Niyut's message gets to Malz and he returns a mental nod. "Vehafor reskafar ocuir rifstejarwim!" Malz cries, mixing two very different spells into the same movement.
While Truk'tosh gathers the strength of Mylesar, Garidan's rapier repeated slashes at the orc barbarian, shaking his resolve to the core. To the north, both orc warriors blink as their vision grows dark. Verthag, not realizing that they are affected by Niyut's spell draws upon his inner strength and attacks the enlarged orc. His first blow lands with devastating effect but he's thrown off balance and misses with the second. The orc's retaliate quickly. The orc wielding the pair of weapons misses Verthag, but the giant orc's attacks gravely wound the orc. The pair of blows knocks the Verthag backwards but he grimaces and presses on.
As Malthazir vanishes, the ground beneath the Gathering Stone sinks into the earth and the massive stone topples into the pit. The hag feet do not move, but the female orc tumbles out of the way as the pit opens up. The wizard looks around the area, searching for hidden enemies. Not high above the hag another cloaked figure floats. The female orc flies through the air with surprising speed at Verthag. Her axe comes down upon his head from behind, splitting his skull. The orc drops to the ground.
The orcs to the south press their attacks as well. Truk'tosh avoids the blows from his opponent while the orc attacking Garidan lunges awkwardly as the swashbuckler raises in the air.
Before Malthazir can respond to Niyut, the cloaked figure gestures towards the orcs having just killed Verthag. THe pair suddenly look around and take sight of Truk'tosh and Garidan.
The hag flies forward over the pit and lowers herself into it to continue the ritual. The cloaked figure follows Li'luraant and hovers above the pit.
Seeing the target of his shards rattled by the effects of his attack, the swashbuckler is ready to press his advantage, right up until the orc closes to engage Truk'tosh. With a grimace--he's not willing to try his accuracy when his target is so closely engaged with one of his allies--the young man shifts targets to strike at the woad-painted orc below him instead. Still, his tactics were successful against the one target, so Garidan sees little reason to not apply them to another, and again the wolf's growl rumbles forth menacingly to test the resolve of his foe.
Whether it is due to the effect of the growl or not, Garidan can't say, but the painted orc is utterly defenseless against the second shard and the growl swiftly changes to a ringing shriek that accompanies a simultaneous discharge of lightning and killing frost into the resulting wound. Still, the swashbuckler is willing to twist the knife just a bit more, so to speak, and he addresses the wounded orc in a conversational tone of voice. "You see what service to that selfish, twisted creature is getting you? She plots and acts to raises herself up while you die in her defense. And what will your "valiant" death earn you, hmmm? A pair of tusks and a little vial hanging over a pool, perhaps?" And saying so, Garidan takes a moment to fish out just such a vial that he has possession of and show it to the writhing orc. "Though I'm sure that this particular honor is reserved for those who actually serve their clan and not the whims of some demented relic from ages past. A relic that was, from my admittedly limited understanding, quite intentionally put in a hole and buried by the clans. Surely they didn't go to such efforts just for entertainment, right?"
In truth, Garidan doubts that his words will take root, or at least, not before their recipient lies dead on the ground, but if he can sow even the least seed of dissent--for the orc fighting Truk'tosh is also within earshot of the swashbuckler and his seditious musing--then the young man sees no reason not to speak up and share his thoughts. Not to mention that a small and rather vicious part of him hopes to break some of their foes in any case, making them realize that they personally gain nothing here from their efforts, no matter how events come out in the end.
Niyut then folds at strange angles in the shadows around her to move to a new hiding spot.
Niyut inhales drawing power from her wand and the essence from the fallen Nightblood.
Then she reaches into her heart where the Sacred Mother had placed her light and shared it with these Nightblood, who slew Verthag.
Truk'tosh is shocked but Verthag's sudden death but the battlefield was the not the place to reflect on such things. Faced with his own deadly opponent, he retreats a step and hurls his spinning axe at the nightblood confronting him. As he attacks, his heart thunders filling his limbs with desperate strength.
The pseudodragon lifts its head and a spews acid upon the chained prisoner's bindings. The chain melts away instantly but an agonizing scream pierces the night from the black shrouded humanoid. It falls limp as the ground begins to shudder. The Gathering Stone turns black and a crack splits the stone. Li'luraant screams, "NO!" as a wave of negative energy bursts from the stop enveloping her. The hags skin boils with the energy of the ether. The violence doesn't cease. The ground begins to erupt with tremors as everyone nearby struggles to maintain their balance. The cracks on the Gathering Stone widen and finally burst in a violent explosion.
