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.
During her travels, Samara liked to ponder the odd idioms of the Dales. Recently, she’d been trying to puzzle out the meaning of Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every so often. As the wyvern’s tail spike somehow manages to penetrate her formidable defenses despite its curiously clumsy attacks, she comprehends the adage… with a hiss of pain.
While she wasn’t the hardiest combatant, adrenaline lets her body shunt the effects of the poison. She feels only a residual numbness across her ribs. Normally, the sorceress would use her magic conservatively at this point, but the second dragon-kin dropping onto the battlement behind them changed the equation. Being flanked by creatures with so many methods of attack was concerning.
She taunts the wyvern, willing it to vent its fury on her again. ”आप एक ड्रैगनफ़्लाई हैं... ड्रैगन नहीं!”
She presses the attack on the wounded dragon, hoping to amplify Pick’s and the guard’s damage before turning to their other enemy. Again, she summons fire hurling it against the wyvern in front of them before coaxing the flame with eldritch gestures to arc up and over her allies before dropping on the other wyvern’s back.
2nd Spells (4): xx
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 5 mins
With the fight against at least one of the wyvern's well in hand, and now that another one has landed next to her, Ialia sees the bravery of being out of range. She also can see Joreld fighting a wyvern by himself, and that could go very badly in a hurry.
Turning her attention briefly to the next wyvern up, she casts a furrowed brow and an Evil Eye at it, hindering its ability to Attack.
Then she takes her chances against the monster's rebuke, withdrawing to the wall and jumping off.
"On my way to you, Joreld!"
Calen glanced at the two wyverns on the walls with him, his jaw tightening. “Well now, looks like we got ourselves a real party.” He shifted his grip on the crossbow, his eyes glinting with a dangerous calm. “Hope y’all are ready for a proper welcome.”
Lunaris continues to harry the green wyvern.
This time Pick has the measure of the wyvern, slashing once, twice, and raking his claws across the beast’s chest. Samara seems to shrug off the tail sting and enacts her revenge by lighting it up like a warning beacon. The charred corpse thuds to the floor, still sizzling merrily. It’s work done on the first foe, the magic arcs over the heads of the cluster on the wall and continues to burn as it lashes into the wing of the other wyvern of the wall.
As Ialia attempts to beat a nimble retreat from the creature that was now so close she could smell the reek of carrion on its breath, it lunges its long neck forward, jaws snapping at her and catching her shoulder. She still manages dart away, implanting a seed of doubt into the creature’s mind as she does so before floating down off the wall.
Calen’s crossbow clocks once more and a pair of bolts hit the flying wyvern. One merely bounces off the creature’s hide, but the other buries itself deeply into its neck, causing it to bellow in pain. All the while Lunaris circles around it but can’t land an attack of her own.
Down on the ground Joreld ignores the blow and retaliates with one of his own, crashing his mace onto the wyvern’s skull.
Now fully ready, Tunfer quickly chants a prayer to the Even-Handed before gripping his warhammer with both hands and raining down a series of swift, powerful blows upon the wyvern which had dared to land beside him. Judging by the strength of the priest’s strikes, the beast was likely regretting its action as he smashes his hammer through the wyvern's skull, beating it to a bloody pulp.
It takes a second to register but you pick up the sounds of a low, resonant bass voice, which you realise is Tunfer’s as he sings a song of battle. The soldiers rally to Tunfer’s song and continue to harry their closest opponents.
If Cariamma had been torn between going to Joreld’s aid or healing the fallen gnome - ultimately deciding that as Rissa was unconscious and bleeding profusely her need was greater - the wyvern, too, appears caught in two minds. Its scream as the priest of Eldath zips away is deafening, but decides she can wait, instead launching itself at the knight of Lathander with renewed vigour. In its rage its blows are uncontrolled and fail to land properly.
