"I'd say our uncle is behind their reluctance, he is the head mage after all, and I may have an idea or two for a nasty prank." Calas seems to think for a moment.
"Though I've a feeling neither would work here. Sneaking a rothe into his room would be hard enough without the whole family home, and takes time. So unless you've an idea that we can execute immediately, we may want to bide our time until a situation arises that can thoroughly punish or uncle."
Calas hadn't pulled a proper prank in awhile, the idea was exciting. Putting a rothe in his room would be tricky, but worth it. Only problem was making sure he knee why the rothe was there, and pinning the blame on someone else.
Phaenox took part in the ceremony, showing much love and support for the Spider Queen. He cheered the matron when she appeared, for she helped support his family as best she could. As had many in Kewadin throughout the centuries.
As the celebrations began, Phae indulged here and there, but was wise to keep a mostly clear head about him. He was still on duty after all, and he needed to stay sharp.
That's not to say he didn't partake of some drink nor the pleasures of the flesh, but he did not go overboard to the point of dulling his senses.
After a couple of hours, as Phae was moving from one small party to the next, he heard a stray thought. He 'wanders' in that direction, picking up a few more. The Matron would be proud and quite thrilled with what he had discovered.
He comes up behind the young man, a very minor noble, and begins speaking quietly. He of course tried to deny it, but when his thoughts themselves betrayed him, it was hard to convince Phae.
Thus, the inquisitor pushes him in the center of the room, as close as he can to where the Matron is seated and proclaims loudly:
With that Phaenox reveals an obviously poisoned dagger to all present.
"Not to worry cousin! I have a servant gleaning some poisonous mushrooms for me later tonight. Mixing some dried into
their various teas and tonics will yield results dealing in a....liquid nature and with multiple orifices."
Hakk's long tongue slides out of his muzzle and caresses his fangs in anticipation of the chaos. The fact that someone could be
allergic and could die a horrible and bloody death didn't bother him in the slightest nor peak his interest.
Can't make a good joke without breaking a few weaklings in the process!
Turning suddenly toward the commotion in the room, Hakk let's his cousin go free and stands at his full seven foot height in order to see what is going on.
Vicalan stopped in his pacing to see what was going on. At the words declaring the traitor he inwardly smiles, while outwardly showing nothing. The boy was clearly indulging in the rebellion of youth, no true follower was so clumsy. No doubt his worship was personal, were he part of a group they would sooner kill him then allow such a doomed plan. If the boy was skilled enough to kill a female in the middle of the house with a poisoned blade and confident in his abilities to escape detection or blame, then his accuser would be dead or at least poisoned before he could speak a word. Alas young fools and those that expose them. He was more interested in the reaction of the matron and other females, he knew Nopos cared nothing for males that were not mages or under his authority. As he saw it the females had two choices. Kill him in the name of their goddess, only reinforcing the very nature of what drives others to worship the masked lord. Or punish him in some severe manner that leaves him whole and bring him under the spider queen's grace, a more time consuming process. One he doubted they would spare for a mere male in their eyes.
Personally it did not matter to him, yet their was information to be gained. That was where his interest laid. Another little tid bit he found interesting was how freely that male spoke the masked lord's name. For those who knew about the god, knew better then to invoke his name so casually. For it was said that the god took notice, something even his true followers did not do lightly.
At Phaenox's announcement the festivities focus on him. People scream and curse and shout "Traitor!". The whole scene turns blood thirsty, though none of the actual activities stop. Even those participating in more carnal pleasures never stop their activities while screaming for the traitor's blood.
Matron Kewadin turns on the poor male with a fire in her eyes. How Dare you! And during the height of our family's obeisance to Lolth, no less! May Lolth take your soul and torment it for all eternity in punishment for the murder of one of my own!
She points and spits words of divine power, conjuring holy fire and divine wrath. Severance and Neithe join in, creating a triad of powerful spells all focused on this one poor soul.
Phaenox, as holy fire falls from the ceiling you hear one last whisper from the doomed male.
Everyone
The fire bursts from the ceiling and falls with a heat and light that nearly blinds everyone in the room. There is a blood-chilling scream, but it doesn't stop as it should. As the fire pours down like molten gold on his head, the male's screams change into the sound of a kettle boiling, combined with the sound of slowly cracking glass. Cracks appear on his skin as the fire pours over, and is absorbed by, him.