The Soulbleed glares around the open area. "Kill them all! But keep the elf alive," Li'luraant says pointing at Malthazir. The wizard looks down at his hands. Sure enough, he's still invisible. The cloaked figure points a finger at Garidan and quickly casts spell upon him. The often lucky swashbuckler feels the weight of an ill-omen upon his heart. With that cast the cloaked figure becomes visible. A cackling voice comes from the dark hood, "The Darkness will take you, boy," the voice suggests.
Li'luraant looks back towards the half-orc oracle. Her hand extends as energy darts from her finger tips. Five successive missiles strike Niyut's chest.
Niyut points her wand at the knot of murderous Nightblood, unleashing a terrible blast of cold on the orcs who killed Verthag.
Glaring at the hag, heart heavy knowing that there is no way that her mother survived that blast, her tongue licks out tasting the air.
She flees through the shadows to the south, she needs to heal before returning to the fight.
Garidan is preparing an attack against the woad-painted orc when everything goes terribly wrong and the world briefly becomes nothing but pain. Before he can recover and get his bearings, his sight fades to blackness and he panics, reflexively pushing the magic keeping him aloft to move away from the ritual site at the best speed that the ailing swashbuckler can manage.
Malz takes a step back as the ritual begins to collapse. In the instant where the magic explosively lashes out, he raises a hand and makes a looping gesture.
After the dust clears, Malz is completely unharmed, and a perfect circle of dirt around him looks to be undisturbed as well.
Malz raises his hand in anger, but sees his allies fleeing. Of course, they barely survived such a terrible blast. Time to retreat. "Bivnik." A bank of mist begins to fill his space, obscuring him from sight.
Niyut's snowball detonates, killing Dubok, the bloodrager, and severly injuring the other two orcs. Although they survived, they stagger about the area disorientated for the moment. Stepping through a portal, the oracle leaves the battle.
Garidan flies up above the trees into the cold, night air. He travels as far away as he can until he hears her voice. Gari! It's going to be okay! I'm here! I can lead you... Ruza's voice always calmed the young man.
The elven wizard acts quickly, narrowly escaping any harm from the blast. He quickly raises a mist to obscure him from view. With the third toss, Truk'tosh's axe dismembers the orc before him. It's bloodied corpse falls to the ground limp.
The barbarian orc steps forward and swings his greataxe with every ounce of strength he can muster, aiming for a vital area of the druid. The swing is predictable, however, and Truk'tosh easily avoids it. Yet, when he looks up he sees that the cloaked figure has approached him. The figure quickly casts a spell weaving dark omens about the druid. A hideous laugh is followed by a harsh, gravelly voice. "You should not have returned to the First Land's, little boy. A Misfortune, I curse upon you!"
The hag flies south, away from the ruined Gathering Stone. She points a crooked finger at Truk'tosh and unleashes a flurry of energy bolts from her hand.
Niyut chants as her grandmother heals her wounds.
She watches as her blood feeds the hungry forest. "Spirits of the Forest of Night, taste my offering, know my purpose. I bleed so that you might continue to grow. Those I battle would see the Dreaming destroyed and this forest wither. I beg for your strength and power this night. Drink deeply of me and lend me aid."
With a thought, she returns to the battle, hiding behind a tree and preparing to unleash her magic once more.
Feeling the dark power of the hooded figure wash over him, Truk’tosh hones in them. For the briefest moment, Mylesar’s divine lightning dances on his fingertips.
”Misfortune brought me to here to avenge my mother and my people. My misfortune will be your death!” he roars as he ignores the nightblood attacking him in favor of the mysterious spellcaster.
A familiar chant fills Malz's ears as he seeks to call on creatures from beyond the veil.
To the northeast, a partially healed Niyut returns as Malthazir begins to cast another spell. High in the clouds, Garidan races further away.
Truk'tosh feints to his left before hurling his axe at the cloaked figure. Unmoved, the figure deflects the axe several times with its staff before a critical blow is struck by the druid. At the last, dying moment, a small creature darts from underneath the figures robes, absorbing half the damage. The creatures falls to the ground, twitching. With a final kick of its hind leg, the small rodent dies. The figure looks up from the dead familiar, grasping its own bloodied throat with a withered hand. A hoarse voice shrieks out, "A curse upon you, Truk'tosh!"
While the female orc disappears into the shadows, the orc warrior to the north blindly moves west while the barbarian circles around to attack Truk'tosh. The orc swings his axe twice at the druid but without any luck.
Laughing at the half-orc being attacked, the figure turns her attention to the mist and the elf hiding within. She raises her hand and quickly screeches out a spell. The mist fades, revealing Malthazir mid-spell. The figure then cackles out another incantation. Malthazir feels his lips pierce with pain as they are bound together with ethereal formed twine.
