Ever since Signe finds the new set of large tracks that had been stalking the wolves, she expects it to attack. So when the creature with big pointy teeth descends upon them, she isn't surprised.
She hears something moving in the dark that gives her enough warning to nock an arrow and get a shot off as the large cat bursts out to maul Ragnar.
Signe continues to fire arrows at the feline who refuses to release its grip on the skald.
Otrygrr also stayed awake, blade resting across his knees, sensing the great predator out there in the night.
Still, when it appears, it's attack is like a stroke of lightning; sudden, violent, and unpredictably savage. Otrygrr gives a roar of his own and hurls himself forward, swinging his bronze blade.
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Eldgrímr does not sense the cat coming, but once it is there he reacts quickly. He stands and his deep base rumbles through the camp.
Cult Totem: The barbarian can make an attack of opportunity against a creature within her reach who damages an ally of the barbarian with a melee attack. Only the enemy, not the barbarian’s ally, needs to be within the barbarian’s melee reach in order for the barbarian to make this attack of opportunity. Once the barbarian makes an attack of opportunity against a creature with this ability, she can’t use this ability to make an attack of opportunity against the same creature for 24 hours.
Ramundr jolts awake as a deep growl fills the camp. Instinct takes hold grabbing his shield and sword he rolls up to a crouching position.
Ever since Signe finds the new set of large tracks that had been stalking the wolves, she expects it to attack. So when the creature with big pointy teeth descends upon them, she isn't surprised. She hears something moving in the dark that gives her enough warning to nock an arrow and get a shot off as the large cat bursts out to maul Ragnar. Her arrow slams into the creatures neck, though does little to slow its unstoppable momentum.
Otrygrr also stayed awake, blade resting across his knees, sensing the great predator out there in the night. Still, when it appears, it's attack is like a stroke of lightning; sudden, violent, and unpredictably savage. Otrygrr gives a roar of his own and hurls himself forward, swinging his bronze blade.
Ramundr jolts awake as a deep growl fills the camp. Instinct takes hold grabbing his shield and sword he rolls up to a crouching position.
Eldgrímr does not sense the cat coming, but once it is there he reacts quickly. He stands and his deep base rumbles through the camp.
The vicious sabertooth snarls and uses the claws of its back paws to shred Ragnar’s clothing, and his flesh, to ribbons. As his lifeblood sprays across Otryggr’s face, the Wytchgod loses consciousness.
success
hit
hit
The cat then climbs to its feet and drags Ragnar away to feed! But as it does, Otryggr takes advantage of its precarious movement to strike with his blade
And Signe continues to fire arrows at the feline who refuses to release its grip on the skald.
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 72/72
Ragnar -6/45, grappled, bleeding, unconscious
Ramundr 56/58
Signe 43/51
Þyrnir 44/44
"Ragnar!" yells Þyrnir fruitlessly, for his companion seems to be unconscious. Calling upon Frigg's power, he releases a wave of healing energy, careful to not include the feline as well. A magnificent specimen, to be sure, but it seemed intent on feeding upon his friend, and that Þyrnir cannot allow.
As the Sabertooth's fangs reach to bite into Ragnar's flesh once more, the Godwytch's flesh turns to seamist for a brief moment, the furious creature's fangs clacking at barely nothing.
Ragnar's own fang flashes in its hand, rending a deep gash into the sabertooth's neck. "Hela take you!", he roars, the pain in his back driving the dagger even deeper.
Using my Immediate Action to use Windy Escape for 10 DR. I don't think I would've been able to do so last turn, as I was flatfooted. That, and Eldgrimr's Song's Con would leave me at 10/51 for this turn, methinks.
EDIT: 21/51 due to Þyrnir's heal.
Ramundr was not in the mood for this. He hacked at the beast unartfully.
Eldgrímr moves after the large predator cat and hacks at its hind legs, blade falling in rhythm with his song.
Otryggr lets out a roar of fury and charges after their foe!
Signe continues to fire arrows at the feline who refuses to release its grip on the skald.
"Ragnar!" yells Þyrnir fruitlessly, for his companion seems to be unconscious. Calling upon Frigg's power, he releases a wave of healing energy, careful to not include the feline as well. A magnificent specimen, to be sure, but it seemed intent on feeding upon his friend, and that Þyrnir cannot allow.