The spells end and the male still stands, but glowing and appearing as a glass vessel just before it shatters. A single heartbeat passes...
A flash. An explosion you don't so much hear as feel.
You are flying back. Something flashes before your eyes. A spider the size of an elephant or larger standing upon an infinite web.
Then you hit something hard. The wall, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. Your head in stuck in something hard and your left talon has pierced something fleshy.
Then you hit something hard. The wall, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you feel an amazing pain in your leg. You glance down and see one of Hakk's talons sticking through your right calf. You follow the talon up to see that Hakk has his entire head buried in the wall, but he seems to be breathing.
Then you hit something hard. The ground, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself in a heap of bodies, most of them smoking. You struggle to get up and discover an absolutely stunning pain in your left arm. It's broken. You can see the white bone sticking out of your left forearm.
Then you hit something hard. The floor, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself in a heap of bodies, most of them smoking. You instinctively move your mouth and instantly regret it. The pain is overpowering. Your jaw has been shattered.
Then you hit something hard. The floor, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself in a heap of bodies, most of them smoking. At your side lies the broken but still living (barely) body of your mistress Severance.
Then you hit something hard. The floor, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself in a heap of bodies, most of them smoking.
Neliana lies on top of you. Or what is left of her. Half her face is gone, as is everything below her navel. You try to move your arms, but find yourself pinned by a mass of bodies in various states of dress.
Then you hit something hard. The floor, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself lying against the back wall, or you think so. The room seems completely dark. You blink. Still nothing. Crap.
Then you hit something hard. The floor, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself against a wall and aching. You try to move, but it's difficult. It requires all your concentration just to check for broken bones. Before your eyes lies the full horror of what just happended. Pieces of bodies are everywhere. Blood covers the walls. You are the first to spot figures in white, featureless masks moving among the dead, checking.
Then you hit something hard. The floor, probably. You blink and time passes. You don't know how much. When you come to you find yourself in a tangled, smoking mess of your fellow mages. You look up to your leader, for surely he survived, and see him sitting upon his warded throne, with a massive spike of stone protruding from his chest. His golem throne sits inactive beneath him. You move and a ringing rises in your ears. It refuses to go away no matter how many times your shake your head.
You see (or hear, Azzra'el) people moving among the bodies. They are wearing black robes and white masks and are checking the dead.
With shaking hands he grabs one of his precious healing potions, he doubted any priestess would waste the magic on a male. He could barely move and much of his person was in ruin, had he been closer he may not have survived. Spitting blood to clear his throat he downs the contents. They would repair some of the harm he had suffered, at least enough for him to gain hold of his faculties he hoped.
He looks around, spying Nopos first. He would be useless for the moment, his contingencies likely activated, he was grateful their were not spiteful in nature as that would have contributed to the disaster. His keen eyes pick up the arrival of the outsiders. He walked back and made a space in the pile of corpses, crouching and observing while hidden among the dead. He had no desire to expose himself. At least not until he found out if they were friend, foe, or opportunist. He had spells to aid his escape should it come to that anyways.
Azzra'el stands blinking, as if that alone might restore his sight. Not willing to announce his infirmity, for such declaration of weakness is simply an invitation for a knife in the back. He draws his sword and casts a shield spell to protect himself and listens to the chaos around him, trying to assess the extent of the damage. He tries to move and keeps running into bodies with his feet, barely managing to stay on his own. He starts moving along the wall, feeling his way with one hand as he walks, shuffling his feet slightly to avoid stepping on bodies...
[dice=Confused]1d100
The first through that flashed through his mind was horror... The second was to try and push the carcass of the maiden atop him... well off him. He struggled to reach for h is crossbow, he would feel much better with it in his hands then that is when he realized he was buried under a pile of bodies.
Not getting any headway the panic started to set in
Nathaniel slowly peers around for any immediate threats to his mistress.
He then takes a potion of cure light wounds from his pouch, pouring it down her throat.
Making another look around, Nathaniel lifts her up, taking her behind any hard cover of any furniture; away from prying eyes.
Thoughts of giving little priestesses chocolate, wonderful festivities, and delightful pranks swam through his mind. Ah yes... the prank. Hakk had a brilliant idea. It would leave their uncle uncomfortably indisposed for hours, just enough time to sneak a rothe or two into his chambers. Then... something broke.