With both the giant owl and the flying wyvern circling each other but not able to land a decisive blow thus far, this time the wyvern stops for a second before once more attempting to buffet Lunaris with its wings, while also swinging its neck and tail towards the owl and crying out in triumph as its change of movement seems to catch the bird off-guard.
Round 3
Joreld survived the raging attack of the wyvern relatively unscathed, so the paladin pressed his attack.
Pick grunts low in his chest in satisfaction as both the nearest wyverns fall. The veiled woman's fire magics are strong. He steps a bit closer to the wall and observes the fight thus far. The brave owl is fighting alone.... perhaps he can send her assistance.
The dwarf raises his hands, still dripping with the wyvern's gore, and makes a beckoning gesture as if to something unseen. His rasping voice whispers syllables of the secret tongue Dellabrynna taught him, and his eyes track the swirls of smoke that are spiraling into the air from the corpses of the wyverns, spread about in an intricate dance by the breezes that gust over the battlement.
Come to me? Help? There are things that would challenge your rule of the air...
Ialia curses herself for being careless with the wyvern. It scratched her good, but it could have been a lot worse had Samara and Tunfer not felled it. On the other hand, she would have had it exactly where it wanted her. Well, all's well that ends.
She closes the distance to Joreld, arriving at his fight just behind him. Quickly, she rattles the wyvern by giving it a heavy head, a throb inside its thick skull, hexing its ability to Attack with another Evil Eye.
Spitting something fierce, with a fire in his eye as he watches Lunaris get thrashed by the Wyvern. "Ain't gonna keep hurtin' my bird,"
Lunaris, seemingly trapped by the vicious wyvern, has no choice but to attack it, unable to escape it.
Samara takes a moment to appreciate the abbot’s song… and makes a mental note to ask him about it later as the tune is unfamiliar to her.
While the sorceress was concerned about the owl’s safety, the wyvern had already taken a beating – pin-cushioned as it was with crossbow bolts and a few arrows. With all the archers on the wall looking for their next target, she was fairly certain the wyvern was done for… but she could offer a little help to ensure that result.
She weaves a far simpler spell to send three blades of force slapping into the wyvern. Then, she steps off the wall.
2nd Spells (4): xx
1st Spells (8): xxx
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 5 mins
With the wyvern’s brutal assault on Lunaris, Pick works on summoning some aerial support. The creature’s attack left it vulnerable, however, and the owl strikes back with raking talons. Calen finishes the matter with a pair of deadly crossbow bolts that drop the wyvern from the sky and free his companion. Samara flings her arm wide and redirects the bolts of force she had been about to send at the now-dead wyvern to the one Joreld is battling, before jumping off the walls to the ground. The Cormyrian nobleman cracks his opponent with his mace once more as Ialia floats gently down to join him and puts a curse on the beast.
Tunfer continues to sing, his voice rising, although with no foes in range of his mighty hammer he redirects the simulacrum he conjured to attack the last wyvern. The assembled soldiers similarly take shots at the creature, peppering it with arrows.
Nourishing energy pours from Cariamma’s open palm into the blonde gnome, staunching the bleeding and knitting the deep talon marks on her back together. Beneath the torn fabric, the wounds close leaving only newly pinked flesh. She talks softly to Rissa but given the distance and the noise of battle you have no way of catching the words.
Seeing its mate go down through sheer weight of attacks, the sole surviving wyvern howls in rage. Bleeding from numerous wounds, it turns away from battle and begins to beat its wings. It flies low, just above the ground, back towards Cariamma and Rissa. The priestess throws herself over her patient as a shield just as the wyvern passes, the force of air from its wings keeping them pinned down even if they had been trying to do something else. Instead of dragging its claws over the pair, however, the wyvern instead snatches up some kind of container from next to them.
The sorceress eyes the distance then sends three bolts of force winding through the air to strike the wyvern’s back. Satisfied, she sheathes her blade.
