As you bow your head and offer a prayer for strength, you hear the faintest of whispers brush past you on a light breeze: "...and strength you shall have, and strength you shall give, Protector..." A ray of sunlight strikes the statue of Iomedae in front of you and the eyes alight with a silver fire. There is a suffusion of energy that rushes toward you, and you notice your shield and longsword -- favorites of The Inheritor -- are now edged with a silvery gleam.
When you cease, you look up, awestruck by the gifts bestowed unto you by the goddess herself. You notice Captain Merit looking at you. He nods approvingly and smiles. "The goddess rewards her warriors of truest heart. This speaks very well of you, Sir Damian."
@Min: Arandur thinks for a moment on what you said, then responds in Elvish as well; "Of course you're right. Spending so much time in the company of humans can make one...impulsive, I find. Humans in battle, even worse." He gives you a wry, sideways smile. He shares some of his favorite memories of Tuatha, and your home town of Haelith, as you continue walking to the Citadel.
Min looks surprised for a moment when no back lash, for being half-blooded, comes from Arandur and he smiles as he trades tales of his time as a young trapper far from Tauthan lands, dealing with his first humans and when he first met Lin as a new cartographer in a quickly changing world. Min continued to walk briskly and as they talked he marveled at the inside of the Citadel, its construction fascinated him with every turn.
This was a true fortress indeed...
"I suppose if I fail to survive the experience tha fer certain the pot will be removed and contained tha is something, an I will certainly hear tha voice more clearly."
Standing five foot and eight inches Min is an impressive looking half-blood. His skin is a pale almost ivory color and his eyes are like liquid silver with flecks of grey. His hair is short and silvery in color, his facial features are a lot like you would expect from the Tauthan bloodline but are more rugged and somewhat human besides the odd coloring of his skin. He sports a tone and lean physique, as if he were truly sculpted from marble or ivory, but his shoulders and biceps easily betray there strength as they seem to strain against his chain armor.
He wears some of the finest mithral chain armor, he has no identifying colors or hints of allegiance. He seems to mimic Lindórievórea's coloring in more ways then just his clothing and armor, the only oddity is the pair of goggles resting lightly on his forehead. He walks calmly through the quiet halls of the citadel without a hint of arrogance in his stride as he marvels at the inner architecture and speaks with apparently another Tauthan elf about fond memories.
Syl actually stops just inside the entrance, and takes all of her time in the statued hallway, observing and reading every line with all of her attention - it seems she wishes to learn more than anything, why they would only praise on Goddess in this town. May they be redeemed for their sexism, came to her mind - it was not very fair to have sworn as they had, but it was their choice and their choice alone. It must be difficult to have one such as her amongst the rough.
She moves to one of the more prominent statues that display Iomedae's kinder side, at the very least. She actually smiles, and reads everything clearly.
The text recalled the Ninth Act of the Acts of Iomedae. It explained that in order to free them from imprisonment, she gave a drop of blood each for nine knights swayed by a vampire-mage. Self-sacrifice in the face of evil, that was valorous at the very least - and Syl respected it enough to pass a blessing in turn. She undoes the large red sash on her waist, a gift from the monastery she'd been taught at, and without even thinking wrapped and tied it about the statue, the flush crimson standing out beautifully. She smiles, adjusts it once for perfection, and almost continues down the hall - when she hears the voice of Arandur.
It's here she waits, and approaches him firmly and goes straight to the point.
"Pardon my intrusion on your conversation, but I feel I have wronged you by not being forthcoming, and I wish you to but hear my words, and let them ring true within your heart."
She clears her throat, looking around to ensure only a few could hear her - though she did notice the other man with him, he would be addressed second.
"O cali shael tyr eisyndral eil candria, shos Ai thol sai shi aistaresi thys oli os os vyrorol. Ai tal olia cydi sar si shorys os os, bae, os col molaer syl aelaelelia, eil sar o thol vaedaestol thys os saeraraer. Ai tasi byr ais o tar ti thol, os aezoli - cyrn sar Ai shor aelesi o pai byr thar shaerodi ti."
"You have been most arrogant and haughty, which I find to be immature for one of your position. I can only hope that the wisdom of your, nay, our kin shines through eventually, and that you find redemption for your trespasses. I care not if you call me friend, or exile - know that I will ensure you do not fall beside me."
