BAB +1
Favored Class Bonus +1 hit point
Hit Points +13
Skill Ranks +6
ABP Armor Attunement +2, Weapon Attunement +2
Ability Scores +2 Dexterity
New Feat(s) Shield Slam
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When his opponent appears to turn its tail and flee, Lann takes a deep breath, slowing the aching drumbeat in his heart. As useful as it is to keep his blood pumping in battle, it is difficult for him to concentrate while under the influence of Myrna's song. The crusader turns to look at the platform the lieutenant was standing on, now shrouded in a magical fog. "Hold on, Lieutenant, I'm heading your way!" he calls out, pressing a hand against his chest. Underneath his clothing, the magical armor that Ehren had loaned to him pulses with power. In an instant, his body becomes as light as air - a sensation that took some practice to get used to. Luckily, it turned out that controlling magical flight was no more difficult than walking. Lann gracefully lifts off the ground and then zips into the fog, literally flying blind as he searches for his superior officer.
Hissing in pain as the unholy blight eats away at him, Lann angrily swings his blade at the fleeing devil, only for his blade to go wide.
Lann winces when the miasma rolls over him but emerges no worse for wear, his mind having resisted the worst of its unholy power. As he prepares to retaliate against the erinyes, the crusader finds himself conscious of Myrna's sonorous voice and the sudden pounding in his chest. Her voice, as he found out during their battle against the scorpions, had its way of rousing a different side of him. Taking advantage of the opening created by Ehren, Lann shifts his stance and darts in. Gripping his sword tightly, he lets out a cry as he looses two gigantic swings, his blade falling upon the devil like a leaden weight.
Lann recalls a book he had flipped through during his brief visit to the Library of Harmonious Scripture. Its title escaped him - or rather, he had not thought to ask for a translation of it - but the large volume was filled with page after page of masterfully colored drawings that depicted alien landscapes both beautiful and bizarre, all in excruciatingly realistic detail. Peering through the pages, he could vividly imagine himself visiting strange worlds, traveling vast distances that he could never hope to cross in his wildest dreams, let alone in his short lifetime. Unfortunately, not at all of the places depicted were pleasant - some were best left unvisited. Sword and shield drawn, the crusader takes in the miniature hellscape, grimacing at the memory of a page that evoked the heat of a vast inferno and the acrid scent of brimstone. A place deeper and darker and more unpleasant than any cavern in the Darklands. The fact that anyone could sincerely wish for this disgusted him in a way that a scant few things could. "I've got your back, Ehren!" he says to his friend, interposing his shield between himself and the devil woman right by them. Not knowing what to expect, Lann swings his blade at her experimentally, intent on testing her defenses.
With the snake already dead before he can so much as swing his blade, Lann returns the longsword to its sheath. Leaning down, he helps the smaller crusader pull the large serpent off of Sana, hoping that they are not too late to help the young woman. With the all-too-tangible reptile set aside, the underfolk frowns and gives it a few experimental nudges with the tip of his foot. "So the snake wasn't a ghost?" Lann asks lamely, having assumed that everything in the inn that wanted them dead must be of the supernatural persuasion. Before he can pursue that line of thought much further, he is distracted by the soft glow of light that emanates from Fenton's hand. Having fought alongside more divinely gifted crusaders for several years now, he would recognize that particular technique anywhere. "Fenton, you didn't mention that you became a paladin!" he exclaims, briefly forgetting the mortal peril the halfling was just in. Noticing the expression on the redhead's face, however, he dials his enthusiasm back slightly. "Oh. You... didn't know?"
Putting aside the silliness of his friend directing him in rodent form, Lann hurries to the site of the commotion, securing his shield to his arm along the way. He is hardly equipped to hunt a ghost, but he could only assume that this is faster than having Ehren scurry that way himself.