2nd Spells (4): xx
1st Spells (8): xxxx
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 5 mins
"No. You. The paladin cries in vain as his heavy mace misses the retreating target.
Round 4
"Thank you", the cormyran knight breathed at the white-haired magic user. Joreld hooks his heavy mace back on his weapon belt. Holding his injured side with his free hand, the paladin runs over to the priestess and the injured gnome.
Unfortunately for her, Ialia doesn't hear Joreld's breathy gratitude, because as soon as the thing turns toward Cariamma and the gnome she musters a Fly hex and takes off after it.
Fly and move 60'
He has much more affinity with the spirits of earth than of the air.... but one wisp responds to his call, at least. He grunts a slight disappointment at only one... but it's better than nothing. Wordlessly, the dwarf points in the direction of the wyvern. In front of the parapets the smoking air twists with a tiny whirlwind, which promptly takes off like the wind to go taunt the ungainly flyer that is the wyvern-- tearing right past the witch who has just taken to the air and ruffling her white hair no doubt. Pick grunts to see that the white-haired woman is capable of flight as well.
AC 17, currently 15 for the charge
HP 13
Special: Air Mastery (Ex) - Airborne creatures take a –1 penalty on attack and damage rolls against an air elemental.
Pick does not waste time in admiring the little wisp's aerial acrobatics. He plants his still-bloody hands on the battlements, hauls himself up, and somewhere in between his feet leaving the stone of the parapets and his launching into space, there is no longer a dwarf there but an eagle that soars after the wyvern and the elemental with strong wings.
Joreld's attempt to strike the wyvern's unprotected back misses, the knight clearly wrong-footed by the dragon's sudden departure. As the others gear up for pursuit - Ialia and Pick both taking to the skies in different ways - Samara fires off another magical volley. Three missiles unerringly chase the wyvern down as it attempts to flee and strike its torso. These add to the many hits the creature has already taken and are sufficient to bring it crashing to the ground. Its forward momentum causes it to skid along, roughly raking up the ground before it comes to a halt, quite dead.
The Lathanderite rushes over to Cariamma. "How is she?"
Ialia watches the Wyvern crash to the ground and she can't help but feel disappointed. It was the same sort of feeling of being in a really good romp only to have her partner selfishly climax too soon. Hmm. When didn't that happen?
"What did you think you were going to do when you caught it, exactly?" chirps Basil from an improvised nest in her hair.
"Throw you at it," Ialia replies evenly.
"Good plan," quips the bat, stealing Ialia's bad attitude.
"Oh hush. What did it try to steal?"
She settles to the earth beside the charred corpse of the wyvern and retrieves the thing it had taken from the gnome.
When the last wyvern falls, the Bedine takes a moment to appreciate the flights of Pick-eagle and Ialia. At some point, she would have to learn a similar magic. What a thing it would be to fly like a djinn!
For the moment, however, she was bound to the ground. Her first step, accompanied as it is by a stab of pain in her side, is a sharp reminder of her limits. She plants a hand over the wound to staunch the slow drip of blood. She hustles over to the archer thrown from the battlement… perhaps he was lucky enough to still be breathing.
2nd Spells (4): xx
1st Spells (8): xxxx
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 5 mins
The wyvern is defeated well before the eagle can reach it. The wisp of air sulks at a lack of a toy, and briefly considers targeting the other flyer before the eagle's glare makes it change plans. The little wisp won't bother to stick around long anyway.
From on wing, the eagle's sharp eyes rake the ground, noting who is standing and who is hurt. Red Armor took some pain... and the veiled woman... the yellow-haired gnome is still on the ground, but so is the Eldathan priestess, near her. White hair is also bleeding, but everyone looks out of immediate danger excepting perhaps the guards.
The eagle wheels a moment in the air, eyes scanning the horizon to make sure that wyverns are not attacking anywhere else in Dagger Falls, and then soars down to land by the guard that was thrown, the one Samara is inspecting. As he touches down it is with bare feet, wings becoming flesh and feathers becoming hair again.