It's here she addresses the other, more silvery-hued elf, and gives a light bow. She does seem to flow back into a more normal appearance.
"Greetings to you, good sir! I am Sylsalitae of House Dwinghymnaear, and it is a pleasure to meet you. Unfortunately, I will not be able to continue this at length - I have a few things to say to a special lady before I walk in."
After that, she bows again, and turns to face the now-decorated statue, and closes her eyes - her thoughts turning to purity, and redemption for her lightly heated words. She seems to focus on that facet of her goddess, that one thing that shows no matter how dark one's heart may be, there is always room for hope, and bring one back from such shadows into the Light.
Min looks shocked at the sudden interruption, wondering if the beautiful elven woman before him had heard what he had said to Arandur, if she had how much had she overheard? His shock is momentary pushed aside as she addresses Arandur in elven, Min barely resist's the urge to give a low whistle at her powerful choice of words. He bows his head respectfully to the elven woman before him, trying to keep her otherworldly looks from distracting him. "I look forward to our future conversation's and perhaps you could tell me more of these women. Until then Merry meet and merry part, and merry meet again."
He quietly steps past her so he doesn't interrupt whatever it is she appears to be doing. He will avoid getting in the middle of their dispute unless things get out of control. Min waits to see if Arandur stops or continues into the Citadel.
@Syl:
LOVE the posting in elvish. ^_^ For doing that I'm giving you a "GM Nudge," which allows you to add a one-time +4 bonus to any one d20 roll you wish at any point in the future. You must declare the +4 before making the roll, and it's only usable once. Fine work!
@Syl: you turn and close your eyes, beginning to meditate on the kinder aspects of the Inheritor.
@Min: you see Arandur's brows furrow close together. He raises one finger and opens his mouth to speak…
.
.
.
and out pours a massive roar, immensely loud, like the earth itself opened up and issued forth a mighty bellow of rage. Arandur closes his mouth, looking shocked, then realizes what has happened and whirls around. Na-Calanon has reared up on his mighty legs and issued forth the earth-shattering roar of challenge you just heard. It is literally deafening. "ATTACK! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!" There is a whooming crash and an enormous jet of fire washes across the courtyard, instantly torching the verdant lawn. You hear other voices yelling from around the courtyard:
"The attack came from the South!"
"Who would dare! How did they sneak in this far!"
"Air support! By Iomedae's Shield and Cape we need air support!"
"The Dragonriders are all out over the battle plain! To the east! There's no one!"
@Syl: Your prayer is interrupted by all this clamor and calamity before it could even begin.
@Min and @Syl: You hear Na-Calanon's voice echoing telepathically in your heads: "We need you, young ones, please join us and be brave. It is the Red Dragonflight, they have attacked us directly, at last."
Looking out into the sky you see a massive and ancient red dragon, enormous plumes of flame rocketing from its jaw and setting entire city blocks on fire in an instant. Women, children, men, the elderly, they all scream as they burn. Four blue dragons surround the red, sending arcing, crackling jets of blue-white lightning into the sacred marble structures of the Citadel, the library, the barracks. Giant chunks of marble sail past you and crash through centuries-old stained glass windows.
The blue dragons have riders, the red does not.
Na-Calanon speaks to you again: "I will deal with the Red, he is known to me, and this has been coming for some time. You take the Blue Dragons, and show them no mercy for none shall be shown to you in turn!"
@Sir Damian: an explosion rocks the citadel, people scream, from outside, Na-Calanon roars. Captain Merit's eyes narrow, his mouth sets into a hyphen on his face. "So it comes to this. They dare come to this place." He pauses. His blue eyes seek yours. "Sir Damian, it pains me to do this, but we have no air support here. Can you fight for us? I must be here to complete this ritual, but I'm sure our two dragonrider friends will be in the air by now, and they will need your help, if this attack is what I think. Go, and fear not."