Calas gritted his teeth as he came to and the pain washed over him. He let out a soft, ragged hiss before he grabbed a hold of his mind and separated it from the pain his body felt. He felt like he should be dead, but a more logical calm part of his mind reminded him that pain meant he was alive. He hated that logical part, even if it was right. It still hurt like hell.
His head, shoulders, neck, arms, and just about everything else felt numb with the pain. The main source became apparent to him though when his leg moved on its own and he seized up as hot fire washed over and up his leg. It didn't take long to find the source, there was a claw lodged into his leg.
Calas followed the claw back to its owner. His cousin was there, face buried in the wall. Even with his head in the wall though, the big guy seemed to be alive still. Then, Calas looked further into his surroundings.
Definitely not a fun and friendly environment. I need to find mother and the rest of the family, then we need to go.
"Cousin, get your head out of that wall and your talon out of my leg" Calas whispered to Hakk. "We need to find our family and move. NOW." Calas does his best to push Hakk backwards out of the hole, but the angle was awkward at best and the pain of Hakk's movement wasn't helping.
Azzra'el sighs as he moves, and pauses for a brief moment of thankfulness that his sons were safe in Feziel's care.... his granduncle would never bring the boys to a family gathering, they'd be recognized instantly. Then he calls softly for his daughters... "Tyrnal?... Sindrag? Where are you, girls?" He stops and listens for their voices, praying softly that he hears them above the screams and moans of the wounded. "Rifana... are the girls safe?"
Vicalan - As you watch one of the men find a live drow, another visiting male mage, and slit his throat. there are ten spread out about the room, all in identical robes and masks.
Azzra'el - As you stumble you hear a slitting and a gargle... then footsteps toward you. You haven't heard anything sounding like your family yet.
Mourn - the bodies shift a little, but do not budge.
Nathaniel - The matron seems stable now, but thoroughly unconscious. You duck down close to the stage, but the design of the room makes a truly terrible place for things like cover.
Calas - In spite of the pain, you are able to assist Hakk in removing his face from the stone. (Hakk gains a +4 on his check to remove his face, you can't do it on your own. None of the masked people seem to have noticed you yet.
Pulling his head from the Draegloth shaped hole in the wall, Hakk's mind slogs through processing the visual scene.
Luckily Hakk had been hit in the head plenty of times by his own mother to know the feeling of minor head trauma.
Shaking his head free of dust, he then withdraws his claw from his cousin's fresh wound, absentmindedly licking it
clean with a quick tongue flick. The sour Dhampir blood helped to clear his thoughts even more and focus he red eyes on the situation:
Whispering quickly to his cousin, Hakk pulls a wand from his sash using his small drow arms and and attempts to use it on himself to clear his head.
"Quickly! The house is under attack cousin! We need to check on my mother and the Matron!"
(EDIT: OK I did not know I needed to make a strength check to pull my head free...and now adding this roll somehow changed
my other rolls on this post. So for now I'm just going with the current posting as is unless the GM wants me to change something.)
Now why did they have to go and do that. Killing someone not even involved and without reason, that was going to cost them. It would be prudent to thin the herd before he made an escape attempt, not that he planned on giving himself away mind you. From his little shelter of corpses he thought it would only be fitting to bring another.
He added a little something extra from one of his pouches to the spell, empowering it. Not above a little poetic justice and inflicting mental damage he chose the drow that had his throat slit. His flesh peeled off like a cocoon as the spell took effect and a skeleton emerged to savage the masked one that had been his executioner.
He drew his light crossbow, in case any came his way or the undead needed a little help to finish off it's victim.
The claw removal was unpleasant, Calas had just gotten used to the pain and the sudden movement was unexpected. The tongue's saliva soothed over the pain though, and stopped the bleeding. With a grimace, Calas stands up, pushing himself off the ground using his good leg and both of his arms.
I did NOT want to fight today.
Calas quickly pulls a few potions from his pouch. A potion of inflict light wounds, two potions of mage armor, and a potion of shield of faith, and a potion of barksin. He hands one of the mage armor potions to his cousin, and downs the rest. The inflict light wounds first, mage armor second, barkskin next, and the faithful shield last.
Hearing the slit and gurgle, Azzra'el casts (defensively if needed, see above) shocking grasp. As a swift action, he enchants his blade to +1
Nathaniel takes out a second potion and downs it quickly.
He then pulls some corpses over on top of his mistress.
Such a shame to waste this opportunity!
