in the air, instead two tiny needle-like arrows of ice come whipping through the snow, one striking Ordrud in the shoulder and sending a momentary chill down his arm; a familiar chill -- arrows of the cold fey.
Styvanus finds himself a target as well, and somehow through the blinding snow these archers are about to make out Styvanus and send an arrow square into the breastplate of his armor. The icy needle fails to penetrate entirely, however, and shatters on impact.
Ordrud, barely able to make out those other forms can see two of them as mere swirling clouds of snow and wind in vague silhouette of women barely three feet tall. The other shape is also femenine, but has diaphanous bat-like wings backlit by the winter portal.
It's an ambush.
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ae,iz
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HS: 30
WTS: 30
IZ: 22
AE: 21
Round 1
Ordrud roars as he gets hit by the tiny arrow. The empty vial tumbles from his hand forgotten as his battle instincts overwhelm and enrage him. He breathes deep the swirling blizzard and steps forward releasing Feyswatter from its waist sheath. His cold iron greatsword appears in the Lastwall high guard position without thought, and he sweeps it down through the fey.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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As Ordrud moves up, he gets a clearer look at the femenine fey figure. It is the size of a toddler with cobaly blue skin covered with patches of ice and frost, a wingspan of nine feet with diaphanous batlike wings and a long, crooked nose with eyes that are milky white in coloration. Strangely, it is wearing an oversized furry ushanka atop its head mottled with snow and ice.
The horrific creature opens its toothy maw when Ordrud approaches and exhales a blistering cloud of ice shards and winter chill that coats the half-orc's armor with frost. Ordrud is able to leap out of the way of the worst of it, but his passing leaves Styvanus blasted by the bitter chill, though the sting is only just a prickling of his flesh and numbness in his nose and lips. It could have been worse.
Then the snow funnels forward, revealing the other womanly shape to be an elemental made of swirling clouds and snow, hurdling towards Ordrud before slamming into his armor and jostling all of the ice and snow it had collected free. The elemental whirls around, taking on a vaguely femenine expression before it contorts into one of wrathful rage.
Another elemental appears suddenly out of the storm, swooping past Styvanus before wheeling back up into the air with arms outstretched and the wail of high winds carried on its whispery voice.
The back ranks of the group come under assault a moment later as Ar'Zarrcal catches out of the corner of his eye a multi-faceted rock hurled from a higher elevation. It suddenly impacts with his armor and detonates into a thunderous roar that shakes the ground and displaces the snow. It can likely be heard for miles, and while Ar'Zarrcal and the others can hear it echoing across the valley, all Fenyx can hear is a high-pitched whine and feel the muffled impact of the wind on his clothing, deafened by the attack.
Suddenly, a shrill voice echoes from the sky. Speaking clearly in the Taldan tongue, "You should have turned back when you rescued your people! You should have never come here! Your frozen corpses will be monuments to Lady Nazhena's glory!"
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For the Jadwiga!
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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"" Ordrud roars as he gets hit by the tiny arrow. The empty vial tumbles from his hand forgotten as his battle instincts overwhelm and enrage him. He breathes deep the swirling blizzard and steps forward releasing Feyswatter from its waist sheath, closing the distance on the winged creature in the air before him.
As Ordrud moves up, he gets a clearer look at the femenine fey figure. It is the size of a toddler with cobaly blue skin covered with patches of ice and frost, a wingspan of nine feet with diaphanous batlike wings and a long, crooked nose with eyes that are milky white in coloration. Strangely, it is wearing an oversized furry ushanka atop its head mottled with snow and ice.
The horrific creature opens its toothy maw when Ordrud approaches and exhales a blistering cloud of ice shards and winter chill that coats the half-orc's armor with frost. Ordrud is able to leap out of the way of the worst of it, but his passing leaves Styvanus blasted by the bitter chill, though the sting is only just a prickling of his flesh and numbness in his nose and lips. It could have been worse.
Then the snow funnels forward, revealing the other womanly shape to be an elemental made of swirling clouds and snow, hurdling towards Ordrud before slamming into his armor and jostling all of the ice and snow it had collected free. The elemental whirls around, taking on a vaguely femenine expression before it contorts into one of wrathful rage.
Another elemental appears suddenly out of the storm, swooping past Styvanus before wheeling back up into the air with arms outstretched and the wail of high winds carried on its whispery voice.
The back ranks of the group come under assault a moment later as Ar'Zarrcal catches out of the corner of his eye a multi-faceted rock hurled from a higher elevation. It suddenly impacts with his armor and detonates into a thunderous roar that shakes the ground and displaces the snow. It can likely be heard for miles, and while Ar'Zarrcal and the others can hear it echoing across the valley, all Fenyx can hear is a high-pitched whine and feel the muffled impact of the wind on his clothing, deafened by the attack.
Suddenly, a shrill voice echoes from the sky. Speaking clearly in the Taldan tongue, "You should have turned back when you rescued your people! You should have never come here! Your frozen corpses will be monuments to Lady Nazhena's glory!"
<< | | Heavy Snow, Strong Wind, Noise | Frozen Pillars >>
Another volley of icy arrows whistle through the storm, both of the tiny darts shatter against Ordrud's armor as he winds up with Feyswatter, swings it in a broad over-hand arc and cleaves downwards into that blue-skinned creature with a violent cleave. Purplish blood sprays into the snow and the winged creature flutters in the air, wings flapping wildly but managing to maintain its altitude about ten feet off the ground.
