"Gods of iron! He's hard to hurt!"
The dwarf's ax swings into an apex above his head and he drives it at the thing again.
.....
Quingrin shouts at his comrades, "Holy or precious weapons will harm this creature. Anyone have silver weapons?"
Mattock recovers from his swing and shouts back. "I might have an answer but it will take me a few moments to ready it. Can any of you use an axe?"
School transmutation; Level cleric 1, paladin 1, sorcerer/wizard 1
Casting Time 1 standard action
Components V, S, DF
Range touch
Target weapon touched
Duration 1 min./level
Saving Throw Will negates (harmless, object); Spell Resistance yes (harmless, object)
Magic weapon gives a weapon a +1 enhancement bonus on attack and damage rolls. An enhancement bonus does not stack with a masterwork weapon's +1 bonus on attack rolls.
You can't cast this spell on a natural weapon, such as an unarmed strike (instead, see magic fang). A monk's unarmed strike is considered a weapon, and thus it can be enhanced by this spell.
Very typical of a dwarf, Quingrin begins to lose his cool. "Yooo...you stupid thing...come and taste me. I'm much better tasting than me friend there." Quingrin tries to grab the attention of the creature and performs a left-right combo.
Rannock moves towards the creature, drawing his silver warhammer and exhorting his comrades all the while. The creature takes a step back and pulls his forearms together in front of his face with a look of complete concentration on his face. After a couple of seconds, he disappears. A burst of flame jets out in all directions from his former location, washing over Falgard, Mattock, Quingrin, and Rannock.
Mattock lunges back from the flames reflexively. His left arm covers his face, while his right raises the ax for another blow. He looks at the empty spot where the enemy was. Then spins around to scan the glade.
The ax head drops to the ground and he leans on it while he looks for the foe to reappear.
"Someone tend to Falgard."
Once the area's clear, he mutters, "It used something like damnation stride there to get away. Maybe it was some sort of minor demon. " The flask slides out from behind his steel belly-warmer, and he takes a deep draught.
That was... emasculating.
Rannock approaches the wounded Rannock - "What tha heck was that thing?" - he grumbles - "Almost tore us apart"
Kneeling down before his companion, he begins tending to his woounds - "Tis not yet yer time Falgard"
Quingrin approaches Falgard. "Irori is please with your work. Your work in this world is not done here." Falgard feels a warmth wash over his body.
Falgard grunts in pain as he slowly brings himself to his feet. He's past the worst of it, but it's clear that he's in no condition to keep marching. Not yet, anyways.
"'tis been too long since I've been on the field of battle" he says, looking at his wounds and burns. "I've gotten sloppy in my age"
He claps his hand on Quingrin's shoulder. "But I ain't done yet. If Irori deems me worthy of a second chance, who am I to refuse? Endure and Renew."
I'll see ye again soon enough, Morivak. But not today.
Quin stares at his brass knuckles, "Blah, these things were practically useless. We be needing some silver weapons. I want another match with that creature....send him back to where he be spawning from"
Quin looks at his new friends, "What say ye all? We stay and rest? I can use me allotted divine powers today to get Falgard close to good health. Then I would need to rest to replenish."
"We were led here to an ambush. And that thing knows where we are. We need to keep moving, maybe just an hour. Put some distance between us and that thing."
"Aye, the drunk shows some sense for once. We at least ought to get out o' these accursed woods, if'n we can"
Falgard starts walking, but grimaces as his scorched armor rubs against his burned skin.
"That being said, a rest would be wise once we're clear o' the area. Let's move"
"Not just yet Falgard, ye are still too hurt" - Rannock adds, laying a hand on his companion's shoulder, the divine healing magic taking effect.
Mattock casts a minor spell, and his eyes become white, pupil-less orbs.
Mattock glowers back at Falgard. "It's a mental lubricant and emotional salve. Keeps me sharp as a hammer and level as a -- a column."
"We cannot bear ta have ya wounded Falgard - let us make sure yer at your best" - Rannock adds, remembering the healing wand in his pack, and touching it to his companion's forehead once, and then twice.
After tending to Falgard, Quingrin will help Mattock in the detection of magic.
|
Riuk pets his bagger and feeds her a bit of food "Awe rite it seems we waur able tae chase it aff, a' fowk still livin' guid. it woods be best if we move awa' frae haur afair we sit up fur th' nicht as 'at hin' micht try tae lat at us again...oh an' dornt forgit abit those drinks ye owe me Morg."
"Dammit it was as if 'at hin' was warded against mah arrows as most ay th' coods nae burst their mark."
Looking around his companions, and his own bloody vestments, Rannock shakes his head - "Sorry lads, me head was somewhere else - let me take care of ye wounds" - he finishes, approaching first Morg, and touching him with the healing wand, then taking care of his own wounds.
"Ye're right Riuk - thing was resistant as heck!" - the priest pipes in - "And yeah, we should get movin' and prepare fer the evenin'
Mattock shoulders his pack, ready to follow Riuk and the others when the march resumes.
The party makes their way towards what they think is the southeast. After two hours, however, they return to the site of their battle; the ground singed by the creature's exit and the remnants of the trap that caught Riuk make it blindingly obvious that the party has been traveling in circles. Taking a moment to regroup, Riuk tries again, and apparently gets it right this time. Five hours later, as the day's travel is winding down, the forest thins out somewhat as they begin to climb a steep grade. About a mile in front of them a sheer rock face rises about 200 feet above their current elevation.
And frustrating...
Morg checks with everyone else, before starting to set camp.
The night passes uneventfully. The next morning, after packing up, the party discusses their next course of action.
Morg suggests finding a way around.
Mattock agrees with the younger dwarf. "We've too much gear and it'll be a long climb. Looks like trouble. And we don't want to drift too far east too soon. Let's turn south and follow it until we can find an easier climb."
"Ye're still hurt lad - Lemme take care o'that" - Rannock approaches Morg, zapping him with the healing wand.
----
"Climbin's not really ma thing, though I'll give it a try if ye lads are up to it - methinks we should go around though"
"Not me thing either. I'm for finding our way around."
Falgard looks at the sheer rock wall dominating the sky
"Methinks we could climb it, if only it weren't so damned high..."
Making their way towards the rock wall, the party winds up descending into a small valley between the ridge on which they camped and the taller ridge that dominates the skyline. By lunchtime the party has traveled several miles along this valley with no sign of an easier climb.
Mattock takes a small sip from the flask tucked behind his belly warmer. He stares consideringly at the flask before capping it and sliding it back into place.
"I think these are Nagara's rocks. If we continue on we'll be able to round them and strike to the south east again."
Sounds like a plan... Let's get on with it.