Lann looks back and forth between Dehliana and his friends, figuring that the medium can only deny their accusations so many times before either coming clean or doing something extraordinarily foolish. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that Hinagiku is trying to get his attention. "Oh!" he remarks, perplexed by why the monk is handing him a rat, until she she explains that the rodent is actually Ehren. It certainly explains the silvery coat - under intense scrutiny, it was doubtful that anyone would mistake him for an ordinary rat. Lann scoops up Ehren in one of his large hands, staring into his beady eyes for a second before plopping him onto his shoulder. "I think we'd better stick together for a bit, at least until we clear things up here."
Downstairs: Lann nods. "Better than just standing around. I don't think anyone is going to be able to break out," he remarks, eyeing the crusaders' ongoing efforts. "I'm worried about what will happen if they do manage to succeed."
Finally moving from the area where he had been standing guard, the underfolk steps away from the larger group of crusaders, not entirely sure of what he is looking for. Apart from it being something out of the ordinary, obviously. Beckoning for Fenton's assistance, he peers into every nook and cranny he can find - anywhere that someone might hide something illicit or suspicious.
Li'an, Myrna, Unafe (or L.U.M.): Still standing guard at Fenton's side, Lann looks to the ceiling, wondering how his friends are faring. He lets out an exasperated sigh as the other crusaders in the inn argue over what to do. With another glance he checks on Li'an, still in the process of communing with her goddess; it is a wonder that she can concentrate at all, given all the racket.
When Myrna and Unafe finally emerge from the kitchen with the innkeeper, Lann approaches, curious about what they have found out. As an aside, however, he leans in and whispers to Myrna. "My apologies for being forthright, Captain, but the other crusaders here are a little out of sorts. I am pretty sure you are the ranking officer here, so ah, do you think you can get them to settle down a bit? I don't know how useful they might be, but it might help to keep them busy somehow."
Unable to contribute much to the investigation, Lann straps on his shield and stands guard in the common room, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He recalls some of the old warnings Seer Opoli used to give about haunted tunnels in Darklands, warnings he often had to keep in mind when journeying to other communities for trade. An otherwise innocent-looking shortcut could spell doom for an unknowledgeable traveler. Of course, the old seer's advice fell a bit short, now that they've been caught by a ghost unawares. On the off chance that the spirit returns in a violent manner, he wasn't entirely sure of whether he'd be able to inflict any harm on it. "What do you think will happen if we try to force our way out?" Lann asks no one in particular, eyeing the doors and windows.
Lann looks on curiously as the Dehliana sets out her implements, something catching his eye. "Huh. That's the symbol of Razmiran," he whispers to the others, eyeing the mask on the woman's velvet bag. Far from being the worldliest person, the underfolk enjoyed talking with people from distant lands, and occasionally picked up a good gazetteer to peer through. One day, he hoped, he would have a chance to travel across Avistan and beyond. Razmiran, however, he was not so sure he wanted to visit. "I've heard some shady things about the place. Apparently their ruler believes that he's a god? To be honest, it sounds a little less crazy to me now than it would have a few years ago."
Much like Myrna, Lann mostly listened in on the rest of the conversation going on in the wagon. Not only because some of the particulars were a bit out of his breadth, but also because he saw little reason not to take Sana at her word. He did not quite understand why Ehren seemed grim about the whole thing, either. "Oh, hello, Fenton!" Lann says when they meet the young halfling, recognizing him as Ary's former squire. Though they have not really interacted much over the years, the underfolk was well aware of his reputation in the academy. Half-jokingly, he asks, "Unless you already outrank me? In which case I should be calling you 'sir'."
After the battle, Lann sheathes his blade and takes a small breather, a little winded after the unanticipated exertion. "Sorry about that, I don't know what came over me!" he says in between pants, though he gives Myrna a sidelong glance that suggests that he knows exactly what happened. Going in like that was not usually his preferred fighting style, but he had to admit, it sort of felt good. The underfolk mostly takes Sana's appearance in stride, mostly just happy to have another familiar face around. He truts his friends' sense of judgment, in any case. Besides, if she truly meant them any harm, the battle with the giant scorpions would have been a huge opportunity for her. Familiar with working with chitin after his years spent in the Darklands, Lann accompanies Ehren as he inspects the carcasses, pointing out choice pieces that weren't damaged by their attacks. In the end, however, they opt to leave the lot of it behind. While the arachnids' exoskeletons were undoubtedly sturdy, they were not exactly valuable commodities.