Ramundr was not in the mood for this. He hacked at the beast unartfully.
Eldgrímr moves after the large predator cat and hacks at its hind legs, blade falling in rhythm with his song.
Otryggr lets out a roar of fury and charges after their foe, coating his oiled bronze blade with the blood of the beast!
The sabretooth snarls and releases Ragnar from its clutches , turning to fend off its assailant, Otryggr!
hit (2d6+10/19–20 plus grab plus bleed),
hit ( plus grab)
hit ( plus grab)
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 22/72 (28/78), grappled, bleeding
Ragnar 5/45 (11/51)
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
Eldgrímr hacks!
The ferocity of the saber-tooth tiger is both terrifying and majestic in the way it deals with its prey. Knowing it is kill or be killed, Signe continues to shoot arrows at the large cat.
Otyrggr roars as he's hurled about, but despite the pain and the grievous wounds he swings his blade at the cat's head!
Þyrnir aches to get into the fray and aid his companions, but for the moment it is all he can do to keep them alive from a distance. He doesn't understand very well how the life-giving blessing of his goddess works, but he does know that its power is very difficult to wield precisely. Thus, he stays where he is and lets his body be the channel of the divine healing.
Roaring, Ragnar rises as Frigg's energies flow through him. "Die, pest!", he lashes out with almost child-like anger, as his spear lashes towards the sabertooth. "Stand strong, Otryggr! Rend!"
Eldgrímr hacks into the beast! .
Ramundr tries to land a solid blow but the sabertooth recoils out of his reach .
The ferocity of the saber-tooth tiger is both terrifying and majestic in the way it deals with its prey. Knowing it is kill or be killed, Signe continues to shoot arrows at the large cat.
Otyrggr roars as he's hurled about, but despite the pain and the grievous wounds he swings his blade at the cat's head, lopping off an ear!
Roaring, Ragnar rises as Frigg's energies flow through him. "Die, pest!", he lashes out with almost child-like anger, as his spear lashes towards the sabertooth and impales it! "Stand strong, Otryggr! Rend!"
The mighty sabertooth falls limp, collapsing onto the ground mere inches from Otryggr’s head.
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 31/72
Ragnar 14/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
Ragnar, panting heavily, hurls his bloodied spear in the snow, letting out a violent roar, the pitch turning to joyful, adrenaline-filled shout. "Þyrnir!", he shouts a moment later, as he curls his fingers and his spear flies to his hand. "If it weren't for your wyrd, I'd lay dead.", he nods his head to the man with reverence. "I only hope one day I can repay this debt to you, and to Frigg. And I hope that this day comes later, rather than sooner." He turns around to the others, giving them a curt bow each. "And thank you all, for saving me from the darkness inside the beast's mouth...", he pauses. "And saving my chance to rest at Wotan's side, should I pass..." To perish is one thing, to die at the fangs of a beast, rather than the blade of a foe, living or dead...
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 54/72
Ragnar 37/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
The next morning the sabertooth is cleaned and skinned. Skirting the edges of the open tundra, Signe finds tracks of the musk oxen within the sparse pine forest. It takes less than an hour to follow the tracks to their source. A pack grazes atop a rise among the trees. At your approach, the shaggy beasts form a circle, their horns pointed out with ten young in the middle.
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 54/72
Ragnar 37/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
"I see no need to charge in there. Signe, this is your time." He bestows the blessing of the previous day on her.
Ragnar's tolling blows start ringing on his shield, as he moves to Signe's side. Hrm. The wilds are a ruthless place, and we must be strong. , he ponders, as the sight of the strong defending the weak sends a familiar feeling in Ragnar.
Signe, will these charge us if we use bows? I doubt the beasts could comprehend what would be happening to them.
Otryggr prepares his blade. Should the beasts charge, he is prepared to run forward to engage them.
"In my experience, herd animals can definitely spook causing them to stampede and arrows should spook them. But whether they charge with purpose or stampede from fright, that remains to be seen." She nocks an arrow and draws back the string on her bow. "What is certain is that we require more rations if we are to assault the temple."
Signe waits for the others to prepare the weapon of their choice before releasing her arrow, which is quickly followed by two more.
