Ellaeaanda winces at the cut, but does not let it distract her future sight. She sees an arrow embedded in a tree, and knows that patience calls to her again. Resuming the game of cat and mouse, she glides gracefully through the underbrush, leading the hobgoblin’s attention further away from Netkin, and positioning herself beyond a shortbow’s optimal accuracy. There she takes cover and hides behind a tree, trying to entice her foe further away from the shack.
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Resa continues the long process of bleeding out and dying while not actually bleeding out and dying.
Blood trickles from numerous wounds, each draining another ounce of life. Time is infinite and fate is patient, but Ellaeaanda has only so much blood—another arrow will soon pause her part. Through the branches she gazes at the hobgoblin, but still there is no sign of the changing tide she seeks. No, she realizes, her role is not to end, but to prolong so that the other hands of fate have a chance to play their part.
With her position clearly observed, she hugs closer against the tree, then sneaks away to take cover somewhere else nearby.
Blink. Blink. Gasp.
Cerrus wakes back after close call with death. He hears Netkin whisper to him. He slowly reaches for the sword and tome he dropped before rolling over and started to climb down the rope. Calm. Don't panic. Quiet.
"Coming."
◆ Grab longsword
◆ Grab tome
◆ Climb down ladder
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Poor Netkin is quite a sight to behold. There are still a couple of arrows sticking out of his skin; his pale skin is covered in blood stains; his eyes are red from tears, and his hair is dishevelled.
He looks like he's been running a lot - he's out of breath when he speaks. "There's only the hobgoblin still standing, Ellaeaanda is trying to create a diversion so I can heal the others, but she's too close to the shack, ohbythegodsIdon'tknowwhattodo!!"
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As the gods continue to ensure her friends are healing with those great skills of Netkin, Resa is clearly dying slowly, slowly..... so slowly that one is pretty sure that is just age killing her, because she was stabilized a few moments previously. But do not fear, death still approached! Somewhere.
Noticing that he has been spotted by the hobgoblin and that Resa is down in front of the shack, Cerrus takes off toward the shack for cover. "To the shack! He runs into the shack, breathing heavily and sees Ardoinel motionless on the ground. "Gods, is it just Netkin and I left?"
He runs to the door and drags Resa into the shack. "Can someone else get the door?"
◆ Stride
◆ Stride
◆ Drag Resa
Ellaeaanda’s crumpled body lies awkwardly over a log. Blood continues to seep out of her wounds, nourishing the forest and transforming death to life.
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Given that Ardoinel stubbornly refuses to regain consciousness, Netkin gives up and simply pours his last Elixir of Life into his mouth.
He then proceeds to treat Resa's wounds, hopefully with more success.
But in the urgency of the moment, he again struggles to provide adequate treatment.
He stays crouched under the table. "Cerrus, it's not going great..."
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With Netkin doing the healing, Cerrus stares down the enemy before rushing over to the door and closing it so that the hobgoblin can't keep peppering arrows into the shack.
"There's a potion on my belt for whoever wants it."
◆ Exploit Vulnerability on hobgoblin
◆ Stride
◆ Interact to close door
A tiny flower bobs its head, relishing the bloody nourishment provided from the dying elf.
Ardoinel gasps as he awakens and then immediately starts hacking up a cloud of ashes. Once he recovers and catches his breath, he looks up at Netkin, eyes wild and countenance haggard.
"He's not done with me," he croaks. "Not when we are so close..."
Ardoinel rises and grabs his shield.
Then he murmurs arcane words and magic pulses to surround his shield.
Resa gasp to life, surprise clear across her face as she comes to, and says " You did not leave me for dead? You are truly good people. I am happy to know you. Where is everyone else?" She isn't aware of the battle quite yet, so all she does is stand, pick up her weapon, and get ready to leave the door.
"We've still got bandits to deal with, don't go out yet!" Ardoinel rasps. He turns to Netkin, who seemingly has tended to all of them. "What's the situation, Netkin?"
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Ardoinel focuses his power and roars, his shield bursting into flame as he slams it into the hobgoblin.
Then he keeps the shield ready, presenting a barrier the hobgoblin can't easily breach.
Resa had one shot, one opportunity she could not let her chance blow, and throws her starknife out at the hobgoblin, hoping her attack will help put it down.
