Arius calls to the group:
Careful! These beasts are Murder Crows, a name double apt: for each, upon its death, becomes a murder unto itself, a teeming cloud of nuisance beasts, still deadly. From now, I will stay my hand until one of you strikes a killing blow--a magical evocation will be best suited to slay such swarms. See, too, the putrescence of their flesh--these beings resemble the undead, so a powerful burst of holy energies may also dispose handily of the coming swarms.
HP:64 Saves:12,12,9
Perception:12, SM:9
Vladimir delays for his ally, Arius, and is rewarded with accelerated time.
New initiative:
Irravin
Murder Crows
Arius
Elion
Vladimir
Elion enters into a dive, plummeting earthward. The denizens of the iron cage he carries enter into a nearly freefall state. Unless they leap or climb on the bars of the cage, the party will haphazardly float within the cage. Future attacks will be at -4 and spells shall require a concentratino check (10+ spell level), unless a DC 20 Acrobatics or Athletics is passed.
Next up: Vladimir, Irravin, then the Murder Crows.
HP: 62/64 | AC: 16 (T: 13 FF: 14) | Saves: +8 +5 +6
Perception: +0 | Sense Motive: +9 | Initiative: +2
Vladimir leaps to the bars of the cage as Elion dives with the cage in tow. Effortlessly, his reflexes kick in and he is able to fire a volley of arrows. Nocking arrows is a well-practiced motion for Vladimir, made even faster by Arius's acceleration spell. Five arrows fly at the murder crow attacking Elion.
While the last of the arrows misses by a hair's breadth, the other four pierce the side of the murder crow in a deadly barrage.
HP:55 Saves:8,5,11
Perception:12, SM:9
Amidst the chaos, Irravin feels a pulsing in his chest as Verndar speaks into his mind.
And what of the gift that was given?
Suddenly aware of himself, Irravin unsheaths Sarenrae's Holy Staff from behind his back. Its dazzling white color gleams in the sunlight as he feels its power.
The cage lurches violently, but Irravin's recent training over the pit comes in handy as he easily rolls to the side, catching a bar in one hand and aiming the staff towards the other crow.
As it is Irravin's first time using this spell, he falters slightly as the cage lurches again, and the blast is much weaker than it normally would be. A beam of light sizzles out from the staff and lances toward the giant crow.
Vladimir unleashes a ferocious wave of arrows and Irravin calls upon the Holy Staff to Smite evil enemies. The Murder Crow harassing Elion is left barely hanging onto to its unmortal coil. But such unliving creatures have no fear, and they redouble their attacks.
The Murder Crow with 4 arrows sprouting from its body continues to attack Elion, power attack wildly.
Only one talon finds purchase, but in cuts deep into Elions neck.
[ooc]Total Elion Damage:14
The second Crow, hanging from the iron cage, sends talon and beak into the cage, seeking vulnerable flesh.
Up next Arius then Elion.
Status:
HP: 62/64 | AC: 16 (T: 13 FF: 14) | Saves: +8 +5 +6
Perception: +0 | Sense Motive: +9 | Initiative: +2
Arius raises his arms and keeps a wary eye on the crows, a syllable of explosive power caught in his throat.
I shall attempt to clear out any swarm that should arise. Keep a wide berth--my evocation must diffuse itself over an area to harm whatever teeming pests arise.
Arius gathers his magic in preparation for the death throes of the Murder Crows.
Elion continues his dive, closing the distance to the ground quickly and keeping steady control. He shall touch down next turn if he remains unimpeded.
Vladimir is up for final participant of round 2, then Irravin starts off round 3, followed by the Murder Crows.
The thrill of the battle courses through Vladimir, and his reflexes and instincts have become adjusted to the acceleration Arius cast.
I've come to know and respect many animals and magical beasts during my time as a ranger of the forest. But these...abominations are foul unnatural! They disgust me! They cannot remain!
There is a murderous glare in Vladimir's face as he fires an even deadlier barrage of arrows at the two crows. Deadly aim: ON
Vladimir fires the first arrows at the crow attacking Elion, and switches to the other one if the first is defeated, leaving his companions to handle the swarm.