Immediately after Ordrud's gruesome blow to the winged beast-woman, one of the air elementals breaks away from Styvanus before he can react, shooting through the air with a flawless maneuverability to slam into Ordrud like hammer, knocking him forward before it flies away back into the storm. Another elemental takes a pass at the raging barbarian and misses his position due to the blinding snow of the raging blizzard.
High above the battle, someone calls out in a deep, chanting voice amidst the storm. High enough that it could be the source of the thunderstone that fell before, but now only a tiny man's voice can be heard, repeating the same droning mantra over and over again.
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Someone with a male voice up in the air above Marcellano is casting summon monster I
Rasso sees no foes near him in the whirling storm, but he sure as hells hears Ordrud. Maybe iffin I make some noise our new friends will come to play. The merman synthesist tucks his head down, and roaring at the top of his voice charges forward like a plow through the snow. He ploughs past Teladon, Marcellano and Styvanus, running clear up to Ordrud with a mighty effort, roaring the whole way. He leaves a huge furrow in the snow behind him, like the wake of a large ship frozen forever in crystalline form.
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Styvanus readies himself behind his shield and moves forward, the eagle-emblazoned steel slicing through the wintery winds. The scarf over the lower part of his face and neck was stark white with snow. " Gwynn, stay close." He commands, but the care in his voice means it comes out sounding little like an actual command. Gwynn's preferred method of blazing barrels would be entirely useless here, and she hadn't been the idea of strength in their travels. He would keep a close eye on his fellow fair haired Andoran.
He commands with authority, his voice doing all that it can to project against the howling air. It was clear this was the last leg of their journey to the portal. The snow obscured vision and at least closer to the central light there would be a visual point of reference. Now was their last stand, they must not fail.
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Ar'Zarrcal would not take another step forward without knowing for certain what was going on. Unlike humans, dwarves were not prone to blunder in the darkness grasping out blindly. They were a more careful race and while sometimes they dug too deep or discovered dangers beyond their anticipation, it was not due to impulsiveness, but rather greed.
Planting his feet in the snow, Ar'Zarrcal held his shield up before him and repeatedly smashed his hammer against the steel, letting out a low series of repeated clangs. In his armored shell, he was more durable than many of his companions and would rather direct fire upon himself. In addition, it might give him a glimpse of who and what was out there attacking.
Letting his dark vision guide him, he drowned out the colors of the world and shifted into a perception of muted greys, blacks and whites. Scanning all around and gesturing with his war-hammer when he spotted an enemy in the howling wind and blowing snow.
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Yelling at the top of his lungs just so he can hear himself, let alone anyone else hear him, Marcellano looks around in the blizzard, attempting to discern the various shapes barely seen in the area.
Hearing both Styvanus' orders from ahead of him and Ordrud's yelling in the same direction, Marcellano agrees that forward is the best option. Rifle in hand, still attempting to see anything of value, he trudges forward slowly, the heavy snow impeding the armored marine.
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Reeling from the force of an explosion he never witnessed and the deafening clap of the subsequent fallout, Fenyx clasps hands to ears in a futile effort to drown out the ringing that reverberates through his skull. He has no bearings; no direction. Styvanus' direction and the various warnings and commands being barked out are completely lost on him, the hammering snows and winds blocking out what would have otherwise compensated for the lack of noise. Rather than scurry off blindly into the unknown, Fenyx hunkers down against the weight of Dirge, hoping that the command he voices is received by his minion. ""
Fortunately for the sin mage, the corpse is not so affected by the thunderstone's clap. Wordlessly obeying, tethered hopelessly to the necromantic energies and will of the one whom bound it, Yvonne poises itself over the struggling form of Fenyx, ready to meet whatever threat emerges to do further harm to the Shalasti wizard.
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Another volley of icy arrows whistle through the storm, both of the tiny darts shatter against Ordrud's armor as he winds up with Feyswatter, swings it in a broad over-hand arc and cleaves downwards into that blue-skinned creature with a violent cleave. Purplish blood sprays into the snow and the winged creature flutters in the air, wings flapping wildly but managing to maintain its altitude about ten feet off the ground.
Immediately after Ordrud's gruesome blow to the winged beast-woman, one of the air elementals breaks away from Styvanus before he can react, shooting through the air with a flawless maneuverability to slam into Ordrud like hammer, knocking him forward before it flies away back into the storm. Another elemental takes a pass at the raging barbarian and misses his position due to the blinding snow of the raging blizzard.
High above the battle, someone calls out in a deep, chanting voice amidst the storm. High enough that it could be the source of the thunderstone that fell before, but now only a tiny man's voice can be heard, repeating the same droning mantra over and over again.
Ar'Zarrcal would not take another step forward without knowing for certain what was going on. Unlike humans, dwarves were not prone to blunder in the darkness grasping out blindly. They were a more careful race and while sometimes they dug too deep or discovered dangers beyond their anticipation, it was not due to impulsiveness, but rather greed.