He grunts once, starting to pat at his pockets for another stick. This one he knows how to use.
Pick goes to examine the bodies of the soldiers, but the two who were knocked off the wall and the one picked up and dropped by the wyvern lie broken, their lives ended by a combination of sharp talons and a long drop. From the top of the wall, Tunfer is organising healing for any wounded soldiers, as well as commanding more to head out to where their companions lie fallen.
The Lathanderite rushes over to Cariamma. "How is she?"
Joreld reaches Cariamma, who is carefully removing herself from her human shield position on top of the gnome. At his question, the gnome sits up. "Ooh, hello!" she says. "I'm Rissa Farseer. Who are you? That's an impressive suit of armour," she says admiringly, "did you kill a dragon? You must be very strong if so."
"I think that answers your question, Lord Huntsilver," Cariamma says drily.
"Lord Huntsilver?" Rissa asks, starting to bow, then trying to curtsey - a difficult action when seated - and instead ends up giving a funny little bob of her head. "Where are you from? We don't have too many lords in the Dales, except Lord Morn, of course. Are you from Cormyr, or maybe Sembia? Or perhaps somewhere further afield. Waterdeep?"
"Oh hush. What did it try to steal?"
She settles to the earth beside the charred corpse of the wyvern and retrieves the thing it had taken from the gnome.
Ialia finds what she is looking for without too much difficulty. A lightweight wooden hamper with sturdy rope handles lies overturned. Soft packing material has spilled out, along with the precious cargo: five large eggs. Two of them have escaped and are completely smashed and a further egg is cracked and chipped but clearly had a softer landing than the other two. Directly under the hamper, however, two wyvern eggs remain well wrapped and intact.
It does not take a physicker to recognize the guards that fell are past any magic that Pick can call on, at the least. He grunts, standing next to Samara as her inspection reveals no sign of life.
"Your fire is strong," he says after a little pause, then nods at her side. "Hurt?"
*****
Pick makes it over to the gnome, priestess, and knight in time to see the hamper of eggs that Whitehair has recovered. He stops, staring, eyes moving from the eggs to the gnome, back to the eggs, back to the gnome...
"You............. took their eggs?" he says slowly, brows drawing together like a somewhat tawny thunderstorm.
Ialia looks at the eggs in disbelief, then carefully pads the stuffing into the hamper and places the eggs within. Wanting nothing more to do with them, she hands them to Cariamma.
Basil whistles in her ear, a kind of shrill squeak. "This day just got a lot more interesting. May we expect a hanging before supper?"
Ialia shifts her eyes among the gathered and finally to the gnome. "Be quiet now, Basil."
The bat nips at her neck disapprovingly.
"Do those men have families?" she motions to the dead, her heart suddenly heavy.
”No, of course I didn’t take them. How do you think I would have managed that? I bought the eggs,” Rissa says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”Who wouldn’t want to study them and find out about them? Obviously I didn’t know that they had parents who would be quite so mad about it. In fact I was assured that they had been abandoned,” she mutters, her voice getting smaller in the face of the dwarf’s glower.
”No, of course I didn’t take them. How do you think I would have managed that? I bought the eggs,” Rissa says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”Who wouldn’t want to study them and find out about them? Obviously I didn’t know that they had parents who would be quite so mad about it. In fact I was assured that they had been abandoned,” she mutters, her voice getting smaller in the face of the dwarf’s glower.
Pick stares stonily at the small blond eggthief scholar for a dozen seconds, then turns to point at the dead bodies, crumpled like sad broken dolls against the base of the walls.
"People died because this. Even wyverns protect their young. Who sold you eggs?"
The low bass of his voice does not promise well for whoever that might be.
Samara grimly straightens out the archer’s corpse, trying to make his death look less horrible for his friends.