Perception:12, SM:9 Initiative:+2
Irravin grits his teeth as the cage continues to plummet. He watches Vladimir unleash a furious, lightning-fast burst of arrows that all find purchase in swift succession.
Still clutching the bars of the cage, Irravin readies his Holy Staff once more. Sure that the burst of light can reach both crows, he pours his intention into the weapon as it becomes a channel for Sarenrae's divine light.
A giant wave of energy crests outward from the staff, jetting towards their blood-soaked feathers.
Vladimir unleashes a deadly barrage upon the two undead crows. The first draw of his bow sets two arrows into the eyes of the crow harassing Elion. The creature breaks apart, exploding into a storm of feathers, each of which animates and becomes a new crow, still hellbent on driving Elion from the sky. Vladimir is unperturbed, and continues his volley, driving three more arrows into the next large Murder Crow.
Both Irravin and Arius call upon their divine and arcane energies. From the white Holy Staff he bears, Irravin pours out golden energy. Its waves meet his companions with a gentle touch, but burn into his undead foes without mercy. The second Murder Crow erupts into a flurry like its companion.
Elion continues his dive earthward, now at the center of a typhoon of a thousand wings, a thousand talons seeking living flesh.
New Initiative, Round 3:
Irravin
Arius
Undead Crow Swarm
Elion
Vladimir
Arius is up, followed by the undead crow swarms.
As the murder crows burst into pullulating hordes, the spell welling in Arius's throat and mind takes form. The lightning whose name he learned in Ia's honor shrieks through pestilential wings, jagged arcs crackling between jigsaw feathers.
Arius' lightning blast arcs between the storm of crows churning around Elion. The swarm's numbers have thinned and it teeters upon dissipating, but still retains enough cohesiveness to launch its attack upon its mortal foes.
Disease DC 15
Boo no one is diseased
Elion's dive earthward reaches completion. His tucked wings unfurl and weight rapidly returns to all with in the cage, pressing them downward.
The landing is smooth enough to set the cage down without rattling the stability of its occupants. The party is now earthbound!
Vladimir, Irravin, Arius are up.
The swarm is immune to weapon damage.
Vladimir reaches into his pockets and grabs a handful of flasks filled with holy water.
"TASTE ERASTIL'S HOLY ARROWS."
He throws both flasks, prioritizing swarm 1 but throwing the second flask at swarm 2 if swarm 1 is vanquished with his first attack.
Vladimir's first attack fails to connect with the swarm, but his second throw strikes true.
Irravin finds his footing as Elion sets the cage on the ground, and watches as Vladimir disperses one of the swarms.
The warpriest feels drawn to the staff, and the feeling he gets from gripping it tightly is the same one that he felt when Sarenrae saved him. Wary of using all of the staff's power before they even set foot in Mercia--gods only know what await us inside--he says a silent prayer to Sarenrae as he channels energy through her staff, lifting it to the heavens.
A wave of energy radiates outward, and the healing light rolls over and singes the undead swarm.
HP: 62/64 | AC: 16 (T: 13 FF: 14) | Saves: +8 +5 +6
Perception: +0 | Sense Motive: +9 | Initiative: +2
Used Spells:
1: 0; 2: 0; 3: 2
Relieved to find earth beneath his feet once more, Arius looses a second burst of lightning.
Vladimir, Irravin, and Arius emerge from the iron cage onto solid ground, and stand their ground together against the swarm of undead crows. Vladimir hurls flasks of holy water into the swarm assaulting Elion. Steam hisses as the water finds undead flesh, and the swarm is finally dispersed. Irravin and Arius turn their magics on the remaining swarm.
The positive energy irradiates the swarm for 9 damage, while Arius' lightning burst deals a devastating 37 points of damage.
The party remains within the second swarm, which claws and tears at them once more, seeking their eyes.
As a note, Elion has taken 17 damage
Vladimir takes substantial damages, but is able to wards the beasts from his eyes.
Arius contracts Raven Plague! Onset 1 day, frequency 1/day, d2 con damage, 1 str damage, 2 consecutive days to cure, DC 15 Fort.
Elion remains perched upon the handle of the the cage. His wings open skyward, and retract suddenly, leaving his human form in an open embrace to the sky. He faces the remaining swarm and party and prepares his magics.
Back to the top! Vladimir, Irravin, then Arius.