Planting his feet in the snow, Ar'Zarrcal held his shield up before him and repeatedly smashed his hammer against the steel, letting out a low series of repeated clangs. In his armored shell, he was more durable than many of his companions and would rather direct fire upon himself. In addition, it might give him a glimpse of who and what was out there attacking.
Letting his dark vision guide him, he drowned out the colors of the world and shifted into a perception of muted greys, blacks and whites. Scanning all around, but the howling wind and blowing snow obfuscated the dwarf's vision. He can barely make out what Ordrud was fighting in the distance, motioning with his hammer in that direction once he spots the horrible winged silhouette and the two swirling forms of air and snow.
"AMBUSH? WHERE?! I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!" Yelling at the top of his lungs just so he can hear himself, let alone anyone else hear him, Marcellano looks around in the blizzard, attempting to discern the various shapes barely seen in the area.
Hearing both Styvanus' orders from ahead of him and Ordrud's yelling in the same direction, Marcellano agrees that forward is the best option. Rifle in hand, still attempting to see anything of value, he trudges forward slowly, the heavy snow impeding the armored marine.
Rasso sees no foes near him in the whirling storm, but he sure as hells hears Ordrud. Maybe iffin I make some noise our new friends will come to play. The merman synthesist tucks his head down, and roaring at the top of his lungs, charges forward like a plow through the snow. He ploughs past Teladon and Marcellano, roaring the whole way. The depth of the snow and the difficulty the summoner finds moving through it impedes him from reaching his target of the battle Ordrud is engaged in. Behind Rasso, the summoner leaves a huge furrow in the snow, like the wake of a large ship frozen forever in crystalline form.
Styvanus readies himself behind his shield and moves forward, the eagle-emblazoned steel slicing through the wintery winds. The scarf over the lower part of his face and neck was stark white with snow. "Gwynn, stay close." He commands, but the care in his voice means it comes out sounding little like an actual command. Gwynn's preferred method of blazing barrels would be entirely useless here, and she hadn't been the idea of strength in their travels. He would keep a close eye on his fellow fair haired Andoran.
"Towards the portal, FORWARD!" He commands with authority, his voice doing all that it can to project against the howling air. It was clear this was the last leg of their journey to the portal. The snow obscured vision and at least closer to the central light there would be a visual point of reference. Now was their last stand, they must not fail.
Reeling from the force of an explosion he never witnessed and the deafening clap of the subsequent fallout, Fenyx clasps hands to ears in a futile effort to drown out the ringing that reverberates through his skull. He has no bearings; no direction. Styvanus' direction and the various warnings and commands being barked out are completely lost on him, the hammering snows and winds blocking out what would have otherwise compensated for the lack of noise. Rather than scurry off blindly into the unknown, Fenyx hunkers down against the weight of Dirge, hoping that the command he voices is received by his minion. ""
Fortunately for the sin mage, the corpse is not so affected by the thunderstone's clap. Wordlessly obeying, tethered hopelessly to the necromantic energies and will of the one whom bound it, Yvonne poises itself over the struggling form of Fenyx, ready to meet whatever threat emerges to do further harm to the Shalasti wizard.
Up closer to the battle, Gwynn catches sight of the whirling snow and wind that had buffetted Ordrud coming back around for another attack. Stepping across the snow in creaking snowshoes, she lifts her revolver up and tracks the elemental's movement across the sky. Squeezing the trigger there is a thundrous report and muzzle flash, brighter and louder than it should have been. Gwynn lets out a shriek of frustration and surprise, black smoke issuing out of the muzzle of her revolver from a misfire. "Gods damn this snow! she curses
Severely beaten by Ordrud, the vicious mephit Izoze lets out a tiny shriek and flaps her leathery wings, blasting up into the air against the gusts of wind to put some distance between herself and the barbarian and hopefully remain hidden in the blinding snow.
"Captain!" The huffing voice comes from Talavuc as she trudges through the deep snow towards Styvanus. "Captain, I've spotted something up above where Marcellano is!" The druid turns around, pointing up into the snow. "It's about the size of a sparrow but has the shape of a man with wings. There's a slightly larger creature up on top of that pillar as well!"
Behind Talavuc, Naasvit leaps and bounds through the snow to try and clear the distance. Without anything to help him mitigate the depth of the snow well over his head, the poor mink struggles to keep pace.
<< | | : Strong Winds, Noise | : Frozen Pillars >>
As tempestuous as the storm has proven, there is a sense that perhaps someone is on the side of those fighting against the endless winter. Just as things seemed their worst, the gusting snow blowing from the winter portal far away quells. While the wind remains as strong as ever, kicking up eddies and storms of snow from the ground, visibility has drastically improved and the enemies that had once been hidden have now been revealed.
"Fire! Fire! Kill them!" Tiny voices shriek from winter fey perched atop crumbling pillars now clearly visible. The winter fey unleash a volley of icy arrows aimed down at the approaching intruders, their glittering and frozen lengths like icy needles arcing through the air.
Both of the icy arrows are aimed at Ordrud, and one strikes true, hitting the half-orc in the side of the neck, leaving a frozen dot of blood where it pricks his flesh. Once more Ordrud feels a numbing cold threaten to consume him, but once more he fights through it and refuses to give in. Wheeling around to face his attacker, Ordrud's armor deflects the other icy arrow, shattering it on impact.