"Thank you, my sister," says the Soulbleed as she waves a hand and disappears.
Slipping through the shadows to the north, Niyut briefly appears. Her keen eyes search for the orc woman who disappeared.
She points the wand her mother gave her and channels another explosion of arctic fury, intent on catching the cloaked figure and the orc warrior she had blinded.
After seeing what havoc her wand wreaks, she hides behind a tree hopefully out of sight of all who would harm her.
To the northeast, a partially healed Niyut returns as Garidan races further away high in the clouds.
Truk'tosh feints to his left before hurling his axe at the cloaked figure. Unmoved, the figure deflects the axe several times with its staff before a critical blow is struck by the druid. At the last, dying moment, a small creature darts from underneath the figures robes, absorbing half the damage. The creatures falls to the ground, twitching. With a final kick of its hind leg, the small rodent dies. The figure looks up from the dead familiar, grasping its own bloodied throat with a withered hand. A hoarse voice shrieks out, "A curse upon you, Truk'tosh!"
Two earth elementals appear right under Malz, squeezing into his space. Too crowded, I can't work like this. He quickly converses with them in terran, describing the battle and telling them to attack the nearest enemy they can reach. They sink under the ground and reemerge next to Truk, helping him take down his opponent!
Knowing his options are limited while within the protective dome, he dismisses the spell, trusting his invisibility and mist to keep him safe.
While the female orc disappears into the shadows, the orc warrior to the north blindly moves west while the barbarian circles around to attack Truk'tosh. The orc swings his axe twice at the druid but without any luck.
Laughing at the half-orc being attacked, the figure turns her attention to the mist and the elf hiding within. She raises her hand and quickly screeches out a spell. The mist fades, revealing Malthazir mid-spell. Scowling at the force shield around the wizard, the figure then flies to the southwest lining up Truk'tosh and Malthazir for a deadly strike. Lightning crackles from her finger tips and streaks out towards the half-orc. Nethuns leaps into its path trying to defelct part of the electricity, but it still catches Truk'tosh with much of its force. The bolt continues onward and strikes the force dome encasing Malthazir.
Truk'tosh tries to dodge the torrent of lightning.
Despite avoiding the worst of the lighting, Truk'tosh finds his wounds catching up with him. Retreating a step, he calls on spirits of succor for healing.
Moving swiftly, he tosses his divinely-charged axe at the nearby nightblood warrior.
Li'luraant flies east, unleashing another flurry of magic beams from her fingertips at Niyut.
Truk'tosh's axe splits the chest of his opponent after the half-orc hada brief moment to heal himself. He turns and eyes the hooded figure floating high above the ground. Two small earth elementals arrive inside the dome with Malthazir as Garidan continues to flee.
Healing energy flows into Niyut, even as she slips between this world and its shadow. Emerging far to the north.
The earth elementals look around, and begin flowing through the ground quickly towards the orc warriors.
Meanwhile, Malz begins another summoning spell. His force sphere is still incredibly helpful for now, based on the lightning bolt it just staved off.
As Niyut disappears into the night, the earth elementals converge on the blinded orc to the north and the elf starts to summon more creatures. The orc rubs his eyes and his sight returns. Seeing the elementals, he laughs and steps up slicing the first in half with his battleaxe. He brings his hammer around striking the second elemental on the flat of its head, before cleaving its head from its body with another swing of his axe. He looks up for something else to kill.
The hooded figure looks at Li'luraant who points towards the ruined Gathering Stone before moving quickly past the crumbled stone to the west. She motions towards the orcish warrior as she passes him, "Kill the half-breed." He begins to salivate as he grips his weapons preparign to move forward. The hooded figure retreats towards the ancient hag as a billowing cloud of mist surrounds her.
After calling on more healing power, Niyut returns to the south west where she conceals herself in the foliage of the forest of night.
The art of fusing his elemental magics with Niyut's was something the twins had practiced since they were children. He could never perform such a feat on his own but he was never alone. The spirit of a great dwarven priest was joined to his own. Through him, Morgrym's god's power coursed through his veins and thundered in his blood. With the last remnants of Mylesar's power on his fingertips, a bold plan forms in Truk'tosh's mind.
In one outstretched palm, a roiling spirit of flames appears. In the other, Mylesar's divine lightning dances. In a swift decisive gesture, he brings them together pointed at the cloud of swirling mist. A clap of thunder follows alongside a pillar of entwined flames and pure divine wrath, directly into the center of the witch's last known location.