She would then try to tumble behind, allowing someone else to get a bonus to their attack. If able, she would then pick up her starknife
"You can't win this fight!" Cerrus yells at the hobgoblin.
"Ardoinel, duck!" Cerrus quickly swaps from his longsword to a
throwing hammer and hurls the blunt weapon at the last remaining enemy.
◆ Demoralize
◆ Swap
◆ Strike
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Netkin has no idea who to help first - Cerrus or Ardoinel? He goes for the most wounded one, and tosses another cataplasm on the aiuvarin.
He doesn't quite know what to do to help bringing down the dangerous fighter.
Netkin fiddles with the control unit of his machine, bringing it back into the fight. Thanks to its wheels, the construct moves towards the hobgoblin at great speed, moving its arm to smash her face.
Netkin moves further back into the shack and away from the door, trembling.
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Ardoinel breathes heavily as the last enemy falls.
"That was close...too close..."
Then he rises and looks about.
"Where's Ellaeaanda?"
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"Somewhere... In the forest," comes Netkin's faint answer from the back of the shack. He sounds weird - as if he was gasping for air. Dark spots are dancing in front of the halfling's eyes, coveringmore and more of his visions. He feels light-headed. "I need to... get to her... soon... oh, I don't feel..."
There's a soft, muffled thump as the halfling softly slumps on the floor, unconscious. How long has he been running around, stressed out of his mind, in the broad daylight? Long enough for his body to shut down, apparently.
" Then we should go out and get her. If we are alone, it should be no issue. But let me go out first, and try to find her and get her back. I can somewhat stay hidden." Resa volunteers, and unless a better plan comes up, will sneak out the door, heading to the place Resa last saw Ellaeaanda. Which would not be the actual location, but she doesn't know that.
"She can't have gone far," Ardoinel reasons. Hearing Netkin collapse, however, he turns and rushes back to check on him.
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Thankfully, it doesn't take long to wake Netkin up. A few pats on the cheek and some cold water on the brow do the trick, and he startles wide awake to find Ardoinel's face looming over him with a look of concern. "What's happened?" he stammers. "Where's Ellaeaanda? Have I fainted?"
It takes some convincing to persuade him to sit up, drink some water, and eat some of his beef jerky before he attempts to get up, but eventually his head stops spinning and once he can stand without his legs being too wobbly, he heads out and makes his way towards the spot Resa is pointing at.
Without being threatened with imminent death, he can take his time patching Ellaeaanda up, and she regains consciousness. "We won," is the first thing Netkin says to the elf when she opens her eyes, a smile of pure relief on his face. "I think you saved us all. Thank you," his throat gets a bit strangled with emotion. The memory of Ellaeaanda saving him against the half-orc is still sharp in his mind.
Once the elf is up on her feet, Netkin can move on to healing the rest of the party.
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The elf’s violet eyes flutter open. For a long moment, she remains still—only her large pupils move, searching past the halfling for fates unseen. Then she slowly sits up, as calm and composed as ever despite her near brush with death, and gently corrects Netkin. “No. You saved us all. This is your destiny, kindred spirit.”
The seer stands, unsurprised by a victory she had foreseen—as uncertain as it might have seemed at one point—and retrieves a bulky toolkit from her pack. “This you shall need to repair your machine.” To the inventor she gives the repair kit that she had purchased in town, then starts strolling towards the shack. Without turning or deviating she casually adds “You have jerky on your face.”
When Ellaeaanda reaches Resa she pauses. “Gather the shortbows and arrows. Like an elf you move,” she says in her faraway voice, referring to the rogue’s confident leaps between platform and rooftop, “but you should learn to fight like one too, with both bow and blade.”
When the seer reaches the shack, she serenely inquires “Has the onward path been found?” and begins treating the wounded with patient, assured skill.
"Ellaeaanda's got a point, Netkin," Ardoinel adds, retrieving his sword and sheathing it. "She wasn't in the shack pulling us back from the brink of death. That was you. Thank you, Netkin."
After Ellaeaanda tends to him, he begins gathering the bodies of the fallen Bloody Blades.
"Be there a hatchet or something in that shack?" he calls back to the others. "These people, cruel and wicked as they were, deserve proper rites and I can't cut wood to build a pyre with my sword."
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" I will looks among the dead for other things as well... but you are right. I can not let my past hold me back. My father may not have wished for me, but that does not mean I do not have all my people's skills." Resa responds as her wounds are treated.