@Dolo and @Belsarious: Captain Merit turns from Sir Damian and addresses you. "Come. We must hurry. The Red Dragonflight is here, and they want the teapot. Professor, Belsarious, please continue to follow me." He leads the two of you, along with Arialanar Maren, down a narrow passage. At a dead end, he whispers some words in the Celestial tongue, and the rock slides to the side for him, revealing a small, circular chamber. In the chamber, a strange and liquid metal is inset into the walls, and appears to literally be moving. It is like adamant mixed with mithral mixed with...with...you know not what. Two other tall, thin figures are in this room, and they look exactly like your friend in Blue, Arialanar, except for their dress.
One is clad entirely in shades of green -- emerald, jade and celadon, its cloth of the finest quality and highest craftsmanship. Its bearing is quite like that of Arialanar's, only more reserved and noble, somehow. Instead of a warrior's fencing-style mask, its face is shielded by a veil of fine emerald-colored silk, embroidered with silver trim, its eyes are solid orbs of green, and emit a faint light. They are quite entrancing, almost calming, to look at.
The other is clad entirely in shades of crimson, not the color of fire but the color of rubies and roses, of certain poisonous berries and distant shimmering stars, its cloth of the finest quality and highest craftsmanship. Its bearing, too, is quite like that of Arialanar Maren, only more reserved and noble. Its eyes and nose are shielded by a veil of fine crimson-colored silk, embroidered with gold trim. Its mouth is the only part of its face that is visible, and it is somehow simultaneously sensuous and full and utterly androgynous.
All three are well over seven feet tall, and very thin.
@Dolo
@Belsarious:
The massive stone door shuts with a crushing boom behind you. Captain Merit steps forward, removing his gloves. "Let us begin."
He felt a strange urgency echo through the bond just as the explosions rocked the Citadel. In his urgency to reach Lin, he falls back into his Tauthan language as he yells to Arandur whilst moving towards Lin. "Samma saaan ilvilel laeel, Tymila ama amel anirela!"
Merry meet again soon, Pray we win this!
Hearing Na-Calanon would cause most to pause but Min doesn't break his stride as he unconciously nods to the gold dragons words. He talks to the air as he says "We will do what we can, until the last breath...
He moves quickly in his light armor and yells to Lin who is already approaching him in a sprinting leap akin to dragonkind. As she gets within reach Min's hand is already crackling with eldritch energy as he draws upon the raw power of their bond to cast Shield on her. He then vaults into the saddle, he fumbles with the strap on his buckler as the screams of the innocent fill him with a painful sadness that causes his fingers to fail him for the briefest of moments.
As he finishes strapping on his buckler, he can feel Lin readying to take to the air, her draconic voice cuts through the din around them, strong and true. The intense feeling of her confidence fills their bond bolstering Min's flagging spirits.
"Drytyean lian huuntyihu zii myniechch huibaean drniili wyhu drnii tyimydrhuonstdrunyra yw yonhu tyira!"
"Animy, Animy zii ziunchch! Drnii unraraystiradr pochyyty mybaunchchity lionmydr poi efiirakity!"
Lin "Today my rider we shall repay them for the destruction of our den!"
Min "Yes, Yes we will! The innocent blood spilled must be avenged!"
He grabs hold of his lance and pulls it from its holder raising it in readiness at their distant enemy. With Min ready Lin takes off running, trying to gain enough speed so she can take flight. As the pair charge forward into the unknown, the world turning to chaos around them, the bond between them burns with the intensity of their desire for victory and fear of death is but a distant memory.
Syl sighs - she seems very, very patient amidst all the chaos that ensues, though she by no means is lacking. Having no time to commit to the prayer, she unties the sash, and bows gracefully to the statue.
"We'll have to try this again some other time, milady. May the Dawnmother bless us this day."
She manages to retie it as she walks casually outside, and goes to the now-burnt courtyard - for Ansrithar has already taken to the air, and swoops down in turn. He had to avoid the fire for his life.
We need to go. Now. I sense much of my instinct telling me to rip them apart...
She nods to him firmly, and actually moves to his side. She checks the fasteners, and calms herself, attempting to translate this through to her companion. Their bond is strong, and though she could equally feel his emotions, they respect each other too much to bleed through.
"With the Dawn's Embrace, we fear not evil, but the corruption within our brothers and sisters. May their hearts be capable of redemption, so we may not end life carelessly in its path. May you always show honesty and bring light to the darkness in our hearts. Glory to the Dawnmother.
"Ansrithar, it's time. We'll be the fastest out there, so show them why you are to be feared."