"Your fire is strong,"
The sorceress turns her attention from the corpse to the wild-haired druid. ”Yes…” She holds up a hand. Long claws sprout from her fingertips as her eyes briefly turn gold and become vertical slits, like a reptile’s. In a moment, both effects are gone as if they’d never been. She hitches a thumb at herself in explanation. ”Have the dragon’s blood… Learn by efreet.”
…then nods at her side. "Hurt?"
She looks down at the broad bloodstain surrounding the tear in her abaya. She nods, and adds a bit dismissively, ”Some.” She points across the field. ”We go at there?”
Samara’s eyes almost mirror Pick’s – alternately regarding the eggs and the gnome.
”I bought the eggs,” Rissa says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”Who wouldn’t want to study them and find out about them? Obviously I didn’t know that they had parents who would be quite so mad about it. In fact I was assured that they had been abandoned,”
At Rissa’s lame justification and willful ignorance (or galling naivete) the sorceress hisses her disapproval and disbelief – a sound not entirely human. She wants to curse the girl out but can only sputter in broken common. All she manages to say is, ”Foolish… foolish child!” She hadn’t studied curses yet, but they were on her list now.
”Who sold you eggs?"
Samara nods enthusiastically and taps the dwarf on the shoulder, ”Yes! Who?”
2nd Spells (4): xx
1st Spells (8): xxxx
Dancing Lights (2):
Vest (1):
Versatile Spell:
CLW (1):
Stunning Fist (2):
Claws (8): x
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 5 hrs
Shield = +4 AC/FF for 5 mins
Bless = +1 to Hit for 5 mins
Instead of answering the gnome woman, Joreld let the others interrogate her as the paladin fidgets around Rissa and Cariamma, checking both for injuries. "I am a healer as well as an Arm of my God."
The sorceress turns her attention from the corpse to the wild-haired druid. ”Yes…” She holds up a hand. Long claws sprout from her fingertips as her eyes briefly turn gold and become vertical slits, like a reptile’s. In a moment, both effects are gone as if they’d never been. She hitches a thumb at herself in explanation. ”Have the dragon’s blood… Learn by efreet.”
…then nods at her side. "Hurt?"She looks down at the broad bloodstain surrounding the tear in her abaya. She nods, and adds a bit dismissively, ”Some.” She points across the field. ”We go at there?”
"Hnn." Here is the stick of whittled oak the Treespeaker gave him. Pick mutters the word of its power under his breath, and looks the question of permission at the veiled woman before reaching out to her with the now-faintly-glowing stick.
The wound only lightly heals. Pick frowns at the stick and puts it back in its long pocket.
Together, then, they go over to the gnome, the priestess, and the others...
In between glaring at the gnome, Pick looks to see if anyone else is injured. Whitehair and Red Armor. He gets the stick ready again.
Pick mutters the word of its power under his breath, and looks the question of permission at the veiled woman before reaching out to her with the now-faintly-glowing stick.
She nods to give her permission, pleased by the druid’s manners. While the wand doesn’t cure her wound fully, it stops the bleeding and seals her skin. She weaves a set of spells that clean the blood and dirt from her clothing and then mends the rent in her robe. ”Good. Thanks.”
2nd Spells (4): xx
1st Spells (8): xxxx
Dancing Lights (2):
Vest (1):
Versatile Spell:
CLW (1):
Stunning Fist (2):
Claws (8): x
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 5 hrs
Shield = +4 AC/FF for 5 mins
Bless = +1 to Hit for 5 mins
With the questioning of the deceptive gnome at a standstill, Ialia follows suit and heals herself.
Her flesh restored, her attention deviates to her clothing and the unfortunate rends caused by the wyvern claws, an attack she now knows was caused by a mother searching for her children, in a way.
Calen knelt beside Lunaris, gently running his hand over her feathers as she let out a soft, pained hoot. Blood streaked one of her wings, but the wound wasn’t deep.
