Iomedae.... He whispers softly.
In the distance rises a cloud of dust, whirling in the wind. The size of it gives away a simple fact... reinforcements are coming and in numbers. Sir Ilivan looks at the horde, looks at the captured crusaders, and then at the pathfinders.
Go. I'll buy you time. Get them clear...
He swallows for a moment, shaking before he closes his eyes.
Thank you pathfinders. Thank you for reminding me... Just... thank you.
He stares off at the cloud.
If you can... Remember me like this. Not the cynical coward you met.
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"Sweep wide! Don't stay together!" He growls to his group. "I'll go up the middle!" and he grins as he focuses on the one with the sword. He hefts his weapon from his back, getting a feeling for the fight about to happen.
Braxus bolts from his position, kicking up dirt and rock in his wake. He heads straight for the brimorak demon, and as he charges, his skin begins to crack with light, and his eyes flash golden.
He roars a challenge to the demons, one that they can't possibly ignore. It is a roar of heavenly vengeance and it flows from deep in his blood.
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Squinting at the dust cloud on the horizon, Vespaja turns to Sir Ilivan and nods. "Aye, Cap'n. There'll be vengeance for you."
As Sir Ilivan rides to his fate, and before the demons turn from their distraction, Vespaja drinks one of the potions the commander gave her before taking off after Braxus, staying wide with her whip in hand.
---
Braxus rushes the demon, who barely has time to turn around and catch the massive earth breaker in the stomach as it pulses with holy light, flashing brightly and burning the stamp of it's head into it's skin. The demon plumes in a cloud of smoke as the breath is driven from it, and washes over Braxus.
The other two demons guarding the prisoners turn to see what is happening before one is struck in the back by two shining arrows, piercing it's skin and driving a roar of pain from it.
Sir Ilivan turns and rides, hooves pounding as he rushes towards the oncoming demon horde, screaming IOMEDAE!
BATTLE ENGAGED! FIGHT!
THE BOLD MAY ACT!
Org Surprise round
Vespaja
Braxus
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Dretch 1 -15
Brimorak -33
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Flynn
Bo
Org
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Dretch2
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Vespaja rushes forward, not quite reaching Braxus but getting close enough. She narrows her eyes, shooting a piercing look of divine judgment at the wretched creatures. The Calistrian birthmark on her neck starts to glow, and as she opens her mouth to speak her tongue is alight with unholy fire. ”Vile demons! Today we shall taste vengeance ripped from the Abyss. Your deaths will be sweet!”
---
Braxus's blows hammer the horned beast into the ground, and as it opens it's mouth to spew boiling blood, a second blow crushes it's head, the boiling blood spilling hissing onto the ground as it's horns separate from it's skull and bounce along the ground.
Org shoots his bow, catching the already pin cushioned dretch in the throat, bringing the creature down.
The final Dretch looks at Vespaja as the flames of Calistria whirls around it, but laughs as the flames don't even sing it's foul skin. However, as he turns to face Vespaja, he blinks in surprise at the Calistrian priest, her mouth aflame, her holy symbol glowing, and overall becoming a truly dominating figure, and it hesitates in fear.
THE BOLD MAY ACT!
Vespaja
Braxus
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Dretch 1 DEAD
Brimorak DEAD
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Flynn
Bo
Org
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Dretch2
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Braxus's blows hammer the horned beast into the ground, and as it opens it's mouth to spew boiling blood, a second blow crushes it's head, the boiling blood spilling hissing onto the ground as it's horns separate from it's skull and bounce along the ground.
Org shoots his bow, catching the already pin cushioned dretch in the throat, bringing the creature down.
The final Dretch looks at Vespaja as the flames of Calistria whirls around it, but laughs as the flames don't even sing it's foul skin. However, as he turns to face Vespaja, he blinks in surprise at the Calistrian priest, her mouth aflame, her holy symbol glowing, and overall becoming a truly dominating figure, and it hesitates in fear.
THE BOLD MAY ACT!
Vespaja
Braxus
------------------
Dretch 1 DEAD
Brimorak DEAD
-------------
Flynn
Bo
Org
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Dretch2
uumm..I never specified the type of arrow so....might just bounce off
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Thinking about Ilivan and his discovery of true purpose, Bo quickly finds his center, empties his mind and honors his Master as best as he can. Calling upon inner reserves, his arm moves faster than usual. A graceful flow from quiver to the heart of the demon, elegance found in deadly precision.
for
for
for
for
for
[OOC]SWEET CHRISTMAS BO![/b]
Flynn's arrows pepper the target, and Org slams it with his ball and chain, though he seems to shrug off the damage with a grin.
Bo feels... something for a moment. It distracts his first shot, sending it wild, but he reaches out to that feeling, that feeling of purpose, of... centered.
Without even realizing it, he breaths out, the second two arrows leaving his bow as if they had never rested there. They bury themselves within the dretch target. At first, nothing seems to happen as the demon roars.... when suddenly, he is slammed by a unseen force, shredding the demon into a whirlwind of nothingness, Bo's arrows falling to the ground.
COMBAT ENDS!