With pleasure. Glory to the Dawnmother.
With a quick lift off the ground, and her agility aiding, she saddles up, refastens her deflective buckler, and removes the blessed lance from its cradle. She flexes a bit, and straps herself in with her left hand, ensuring stability - and then gives the order by heel.
Ansrithar roars with all of his might as he flaps his wings - he wishes to be known, and spread terror into the enemy, and soars up at high rates of speed, his powerful cacophony echoing through the city.
"Praised be Iomedae! By all her wondrous glory! You're the Telestari from the paintings discovered on the Isla De La Mil Voces!" , clearly not phased at having what appear to be evidence of an extinct race right in front of his eyes.
Speaking in Telestari, Dolo will offer his introduction and a diplomatic greeting. "Hail and well met! I, Dolo Luckbender, do humbly greet you on behalf of myself and my patron Na-Selene. If I can be of service to you, you have but to ask. I am honored and praised to be witness to your presence. Praise Iomedae."
Of course, once it sinks in, Dolo will launch into a thousand and one questions on Telesari language, culture, their disappearance, and countless other things that have been debated ad nauseum at the universitity circuits. He has clearly shut out all others in the room.
Knowledge planes
Knowledge arcane
Knowledge history
Belsarious takes it all in trying frantically to comprehend this place searching his mind and all he knows to prepare him for the coming trial......
"Hurry! We must hurry, I beleive tha removal of tha pot by those without will end much worse for me than this ritual!"
@Syl:
As Ansrithar bellows a mighty challenge, wisps of frost licking at the corners of his mouth, the nearest blue dragon pulls up in confusion, quailed by the large white's fury, but also confused as to why a white would be in the place, with a rider, and challenging it.
@Syl and @Min: As your mighty steeds rocket you into the sky towards your opponents, you see that Na-Calanon has goaded the red dragon into a titanic battle far, far up in the sky, away from the innocent and the city. The two of them appear to be two small shining ribbons, chased by fire, twisting and spinning high against the blue canopy of the sky.
@Dolo:
The Telestari dressed in red steps forward. It towers over you, and sets its hand on your head. Its skin is pure and smooth as alabaster, and exudes a comforting warmth. When speaking, its voice is langurous and fluid, and faintly musical. It is also completely androgynous. Try as you might you cannot determine gender.
Looking down at you, it speaks in perfect, flowing Telestari. Hearing an actual Drow Orc speak its native tongue almost brings tears to your eyes. "professor i am iassurallas and these are liminaltor and arialanar maren" it indicates the green and blue Telestari, respectively. "we are aware of your studies and you speak our language well for a creature of fey though much subtlety is lost for you lack certain speech organs ... there will be a time when we may speak more but now is not that time ... liminaltor must return to hallas and we must help your friend ... the world at large is not ready to know of us yet we must request you keep all aspects of this meeting a secret"
As Iassurallas speaks, the whirling, twisting metal inset into the walls draws more and more of your attention. It is like something you spoke with Beryl about back at Crone's Coffee in Lesotho, an extraplanar being of terrible power that he described, the met...the meta...the Metallum Aeternum. Yes! That was it! A living metal that drank worlds, consuming all their rock and ore and then moving across the planes to find new targets and...WHAT WAS IT DOING IN THIS ROOM!
@Belsarious:
You realize, by studying the arrangement of totems and arcane markings, how the ritual is going to work, and you are somewhat comforted by this. You also know there is something familiar about the figure in green. You're not sure what Dolo is talking about with "Telestari," that word means nothing to you, but you know that you yourself have encountered a friendly and protective creature that looked alomst identical in your travels through the Great Trackless Woods. You thought it a benevolent woods spirit of some sort, but now you know it was apparently a member of an ancient race, long-thought extinct.
The figure in green, whose name you now know to be Liminaltor, gestures toward the large, raised marble slab in the center of this circular room. As you step towards it and lay down, you realize you also recognize the bizarre, crackling, liquid metal that is swirling and spinning around the walls. You remember 250 years ago there was a great war in which a mighty dwarven army had to fight a strange living metal that came across the planes. The war was so dire that Iomedae and Torag joined forces to help defeat it. What it could possibly be doing here, you do not know.