“You did good, girl. We’ll get that patched up soon enough,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, casting a quick spell to ease some of her wounds.
Below, Samara stood triumphantly, watching the last wyvern crash into the ground, lifeless. Calen gave a slight smirk, glancing down at the scene.
“Nice shot,” he called out, his drawl carrying down to Samara. “Next time, save me one to chase, eh?”
Working his way down to the others, carrying Lunaris with him. "Eggs hunh? Wyvern eggs too, I'm sure they done cost ya a pretty penny, little lady, hope you can afford to pay these poor guards family too,"
”Thank you, Lord Huntsilver,” Cariamma says as he checks for wounds. ”I’m fine. And it’s kind of you to offer, Pick, but we can provide healing to anybody who needs it once we are back inside,” she says to the group. ”It’s the least we can do for your help here. Unless anybody needs urgent attention?”
Rissa looks abashed at the accusation – and undeniable fact – that people died as a result of the wyvern attack. ”I didn’t mean for that to happen, I’m sorry,” she says quietly. The guileless expression on her face shows that her contrition is real. ”I’m not a child though,” she says, somewhat petulantly, ”I’m probably older than all of you.” While this is technically true given gnomes have much longer lifespans than humans, comparatively Rissa is still very young, even if not quite as young as her cherub-like appearance would suggest.
At this point Cariamma steps forward, putting a hand gently on the gnome’s shoulder and trying to defuse the situation. While Rissa’s action had indeed been incredibly naïve and led to tragedy, the kind-hearted woman doesn’t particularly like the optics of a group of strangers surrounding someone the much smaller girl who really is barely more than a child. ”Ok,” she says. ”I don’t think any more fingers need to be pointed. Rissa acknowledges that she was in the wrong.” She turns to the gnome and continues, ”I’m sure you know as well as I do that Tunfer is going to require you to undertake some kind of penance, and he will be right to do so. I’m disappointed, too, Rissa. Pick is not wrong when he speaks of the disastrous consequences and they could have been far worse, for you too.” She gives it a second for the gnome to absorb the words. "Now, what you tell us about the person who sold you the eggs?”
”Well they were very cheap,” Rissa says, ”I suppose suspiciously so, now you mention it. And he had lots of really interesting things. Nothing else like this!” she adds hastily. ”I didn’t recognise him,” she continues, ”and he had no obvious insignia – holy symbols, badges of affiliation, that sort of thing. Probably a bit taller than you, Cariamma, but with a lot less hair and much bushier eyebrows. I mean, he was a man. Don’t know where he was from but his accent suggested he wasn’t local. Probably the Moonsea. Or maybe the Vast. In fact,” she stops and starts casting a spell. When she finishes, an image of the man she was describing stands before. ”There, she says, that’s easier.” It’s a detailed portrait of the culprit, testament to both Rissa’s impressive memory and her skill with the Art. ”Hmm,” she says, ”his nose was a bit bigger, and I think his rings were mostly on his left hand.” She adjusts the spell accordingly. "I can try and mimic his voice if that's useful," she adds.
Cariamma studies the man but shakes her head. ”I’ve never seen him before either,” she says, ”and I can’t imagine he hung around. But at least we all now have a very clear picture of him, thank you. If something seems too good to be true, Rissa, it probably is. I don’t know if he was fortunate enough to find somebody who would have an interest in wyvern eggs or he deliberately sought you out knowing full well that you would, but you do need to be much more careful and on your guard.”
Joreld stands back up. "Alright. I'm heading back to the walls, and see if I can help tend the wounded." The paladin's eye catches the torn garments of Ialia as he turns away, blushing slightly.
A dozen feet away from the group, Joreld stops, holding his side. The red warrior twisted his hands so both hands rest over his wound.
"Lathander!"
A quick bright light shines from the paladin's hands as the restorative powers of the Morninglord radiate into his servant.
Lord Huntsilver marches back to the gate.