Vladimir uses one hand to swat away crows from his eyes while his other grabs the last two holy water flasks in his pockets. He throws them at the remaining swarm.
Vladimir lets out a single triumphant "HAH" as both flasks shatter within the remaining swarm.
Perception:12, SM:9 Initiative:+2
Irravin grits his teeth as he finds himself in the middle of the murderous swarm of crows, doing his best to avoid the birds. Their talons occasionally find purchase as they swirl around the party, but he remains upright.
Again, he calls upon Sarenrae's holy light through her majestic staff.
Bursting forth once more, a wave of light fairly explodes from the staff, burning the crows with its radiance.
Vladimir and Irravin unleash holy wrath, in the form of blessed water and channeled energy, upon the final swarm. The flurry finally dissevers, its remaining constituents dissolving into ash and scum. All that remains are blood, feathers, and murk. And the countless lacerations upon their living foes.
Elion treats his wounds with magic.
He has no further healing, but will offer a cure light wounds potion if someone has need of it.
Elions brow furrows in frustration. "Alas, I cannot transform again without resting. And.. to be blunt, I don't know if I'm willing to venture further if such beasts came from Mercia."
It is still early morning, not even an hour after sunrise.
HP: 57/64 | AC: 16 (T: 13 FF: 14) | Saves: +8 +5 +6
Perception: +0 | Sense Motive: +9 | Initiative: +2
Used Spells:
1: 0; 2: 0; 3: 2
The adrenal rush of combat, always an albeit irregular acquaintance, comes to assume a comrade's constancy. As it washes away, Arius observes the party with first concern, then relief, as the worst wounds are knit. What wonderful magic makes the injured hale--how pleasant the sound of a healing word must be if such words be--
"Glad to see we're all intact. Is the way to Mercia usually so dangerous?"
Perception:12, SM:9 Initiative:+2
Irravin breathes a sigh of relief as the swarms are finally dispatched, looking around to make sure everyone is intact.
Still gripping the staff tightly, Irravin feels Sarenrae's light still coursing through it. Looking at his wounded companions, he closes his eyes and uses the staff's remaining power to heal his allies.
An intensely bright flare fairly booms out of the staff, rippling through the party, and leaves a pleasant tingling sensation in Irravin's body. His companions look immediately refreshed and grateful.
Irravin is again awed at the depth of his deity's compassion as she yet again watches faithfully over him.
Blessed be you, Healing Flame. My eternal gratitude burns brighter every day.
He looks at the party and grimaces at Arius' question.
"More so in recent days, it seems. I fear that much and more has befallen the city since we left. We can afford to lose no more time."
He looks at Elion, who is still clearly in pain and distress.
"My faithful friend...we cannot thank you enough for your service. If you need succor, come with us and no harm will befall you. If you prefer to return on your own, no one will begrudge you that right. Know that we are profoundly thankful for what you have undergone for us...but we cannot stay here. The city needs us and we must go, now. If anyone would speak, now is the time...but I fear the time for speaking is over, and our deeds will speak for us in the coming days."
He again looks at Arius as he speaks.
"First, we need to find our companion, Razi'el. Look for a...well...distinct...personage. He will have a giant, gleaming serpent eidolon near him. And he will almost certainly be at the center of some kind of enormous commotion."
If no one has anything else to say or any objections, Irravin secures his gear, casts Mage Armor with Verndar's help and takes off at a brisk jog towards the city.
Vladimir brushes some foul smelling crow feathers from his Eagle's cape and nods his head in agreement as Irravin speaks.
"Agreed. Returning within the city's walls and meeting with Razi'el is our highest priority. These Murder Crows are very worrying. I'll wait until we are all reunited with Razi'el before I elaborate. Thank you for your help Elion, you have gone above and beyond your line of duty as our guide through the skies."
Vladimir is ready to head to Mercia and reunite with Razi'el and Nyila.
Raziel and Nyila meet Graaden in the shadow of the Storm Orb's malignance. Raziel's gaze is unwillingly pulled beyond Graaden's welcome towards the Storm Orb, before he snaps back to reality.
"Graaden, we will soon be under attack. Irravin and Vladimir are already facing enemies just outside of town. I fear more will be arriving soon, but I do not know where. I've instructed the guards to notify Eris of the danger. What should we do?"