"So Ary becomes a god in the future?" Lann asks without a hint of incredulity, eyes widening slightly. Reaching up with one of his spade-like claws, he scratches the scaly side of his face. "To tell the truth, I've heard a few whispers back in Drezen. Prayers, really. Some people already seem to worship her as though she is one. A god, I mean."
Lann blinks, abruptly finding clarity of mind amid the fierce melee. His resulting perplexity does not distract him from swinging his blade at the retreating scorpion, however, though his strike does lack the ferocity of his previous ones.
Thrown off-balance by his last swing, Lann is left in no position to avoid the scorpion's point-blank attack. The gout of flames blasts right through the crusader, but between Li'an's warding spell and the vigor inspired in him by Myrna, he powers right through the inferno. By the time the flames have subsided, the underfolk is singed but otherwise unscathed. Letting out a huff, he resumes his stance once more, inviting the death of the massive vermin. Tightly gripping his longsword in both hands, Lann lunges forward once more, his eyes shifting erratically as he searches for anything that can pass as a weak point in the creature's armor. It does not particularly matter if he can't find one - that just means he has to hit it harder. Drawing on a wellspring of stamina that he would not usually use so brazenly, the crusader swings his blade, doing so with the ferocity of a being twice his size. Levering his body, he then follows up the attack with a backswing, putting even more force behind it than his last attack.
Lann huffs as the scorpion before him is felled by Unafe, giving him a brief moment to catch his breath. But with his heart still pounding in his ears, he cannot quite collect his thoughts. As Myrna's song continues, the crusader subtly shifts his stance without quite realizing it, standing tall and keeping his body held wide. He looks to the next scorpion and with a snarl, takes off running again. Lann swings his blade with both hands once more, but the blow is a wild once, somehow lacking some of the ferocity of his last one. The tip of his sword skitters across the massive vermin's chitinous armor; a look of annoyance flashes across his face.
Lann, on the other hand, finds himself getting a little high off the atmosphere. In an instant, their somewhat leisurely wagon ride through the Worldwound had been interrupted by the giant scorpions, larger even than some of the biggest arachnids he’s seen in the Darklands. Having fought in the Crusades for years now, the underfolk is usually rather calm in situations like these, but for some reason, this time he finds that his heart is pounding in his chest. Every fighting muscle in his body seems to swell, ready to be pushed to their limits. By the time he realizes that Myrna’s words had something to do with it, he is already throwing himself into action. The crusader does not even wait for Ehren to finish talking before breaking off into a sudden run, sword not even in hand yet. Rushing right for the most injured of the giant scorpions, Lann pulls his sword out of its sheath and clutches it in a two-handed grip, having neglected to don his shield beforehand. With an uncharacteristically blood curdling yell, he closes the distance and swings his cold iron blade at the monster as hard as he can.
Lann was crestfallen when he heard that the Crusades were unable to secure Ary’s release. Ignorant of the ongoing politicking between Mendev and Rahadoum, he had been confident that they would be able to convince the Pure Legion to release the Third Sword Knight. Upon learning of the rejected exchange, however, he came to realize the gravity of the situation, as well as the depth of Ary’s sacrifice. The underfolk was given one final chance to bid her farewell before his own release, his own position evidently too minor for his further imprisonment to be justified. While relieved that he would not have to spend the rest of his short life in prison, his freedom did little to console him. In the end, being a mere soldier, he had accomplished nothing of value during the mission. On the other hand, his mood did lighten considerably when he found out that everyone else had made it out of the country alive. Back in Drezen, his life mostly went back to normal, apart from the noticeable gaps left by Ary, Isilme, and Xander’s absences. He was already accustomed to being under Irabeth’s command, so his duties did not change much in the grand scheme of things. When he was not away on missions or patrols, he spent most of his time with Crel and his other friends, underfolk and otherwise. The underfolk also went out of his way to talk to Li’an, eager to catch up with her. Their time together back in Kenabres had been short, but she was much as he remembered her. The crusader still frequently hung out with Ehren, of course, though the druid had become increasingly busy of late. One night, while his friend was particularly contemplative, Lann had assured him that he did not blame him for dragging him into the mess in Rahadoum. Ehren, however, apparently had something else on his mind – he went on to confide in him that he was planning to ask for Hinagiku’s hand in marriage. Lann, of course, was happy for him. The two of them did not frequently speak of their love lives, otherwise. The pain of Tellia’s loss had slowly dulled over the years, and though he was ready to move on, he had yet to meet a woman that he felt a similar bond with. In time, perhaps, but he was not getting any younger.