Following Signe's example, Þyrnir nocks an arrow and lets it loose at her target; best to concentrate their shots - if the animals stampeded away, at least they would have a better chance to fell one before that happened.
"I see no need to charge in there. Signe, this is your time." Eldgrimr bestows the blessing of the previous day on her.
Ragnar's tolling blows start ringing on his shield, as he moves to Signe's side. Hrm. The wilds are a ruthless place, and we must be strong. , he ponders, as the sight of the strong defending the weak sends a familiar feeling in Ragnar.
”Signe, will these charge us if we use bows?” Ramunder whispers. ”I doubt the beasts could comprehend what would be happening to them.”
Otryggr prepares his blade. Should the beasts charge, he is prepared to run forward to engage them.
"In my experience, herd animals can definitely spook causing them to stampede and arrows should spook them. But whether they charge with purpose or stampede from fright, that remains to be seen." She nocks an arrow and draws back the string on her bow. "What is certain is that we require more rations if we are to assault the temple." Signe waits for the others to prepare the weapon of their choice before releasing her arrow, which is quickly followed by two more. Two arrows strike an ox in the skull and chest, dropping it instantly . Another strikes an ox in the flank.
Following Signe's example, Þyrnir nocks an arrow and lets it loose at her target; best to concentrate their shots - if the animals stampeded away, at least they would have a better chance to fell one before that happened. Unfortunately, his arrow flies over the oxen, disappearing into the tundra beyond .
The oxen low in alarm, the calves mewling as the parents panic and move in closer around the babes. Three adults grunt and pound the earth as they advance upon you!
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 54/72
Ragnar 37/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
Ramundr quickly steps to the side of the running oxen, whirling his shield and sword of ice or fire to cut at the his of the horned beast.
Signa takes a few steps backwards as the adult musk oxen run at them. Trusting in the others to deal with them, Signe aims arrows over them at the herd behind.
The oxen are now within reach of blades, their hooves raising clouds of glittering snow, their huffing breath warm. Þyrnir puts away his bow, whispers a brief prayer to Frigg and starts hacking at the closest one.
As the massive beasts come barreling through the woods, Otryggr lets out a bark of joy, a primal, primitive sound that is welcoming and intimidating both.
"The oxen come to the wolves!"
So saying, he steps out wide and swings with both hands, hacking down again and again at the closest beast.
Ramundr quickly steps to the side of the running oxen, whirling his shield and sword of ice or fire to cut at the his of the horned beast .
Signa takes a few steps backwards as the adult musk oxen run at them. Trusting in the others to deal with them, Signe aims arrows over them at the herd behind .
Eldgrimr masks himself behind his own reflections and steps up to the animals, sword raised.
The oxen are now within reach of blades, their hooves raising clouds of glittering snow, their huffing breath warm. Þyrnir puts away his bow, whispers a brief prayer to Frigg and starts hacking at the closest one.
As the massive beasts come barreling through the woods, Otryggr lets out a bark of joy, a primal, primitive sound that is welcoming and intimidating both. "The oxen come to the wolves!" So saying, he steps out wide and swings with both hands, hacking down again and again at the closest beast.
Ragnar plunges his spear into the eye of the beast!
More oxen run forward to try to gore the aggressors!
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 54/72
Ragnar 37/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
Felling the ox, Ragnar steps to the side, ready to lash out at the next beast. His spear bursts into flame as he reaches to pull it out of the ox's head, but the bone proves too sturdy for the skald, and he pulls to no avail. Roaring out, he curls his fist, and the spear lashes out by itself to land in his hand, ready to lash out once again.
Ramundr steps past the fallen beast to meet the next bull. He flicks his sword at the bulls eyes, and as it flinched ever so slightly, Ramundr brings down his heavy shield, bashing the bull's temple with such power that Ramundr was knocked back on his heels, sending his blade wide.
This is butchery, but so be it; these animals will feed the warriors who shall fight for honor and justice, and thus their deaths are noble.
Signe continues to send arrows over the heads of the others towards the remaining herd protecting the calves.
Two more quick stabs as blood sprays on the snow all around them. These were noble beasts, but the men and women fighting against the evil of this land must eat. The cultists would have butchered the entire herd, he is certain, and with far less qualms. He looks to Signe for guidance on which animal to target - she must know what the herd can spare and still survive.