Graaden's fair eyes grow a shade darker upon hearing Raziel's news. He pauses for a moment in thought, then moves his gaze back and forth between Raziel and the Orb.
"I shall see what is happening, and call the Militia to arms if need be. The Orb, Raziel... It is yours to guard. Be cautious of illusions, in case this is another ruse from Zadan. We shall have to trust the Sanctum is safe. Let none touch it."
Graaden waits for Raziel's reply. If he does not propose a different plan, he will swiftly summon Light Treader and set off towards the lake.
Raziel is left with four guards who nod to him in acknowledgement. The Orb boils and churns, seething with the power of a bottled tempest.
A half an hour passes as Raziel stands guard over the Storm Orb. No significant commotion reaches his ears, and there might be temptation to lax his guard, if not for the dark animosity coiling just behind him within the Storm Orb. Raziel knows that a storm is brewing without just as surely as it is within.
It would only take a touch of his hand to the Orb to bring this confrontation to its head...
Nyela coils around his torso to rest her head upon his shoulder, relieving some tension.
Suddenly, a clamor of alarm rings out as a guardsman gallops by shouting at the top of his lungs, "Undead! The town is under assault by the unliving! All those who are able: to arms! Mercia calls upon you. The undead seek the flesh of the living!"
The dire warning hangs in the air as the guardsman's eyes turn to Raziel.
The auditorium is 40 ft wide, and 80 feet long. 10 ft. of its length is occupied by a stage where the dais of the Storm Orb its. The remaining 70 feet house rows of seats, with a 10ft wide aisle between them leading to double doors across the hall which open to the Phoenix Bazaar. There are doors on the wings of the auditorium leading to hallways connecting to the rest of the university.
A battle map will be coming in the next few days.
Irravin, Vladimir, and Arius bask in Sanrenrae's light and are restored from their brutal battle with the Murder Crows. They take only a few moments to converse before it seems already too much time has been wasted. Irravin spurs them onward, setting a swift pace towards Mercia.
The sun climbs a few degrees higher in the sky, and Mercia's walls stand clear in view. But before the party sets forth futher, Irravin's eyes recognize not all is well before the gates.
A massive bulk, wreathed in flame, slams its weight upon the gates. Though the details are difficult to make out from over 100 yards away, a painful recognition settles in the stomachs of Irravin and Vladimir. The mighty Aurochs, once a beast of burden for the Dark Moon Fair, then a maddened host for the spirit of a Glabrezu, is now, once again a tool for dark forces, a re-animated unliving battering ram.
A number of figures meander in groups across the grassland and road between the party and Mercia. Their shuffling gait, unwitting wanderings, and broken trappings mark them as more undead. Perhaps two dozen in number.
The group has a good vantage point to see the city walls and its assailants. All of the undead are within 100 ft of the town walls, primarily focused around the gate. The undead Aurochs stands directly before the gates and bashes at them with its weight. The walls of Mercia are manned, but details cannot be ascertained.
The group is 400ft away, linked to the city gates by a 15ft wide road, with grassy plains on either side. There are sparse trees and boulders dotted in the grasslands, providing isolated spots of cover.
Battle map to be added in a few days.
The party will not be noticed/are ignored until they move closer.
Vladimir follows Irravin's concerned gaze and realizes what his friend has spotted is no welcome committee organized by an excited city. He stops in his tracks and curses. Bane of my ancestors! Is the city guard trying to stop them? I can't tell from this distance.
He turns to his compatriots. "We have to stop them from breaching the city. Allow me a few moments to sneak ahead and ascertain their number and how the city gate and her guard are faring. Perhaps these are the fruits of the mysterious graverobbings across town. If there are any specific assessments you want me to make before I sneak ahead, tell me now. "
He waits a moment to see if anyone responds, before nodding in response to their suggestions or silence. Vladimir kneels and lifts his arm, holding out his hand. A moment passes in silence before he feels it once more. Just like the first time:
A tug.
Vladimir’s hand gives a small jerk forward and quickly stabilizes, anticipating the magnetic force of his Aspect's mask. Vladimir's sharp eyes discern the form of his mask slowly floating up and out from the earthen path. As before, it is briefly clear and colorless as Samsaran blood, before it shifts colors and quickly blends into the tone and texture of the earthy road.