Source: PRG:APG.
You can attempt to hinder a foe in melee as a standard action. This maneuver covers any sort of situational attack that imposes a penalty on a foe for a short period of time. Examples include kicking sand into an opponent’s face to blind him for 1 round, pulling down an enemy’s pants to halve his speed, or hitting a foe in a sensitive spot to make him sickened for a round. The GM is the arbiter of what can be accomplished with this maneuver, but it cannot be used to impose a permanent penalty, and the results can be undone if the target spends a move action. If you do not have the Improved Dirty Trick feat or a similar ability, attempting a dirty trick provokes an attack of opportunity from the target of your maneuver.
If your attack is successful, the target takes a penalty. The penalty is limited to one of the following conditions:
blinded, dazzled, deafened, entangled, shaken, or sickened.
This condition lasts for 1 round. For every 5 by which your attack exceeds your opponent’s CMD, the penalty lasts 1 additional round. This penalty can usually be removed if the target spends a move action. If you possess the Greater Dirty Trick feat, the penalty lasts for 1d4 rounds, plus 1 round for every 5 by which your attack exceeds your opponent’s CMD. In addition, removing the condition requires the target to spend a standard action.
Ow... The thought was the only thing that echoed trough Saeras mind for what felt like eternities. But then reality started to flow back in and with it more details as to the current unpleasantness. With great effort he slowly lifted his head and looked around, surveying the carnage. Pained as he were, he once more felt like laughing - the inappropriate urge had haunted him for the entire day it seemed. 'Be careful what you wish for! Around him he saw more opportunities and open jobs then he really was comfortable seeing. While a little death was always fancy, this seemed a bit excessive. Worst of all; it seemed as if it might actually try and creep all over him too!
Laying back down he considered his options. First priority was, as always, to make sure he could get his sorry ass out of the fire. To that end he pictured the small crystalline bottle stashed in the lining of his coat, willing it to come to him and uttering the first sincere prayer to Lolth for the day. Please don't be broken! And the cruel goddess granted his wish, if only to spite the assailants. He eagerly glupped down the lifegiving drops as they passed his lips, but the boon was a meagre one at best - barely enough to feel alive again.
Enough to stay that way? We shall see ... Saeras looked around once more, focusing on the closest person in black and white. He studied the man as he checked another body, reading his movements and gestures until they quickly grew familiar. And then he rose to his feet, clad in a black robe and white mask!
Then he moved towards higher ground, readying his crossbow. If he could find some allies, they could distract the robed men while he shot them down. I would be a hero! He could already taste the delicious rewards that waited for him and a thin smile grew underneath the illusionary mask.
FOllowing the guidance from his blade, Azzra'el turned to face the foe creeping up on his right, his unseeing eyes boring in that direction, hoping to unnerve the fellow and make him think him suddenly sighted. He holds his blade at the ready to defend himself if necessary.
Upon coming to, Phae sits staring blankly, in a stunned daze. The pain of his broken arm and smashing the ground sending him into a state of temporary shock.
Then, suddenly, he remembers the image of the massive spider on its never ending web. My goddess needs me! He thinks, and shakes his head, trying to clear it.
He looks down at his near useless arm, and casts a a healing spell to repair some of the damage . Unfortunately, it doesn't do much, but he tests him arm out nonetheless.
He then moves slowly, moving around and past any bodies, trying to find a spot to hide.
He also tries to determine just who and what these masked, robed men are
Vantrag returns to consciousness with a sharp, stabbing pain in her jaw. An instinctive attempt to call out is prevented by the pain scything more intensely at any attempt to shift her mouth, and she realizes her jaw must be broken. Wincing and gingerly touching one side of her face she starts to pull herself up. She needed healing, but it could wait for a moment until she was able to assess the situation.
That image I saw... that was the Spider Queen... what could that mean? Please let it not be a sign that we've displeased her...
The acolyte she had been embracing lets out a pained sound. Vantrag glances down and shoves the girl's arm off her shoulder, based on the wounds on her torso it was doubtful she would live and there were more important matters at hand than one acolyte. Once lifted to her feet, Vantrag gingerly starts to pick her way down towards the center of the chamber, scanning to see the extent of the damage. In particular she is concerned for the fate of her older siblings and the matron.
Her sister Severance lay unconscious on the floor, clearly injured, and Vantrag felt a sudden strike of worry - until she saw that orcish slave Severance favored lift up her prone body, feed her what looked to be a healing potion, and pull her over to what seemed a safer spot. No need to worry about Severance for now.