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1: Wind Decrease
2: Snow Clears
3: No Change
4: No Change
5: Snow Lightning
6: Wind Increase
Round 2
The tiny arrows pin prick on his armor and flesh without acknowledgement. Ordrud roars in response to the elemental's fly-by attack as it and the fey fly beyond his reach. He shakes Feyswatter at them in frustration and realizes that he can see them.
With the white-out condition clear for a moment, he quickly sweeps the field for targets and finds an elemental near the ground next to Gwynn. He hustles to her side using his momentum to carry Feyswatter through the elemental.
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Rasso curses the snow for the ten thousandth time as he continues to dredge his way through it towards his eventual goal -the enemy. Thank Besmara's bounteous bosoms that this twice rat f%*&ed sh*t storm has at least cleared up enough for me ter see the gods damned fairy f+$!s! he rages mentally, forcing his way through the white towards the fallen pillar. His lower body is mostly swallowed by the white powder. Only Rasso's shark-like upper body juts above the frozen wind tossed waves. He stops next to Nassavit, and points one claw at the fairy thing perched on the pillar. He chants a brief incantation and a blob of transparent liquid appears in between his pincers. Rasso flings his claw forward and the orb goes streaking towards the winter fey.
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All it takes is one powerful swing of Ordrud's sword to demolish one of the air elementals. The moment the whirling creature of cold and wind is struck by the blade there is the sharp cry of howling wind and a burst of changing air pressure before the once feminine form breaks apart into a cloud of snow and clouds that quickly dissipates into thin air.
Streaking away from Ordrud, the sole surviving elemental flies as fast as it can across the snowy battlefield. Then, swooping down like a bird of prey, it dives towards Fenyx's disoriented form, striking him square in the chest as its body shifts into a vaguely bullet-shaped form, exploding with a thunderclap before rocketing back up into the air and away from the mage, leaving his force armor crackling from the impact and a bruise welling to the surface on the necromancer's chest.
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Something between a snarl and a pained grunt erupts from Fenyx's lips. He still struggles to make sense of what is happening around him; the whining thrum in his ears is slowing and losing magnitude, but his hearing remains absent. It matters not—he knows the incantations well enough. He recalls the forms taught him by the sin mages of Xin-Shalast with perfect clarity. The correct forms that yielded power the other academies of the world could only dream of. That something sought to earn his ire would bring down the ruin such knowledge afforded Fenyx without hesitation.
Turning to face the once-again humanoid form of the elemental, the necromancer hooks his fingers into the semblance of a claw, tearing at the air before him and summoning a torrent of energy intent on rending his assailant. "" His confidence proves true, as streaks of crimson light arc unerringly into the elemental that struck him moments prior. With his spare hand Fenyx directs Yvonne to join the fray, rotten limbs flailing wildly as the corpse attempts to slam into its quarry. Taking note of Ar'Zarrcal's presence nearby, Fenyx then elects to take up a stance behind the much more battle-hardened ambassador.
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With the weather improving and his fellow ambassador seeking his armored protection, Ar'Zarrcal did not move forward, continuing to ignore the orders to advance. Setting his feet in place, he studied the battlefield trying to determine the best course of action. He had a limited array of magical power to call upon and at this distance, little he could summon forth would be of any use. A crossbow and those strange muskets were within reach sticking out from the heavy pack he wore on his back, but Ar'Zarrcal had never had the great eyesight or the steady hands needed to be a marksman.
Deciding to protect his sorcerous ally from Shalast seemed to be the best option at the moment. Maintaining his defensive stance, Ar'Zarrcal gripped his runic warhammer in his grasp and raised his shield in his other hand. He cursed at the creatures all around them, throwing out insults against their courage, lack of fighting ability, and for good measure their breeding as well. He waited, hoping that one would take the bait.
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Cursing, Marcellano tries in vain to see what is going on, when suddenly the storm seems to abate momentarily, allowing him to finally see the battlefield. Oh. Well, there they are. Fire, huh? Kill us, huh? With those tiny needles? Hah! Here.. I'll show you what a real weapon is!
Swinging around, his hat nearly flying off his head from the motion in combination with the roaring wind, Marcellano aims his new rifle upwards at the small flying bastard nearly directly above him. With his new weapon's higher range, he might be able to hit the little bastard, despite the sixty-foot distance.
Eat this, you little s$!%!
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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As tempestuous as the storm has proven, there is a sense that perhaps someone is on the side of those fighting against the endless winter. Just as things seemed their worst, the gusting snow blowing from the winter portal far away quells. While the wind remains as strong as ever, kicking up eddies and storms of snow from the ground, visibility has drastically improved and the enemies that had once been hidden have now been revealed.
"Fire! Fire! Kill them!" Tiny voices shriek from winter fey perched atop crumbling pillars now clearly visible. The winter fey unleash a volley of icy arrows aimed down at the approaching intruders, their glittering and frozen lengths like icy needles arcing through the air.
Both of the icy arrows are aimed at Ordrud, and one strikes true, hitting the half-orc in the side of the neck, leaving a frozen dot of blood where it pricks his flesh. Once more Ordrud feels a numbing cold threaten to consume him, but once more he fights through it and refuses to give in. Wheeling around to face his attacker, Ordrud's armor deflects the other icy arrow, shattering it on impact.