Afterwards, while the others are being treated she would gather all the bandits together, and would say a prayer of safety of their travels in their afterlife, knowing Desna would watch those worthy, and even the unworthy. She would also gather their gear and help Ardoinel sort everything.
While doing the sorting, she would quietly ask Ardoinel " Is it always this way with those like me? You do not seem as... hindered by your differences from Ellaeaanda like I am. You both move better, and think more clearly it seems."
Ardoinel raises an eyebrow.
"What do you mean by 'this way,' Resa? I'm not quite sure I understand your question."
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"No. You saved us all. This is your destiny, kindred spirit.”
""Ellaeaanda's got a point, Netkin. She wasn't in the shack pulling us back from the brink of death. That was you. Thank you, Netkin."
[b]"Oh. I'm really not sure -" Netkin stammers for an answer. He wipes some tears off his cheeks - getting rid of the lone piece of jerky by the same occasion. "Thank you."
He accepts the repair kit from Ellaeaanda with a cry of surprise. "How did you know?! I thought I would have to leave it behind... Oh, thank you, thank you!!" For the next ten minutes, nothing is heard but tinkering as he tries to fix the construct.
Once he's done, he helps Ellaeaanda bandage everyone - including his own wounds.
"Has the onward path been found?”
"Um... Not yet. We haven't really had time to think about it, considering we've all been trying to... not die," Netkin says with a nervous laugh.
Cerrus thanks Ellaeaanda and Netkin for the healing and joins in the revelry to celebrate their victory. "Too close for comfort, but we won in the end. That's the life of an adventurer!"
As the group gathers the bodies of the defeated enemies, Cerrus checks them for loot and puts a claim in for one of the bows. "I'm certainly not a practiced shot, but this fight reminded me of the need for more options in battle."
After that, Cerrus suggests searching each of the outbuildings first. "Maybe we'll find information that explains why these people were willing to fight to the death. Potential ties to the Cinderclaws, perhaps?"
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"More than potential," Ardoinel comments as he gathers wood. "Most likely Voz hired them to guard the entrance, and you'd be surprised how the desperate or callous will be willing to die simply for gold. 'Hoardlust' it's called in some old Dwarven stories. As for the Cinderclaws, they seem to be allies of this 'Scarlet Triad' Voz is working for, so her allies are their allies too."
" You both seem to have good relations with your parents. But I do not. Is it because I am a different type? You know your people so to speak, and I know very little. It feels unfair, if nothing else I should know how my people fight." Resa responds, picking up a bow and testing it. She clearly is not experienced with bows, but is trying her best with it.
When they return, she remarks, " We have been assuming she is working willingly with them, but is it possible she is not? Netkin, if I took your grandmother, would you also not do anything I asked? We are putting malice perhaps where there is none."
"I can't speak for Ellaeeanda, but I feel that's more a factor of who your parents have been to you, rather than what they are," Ardoinel replies with a shrug. "My parents wished to make sure my brothers and I did not feel compelled to choose one side of our lineage or the other. Not all aiuvarin can say the same. My parents love each other very deeply, but some elves move on from non-elven lovers very quickly and frequently, caring not that they may leave children behind who want to know of their ancestry to better know who they are. And some aiuvarin wish to be known as something more than just 'half-elven,' to earn glory by and for themselves rather than some inheritance from elven forebears."
At the suggestion Voz may be involved with the Scarlet Triad under duress, he shakes his head. "Her writings made it pretty clear; what few thoughts she has of Breachill and its people are ones of contempt, seeing them as provincial bumpkins she's been running circles around for years. That, and her association with a scoundrel like Calmont, to me it etches the relief of an arrogant woman who thinks that being smarter than everyone else around her gives her the right to exploit them."
“Difficult to know one’s parents and culture from afar. Did you not say you know not your mother? And that your father sold you into slavery at a young age, through a voice of ink on parchment?” Ellaeaanda responds to Resa in an emotionless voice, distant but not uncaring. “The past one must bare to uncover the truth in any relation. What truths lie in your past?”
Seeing the rogue struggle to use a bow, the elf replenishes her quiver and demonstrates with her own longbow. “Nock … draw … loose,” she explains, repeating the motions a few times to ensure that Resa catches on. “A blade extends the arm, but an arrow extends the eye. And one sees farthest with the eye within.”