Of much greater concern is the group of masked figures moving threateningly throughout the decimated crowd! Vantrag's eyes shift rapidly towards the nearest one and she cautiously continues downwards... trying to make it look as though she's dazed and hasn't yet noticed the ominous figures, while simultaneously slipping a hand down towards her dagger, staying on alert.
The men take notice of the stirring survivors and start to call out to each other. One screams in horror as the drow he just killed peels like an orange and attacks him! Unfortunately, the skeleton's attacks are clumsy and easily avoided. Still, mental damage probably done there.
One of the men moves to apprehend Nate, but the Half-Orc takes a note from his orc side and plunges his fingers into the man's eyes! He screams and jumps back, trying furiously to get his vision back to normal. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't see the ledge behind him and falls prone on the bodies below!
Phaenox -
Not all of you have been noticed, however. Vantrag, Phaenox, Saeras, and Vicalan all seem to have escaped detection.
Calling upon the divine wrath of Lolth, Phae imbues his attacks with profane might.
He then fires a crossbow bolt at the nearest target
Hakk, seeing enemies of the family near the dais of the Matron and his mother Severence, immediately downs the potion given to him by his cousin and charges the nearest one.
"KIIIIILLLLLLL YOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!"
But is stymied as the wall and all the dead bodies interrupts his movement!
He had just managed to extricate himself from the tangled mass his thoughts jumbled. He had kinda like Neiliana... she at aleast didnt treat him too badly She had only had him beaten just that one time and he probably had that coming. the sex was good, she deserved a better end. He reached down to try and adjust himself when he heard the draegloth wail into the air, shortly after someone screamed in shock and fear. He pulled his autocrossbow up to his shoulder and his eyes scanned across the area over the matron's dias.... The matron!
He thought moving torwards it as well as he could his eyes finally noting the hooded figure.
Kewadin Rally! Rally! Rally!
He called wondering where in the bloody nine hells the officers in charge of the guard were as he fired.
Azzra'el maintains his readied action to attack the masked, robed figure if it comes close enough to attack him.
Calas watched as his cousin clumsily climbs down the wall in his attempt to get at the attackers closest to their family.
Good try cousin, but we'll have to do better than that.
A quick look didn't help settle his worries any. There were enemies surrounding them on all sides. Also, from the sounds behind him, there were enemies on the tier above him too.
Take care of the enemy above... or destroy the immediate threat to mother and the matron.
The answer was obvious. Calas clicked his heals together and charged the masked figure closest to his mother and the matron. The boots would let him side-step his opponents.
Calas landed next to his cousin on the tier below, but with significantly more grace. He rolled when he hit the ground and continued the motion until he was sprinting again.
The second drop was easier than the first. Calas didn't roll when he jumped this one. Instead he kept running towards his target. His opponent. His meal.
Calas let go of his restraint and let the hunger consume him. He felt his vampire heritage take hold. His teeth grew longer, his muscles tenser, and his body stronger.
Then he slid to stop himself, it left him vulnerable to an attack, but it also put him between the priestess' and the attacker.
Calas went for his opponent's throat.
Nathaniel looks around for another target, whom may be thinking of approaching his space.
If it ain't broke...break it!
Vicalan was disappointed that the skeleton had failed to bloody it's victim. Still it had served its purpose. He cast another spell, empowering it as the last, not rushing it.
The skeleton relentlessly lashes out with its claws at the masked drow.
Vantrag quickly kneels and presses herself to the floor, trying to gain some cover by hiding herself amongst the fallen bodies around her. She draws her hand crossbow and loads a bolt into it... taking a moment to run one finger over the crossbow mechanism in a particular pattern, which triggers an alchemical symbol she had devised to give her bolts a little bit of extra kick.
Then she lifts her head slightly over the body next to her and fires at one of the masked attackers, a figure lurking near a pillar on the same level of the chamber.
House Vandree. Hmph. You never were much above drooling dregs. Saeras noted with great disdain, even though his own common birth put him on that bottom. Maybe he would make a great noble? But he was glad he wasn't one just yet - the heigh of the amphitheatre gave him a good overview of the scene. It also afforded him high ground and that advantage, assuming he wasn't shot down by his allies ...