The tiny arrows pin prick on his armor and flesh without acknowledgement. Ordrud roars in response to the elemental's fly-by attack as it and the fey fly beyond his reach. He shakes Feyswatter at them in frustration and realizes that he can see them.
With the white-out condition clear for a moment, he quickly sweeps the field for targets and finds an elemental near the ground next to Gwynn. He hustles to her side using his momentum to carry Feyswatter through the elemental.
All it takes is one powerful swing of Ordrud's sword to demolish one of the air elementals. The moment the whirling creature of cold and wind is struck by the blade there is the sharp cry of howling wind and a burst of changing air pressure before the once feminine form breaks apart into a cloud of snow and clouds that quickly dissipates into thin air.
Streaking away from Ordrud, the sole surviving elemental flies as fast as it can across the snowy battlefield. Then, swooping down like a bird of prey, it dives towards Fenyx's disoriented form, striking him square in the chest as its body shifts into a vaguely bullet-shaped form, exploding with a thunderclap before rocketing back up into the air and away from the mage, leaving his force armor crackling from the impact and a bruise welling to the surface on the necromancer's chest.
With the weather improving and his fellow ambassador seeking his armored protection, Ar'Zarrcal did not move forward, continuing to ignore the orders to advance. Setting his feet in place, he studied the battlefield trying to determine the best course of action. He had a limited array of magical power to call upon and at this distance, little he could summon forth would be of any use. A crossbow and those strange muskets were within reach sticking out from the heavy pack he wore on his back, but Ar'Zarrcal had never had the great eyesight or the steady hands needed to be a marksman.
Deciding to protect his sorcerous ally from Shalast seemed to be the best option at the moment. Maintaining his defensive stance, Ar'Zarrcal gripped his runic warhammer in his grasp and raised his shield in his other hand. He cursed at the creatures all around them, throwing out insults against their courage, lack of fighting ability, and for good measure their breeding as well. He waited, hoping that one would take the bait.
Cursing, Marcellano tries in vain to see what is going on, when suddenly the storm seems to abate momentarily, allowing him to finally see the battlefield. Oh. Well, there they are. Fire, huh? Kill us, huh? With those tiny needles? Hah! Here.. I'll show you what a real weapon is!
Swinging around, his hat nearly flying off his head from the motion in combination with the roaring wind, Marcellano aims his new rifle upwards at the small flying bastard nearly directly above him. With his new weapon's higher range, he might be able to hit the little bastard, despite the sixty-foot distance. "Eat this, you little s+*@!"
A puff of purple blood erupts from Hommelstaub, causing the miniscule fey to wobble in the air and whirl around, dragonfly wings buzzing wildly. For taking a direct hit, the vicious fey seems to have weathered the shot well, and the protection against weapons not forged of cold iron that Talavuc had warned of holds true.
Hommelstaub curses, flying in circles and looking for the creature he was attempting to summon, finding only ephemeral motes of light where it should have been. Snarling, the tiny blue fey draws a diminutive sling from his belt, putting a seemingly tiny pebble inside. As Hommelstaub whirls the sling to speed and launches the stone at Marcellano, it flies with all the power of a bullet, punching into the nice and snow right at the Marine's side with enough force to split stone. Seeing the plume of snow where he had hoped for a plume of blood, Hommelstaub exhales a ragged snarl.
"Amadán duine! Beidh mé tú a mharú!" It bellows in a tiny, shrill voice, white hair flowing in the powerful wind.
Rasso curses the snow for the ten thousandth time as he continues to dredge his way through it towards his eventual goal -the enemy. Thank Besmara's bounteous bosoms that this twice rat f!+&ed sh*t storm has at least cleared up enough for me ter see the gods damned fairy f@@*s! he rages mentally, forcing his way through the white towards the fallen pillar. His lower body is mostly swallowed by the white powder. Only Rasso's shark-like upper body juts above the frozen wind tossed waves. He stops next to Nassavit, and points one claw at the fairy thing perched on the pillar. He chants a brief incantation and a blob of transparent liquid appears in between his pincers. Rasso flings his claw forward and the orb goes streaking towards the winter fey but the nimble creature that Rasso belatedly recognizes as Shor dodges the goblule.
Something between a snarl and a pained grunt erupts from Fenyx's lips. He still struggles to make sense of what is happening around him; the whining thrum in his ears is slowing and losing magnitude, but his hearing remains absent. It matters not—he knows the incantations well enough. He recalls the forms taught him by the sin mages of Xin-Shalast with perfect clarity. The correct forms that yielded power the other academies of the world could only dream of. That something sought to earn his ire would bring down the ruin such knowledge afforded Fenyx without hesitation.
Turning to face the once-again humanoid form of the elemental, the necromancer hooks his fingers into the semblance of a claw, tearing at the air before him and summoning a torrent of energy intent on rending his assailant. "" His confidence proves true, as streaks of crimson light arc unerringly into the elemental that struck him moments prior. With his spare hand Fenyx directs Yvonne to join the fray, rotten limbs flailing wildly as the corpse attempts to slam into its quarry. Taking note of Ar'Zarrcal's presence nearby, Fenyx then elects to take up a stance behind the much more battle-hardened ambassador.