This is butchery, but so be it; these animals will feed the warriors who shall fight for honor and justice, and thus their deaths are noble.
With strong and practiced swings the Northlanders easily slay their prey! Leaving several adults to tend to the babes, the carcasses are cleaned and skinned.
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 54/72
Ragnar 37/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
Ragnar roars happily. "A good hunt!", he joyously exhales, as he glances at the musk ox he felled, with almost child-like glee. "We'll face the wolf-hearts with hearts full of courage and full bellies!", he jests, as he picks up his knife, looking for instructions on how to best tend to the meat.
"A good hunt, by Odin." Ortygrr sits heavily as the rage leaves him, and he smiles gratefully to Pyrnir as the good man heals him anew.
"We're ready for our strike now. Come dusk tomorrow, the second temple will be ashes."
Signe gets to work dealing with skinning and cleaning their kill, a small smile on her face because she is happy with their success. Now they have enough food to turn their sights to the real threat plaguing the Ulnat as well as their own people. They would finally be able to completely avenge their jarl and then return home.
She puts Ragnar to work beside her. "Since you are willing, I will show you where to place your knife and what cuts to make."
Following the incident with the Long Serpent and the subsequent Northlander raids on the coastal villages, the Children of Althunak have grown alert for incursions, retreating inland to and fortifying their fortress known as The Second Temple of the Lord of Ice and Stone. Confronting a growing cult to an elder and primordial demon god and laying siege to its temple is surely no easy task, but it is one that heroes are made for--or possibly from.
Yet the party is not alone in this struggle. The residents of the village of Laquirv and almost all of the slaves held by the Children of Althunak, unconverted to the new faith, have thrown off their shackles and now march with these southron strangers who are bent on their own quest of vengeance. Yet all seek the same goal: to destroy the cult of Althunak, to survive the battle, and then to somehow provision themselves for the coming winter.
Deep in the tundra sits the site of the Second Temple, one that Elvanti ordered his lesser priests to build in order to further spread the power of their fell god. The temple is still under construction, but the main cella and altar have been finished. The temple itself sits on an exposed, enormous slab of bedrock that rises out of the surrounding tundra. An encampment of tents clusters around the slab in a haphazard style. Upon the slab sets the cella, a fifteen-by-20 foot stone structure made of crudely cut stones layered with ice and snow. The walls rise up fifteen feet into the cold air, but do not support a roof (the better to feel the breath and blessings of Althunak). Around the temple, unfinished stones sit amid tools and wooden sleds.
Due to the open landscape, visibility to and from the temple is clear for nearly twenty miles, and with the size of the approaching force, a secret approach is impossible. The forces of Althunak amass upon the field at the foot of the natural ramp leading up toward the temple, poised to confront your forces head on. They ready their dogs and blow their horns, and before long the vast expanse between you is reduced to mere meters. The two armies assess each other, the howling wind between them.
Ramundr gives the command. The lines rush forward, colliding on the field. The fighting is fierce, and in its midst you find yourselves at the base of the ramp, facing up toward a small army of savage dogs and their cultist handlers who protect the temple itself.
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 72/72
Ragnar 45/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
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"Kihlek di apzen...kihlek di apzen...kihlek di apzen!" Eldgrímr roars the last word, and another indescribable wave of energy pulses out from him. Their footing would be sure in this battle, the fates are in their favor.
"Nautkynir cayosin." Eldgrímr passes a hand over Ótryggr's weapon, making it flash brightly in the sun. "When you will it, this weapon shall blind your opponent in battle."
Signe finds that approaching the temple in open landscape is quite daunting. If she had not given her oath to her jarl's widow, or felt the need to finish what Hallbjorn had started, or wanting to avenge her jarl then her steps would have faltered. Instead, she marched resolutely along with the others.
Once they reach the base of the ramp leading up to the temple, Signe does what she can from afar to clear the way for the others. With bow in hand and a bolstered morale, she snipes arrows at the foes before them.