Liminaltor steps towards you, and speaks in the same utterly androgynous voice as Iassurallus, though Liminaltor's voice is gentler and more lilting, like the wind through summer leaves, or gentle water in a brook, or a snowfall. "belsarious your familiar must be with you ... may I pick him up and set him by your head ... he will help channel the power of your patron to you"
Keythan is a fairly bright and well-trained griffon, and the explosion alerted him to the danger. As Damian runs towards the courtyard, Keythan is waiting for him. Damian climbs atop his back and readies his lance. Righteous anger simmers in his breast for the dragons whose wanton destruction is being visited on the city. With a battle cry, Damian sputs Keythan into the air. Aloft by the griffon's powerful wings, Damian gets a sight of the aerial battles.
He spurs Keythan to catch up with Sylsalitae and Min with the four red dragons. He will need a squad to do battle with a red dragon. He catches up to the other two and shouts in a clear voice, "There is another red dragon coming in from the west! Dispatch these quickly and join me!" He hovers for a moment, awaiting their response.
Dolo listens to the lilting voices in rapt attention, his mind absorbing the nuances and inflections as best he can. The other professors will never believe this. 'I can't wait to rub this in Beryl's face' Where did THAT thought come from?
Upon the insistence of the matter for secrecy, Dolo becomes somewhat deflated but understood and respected the request.
As the being addresses Belsarious, Dolo realizes what the Metallum Aeternum is. Once the Telestari finishes speaking, Dolo points to it, "What is THAT doing here? Isn't that dangerous?"
Dolo can tell that a large arcane ritual is about to take place - the signs are obvious. What he doesn't realize yet is WHY!
'Sudden appearance of a race thought to be extinct - and in numbers! Extra-planar, world-eating metal sitting around a room. THE representative from Izmir in the room. We're talking arifacts here. A Telestari artifact? One that would draw the forces of the Red Dragons to attack this very city? NO! It couldn't be! Could it? Could it be one of the abominations of Marianasu?' Dolo's mind reels and races as he pieces together the clues.
Belsarious places his familiar and lays upon the stone.
"I assume my placement must be voluntary..."
(to Dolo)
"I think some part of tha metal is bound up in this pot, besides sometimes one poison is tha counter of another poison, or one element contains another."
DM
Intentionally playing as if the greater concern of the ritual is distracting.....plus is a less talkative type....
@Sir Damian, @Syl, & @Min:
Sir Damian shouts to Min and Syl, then charges off to the west. One of the blue dragons wheels around and pursues him.
Two blue dragons streak in at Lindórievórea and Min, to get into an above/below flanking position, while the third flies at Ansrithar. As it plummets toward the noble white dragon and the Paladin of Sarenrae astride him, the Blue Dragon yells sneeringly: "WHY DO YOU STAND WITH THESE WEAKLINGS, YOU FOOL? YOU ARE A DISGRACE! YOU DON'T DESERVE THE SWIFT DEATH WE'RE ABOUT TO GIVE YOU!"
With mighty wings pumping and minds locked in telepathic bonds, the five riders clash in terrible riot of color. The blue dragons draw first blood, tearing small gouges in Lin and Ansrithar, while the rider of one of the Blue dragons slices Min's shoulder cleanly with his glaive. Laughing as Min's blood falls hundreds of feet to the ground below, he yells a crude taunt. "This is a MAN's battle, halfbreed! Go back to the woods where you were spawned!"
Spinning and turning, the white and silver dragon take back the offensive.
@Min and @Syl:
@Sir Damian:
Sir Damian does not relish leaving the dragonriders to uneven odds, but at least one of the blue dragons followed him. This is likely a poor choice on his part. Damian pulls hard on Kythan's saddle, alerting the griffon to their target. Kythan instantly whips around 180 degrees and flaps his powerful wings towards the combatant.
Utilizing Kythan's speed and strength, Sir Damian pulls his lance up with both hands. Aiming at the dragonrider, Damian guides Kythan with his knees. Over the years, they have performed many of these charges in practice and in combat. Damian's lance connects with the rider, the force of the impact rushing back from the lance into his own body. He tightens his legs in the saddle, allowing the force to dissipate into the griffon, whose large and strong body is much better equipped to handle it.