Spotting Hommelstaub now that the snow has halted, Teladon draws his bow from his back, uttering a mantra in elven that resonates behind his mask. Runes of light trace themselves down the wood of his bow and his string exhudes a cobalt-hued vapor. Nocking an arrow, he aims up at the fey and fires. The arrow leaves a blue streak through the air, a curved path then bends away from the fey at the force of the wind, sending Teladon's arrow punching down into the snow. Correct for the wind, aim ahead of it. Correct for the wind.
Completely surrounded and battered by the elementals, Gwynn wheels around when she hears the cries of the winter-touched fey from their pillar-top perches. Training one in the sights of her still-smoking firearm she squeezes the trigger again, once more eliciting a thundrous gunshot with too much muzzle flash and even more sooty smoke. The barrel is blackened and bulging in the middle, ice crusted around the muzzle. "Gods damned snow! Damnit all to the deepest, hottest pit in Hell!"
Across the field, the familiar form of Shor rests perched on one of the toppled pillars, brows furrowed and furious looking. "You think you humans can butcher this forest and not pay a price!? Our brothers and sisters have died fighting your lumber consortium for decades! We leapt at the opportunity to come to their aid! You think I would ever help you worthless monsters!? You only know how to destroy!"
Showing his true allegiances and having likely led the others into the trap of the Gloom and its dread hound, Shor goads Styvanus' team into battle. Talavuc takes the bait, snarling and whirling her spear around. "I had nothing to do with this! These people turned into abominations did not deserve this fate!" Lunging forward, she draws herself into Shor's trap.
Immediately on closing some of the distance through the deep snow, Talavuc finds herself assailed by a scintillating wave of color and sound that explodes outward from the tiny fey. She growls, shielding her eyes with one hand, but it is Styvanus beside her that is struck by the cone's full force. Blinded by the seething colors, he collapses into a convulsing heap in the snow, legs and arms twitching as his mind is assailed by the powerful magic.
When the color fades, Shor is horrified to see Naasvit leaping through the air. The mink snatches the fey in his jaws, teeth tearing through flesh as he shakes him from side to side. Just as Shor scrambles free, Talavuc's spear comes down and lances through his back and out his stomach, nearly splitting his tiny body in half. Shor gurgles out a curse, crawling away on hands and feet through the snow, leaving a magenta streak across its surface.
<< | | | The Frozen Pillars >>
With one of the winter fey flying closer on buzzing wings, Ordrud finds himself the target of another volley of arrows raining down from high on the pillars. The tiny ice needles shatter once more on his durable armor, no harm at all coming to the deadly berserker. The winter fey look at each other, worried, and turn their attention to Hommelstaub's injured form. Their morale seems to be failing, and their inability to drive off the invaders is becoming more evident.
Towards the back of the group, the whirling elemental remaining streaks through the clear skies, diving down towards Fenyx like a bullet. Much of its form is less distinct than it was before, due entirely to the necromancer's evocation that tore part of its cloudy body apart. As it streaks in, the elemental careens over Yvonne's head and down past Ar'Zarrcal who winds up with his hammer and swings. The powerful blow goes too low, and the nimble elemental smashes into Fenyx again, nearly knocking him off of his feet.
However, as the elemental goes to rocket away again, Ar'Zarrcal swings backhanded with the warhammer and collides with the elemental's cloudy form, knocking it aside as it flees from his reach. The wounded elemental entity turns back towards the necromancer, lightning crackling in its hollow eyes.
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Winter Fey (T9)
Standard Action: Ranged Attack @ Ordrud
(miss)
Air Elemental
Full-Round Action: Flyby Attack @ Fenyx
>>>>> INTERRUPTED
Ar'Zarrcal
(fighting defensively; miss)
(hit)
>
(hit! somehow!!)
>
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Flinching as the miniscule stone penetrations the snow next to him, Marcellano takes a moment, his eyes wide, brows furrowed, surprised at the power behind such a tiny weapon. He looks back at the fey, annoyed that his bullet did not completely obliterate the creature, though simultaneously amazed at the rifle's accuracy. Compared to his clunky musket, this weapon is absolutely beautiful in its operation. With another bullet in the chamber with but a few flicks of the wrist, another luxury he finds absolutely amazing, Marcellano once again aims at the fey, determined to win their little duel.
With a crack of thunder, he returns fire.
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"SHOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrr!" Rasso roars, tearing through the snow in front of him like an angry tarrasque. He leaps up onto the pillar and bites down at the badly wounded fey with his gaping maw. His shark-like teeth clamp down on the little man's torn torso. Rasso whips his head back, chin up, and crunches down a two more times, before swallowing the now dead Shor in a single huge gulp.
"Mmm...nothing like the taste of a rat!" he chuckles to Talavuc beside him, tatters of ragged blue skin hanging from his teeth, and rivulets of sparkling sapphire blood dribbling down his chin. "Who's next?!" he roars from the top of the pillar, raising his claws to the sky and shaking them in defiance.
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Round 3
The tiny arrows continue to rain down on his armor without acknowledgement. Ordrud suddenly finds himself clear of weather and enemies within reach. Plus, they appear to actively avoid him.
Since he can not fly, he shifts toward the closest fey and drives Feyswatter into the icy ground. He pulls out his new sling and polished bullet. After spinning his bullet to deadly velocity with all of his might, he releases it...