On the wagon, the crusader’s demeanor is pleasant and friendly, but he maintains an air of professionalism. He is, after all, in the presence of superior officers with whom he is not familiar. Under Ary’s direct command he had grown used to speaking freely, but it was a habit he has since tried to quell. Seeing as they are not sneaking through a dark cave or anything, however, he sees little reason to just sit in stifling silence. “Can you tell us more about Devil’s Rest, Captain?” he asks, speaking with a rasping accent that nonetheless sounds refined. “Our briefing was, well, rather brief.”
Ary: "That's what makes you such a good leader, Ary. You always try to put everyone's needs before your own," Lann says with a toothy grin, which is quick to fade. "But I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. Many of the good things in Drezen have only happened because you have been in charge. The Crusades are full of good people, but I can't think of anyone else who would have given people like Chaleb, Kari, or Joran a chance. Drezen might prosper with or without you, but if you're not there to lead, how can you be sure that everything you've worked for will persist? Looking at it that way, I can't see how getting you released wouldn't accomplish the most good."
Ary and Lann: "Well, worse for us, at least," Lann replies with a halfhearted grin. "If it was her, I am sure she took the consequences her actions would have on us into consideration. Her perspective of the situation is very different from our own, seeing as she isn't trapped in here." His mouth curves into a frown. "As far as I know, anyway. They haven't really told me anything since my interrogation."
The crusader twiddles his thumbs, not really knowing enough about Jerribeth to say anything definitively. "If I remember correctly, Jerribeth's last scheme involved trying to feed you all to a dragon, no? Trying to get you trapped in the justice system of a faraway nation seems a little low-key by comparison. Besides, once the Crusades find out about this, I'm sure they'll be able to do something to clear up this mess. You're one of their highest-ranking knights, the commander of the sole bastion we have in the Worldwound - I'm sure they won't just leave you here!"
Ary and Lann: Lann smiles broadly when he sees Ary for the first time since their arrest. From the look on her face, however, it is fairly obvious that she has a lot on her mind. He takes the seat across from her, eager to be filled in on what she has learned. His expression changes several times in the time it takes her to finish speaking.
"Truth be told, I don't particularly mind not being released," the underfolk man admits with a shrug. "Assuming they didn't just ship me back to Mendev, I have no idea what I would have done with my freedom, seeing as our friends are all fugitives. I could hardly rescue Aravashnial all on my own." The elven half of his brow furrows. "I'm not sure what Hinagiku was thinking, but I'm glad that she's not actually dead." For a moment, Lann goes quiet, tapping his cleft chin with one of his spade-like fingertips. "Are you sure it wasn't actually Isilme?" he asks, offering a more optimistic viewpoint. "This is her we're talking about. She used to pull all kinds of capers like this with Val. Just not, well, on you. But she did leave her gear behind when she went into the city - maybe she was just trying to recover it?"
Should start taking ranks in Perform (harmonica): Left to twiddle his thumbs in his cell, Lann kept himself distracted by poorly imitating the unseen whistler's tune. It was easier said than done, even with his uncanny ability to mimic voices. Of course, he could hardly keep his mind off his friends, several of whom were gods-know-where.