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The temple grows in the wintry distance; by slow degrees it emerges from the frost-hazed horizon, manifesting itself as if summoned by the very hatred Otryggr feels coursing through his veins. Details grow distinct, and still the miles remain before them, their unstoppable approach. His friends march by his side, but more: he feels as if the very gods are amongst them, Odin, Thor, the unquiet spirits of the woods, the ancestors and great figures from legend.
Marching beside them, invisible to the eye but revealed to the heart. Here to witness the glory of this moment, the destruction of Athanuk's temple, the slaughter of his followers, the eradication of his influence this side of the mountains.
On they march, and as they draw closer, Otryggr lifts a great curling horn he'd taken from one of the tribesmen and places it to his lips. Inhales mightily, his deep chest swelling, and then he blows.
The horn's call is deceptively soft at first, a caramel-rich sound which swells and deepens, rolling out across the tundra like the lonesome cry of some vast and melancholic beast.
On blows the Vastaviklander, face darkening as he puts his all into the dolorous note, and in that sound can be heard a promise: death is here for you, death shall claim you, your souls shall be slung into Hel, and nothing you can say or do shall avert this fate. Death is here. Death is here. Death is here.
Finally he can make out their faces. See the hackles rising on the shoulders of their hounds. He fancies he can smell the stink of their fear. It is strange to him, now, on the eve of battle, the fury in his blood rising, rising, rising.
What is there to fear? Their fates are foretold. Their wyrds are cast. Their threads shall be snipped - or not. All that lies within their control is how they go about these final minutes, if final they are to be.
Otryggr feels no fear. No terror. Only joy. A clean, sharp, rising emotion that makes it almost hard to breathe, his chest quivering, his hands opening and closing on the haft of his weapon.
His pulse pounds. The world appears precious, each detail in sharp relief.
Death.
Death.
Death.
When they reach the final line, the last moment, the eve of battle, when Otryggr feels the wings of ravens flutter above their heads, he casts his pack to the ground, discards the horn, rolls his shoulders, and without turning, speaks to his friends.
"The gods are with us. The land thirsts for battle dew. I love you all, my boon companions, my brothers, my sisters. If I die, then I shall await you in Valhalla, drinking horn filled, laughter on my lips. Strike! Strike down until there are none left, and may Odin bless your blades!"
Then, raising his gleaming sword so that it shines like a dazzling brand against the sere light of day, he lets out a bellowing roar and charges forward, boots pounding, eyes so wide that the whites can be seen all the way around his irises, lips peeled back from his teeth so that he appears more beast than man as he falls upon the hounds, blade descending like a falling star.
"Kihlek di apzen...kihlek di apzen...kihlek di apzen!" Eldgrímr roars the last word, and another indescribable wave of energy pulses out from him. Their footing would be sure in this battle, the fates are in their favor. "Nautkynir cayosin." Eldgrímr passes a hand over Ótryggr's weapon, making it flash brightly in the sun. "When you will it, this weapon shall blind your opponent in battle."
Signe finds that approaching the temple in open landscape is quite daunting. If she had not given her oath to her jarl's widow, or felt the need to finish what Hallbjorn had started, or wanting to avenge her jarl then her steps would have faltered. Instead, she marched resolutely along with the others. Once they reach the base of the ramp leading up to the temple, Signe does what she can from afar to clear the way for the others. With bow in hand and a bolstered morale, she snipes arrows at the foes before them.
With cries of command, the first wave of dogs are unleashed down the hill, howling with delight at the prospect of fresh meat. No doubt the animals, like their crow-heart masters, have grown fond of the taste of human flesh.
hit
no
Several of the cultists draw their javelins in one hand, their spears clenched in the other, as they await the coming of the Northlanders.
The light shifts in an unnatural way, and the smell of ozone fills the air, as though a storm were brewing...
Eldgrímr 42/42
Ótryggr 69/72
Ragnar 45/45
Ramundr 58/58
Signe 51/51
Þyrnir 44/44
Stepping from next to Signe, Ragnar's booming voice begins challenging the shouting of the men and the roaring of the dogs. His song echoes, channeling the bloodlust and mocking his foes.
"Run, you wretches,
flee, you dogs,
Dread, and think your final thoughts,
Vengeance comes through,
swift and just,
wolfhearts fall with every swing.
Yer brothers fell, like moths to flame,
winter's grasp we fear, nay,
in your blood you drown today!"