The bullet whips past Izoze with as much force as a firearm. Izoze hopes the weather stays clear, so he can continue to target this brute from altitude.
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Reeling backwards into the snow, Fenyx curses under his breath. Even afforded clarity of sight with the relinquished squalls of snow, without his ears he finds difficulty in getting a full handle on the situation. Seeing the elemental surge past him once more, not before gifting the necromancer what would be an immense bruise across his torso, he does not allow his eyes to leave the creature. Raising Dirge before him in a warding stance, he steps back beside Ar'Zarrcal once again, instructing the lurching frame of Yvonne to stand before him and serve as a buffer between him and any continued attacks from his determined assailant.
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With a backwards glance to Fenyx, Ar'Zarrcal utters words in the once ancient tongue of Thassilonian. He stares at his companion, noticing the clear signs of pain that etch the other ambassadors face each time he sucks in a breath of the frigid air. Ribs were likely broken. Glancing away, he followed the path of the barely visible elemental. Ar'Zarrcal's fingers closed about his hammer, but rather than swing with it he turned back around exposing his back and reached out to touch the weapon's head to Fenyx's forehead.
"Се одржи уште амбасадор. Божицата ќе го отстраниме твојот болка. Вие не може да падне тука, Руни-Господ се уште бара вашата услуга."He spoke the words loudly, but still was uncertain whether Fenyx could hear him. With his beard crusted with snow and ice and his eyes hard little pools of pale blue, Ar'Zarrcal hardly seemed the image of an angel of mercy, but it was all Fenyx was to receive. Soon after the mumurs of dwarven mixed Thassilonian followed as he wove an incantation and a prayer to Lissala. The runes burned and carved into the dwarf's flesh began to glow yellow, white, and indigo. They flared in various locations across his body, while others remained dormant. The power traveled down the outstretched arm of the dwarf and lit up the runes of the warhammer as well. From that weapon the healing power invoking traveled out of the dwarf and into the necromancer.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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With one of the winter fey flying closer on buzzing wings, Ordrud finds himself the target of another volley of arrows raining down from high on the pillars. The tiny ice needles shatter once more on his durable armor, no harm at all coming to the deadly berserker. The winter fey look at each other, worried, and turn their attention to Hommelstaub's injured form. Their morale seems to be failing, and their inability to drive off the invaders is becoming more evident.
Towards the back of the group, the whirling elemental remaining streaks through the clear skies, diving down towards Fenyx like a bullet. Much of its form is less distinct than it was before, due entirely to the necromancer's evocation that tore part of its cloudy body apart. As it streaks in, the elemental careens over Yvonne's head and down past Ar'Zarrcal who winds up with his hammer and swings. The powerful blow goes too low, and the nimble elemental smashes into Fenyx again, nearly knocking him off of his feet.
However, as the elemental goes to rocket away again, Ar'Zarrcal swings backhanded with the warhammer and collides with the elemental's cloudy form, knocking it aside as it flees from his reach. The wounded elemental entity turns back towards the necromancer, lightning crackling in its hollow eyes.
The tiny arrows continue to rain down on his armor without acknowledgement. Ordrud suddenly finds himself clear of weather and enemies within reach. Plus, they appear to actively avoid him.
Since he can not fly, he shifts toward the closest fey and drives Feyswatter into the icy ground. He pulls out his new sling and polished bullet. After spinning his bullet to deadly velocity with all of his might, he releases it...
The bullet whips past Izoze with as much force as a firearm. Izoze hopes the weather stays clear, so he can continue to target this brute from altitude.
With a backwards glance to Fenyx, Ar'Zarrcal utters words in the once ancient tongue of Thassilonian. He stares at his companion, noticing the clear signs of pain that etch the other ambassadors face each time he sucks in a breath of the frigid air. Ribs were likely broken. Glancing away, he followed the path of the barely visible elemental. Ar'Zarrcal's fingers closed about his hammer, but rather than swing with it he turned back around exposing his back and reached out to touch the weapon's head to Fenyx's forehead.
"Се одржи уште амбасадор. Божицата ќе го отстраниме твојот болка. Вие не може да падне тука, Руни-Господ се уште бара вашата услуга."He spoke the words loudly, but still was uncertain whether Fenyx could hear him. With his beard crusted with snow and ice and his eyes hard little pools of pale blue, Ar'Zarrcal hardly seemed the image of an angel of mercy, but it was all Fenyx was to receive. Soon after the mumurs of dwarven mixed Thassilonian followed as he wove an incantation and a prayer to Lissala. The runes burned and carved into the dwarf's flesh began to glow yellow, white, and indigo. They flared in various locations across his body, while others remained dormant. The power traveled down the outstretched arm of the dwarf and lit up the runes of the warhammer as well. From that weapon the healing power invoking traveled out of the dwarf and into the necromancer.
Flinching as the miniscule stone penetrations the snow next to him, Marcellano takes a moment, his eyes wide, brows furrowed, surprised at the power behind such a tiny weapon. He looks back at the fey, annoyed that his bullet did not completely obliterate the creature, though simultaneously amazed at the rifle's accuracy. Compared to his clunky musket, this weapon is absolutely beautiful in its operation. With another bullet in the chamber with but a few flicks of the wrist, another luxury he finds absolutely amazing, Marcellano once again aims at the fey, determined to win their little duel.
With a crack of thunder he returns fire, but Hommelstaub's tiny, icy form flits around the bullet like a leaf on the wind. The icy fey whirls through the air and lets out a tiny scream, diving down towards Marcellano as ice gathered on his small hands. He lunges at the rifleman's face, but Marcellano ducks and weaves out of the way of those deathly cold hands.
"SHOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrr!" Rasso roars, tearing through the snow in front of him like an angry tarrasque. He leaps up onto the pillar and bites down at the badly wounded fey with his gaping maw. His shark-like teeth clamp down on the little man's torn torso. Rasso whips his head back, chin up, and crunches down a two more times, before swallowing the now dead Shor in a single huge gulp.
"Mmm...nothing like the taste of a rat!" he chuckles to Talavuc beside him, tatters of ragged blue skin hanging from his teeth, and rivulets of sparkling sapphire blood dribbling down his chin. "Who's next?!" he roars from the top of the pillar, raising his claws to the sky and shaking them in defiance. "C'MON!"
Reeling backwards into the snow, Fenyx curses under his breath. Even afforded clarity of sight with the relinquished squalls of snow, without his ears he finds difficulty in getting a full handle on the situation. Seeing the elemental surge past him once more, not before gifting the necromancer what would be an immense bruise across his torso, he does not allow his eyes to leave the creature. Raising Dirge before him in a warding stance, he steps back beside Ar'Zarrcal once again, instructing the lurching frame of Yvonne to stand before him and serve as a buffer between him and any continued attacks from his determined assailant.
Meanwhile, Teladon has continued to track Hommelstaub's movements through the air, following him down to MArcellano's level with an arrow drawn and readied. The moment that the icy fey's attack misses, Teladon looses an arrow that whips through the air directly between Hommelstaub and Marcellano, missing them both. Accursed wind!
Spinning around when she sees Hommelstaub come fluttering by, Gwynn quickly slaps her revolver against the side of her palm, kicking the cylinder open and letting a pair of brass casings fall into the snow. She spins the chamber and snaps it shut, then trains the gun back on Hommelstaub and fires. The noisy report and muzzle flash accompanies her shot missing the tiny, agile fey. Cursing to herself, Gwynn tries to steady herself to take aim again.
High up in the air, Izoze curls his icy fingers together and turns his scowling, cobalt blue visage towards where Ordrud, Gwynn and Marcellano are clustered together. Thrusting his arms out, even as the icy cold wind seems to be stitching his wounds shut, the ice mephit exhales a freezing screech followed by a diabolical cackle. Cold wind blows down from the sky and washes over the three victims of his wintry magic. Ordrud's mighty sword feyswatter and Gwynn's revolver briefly begin to frost over, but soon lose that cold quality. Marcellano's rifle, however, crusts over with ice and becomes uncomfortably cold to the touch. All the while, Izoze wheezes and laughs.
Momentarily horrified by Rasso's devouring of Shor, Talavuc stares in wide-eyed horror before finally shaking herself back to the moment. She looks over her shoulder to where Fenyx and Ar'Zarrcal are, then begins bounding through the snow after them. With her long spear held firmly in both hands, she watches the movements of the elemental in her peripheral vision, snow and ice clinging to her dark hair and breaths exhales as puffs of steam. When she arrives at the Shalasti men, the druid gives two sharp whistles and calls Naasvit over. The huge mink leaps thorugh the snow in large, springing bounds, slowly making his way towards his master.
<< | | Deep Snow, Strong Wind, Noise | Frozen Pillars >>
Tiny twangs of bowstrings come seconds before Ordrud is struck by another volley of icy arrows. With the wind foiling their aim, these tiny fey have no ability to penetrate Ordrud's thick armor. They seem concerned, looking back and forth to one another atop the pillars, but the bolstering presence of Izoze and Hommelstaub likely is keeping them in the fight. Instead of fleeing, these two tiny warriors draw another pair of icy arrows from their miniscule quivers, ready to try to bring the berserker down again.
The air elemental harrying the Shalasti comes back around, howling through the air like a banshee, arms outstretched and snow whirling around her vaguely femenine form. As she comes diving in, the elemental is assaulted by Yvonne's deathly strength and the shambling cadaver slashes her body against the elemental, knocking it aside and swnding it straight towards Naasvit. The mink leaps from the snow, but too low and his jaws snap only at air. As the elemental tries to correct its course, it comes right past Talavuc's lunging spear, diving under the spearhead and smacking into Fenyx's shoulder, spinning him around again.
But, as the elemental is making its way out, Ar'Zarrcal quickly swings back at it with his warhammer, colliding with the elemental essence in a solid stroke. There is a bright flash of light, a sucking pop sound and a crackle of electricity and the elemental is snuffed out of existence. Seeing his servant destroyed, Izoze lets out a hissing growl and smashes his icy hands together.
"We should retreat!" Izoze chatters to Hommelstaub over the howl of the wind in Taldan, the only language the two share. Hommelstaub grunts discontentedly and looks towards the blazing light of the winter portal, then back down to Marcellano with a scowl.
He's worried that Izoze's cowardice may be warranted this time.
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