Vladimir keeps his hand open and tenses his fingers as if grabbing an invisible object. The magnetic feeling crescendos and the mask flies face-first into Vladimir’s open hand. Its flight sends a small cloud of earth flying that is still in the air as Vladimir deftly dons his mask. The web of arcane etchings converge in a spot just below his left eye, which winks at his party before he crouches and moves off towards the city.
The masked ranger bobs from cover to cover, using boulders and lonely trees to mask his approach. As he approaches, he attempts to count the enemy, establish if they are armed, size up how much longer the city gates will hold, and determine what the city guard is doing about the threat.
Vladimir moves swiftly and silently over the grassland, keeping boulders and trees between him and the undead. The texture and colors of his mask subtly shift as he moves, transitioning between the complexions of rough stone and bark. He draws close enough to identify the details of the undead more closely.
Centered around the path is a cluster of stumbling corpses. Those closest to the wall have intention, slamming themselves against the gate or stones. Others meander, casting their rotting eyes about them. Flanking either side of the path are purely skeletal figures, bearing a smattering of clubs, dull swords, or makeshift bows.
Though their undead nature might make them difficult for a normal man to defeat, Vladimir is confident he and his Divine Visage companions can scatter these humanoid undead to the wind.
In the center of the path the skeletal aurochs smashes itself into the gate with endless vigor. Flames alight upon its bones, and patches of charred gristle and meat cling to its frame. A foul black smoke rises from the fire, luckily blown away from Vladimir. The haunted beast's toil shakes the ground under him.
None have the capacity to notice Vladimir as he spies.
We are not in initiative yet. If the party remain undetected and takes decisive action, each will each get an action in the surprise round and we will roll initiative. If surprise is lost, we will roll initiative in that moment.
Irravin listens intently to Vladimir's plan, nodding along grimly.
His gaze takes in the skeletal figures, alighting finally upon the dreaded aurochs. It feels like yesterday that he clung to life on its back as it rampaged through the city before they were able to take it down.
"The aurochs troubles me deeply. I fear I will be unable to attack it directly, as the fire may consume me before I can finish the job. The undead do not concern me greatly, but if you are able to find any weakness on the giant unholy beast, it would be extremely helpful."
Irravin waits to see what happens to Vladimir before taking any decisive action, but prepares himself to act at a moment's notice.
Vladimir quickly assesses the situation before quietly ducking back behind the large solitary boulder he is using as makeshift cover. His skin tingles with a mix of anticipation and disgust.
Spawn of a spriggan, what an unholy beast! Well, we slayed it once before. Hopefully the second encounter will be easier.
His brow furrows as the situation sinks in.
They haven’t noticed me. Being this close to Mercia and the Orb, I’m certain I must be within the scope of what it can observe and divine. That suggests either its attention is not currently on us, or that it is not able to communicate with the creatures it summons. Curious. We’ll need to learn more later.
Vladimir sneaks back to the group and quietly relays everything he saw. As he speaks, Vladimir pulls out his weapon cord and ties his Oath Bow to his arm in preparation for the fight.
”These creatures are just as foul as the crows we dispatched earlier. I bet the malicious forces in the Storm Orb were using the crows to distract and delay us so this motley crew could assault the city unhampered. We must act quickly.”
He continues, his milk-white eyes staring out at his comrades from behind his mask. ”I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the nature of the flaming aurochs other than what I saw. I didn't see anything as obvious as an embedded metal pentagram like the last time we fought this beast, and my knowledge of the arcane or religious is severely lacking. Does my report spark any insights for either of you?”
Vladimir waits for a response, and regardless of the answer, nods and continues.
”I think range will be the name of the game in this skirmish. With fifteen melee combatants out there, we will need to keep our distance when we spring into action, and maximize the damage we do before Irravin goes hand to hand. I will be focusing my fire on the aurochs; it is easily the biggest danger to both the city and to us. I have no doubt Irravin’s furious fists can dispatch the other combatants with little struggle. Additionally, there are two ranged enemies, so I’ll be taking cover behind that boulder to minimize their effect.” The hushed ranger jerks his thumb towards the boulder he was hiding behind earlier when observing their enemies.