As Damian charges the dragonrider, Kythan lashes out with his claws and beak to scratch at the mount. This is how they had fought for years, how Kythan had been raised and trained to fight. Rider to rider, mount to mount.
Kythan finishes by flying upward at a 45 degree angle, getting as much distance from the other rider before turning again to meet him a second time if necessary.
As the blue dragons teeth strike out at Lin, Min brings his lance to bear in an attempt to ward off the attack. But sadly the enemy brushes it aside and strikes out at Lin.
[edit 1: my bad totally spaced it out >.<;]
The bond between them flashes with the pain of their enemies successful attacks. Min ignores the man's taunts and focuses on bringing down these foul beasts. The pair focus on the dragon and rider that had wounded Lin and bring their full strength to bear on the foolish foe!
liminaltor speaks: "belsarious is correct professor as are you ... the aeternum is dangerous but not evil ... we have asked it here to assist though the price is steep ... only the aeternum can destroy the metal that marianasu used to bind the daemonic nightshade essence to each of his abominations"
Captain Merit steps forward. "Let us complete this. We can cast one of these things into the abyss, at least, and the world will be that much safer. Good luck. I will speak to you all when it is over."
Liminaltor, Iassurallas, and Arialanar begin a low chant. While they do this, the newcomer starts performing an elaborate dance. Hideously, the Metallum leaps off the walls from all around and with a buzzing, rattling, crinkling noise it forms a bizarre metal web, the center of which is over Belsarious. Belsarious closes his eyes and begins to concentrate. While still chanting, the three Telestari take the teapot and place it at Belsarious' feet. With a lurch, he grunts and arches his back. A strange, hideous shadow appears above his chest and gets struck by his familiar's stinger before it can float away. It hovers malignantly over Belsarious, who is groaning in pain.
Liminaltor walks over to Dolo and hands him a scroll. "dolo...please read this scroll...it must be done perfectly...you must time it to finish as the dance and the chant finish...listen to the rhythms..."
@Dolo:
Ansrithar's small bout, though it was not he who struck first blood, turns and decides it's time to show them how aerial combat works as a predator. He bellows once again, but Syl screams out towards the other rider.
"One at a time! I'll follow your lead!" she cries, and deftly, with agility and feral precision, the white dragon turns and faces the first blue dragon, his emotions almost primal as for one of his kind - but his increased intellect shows him that this is a harness for which to fuel, as it always has been.
"I stand with these heroes because I am superior to your kind! The only one to die here today, is YOU!" he roars in turn.
They swiftly charge - the movement is almost too fast to tell - and Ansrithar swings by, his jaws aiming for a nice chunk as he soars past. Meanwhile, Syl brings about her lance to bear, and aims for the dragon itself - that way, the rider has little choice but to fall with it!
Dolo is still taken aback by the sudden nature of events in the Citadel chamber. He sees the strange woman appear and become part of the ritual. 'Where did Captain Merit go and who is this lady? She does look familiar though...'
@Min:
Dolo is still taken aback by the sudden nature of events in the Citadel chamber. He sees the strange woman appear and become part of the ritual. 'She looks familiar...'
Knowledge: History skill check = 1d20+8
You know for a fact that this is another important figure from history, long thought dead or in exile, but you're too distracted to be able to recall her name. You know if you can get to your books, or better yet a library, you'll be able to figure it out.
Knowledge history
"A thousand pardons great lady my senses tell me I know you, from another life or maybe this thing is weakening me...."
@Min:
;D
Dolo shakes his head to get his bearings. There is a danged ritual taking place and he was asked to be a vital part. Here he was trying to think about some dead heroes name or something. That and jabbering like a pimple-faced student. 'Get your head man, you got work to do! Dolo chides himself as he pulls out the scroll. He lets the flow of magic course through his mind, his body. He begins to pick up the rhythm, the pulse of the ritual. Timing is everything.
Dolo reads the scroll at the moment he feels is right. He mutters a brief prayer to Iomedae when it is done, hoping Her divine influence will tip the scales in the favor of the elf.