The teams sees off in the distance Sir Illivan crash into the oncoming wall of demons, his body glowing with holy fire, a moment of light in dark blood as Nabasu demons and more throw themselves at him. He roars out his goddess name, flashing with divine light as The other demons quickly surround him, tearing him from his horse within seconds as the scene devolves into a chaotic mess of claws, wings, and teeth that hide Sir Ilivan from sight. The bound crusaders call to the team, begging to untie them, quickly, and help them leave this place.
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As the demon dies before him, and the dretches nearby fall to a hail of arrows and Org, Braxus looks around for more demons to destroy.
Finding none, he calms his blood and a familiar wave of fatigue washes over him. Despite the lethatry that sets in his muscles, he pushes on and helps free the crusaders.
"Come on!" he barks at the weary knights "we've got little time to waste. Sir Ilivan is distracting a much larger horde of fiends headed this way. "
He helps up two of the crusaders, even carrying one in his arms if necessary, and brings them to his horse. "Ride for the fort!" he says hurriedly.
He looks for Ilivan in the distance as they continue to free the remaining crusaders. Damn! I'll raise more than one drink to you tonight, Sir Ilivan the brave.
Once all are free, loading those that can't walk or run on to horses, Braxus takes of at a trot following the horses with his team and their charges. He covers the rear for threats as they retreat to the fort.
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Vespaja takes one final look back toward Ilivan, but closes her eyes as turns away as the demons pull him down. Her gut feels like a stone even as she goes from one crusader to the next with her dagger, cutting through their bonds as quickly as she can.
Once the crusaders are free and the injured mounted on horses, she flees with the others. More than once she's tempted to turn back and see Ilivan’s fate, but manages to keep her eyes forward. This place is too much. Brave soldiers mowed down while us scoundrels run for it. She says nothing, keeping focused on the horizon and trying to swallow the hard lump in her throat.
The team manages to escape, Sir Ilivan's hold on the chokepoint preventing the demons from following them long enough for them to get clear. It's several days trip back to Nerosyan, and they are met at the gates by Venture-Captain Jorsal and a representative of the Mendevian military. After explaining the situation and what happened, the team are treated as heroes, there names on the lips of those throughout the city and the lodge. It all rings a little hollow however, when a few weeks later a expedition recovers Sir Ilivan's body. The pathfinders are invited to attend the funeral, where he is buried with full honors as a hero of the crusade.
At the funeral, a General stops by the team and solemnly presents the fallen knights tabard, weapons, and armor to the team to remember him by. Each team member is also given a Medal, a Medevian Commendation of Service. The general thanks the team, both for their service, and for keeping Sir Ilivan's memory.
The team stands over the headstone of Sir Ilivan, a simple matter in the planted sword cross of Iomedae.
MISSION COMPLETE
+1 EXP
PRIMARY SUCCESS CONDITION
Reach Fort Portolmaeus and Return alive with news about the attack. COMPLETED: +1 PRESTIGE
SECONDARY SUCCESS CONDITION
Rescue at minimum of 5 of the 8 abducted Crusaders. COMPLETED: +1 PRESTIGE
CHELAXIAN/DARK ARCHIVE SPECIAL FACTION MISSION
Collect 2 of the following three:
military strategies learned from Sir Ilivan,
design flaws of Fort Portolmaeus X,
or information about the wardstoneX,
COMPLETED, BONUS BOON AQUIRED!
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Vespaja chafes under the crusaders’ attentions. Their praises sound false even before Sir Ilivan’s corpse’s recovery dampens Nerosyan’s mood. At the award ceremony, Vespaja’s eyes are hollow and distant, and she barely registers the general’s medal.
She is the first to leave the presence of the grave marker. He died a hero, sure, but what kind of place was this where the brave died so wretchedly? And to be called a hero equally, when Vespaja preferred - or perhaps just resembled - the cynical ex-smuggler to the martyred knight, continued to gnaw at her.
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Weeks later, she arrives in The Shackles. In a dim bar, drinking something from a dirty cup, she sits across from some scoundrel sailor with an eye patch. The sailor picks something out of her teeth and asks in a low voice, ”So, why do ye want to join the crew? Piracy’s a dangerous field, y’know.”
Vespaja grins and replies, ”Unfinished business.”
---
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Bo waits until the assembled gathering disperses. He quietly approaches the simple "headstone" and sits before it. He reflects about what he learned from his 'Master', even though their time together had been short. The monk meditates, picturing how Ilivan discovered his reason to exist. He sat there for hours contemplating his own place in the universe.
Will I recognize my moment when it comes? Will I be as accepting?
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Nothing to say over a grave that I haven't already said over a flagon of ale or a cup of wine. These Southland folks are strange.
Braxus stands awkwardly as the cusaders say their words and pass out medals. When all the solemn faces stand at attention in silence, he looks the most uncomfortable.
Finally, when standing over Sir Ilivan's grave, as Vespaja leaves and the others say their last words to the marker, Braxus gets down on one knee, his arm propped up on the handle of his earthbreaker. He pulls out a near empty wineskin and opens it before setting it down to rest against the grave sword.
With a low voice, so no one else can hear, he says, "Last draw is yours." and then he rises, hefts his weapon over his shoulder, and walks away.
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