So carefully he circled around the top, seeking to put a pillar between himself and the fight on the lower levels. Coincidentally that also put him in prime position to shoot one assailant in the back, once his attention were elsewhere ...
Phaenox lands a solid blow to his foe's shoulder, but the guy doesn't go down.
Hakk attempts to charge the dias, but is stymied by the walls.
Mourn also lands a good hit, but the foe doesn't fall.
Azzra'el waits until his sword instructs, then cuts downward, catching the masked man off guard! His blade drinks drow blood and the spell sears flesh, dropping the foe immediately!
Calas charges with Hakk, but manages the drops much better and latches onto his target. It's Drow! And it sooo tasty!
The man trying to get at Severance approaches Nathaniel again, only to be blinded by the half orc's vicious fingers! He stumbles back again, curing furiously!
Vicalan's skeleton finally does something and it's claws etch a serious gash across its masked target's chest.
And finally, Seras waits until noone's looking and shoots one of the attackers in the back! The bolt lodges right around the heart area and...
... the guy passes out!
One of them spots Vantrag's shot from above and rushes down the stadim, but his feet get tangled on the way down and he lands in a heap right nest to the only conscious female!
Vantrag opens up on yet another drow, hitting him in the thigh!
The man Phaenox shot steps up and cuts him on the upper arm! (for 4)
The man Vantrag shot steps behind the pillar he's near and shoots his own bow down at Calas just as his lunch tries to get free! Thankfully the bolt goes wide. Calas's prey almost manages to get away. It's all Calas can do to hold onto the squirming bugger!
Hakk is also charged and he feels a sharp blade slice across his back! (for 7)
One of the men up top tries to make his way to Vacalan, but he also trips on the way down and lands in a heap at the Wizard's feet!
The man facing the Skeleton of Horros fails to destroy Vacalan's creation.
Lastly, one of the attackers uses the chaos to charge the podium!
An enemy in reach! Hakk turns and teaches his foe what attacking house Kewadin means!
"AAARGRGRHHAHAHHHHH!!!!!"
Multiattack! Claw x2(Primary)+ Bite
Hakk tastes blood, but they are only scratches!
Ahhh excellent! Saeras noted as his mark simply fell over. It was always good when the foe was cooperative. With a delighted nod he started to reload his crossbow, with a plain bolt this time. Finishing his mark off was tempting, but that one would be worth so much more alive. And he would then die, after a while. A sweet long while!
Still a bit light-headed from his earlier spell-fuelled shot Saeras pointed his weapon at a mark where he wouldn't need much accuracy. One of the poor saps two tiers bellow him was wrangling with Vacalan's skeleton; he surely wouldn't mind an bolt in his back? With a deep breath Saeras focused his ill intent of the foe and shot!
Morn's bolt drives into the side of his target, dropping it!
Azzra'el, discovering through his blade, Oblivion, that no foes were currently near him... he slips his blade into the enemy that just fell at his feet,
The skeleton continues it's assult, bring it's claws to bare with the interest of a stone. Yet it's unholy faintly glowing eyes speak of a hunger if not desire to sap the living morsel before it.
Even with the sudden appearance of an enemy he keeps his spell, even if he was tempted to do otherwise at the pile of stupid at his feet. A whirl of brimstone and ash herald the creature from hell as it appears beside the laying drow. Vicalan takes a deep breath through his nose before opening his mouth wide down on the sad elf.
Shadows spill out rolling like living clouds. When the last of it leaves his lips he barks at the massive yet thin wolf with burning eyes by his side, speaking the words of hell.
"Well, your turn."
The hellish canine with it's large size looks at the conjurer for the slightest of moments with an amused sneer before unleashing fire from it's maw upon the hapless victim at it's feet.
He takes a step back to give himself a little space, just in case he survived all that. Vicalan was many things, cautious was one of them.
He took a moment as another Kewadin leapt torwards the target that he was shooting up... he noticed quickly it was the vampiric one. With a moments reprieve he moved to check on the matron of the clan. While he very much wanted her to be alive, he certainly wasnt going to remain standing there if she wasnt. No sense getting himself killed protecting a corpse.
He closed his eyes for just a second and channeled magic into his crossbow activating it to make good his falling back.
Mourn- If she's alive, you can't find the pulse.
Phae drops his crossbow and pulls free his rapier, however, instead of attack right away, Phae steps back a few feet and touches his hand to his chest, cloak himself in shadows.