@Damian: The blue dragon laughs obnoxiously as you approach. Its rider yells a challenge as they race to meet you: "Fool! What do you hope to accomplish with that thing? On your tiny little mou-GLURK!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" He is cut off as your lance hammers through his chainmail as if it were paper, shattering his shoulder and part of his rib cage. He hangs, ridiculously, for just a moment on your lance before you lower it slightly and the man plummets hundreds of feet, his silvery platemail glinting in the sun as he falls to his death. The dragon, meanwhile, is also cut off mid laugh as Kythan tears two small chunks out of its flesh. Between this wound and its anger at losing its rider, it screams in draconic fury. "YOU! WILL! PAY!" it screams.
@Min:;D
@Min:
As the dragon slashes at Keythan, Damian grabs tight on the saddle and twists his body. Keythan goes into a roll, avoiding the dragon's claws by a few feet. When traveling at such speeds, a few feet is a very close call.
Damian locks his lance into place on its special holster on the saddle. He pulls out his sword and points it at the dragon. "By Iomedae, I will smite you for defiling this place of peace! The sins of the Black Dragonflight are on you!" As he shouts, Keythan bites and claws at the dragon, locked in combat.
@Min: Wheeling around, you tear past one of the Blue dragons in attack formation. As you fly by your lance strikes true, nailing the rider in the side and piercing his armor, causing him to yell in surprise and pain. Meanwhile, Lin lashes out and gouges a chunk of flesh out of the dragon. It hisses in pain and lets fly a coarse oath.
@Syl: racing in on the same blue dragon as Min, you change your angle of attack at the last possible second in response to Min's successful hit on the rider, and your lance neatly pierces his armor and tears a chunk out of his side. He howls in agony and falls from his saddle, plummeting to the earth below where you watch as his body ragdolls off the side of a building and flies into pieces. Meanwhile, before the blue can recover from Lin's bite, Ansrithar tears out another chunk of scale and hide, eliciting a second infuriated shriek from the haughty blue enemy.
@Sir Damian: Keythan bites and tears at the dragon, but it is a quick and wily creature, and its hide is tough. His bite glances off a knot of impossibly hard scale and the dragon dodges one claw stroke. Keythan's final strike is true, however, and wounds the dragon yet again.
In close, the dragon grabs for Keythan's underbelly.
@Min:
@Syl:
Knowledge history
1d20+8"A thousand pardons great lady my senses tell me I know you, from another life or maybe this thing is weakening me...."
You recall that Luaera was The Sunderer, the Enhathladi Battle-Queen who, over 2,000 years ago, fell in love with a stranger, clad entirely in red, and left her kingdom of Rassnynyankh to seek him out, taking with her only her two greatest friends, a monk and a sun druid. 11 Years later she returned, missing her left eye and her left arm, fled to the Canyon of Ket in northern Rassnynyankh, not far from the Great Trackless Woods, and somehow convinced Sarenrae, the Dawnflower, to take her flaming scimitar and to sunder the southern half of the kingdom, to turn it into what is now the desert of Rass-La. After that, Luaera was never seen again.
What, by wood and stone, is she doing here? Is she even alive?
Your vision begins to go black, and as your eyes flutter shut you see horrid specters, prancing and gibbering and cavorting. Your guts have exploded out of your body and tied you to the slab. Demons peck at them, barely kept at bay by your familiar, with great jabs of its stinger. An enormous pair of hideous, jaundiced eyes, 12' wide each, stares at you, bloodshot and ravaged. Now they have mouths and they are eating your feet. Your bones are made of ice, now snot, now bile, not they are inside out and fighting to be free of your skin.
You hear a strange howling noise, and realize it is you.
@Dolo:
Suddenly Liminaltor makes an enormous sweeping gesture with his hands and an elegant, shimmering light, green and gold, shoots from his eyes and bathes Belsarious. The malignant black shadow hovering above him flies upward, bounces off the web of the Metallum, and lands in the teapot with a clatter. The teapot begins to vibrate violently.
@Belsarious: you suddenly snap to. You are completely drenched in sweat. Your familiar is laying flat beside your head, its stinger barely raised, exhausted. You hear Dolo chanting, the strange rhythm of Luaera's feet brushing and stamping on the floor. Looking over, you see both of them are bathed in light.
...now is the trial of mind... intones Iassurallus. There is a thud, and all goes black again.