”You may find it prudent to do the same. I estimate that my cover is a little over 200 feet from the Aurochs. If I throw a berry from my bracers, I can create an area of entangling vines that would prove useful if the enemy is clustered. Unfortunately, I can only throw the berries about 30 feet away. However, I should be able to accurately fire a volley of arrows from that distance and begin the fight, unless either of you wish to start the battle a different way.”
Vladimir turns towards the boulder he plans to station himself at.
”If you wish to cast any spells such as mage armor or acceleration, do so now before I return to my cover and begin the fight.”
Irravin listens intently to Vladimir's assessment. It is as he feared--this time, there will be no jumping on to the aurochs' back. A feeling of frustration begins to rise before being tamped down by his iron will.
"It is as you say. The longer we can bombard them from further out, the better. If you have no objections, I will stick close by you and defend you as the undead will likely start to attack you when you begin firing--which would then be a good time for the berries if we are about to be overwhelmed. If something happens elsewhere on the battlefield that requires my urgent attention, I may have to handle it. But I feel that we will emerge victorious by sticking together."
He shifts his gaze to Arius, looking into the scholar's face for answers. "Is that agreeable? I am not sure what other options we have, and I don't think we should split up."
Irravin remains troubled by the aurochs and is unsure how to handle it. Perhaps some fragment of relevant knowledge remains to him? Irravin casts back into his memory.
Raziel turns to face the hardened gazes of the guards eyeing him warily.
"Soldiers of Mercia, no matter what comes through those doors you will stand your ground. Form a protective square around the Storm Orb, those of you with ranged weapons or arrows, prepare to use them. It is of supreme importance that we do not let anything near the Storm Orb. Also, in battle, you will not be able to understand me, for I hav-"
Raziel's voice falters abruptly, his vision and mind pierced by a vision of a towering beast's maw, grinning with malicious ecstasy. A gravelly, cacophony of animalistic roars in his head: The snake will fail you again, Raziel. Do not forget the shared power we tasted together.
The guards were staring at Raziel, clearly concerned. Raziel continued, but as soon he opened his mouth and began to speak, the expression on the guards' faces quickly turned to horror. The sounds birthed from Raziel's mouth sounded like a collection of feral animals chewing on bone, mixed with a variety of horrifying, impossible syllables, clicks, and guttural noises that no good creature should be able to intonate. This was the abyssal tongue.
As soon as Raziel realized the look on their face, he shut his mouth and put his hands up, palms out, shaking his head, breathing heavily.
Nyila's ethereal voice pierces the minds of the soldiers.
Do not be alaaarmed. It is his tongue, and nothing else that speaksss the demon's words. Preparre for battle.
HP: 64/64 | AC: 16 (T: 13 FF: 14) | Saves: +8 +5 +6
Perception: +0 | Sense Motive: +9 | Initiative: +2
Used Spells:
1: 0; 2: 1; 3: 3
Arius assesses if anything of the Aurochs excites an echo.
Arius meets the sun of the monk's gaze, hoping at least to gleam with full moon hope. "Indeed--we stand our best chance standing together. I do not hanker for a lonely battle against unknown foes--at the very least, by staying near, when one finds the foes' weakness, all will know. I wonder: since your staff and my spells are best wielded against massed foes, perhaps we should play the shepherds, attempting to draw the foes into one flock."
"When we approach, I shall be able to provide the same temporal acceleration spell as before. Vladimir, as I am not adept at staying hidden, please say when the time for such preparations is right."
Arius peers again into the distance. Even from here he sees embers slough off the aurochs's back; he catches a charnel whiff--if only imagined--of flaking bone and gristle under friction.
The pain that stolen body must have suffered! The word for pain that is itself pain springs to his lips. The cold bones unceremoniously heated! The word for frost that tell frost how to freeze chatters his teeth. As the syllables commingle, a gauntlet of ice encases his fist.
"If nothing else, I think ice answers fire."
Arius's jaw almost cracks as he spits a word out. Yet the word seems to make no sound--or the sound of the word is more substance than sound. A galvanic arc radiates from the tip of Arius's tongue and alights on his hand. The crackling energy sparks and limns a shape. A trident would be suggested, if one could look straight into the flickers. Arius hefts it, if in fact heft it has, and sends his silent gratefulness to Ia. Teacher, guide well my lightning.
The pain that stolen body must have suffered! The word for pain that is itself pain springs to his lips. The cold bones unceremoniously heated! The word for frost that tell frost how to freeze chatters his teeth. As the syllables commingle, a gauntlet of ice encases his fist.
Vladimir nods in agreement as Irravin and Arius respond.
"Let us do this then: I can creep forward to my previous vantage point behind the large boulder without being detected. It should be large enough to provide adequate cover for two of us, so one of you should join me up there. There is cover a short distance behind that boulder where the other one can take cover. I would suggest Irravin join me, as he will be able to dive into melee more easily if he's at the front with me."
Vladimir turns and looks at Arius.
"Can you sling your word spell from a short distance, or do we need to be in physical contact? Either way, let us all take our positions behind cover, and I will nock arrows in anticipation of your acceleration. Once I feel my reflexes speed up, I will fire a volley and begin our surprise attack."
The pain that stolen body must have suffered! The word for pain that is itself pain springs to his lips. The cold bones unceremoniously heated! The word for frost that tell frost how to freeze chatters his teeth. As the syllables commingle, a scimitar of ice appears, his fist encased in the frozen hilt. It at first droops like an icicle from eaves, then snaps backward, flintflakes of snow sloughing off till the blade is crisp.
Arius has studied enough of the undead to recognize the skeletal and zombie variants of the animated dead. The Aurochs before them, infused by fire, is a burning skeleton. Its own natural weapons shall inflict fire damage upon its foes, likewise when it is attacked by a natural or unarmed attack. Further, its death rattle will invoke the flames to lash out at those nearby.
In exchange for these abilities, it lacks the normal skeletal immunity to cold, and instead is vulnerable to it. Arius forms his frozen saber, certain that should it strike the creature it would deal a devastating blow.
As the alarm for the undead is sounded, anticipation boils within Raziel until the common tongue flees him, and the only thing that may reach him is abyssal. He quickly stops speaking, hoping the guards are not too disturbed from his demonic words.
He knows Nyila speaks to allay their fears, but her words come to his ears as tangled gibberish. Through their bond they may still move with a single intention, but even Nyila cannot reach truly reach him.
As Raziel seeks to calm himself and regain the common tongue, the double doors at the front of the auditorium creak open, and blinding sunlight pours in. As sun blindness is blinked away, Raziel see the shambling forms of skeletal figures pressing into the auditorium. Behind them barnacle-encrusted corpses dripping with water and a nauseating stench follow.
The guards ready their weapons, Raziel's abyssal outburst forgotten, as they turn to face their undead foes.
Order:
Archer Guards
Skeletons
Raziel+Nyila
Barnacle Zombies
Swordsman Guards
The guards bearing bows leap to action, shouting nonsensical words of alarm to each other. They each rapidly fire off two arrows, targeting the nearest skeletons.
The arrows, though accurately shot, pass through ribcages, finding minimal purchase. They shout further gibberish to each other.
"These are no mortal foes! Take careful aim to strike joints!"
Archers will use deadly aim in future attacks to overcome damage reduction.
The skeletons open their jaws in voiceless hisses of hate. Two charge into the guardsman. The others climb over the seating to reach combat.
Scimitars clash against metal shields and the guardsman hold their own.
Nyila and Raziel are up, first round of combat.
Vladimir’s eyes widen as the icy weapon forms in Arius’s hand, and although his grin is hidden behind his camouflaged mask, it is present in his voice.
”A formidable weapon. Excellent. Let’s move. Quickly, before the gates are breached!”
Vladimir scurries back to the large boulder he was using for cover, awaiting his partners to take positions near him. He nocks two arrows in anticipation of arcane acceleration from Arius.
Perception:12, SM:9
Irravin stills his mind, as always, offering up a quick, silent prayer to Sarenrae to guide him and his friends through the upcoming conflict. Something stirs in his gut, telling him that this time, something is different.
Even so, he moves with poise and grace as he stealthily stays low and sprints up noiselessly next to Vladimir, locking eyes with the ranger and preparing for combat.