The underfolk is dismayed when the Legionnaires arrive to transfer him, wondering if perhaps this is retribution for not speaking up earlier. Their refusal to explain where they are taking him does not inspire much confidence, either. Nonetheless, he does not resist, hoping that he is not to about to be carted off to a more miserable prison. But as it turns out, his new accommodations end up being just the opposite. He inspects the pretty mosaic design with interest, wondering if perhaps things are starting to look up. Lann enjoys his bastila, now able to worry about his friends in luxury.
Kiora: Lann frowns, an expression far more apparent on the elven half of his face. "Aravashnial did nothing wrong. Our own entry into the country was illegal, yes. A diplomatic solution would have been preferred, but the situation demanded urgency. We were certain that our friend's life was in imminent danger."
The crusader leans back in his chair, trying to hide his hesitation. Ary had told the Legionnaires arresting them an awful lot about why they were in Rahadoum, but she had not explicitly blown Isilme or Ehren's cover. She might well do so, honest being that she is, but doing so himself without being certain just feels wrong. Lying to them outright would not work, either. "To be honest, Younes, I may have have said too much already," he says finally, his tone apologetic. "I mean no disrespect, but I am just a simple soldier, following his orders. My commanding officer would be far better suited to provide a detailed account of our mission here."
Kiora: "Well you see, Aravashnial is a Riftwarden," Lann explains, recalling whatever details he can. "They have their own contacts and the like, though I can't say for certain that he didn't visit any of your colleges as well. The Riftwardens are enemies of the Blackfire Adepts, which is probably why he was targeted."
"As for the brothel..." Lann shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine. It might have just been a convenient meeting spot."
Kiora: "He is a light-skinned elf with long white hair and blue eyes," Lann describes, wondering how much he is narrowing it down. "I do not know the specifics, but he was meeting colleagues here to conduct research of some kind. Nothing dangerous, I'm sure. He actually informed us of his situation himself - the Crusades have been keeping in touch with him using sending spells. As for where he was last, I believe it was a brothel?" Sheepishly, he adds, "Its name escapes me, but he was not there for its, ah, usual services."
Kiora: Lann thoroughly enjoys his lunch, bland as it is. At the very least, it is something he has never tried before. Traveling the world is something he has always wanted to do; already, he has seen more of it in half a lifetime than other underfolk have witnessed throughout the entirety of their lives. (Several of his fellows could say the same, but none of them have a story that can beat his adventure in Heaven.) Even as he is escorted to his interrogation, he cannot help but wonder where they will go next. Assuming they ever get out of this prison, anyway.
"I am Lann of Neathholm, a warrior of the Mendevian Crusades. As far as my rank goes, well, I am just a rank-and-file soldier," he says to Younes with his usual polite, friendly tone. Given how much of their story Ary already gave away on the way here, he sees little reason not to be forthcoming. "I came here to help rescue a friend, a wizard named Aravashnial. You see, he was kidnapped by these cultists called Blackfire Adepts. I cannot say I know much about them, but they have cavorted with demon worshipers in the past. Time was of the essence, so we got here as quickly as we could. The idea was for us to complete our rescue mission and leave before anyone even realized we were here, but ah, obviously that did not work out."
Trusting in Ary's example, Lann pushes himself onto his knees and places his hands behind his head.
Lann's face blanches when he sees the bead of fire - he doesn't know much about magic, but he's fought enough brimoraks to know what that is. Years of training drills pay off as the underfolk throws himself to the ground, facing away from the epicenter of the blast. Duck and cover proves to be far more effective than he thought, for despite being so close to the fireball, Lann is barely singed by the explosion.
As Ary speaks, Lann drops his longsword to the ground and steps closer to his companions with his hands raised. He is not entirely defenseless without a weapon, in any case. "I am not interested in fighting," he says honestly, hoping that he is speaking for everyone. "But ah, how speedy would you say your justice system is?"
Both in the Underdark and on the surface, Lann has been involved in enough diplomatic situations to know that this is not going well. As he understands it, the outcome they are pursuing is one that fundamentally opposes the Rahadoumi belief system. As arrogant and off-putting as the Legionnaires are, it is not as though they are in the wrong here. Having not yet dropped his weapon, Lann looks to Ary, awaiting her implicit command.
Lann's spaded thumb brushes against the crossguard of his sheathed sword, not yet tied to his belt, but does not make any move to draw it. Yet. He does not want to fight these warriors, but he will if he must. "Your call, Ary," he says to his friend and superior officer, dutybound to follow her lead whichever way she decides.
Years lived in the Darklands taught Lann that survival was often a matter of being a light sleeper. His time stationed in Drezen has perhaps made him a tad more complacent, noisy neighbors not withstanding, but Xander's warning compel almost immediate action. The crusader scrambles to his feet, snatching up his sheathed longsword in the process. Fortunately, the lightweight chain he wears underneath his clothing was comfortable enough to sleep in. His shield on the other hand, remains on the ground, leaning against his backpack.
Lann has no choice but to take Xander's word for it that the group is invisible - he can still see himself and the others, after all. When they abruptly appear at their destination, he quickly regains his footing and looks to Ary for instruction. When she does not say anything, he opts to follow her body language instead, picking up on the fact that stealth is still very much their prerogative. Crouching down somewhat, he stays very still and very quiet, trusting that Xander's magic will keep them hidden.
Lann looks down at his crusader cross with a frown, running a thumb over the holy symbol of Iomedae. A nation of godlessness? How quaint! "Of course!" he replies, before looking to Ary. "That is, if the Lord Commander is fine with it. But if Aravashnial is in danger, I would very much like to help. Just like the old days, except, you know. Completely different."
Summary:
Lann’s BAB increases to +9, increasing his bonuses to Diplomacy and Intimidate (from versatile training) by +1, and increasing his stamina pool by 1 point. He gains a total of 13 additional hit points. His dodge bonus to AC (and CMD) from mobility training increases to +2. The enhancement bonus to his base speed from mobility training increases to +10 feet. Lann gains 6 adventuring skill ranks, which he adds to Acrobatics (1 rank), Knowledge (dungeoneering) (3 ranks), Knowledge (religion) (1 rank), and Perception (1 rank). He takes Dazzling Display as his level 7 feat, and learns the corresponding combat trick. Because of ABP, Lann can now attune to an additional weapon and piece of armor. He attunes to his composite longbow and mithral shield, granting them both a +1 enhancement bonus. His resistance bonus to his saving throws increases to +2. He gains a +1 enhancement bonus to his natural armor, bringing his total natural armor bonus to +3.
New Stat Block:
Male mongrelman fighter (skirmisher) 7 LG Medium monstrous humanoid Init +1; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +14 DEFENSE
OFFENSE
STATISTICS
AUTOMATIC BONUS PROGRESSION
COMBAT TRICKS
Skill Rank Distribution: Monstrous Humanoid Class Skills: Acrobatics, Athletics, Craft, Intimidate, Perception, Ride, Stealth, Survival Total Skill Ranks: 44 Acrobatics: 5 ranks + 3 class skill + 1 Dexterity = 9 Athletics: 5 ranks + 3 class skill + 3 Strength = 11 Craft (chitin): 1 rank + 3 class skill + 2 masterwork tools = 6 Diplomacy: 9 BAB + 3 class skill - 1 Charisma + 2 feat = 13 Heal: 2 ranks + 2 Wisdom = 4 Intimidate: 9 BAB + 3 class skill - 1 Charisma + 2 feat = 13 Knowledge (dungeoneering): 6 ranks + 3 class skill = 9 Knowledge (religion): 9 ranks = 9 Perception: 9 ranks + 3 class skill + 2 Wisdom = 14 Sense Motive: 5 ranks + 2 Wisdom = 7 Sleight of Hand: 2 ranks + 4 racial modifier + 1 Dexterity = 7 Stealth: 5 ranks + 3 class skill + 4 racial modifier + 1 Dexterity + 3 feat = 16 Survival: 1 rank + 3 class skill + 2 Wisdom = 6
Gritting his teeth, Lann shoves his shield upward, pushing the Wintersun warrior's axe out of the way. Simultaneously, he swings his blade underneath his shield, aiming for her exposed abdomen.
"Are you alright, Variska?" Lann asks as he deflects another axe blow with his shield, before politely adding, "If so, then I could use a hand here." Turning his sword over in his hand, he looses another two powerful slashes at the Wintersun warrior in front of him, knowing that even if she falls, another would soon take her place. He tosses a quick glance back to the other chamber, hoping that the fight with the clan's liege would end soon.
Lann reels when the wave of evil energy washes over him, sapping the strength right out of his muscles. Fortunately, between Isilme's magic and his lightweight armor, he does not feel much worse for wear. Even so, faced with demonic saurian, he decides to act on the old wisdom of discretion being the better part of valor. "I'm only going to get in your way here. I'll help hold our rear!" the underfolk crusader says as he hastily retreats into the hallway, where he is faced with something more in his weight class - more angry barbarians. Noticing that Variska is a bit stiff, Lann moves to her defense, slashing at one of the Wintersuns with his blade.
As the Wintersun warrior runs right at Ehren, Lann steps in and finishes her off with a backswing.
Lann could not understand the exchange with the Wintersun clan-liege, but he could tell from the desperation in his friend's voice that things were about to get unpleasant. Sure enough, the "negotiations" deteriorate almost immediately and a dozen or so angry barbarians close in around his friends. The elven half of his mouth grimaces as he dutifully draws his longsword, reluctantly prepared for violence. Seeing that Ehren is faced with three of the Wintersun warriors, Lann steps beneath Isilme and slashes at the nearest barbarian. He feels a little bad, attacking someone so heavily crippled by his side's magic, but the knowledge that they had tried to kill them without question tempers his resolve.
Lann continues to trudge through the thick vegetation as quickly as he can, closing in on the saurian at a crawling pace.
The gigantic saurian is far from subtle when it attacks. Hearing the bending and breaking (and screams?) of the trees as the therazinosaurus rushes forward, Lann draws his sword and shield, intent on wading into battle. Unfortunately, the dense foliage was not exactly ideal terrain to fight in, even for one with his training.
Seeing the structures built out of bones, Lann shifts uncomfortably. Needless to say, troglodytes were not one of the peoples the underfolk bartered with.
For a moment, Lann's eyes widen with astonishment (and perhaps a hint of embarrassment) when his sloppy swordsmanship loses him his weapon. But thanks to Xanderghul, it is at most an inconvenience. With the preternatural speed granted by the wizard, Lann reaches down and catches the sword by its handle before it so much as clatters against the cavern floor. In the same fluid motion he transitions into a series of swings, regaining the momentum he had lost.
Lann cannot help but feel a little bad about ganging up on the bodyguard, but it is only through everyone's united efforts that they manage to bring him down. A trail of blood leaking from his mouth, he looks to Thulmaga, apparently the last one standing. Reminding himself that she is a slaver herself, he grimly lashes out with his sword once again, its blade a blur thanks to Xanderghul's magic.
Lann runs his tongue over the spot where his missing tooth used to be, his cheek already swelling up and his mouth filling with blood. After besting so many of the duergar's underlings, he had not expected such incredible martial prowess; a naive mistake, for sure. To have any chance of landing a proper hit on the bodyguard, he would have to sacrifice some of the power he had been putting behind his blows. But first... Raising his shield, Lann lunges as though to attack the martial artist again, but instead directs his wide swing at the heavily wounded duergar nearby, hoping to finish him off. Without missing a beat, he then takes a guarded step while assailing the bodyguard with slower, more deliberately aimed attacks.
For a moment, Lann is distracted by the colossal melee in the mud pit, until the green burst of Ehren's faerie fire snaps him back to reality. Recognizing that Ary is not in good shape, he rushes to his commander's side, brushing against Anevia as he passes by. Even without Isilme's magic, there is a zealous glint in his eye as he strikes out at the shielded duergar, attempting to at least draw his attention away from Ary.
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