Min, with his arm feeling like it's being pulled from the socket, brings his lance up to deflect the titanic blows of the dragons coming in from both sides. He brings his buckler up and feels the impact of the glaive surge through his wounded side. As blood runs from his wound he realizes that it is taking all of his focus just to keep Lin and himself fighting cohesively as the bond screams with the intense strain of their warring wills.
Dutifully Min surrenders himself to the bond and continues to protect Lin as best he can. He roars an elven battle cry in the face of their enemy as they strike back. "Hakkaa päälle!".
With the riderless dragon in so close Lin lashes out with her full fury. She roars in the wounded dragons face just before unleashing her freezing breath.
Min, with his arm feeling like it's being pulled from the socket, brings his lance up to deflect the titanic blows of the dragons coming in from both sides. He brings his buckler up and feels the impact of the glaive surge through his wounded side. As blood runs from his wound he realizes that it is taking all of his focus just to keep Lin and himself fighting cohesively as the bond screams with the intense strain of their warring wills.
Dutifully Min surrenders himself to the bond and continues to protect Lin as best he can. He roars an elven battle cry in the face of their enemy as they strike back. "Hakkaa päälle!".
With the riderless dragon in so close Lin lashes out with her full fury. She roars in the wounded dragons face just before unleashing her freezing breath.
3d8
The blue dragon, intent on getting a better angle, fails to notice as Lin brings her head around. Too late it looks up as she roars and unleashes a massive blast of frost and cold into the earth dragon's frame. It shrieks in immense pain, and you can tell that that hit has pushed the blue over some kind of line, the raw cold pouring into its wounds too much for it to take.
"Gaaak"
random noises occassionally come out of the sometimes limp and other times rigid, sometimes flaccid and sometimes convulsing body.....laid out on the table...
As Syl continues to lend her strength, and manages to turn her dragon around, Ansrithar is caught by the jaws of another - and turns his attention to it as his ferocity takes control for just a few moments of time. She manages to put as much effort into her own strikes, and aims to kill that dragon, and not the rider.
Now it was business to resolve, and ensure their combatant no longer interfered.
There is something visceral about close combat as Keythan and the blue dragon claw at each other. Both are hovering, wings flapping furiously in midair as they vie for aerial dominance.
Damian leans in the saddle, bringing himself around to slash at the blue dragon. His first swing is timed poorly and he pulls his arm back to prevent himself from cutting into Keythan's wing. He waits a beat, whispering a swift prayer for Iomedae to guide his blade, and times a second attack between the flaps of the wings. The blade connects, cutting deeply into the dragon's hide. Blood spills out as the dragon screeches and Damian offers his silent thanks to the goddess.
Like his rider, Keythan viciously slashes and bites at the blue dragon. Chunks of the dragon's scaly skin rip out at the griffon's attacks.
Dolo fights his instincts to stop, stare and study what is going on. His insatiable curiosity was both a gift and a curse. His training, however, was honed enough to win that battle most of the time.
To the lay person, this was and odd occurence, however, Dolo saw it for what it was. He understood the gravity of the situation and chanted the words of the spell to the best of his ability. Sweat was beading on his brow and trickling down his face but he persevered, knowing that failure would cost the laconic elf more than his life - it would cost him his very soul.
"Elatha duatha, kali vosfor, verita serundum..."
His mind's eye registered several languages incorporated into the spell. Telastari was the most predominant but there was more. It was mixed with the arcane language of magic and something else. He was taxing his linguistic ability but it seemed to flow from his lips like water, like he was destined to be here, at this moment, to do perform this task. Praise Iomedae for her guidance.
@Syl: Blue #3 howls in anger and rage as Ansrithar tears a gouge out of its hide, and snarls at you. Its rider yells a challenge: "Is that all you've got?! We'll tear you out of the sky!
@Sir Damian: As Keythan tears at the blue dragon it shrieks in pain and frustration, then as your sword slaches its belly open not once, but twice, it begins cursing your name to every level of hell and the abyss it can possibly think of.
In close, the dragon attempts to grapple Sir Damian to stop his slashing sword and possibly throw him from the saddle. Meanwhile the other three continue to slash and bite at Lin and Ansrithar
@Min: Dragon #1, bite at Lin(still flanking)
Dragon #2, two claws at Lin(still flanking)
@Syl: