Lunaris takes flight, eyeing the wounded Gnome, hoping to harry the Wyvern into moving away from the area if it can.
"Hoo hoo" as it glides on silent wings around the battlefield.
The screech reverberates through bones and sinew alike, and Pick turns wide eyes in the direction of the sound, his lips pulling back from his teeth at the unmistakable noises of danger. There is to be blood before the journey even starts, it seems.
Everything is motion and urgency then, moving with the others up the stairs. He has time enough to growl to himself in a low, resonant whisper, and his skin takes on a rougher aspect.
Out on the parapets the view is grim. The dwarf's eyes narrow as he watches a hapless guard plunge to his death. He bears no particular love for the greater mass of humanity, but all the same the casual, capricious death of this man, without any chance to save himself from the forces attacking, leaves a sour, copper taste in his mouth. Wyverns are something like the cruelest fey, it seems...
The dwarf does not recognize what spell Cariamma is casting on him and the others, and instinctively starts to bare his teeth a little before reason reminds him that she is a friend, of sorts. At the least, she is unlikely to bespell him or curse him. The veiled woman's words explain the spell and he gives her a short nod of acknowledgment.
During your hurry to the town walls, you are able to prepare yourself for what sounds very much like it will be a battle. Joreld follows Cariamma’s lead and with a roar to his deity jumps off the walls, coming down in a soft landing. Bidding Lunaris to take to the wing, Calen also invokes his deity’s name to strengthen himself and Ialia does the same for the group. Pick and Samara work defensive weavings in preparation for the fight to come.
Spying the owl, one of the wyverns flaps in to attack the aerial opponent, swinging the its tail barb at Lunaris. The owl is faster though, swiftly dodging aside.
The pair swooping in from the right take opposite approaches. One flies low over the wall to grab at a soldier with its mouth. It clamps its jaws around his shoulder and bites down before flying on. Blood rises to the surface of the wound and the man's arm hangs limply by his side but he grunts and steadies himself against the wall to maintain his footing.
The other roars menacingly and lands with a ground-shaking thump on the wall next to the group, lashing at Samara with its tail. Her magic is strong, however, and her conjured shield of force intercepts the blow.
The wyvern on the ground stands its ground and continues to scream, dancing from foot to foot and waving its wings over the form of the unconscious gnome.
"Their tails are poisonous and they can grab you with their claws!" Ialia thinks to shout out quickly.
Having warned the group the best of her knowledge, Ialia gathers herself to defend Dagger Falls. She certainly wasn't expecting to be in mortal danger while inside the walls of the city, and by wyverns no less!
She throws a grin to Samara, cheerfully taunting the monsters. The bravery of her companions was already tested, and they passed. Assuming they all survived this attack, the young witch will feel good about the company she'll be keeping in the months ahead.
Ialia focuses her ire on the nearest wyvern, afflicting is with a hex of Misfortune!
Following that, an unending sound comes from the witch, something guttural and shrill, a Cackle that belies her serene countenance.
Samara knows quite a bit about wyverns… Being able to communicate it to her allies is another matter. She tries her best, adding to Ialia’s warning, ”Yes! Back claws too! Beware!” Given the abbot didn’t have his armor on yet and the cackling woman had none, stepping back wasn’t a useful option. Besides, she was trained for this. She sidesteps to the right making room for Pick to take her place and then weaves a spell so skillfully the wyvern can’t intercede. A bolt of fire launches from her hand and impacts the monster’s chest.
Trusting to her layers of eldritch protection, the Bedine baits the creature into focusing its anger on her in the elder tongue.
”क्या इससे चोट लगी, बेकार मेंढक ? एक असली ड्रैगन इसे खरोंच कहेगा और इसका दस गुना बदला चुकाएगा !”