As Niyut slips into the foilage, her brother gathers the strength of Morgrym's faith in Mylesar and blends it with the primal power of fire. Dark clouds form above the forest and a torrent of flame and wrath cascade to the ground inside the ethereal mist of the hooded figure. A muffled cry is heard, echoing in the darkness.
Niyut looks all about the glade, not finding any sign of the female orc.
Three more earth elementals form around Malthazir. They burrow into the ground, erupting from the surface some distance out.
The flame strike evaporates the rising mist revealing the ancient hag, the hooded figure and the female orc. The orc stands over the fallen stone to the northwest. She reaches out to the black shrouded figure lying still upon the stone. She takes hold of the corpse and draws it from the black tendrils of energy that shrouded it. As the creature comes into view, its face is revealed. It is an older orcish shaman with bones braided into her hair. As the rogue picks up the body and strides towards Li'luraant, a moan emits from the body as she struggles slightly. The orc prisoner survived.
Li'luraant reaches out and takes the bound hand of the prisoner and then stretches out a hand to the hooded figure. An aged hand comes from the long black robes the figure wears. She takes the hags hand in hers and reaches out to the shrouded figure bound to the southwest stone. The black energies that shrouded the figure fade, revealing a human female bound hand and foot. Her eyes are wide and she is alert. She struggles to speak but a blood-red gag is stretched tight about her mouth. Her jaw lies pried open and stains of blood streak down her neck and onto her clothes. She looks to Truk'tosh as tears fill her eyes. She sees her son as the man he's become. She is proud but filled with terror. The hooded figure grasps the bound woman's hand.
"Tchu'lacht! Diên vort hatharaùk," the Li'luraant chants in a dark, terrible speech as she and the others turn translucent and enter the Ether. They vanish from sight as the hag leaves a final command. "Bring me a little lost one..."
The orc warrior clashes his battleaxe and maul together with an echoing chime as black feathers sprout from his back. He let's out a caw! as he finishes his transformation and takes flight. A raven as black as night. It takes flight racing north and out of sight.
"Nooo!"
Niyut screams as she sees her mother being drug away. For a moment she is still, except for pulling her hair and keening.
She shifts quickly to where Verthag fell. Power, they would need more power to confront the hag, and save their mother.
In an instant the fire leaves Truk’tosh’s blood. His mother was not only alive but she had almost been close enough to touch.
”Do we have magic to follow them? Does the charm you crafted to track them here still work? We were so close...”
"The staff still works, but we should collect blood or anything they left behind to better track them. Gruskorb can track nearly anything."
Niyut's quiet voice is nearly manic as she scours the battlefield.
Using his keen senses, Truk’tosh sets to finding remnants of the battle that might be useful in tracking their prey.
He pauses at the sight of the witch’s slain familiar. ”This rat was bonded to the witch. Can you commune with its spirit?”
"Maybe not its spirit, but its blood may hold secrets. A familiar is closely bonded with its mistress. I know an incantation that can reveal secrets kept in the blood. Who was this rat? What role did it serve? How was its blood shed? If its mistress sacrificed it to prevent her own death, then we may get her name."
She looks up at her brother. "Yes. This is excellent, brother. Please see if you can find some of our mother's blood from those stones or any of that witch's. That will be useful to track them later. They cannot stay in the Ether forever."
"Our mother, our mother, is still alive, Truk. We can still save her."
Wiping away the uncontrollable tears, Niyut races across the glade to Verthag's corpse. She pauses as she looks at the orc's eyes, staring blindly at the darkened sky. The light of the few stars whose light penetrates the wisps of clouds above reflect in the dead orc's eyes. Niyut swallows hard, drops to her knees and looks for the essences that once blessed his soul, but nothing is found. She looks out into the Forest of Night where the last orc warrior fled. Expanding her view of the multiverse, she sees the faint tendrils of the Ether floating in the air. Verthag's essence was taken, she thinks.
Determined, more than ever, to find the Soulbleed and her mother, she taps the matriarch's staff on the hardened earth and rises to her feet. The oracle rises the staff above her head and strikes the still massive corpse of the nearby orc traitor. The staff glows brightly as its former power starts to empower it. She retraces her steps back towards her brother and Malthazir collecting more essences as she goes.
Truk'tosh searches the toppled stone where his mother lay just moments before but finds no sign of her blood just as he had found no trace of Li'luraant's blood. The druid's eyes sharpen, frantically searching for any sign of Asulad. Frustrated, he turns to leave when a glimmer of hope catches his eye. Several strands of hair as black as onyx cling to the surface of the stone. Truk'tosh lifts the hairs to his nose and takes in the odor. The memories of his youth flood his mind as he confirms they are his mother's hair.