2nd Spells (4): x
1st Spells (8): xx
Dancing Lights (2):
Vest (1):
Versatile Spell:
CLW (1):
Stunning Fist (2):
Claws (8):
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 5 hrs
Shield = +4 AC/FF for 5 mins
Bless = +1 to Hit for x
Pick grunts in something like startlement as the veiled woman unleashes an actinically-bright blast of fire from mere feet away and the air fills with the smell of charring flesh. The heat washes over his skin and hair from mere feet away. At the same time, the magic of the white-haired woman seems to bolster him in a way unfamiliar, but... acceptable.
He had been debating jumping down to join the others, but the fight has come to them on swift, flapping wings. Pick breathes deeply and then exhales it in a rush. Unseen beneath his armor and shirt, the tatto-like marking of a bull that is on his chest flares into a facsimile of life.
Stepping into the area just vacated by Samara, Pick is face to face, or more like face-to-chest, with the screeching wyvern. He does not speak; he simply lunges forward with his bare hands, his fingers spread like talons to rake through the scaled flesh freshly sizzled by the flames.
Round 1
Joreld charges toward the wyvern (green), menacing the unconscious gnome.
Calen raised his heavy repeating crossbow, sighting the wyvern attacking Lunaris. His eyes narrowed as he aimed. “Reckon I’ll make this quick,” he muttered, squeezing the trigger. The crossbow fired two bolts in rapid succession, sending two bolts whizzing through the air.
Lunaris continues circling the Orange Wyvern, tearing into it with her talons. Hooting angerily, "Hoot!"
One of Calen’s bolts hits its mark and he is in tandem with Lunaris as the owl rakes its talons on the wyvern’s snout. Pick steps in to square up to the hulking beast on the town walls and the enchantment on his hand is just sufficient to draw blood as it scrapes the creature’s flank. This is nothing, however, compared to the intense burst of fire that springs from Samara's hands, immolating the creature. Ialia too targets the creature, though with more subtle magic coupled with considerably less subtle wild laughter. Joreld puts his head down and runs towards the wyvern on the ground.
The squires finish strapping Tunfer into his armour as the priest shapes a weapon in the air, sending a magical version of his own hammer at the wyvern harassing Lunaris. The soldiers take aim at the closest wyverns, three shooting at one of the flyers, two at the other and one moving in to try and stab the one on the wall in its rear. Meanwhile, on the ground, Cariamma runs wide for the shelter of a large tree on her way to the fallen gnome.
Enraged by the fire spell that badly burned it, the wyvern on the wall turns its full fury on Samara, seeking revenge with fang, tail and wing. Thanks to Ialia's hex, however, it's blows are clumsy and sluggish. It still manages to connect with its tail, catching the Bedine woman in the side.
The aerial duel between the giant owl and the wyvern continues, with the dragon-kin once more snapping at the bird. Lunaris ducks and weaves, clearly faster than its opponent and avoids the attacks.
The other creature on the wing dives in low once more, this time biting down at Calen as it thunders just over the group on the wall, the force of its wings causing hair and fabric to ripple and everybody to keep a firm grip on whatever they were holding. Calen ducks away from the snapping jaws and the wyvern lands with a reverberating bump just behind Ialia and Tunfer.
And on the ground, perhaps provoked by the warrior’s splendid dragonmail, the last wyvern thumps its clumsy feet but builds up a head of steam as it rushes with a roar at Joreld. Swinging its tail, through sheer force it pierces the Cormyrian knight with its sting.
Round 2
"..dammit!" Joreld mutters as the wyvern's barbed tail leaves his torso. On the brightside, the paladin's foe has met him and is away from the injured gnome.
The lathanderite brings his golden heavy mace down upon the present wyvern (green).
On his fingers, the wyvern's blood is hot, as is the air nearby in the aftermath of Samara's fire spell. The dwarf considers drawing his shield, but his pulse pounds and the sight of his own claw-furrows in the dragon's hide urge him instead to just attack, like a wild animal...
Pick seems to have found his footing. His bare hands rake across the wyvern's chest twice, spattering him with more of the creature's life fluids.