The air is filled with war cries, curses and missiles: darts, javelins both magical and mundane, sling shot, and arrows by the dozen fired by Leaper, who dances between the sharp rocky outcrops shooting up into the mass of swooping Harpies.

Several go down under the onslaught, but their spells and missiles hit home too...

Amara's god guided javelin pierces the clouds of smoke but is intercepted by a Harpy bodyguard, the creature carried backwards by the force of the cast, deep into the dark void of the cave beyond. This causes the shaman to cackle in mirth, the laugh suddenly cut short by a magnificent  blow between the eyes as Hoskar fells her with a shot in a hundred.

Below, Salen and Henal were simultaneously dodging through the maze of stalagmites, passing Kobal as the Thunderbird brave knocks a Harpy out of the air to stab it to death with his magically charged blade.

It's mayhem and as soon as Hoskar made the shot, he keels backwards from an equally well cast dart, his skin quickly blackening as it's vile poison spreads through his system. No one notices for everyones' attention is on the job at hand...

Tarosh dodges several missiles, kills a Harpy and then finds himself under attack from multiple spells, his mind a mire of hazy thoughts and fear. But he'd done his job well for he'd kept his attackers away from Amara and Ohanzee, the former charging past to take his place, her face a mask of fury. Ohanzee on the other hand found himself the centre of attention of half a dozen minor spirits and a crazed looking spectral Harpy with oblivion in her gaze...

Calling on his inner strength, a rune formed in the air before him, adding more strength to his charms and filling his heart with hope.

Hope that begin to fade as the Harpy spirit slowly but surely began to slide through the protective barrier of the bull roarer. Still prevented from passing through the angry disease spirits continue to smash themselves hopelessly against the magical wall...

As he dispatches another Harpy and pulls his javelin free, Kobal sees that Emesh-Ga has begun to materialise next to him and that each of his companions that he can see has a greenish hero light about them.

"For Tada"

"For Genert!"

Ahead of him Henal and Salen are climbing up the shaman rock, where a handful of Harpies stand guard over their fallen leader, as the last remaining prisoners are kicked screaming to their doom.

"It comes...." utters Emesh-Ga, his deep bass voice heard by all...

And from the darkness behind comes a loud chuckling gurgle....
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:50, Thu 29 Oct 2015.

The young Harpy girl, sticks to Amara like glue, healing the warrior of her wounds and then dispelling from Tarosh his magical confusion.

Then tugging at the Vingan's arm she points to the back of the cave, on the opposite side to the sacrificial abyss. There high up the rocky wall squats a horrendous, filth covered idol, suspended from which is a bundle of well wrapped hide.

"The Queen..." gasps the girl, as she slides to the ground, a javelin buried in her side.

Seeing the shaman keel over, Kobal gives a roar of approval, but still forges forward to make sure that the harpy truly is dead.  A quick look back suggests that the spirits are still hovering about Ohanzee, even though the shaman went down.

As the fog of fear and confusion melts away, Tarosh is just about to thank Kaunis when she is struck by a javelin. He rushes to her aid and slowly pulls it from her side, while stemming the flow of blood with a charm. "Amara, keep the beasts away from us while I heal her."

Ohanzee's course is clear and even if he were able to look from the assailing spirits to those about it would not change. Buy them time he thinks as the exertion causes sweat beads on his body, tiny oases that soon chill and feel clammy with the coldness of so many spirits about him.

He keeps the bull-roarer spinning, it's eerie whistle all the time cutting through the demented screams of the lesser disease spirits that fling themselves against the barrier and hammer on it trying to force themselves through. Added to this there is the constant buzzing of the fly in the fetish about his neck, the Mallia charm gifted by Broken Claw.

The young apprentice shaman's full attention in on the ancestral harpy spirit knowing that for with every strike that it manages to land on him his overall defences will weaken. Too many blows and the powerful magics will not be enough to keep even the lesser spirits at bay.

Henal continues scaling the rock intent on killing any harpies in his way and making sure the Shaman is dead.

For Tada. For the Green he yells as he advances staring at the harpies in rage.

"Sorry Tarosh... if we're to live, I must try to free the queen" Amara moved swiftly towards the location the young harpy pointed towards. She could almost feel the pulse of vileness as the cloaked evil made its presence known. Amara was sure and certain that without the queens help they'd all soon be dead. Her javelins were held high ready to fend off any of the harpies that dared to get in her way as she ran towards the captive queen.

As Tarosh speaks the young Harpy passes away in his arms.



Luckily for Amara the remaining Harpies but one are now concentrating on those Rangers trying to reach their shaman; As she runs she suddenly feels an immense pain in the small of her back and then numbness as she falls to the ground at the base of the cave's rear wall.

Fluttering hands find a javelin protruding from her armour, but before she can attempt to remove it, a heavy weight alights on her, cruel talons pinning both arms to the rocky ground.

"I will kill you slow bitch" comes a hissed challenge from the Harpy who now stood astride her.

Salen ahead of both Henal and Kobal due to both natural and magical speed, vaults on to the top of the shaman's rock, severing the leg of one of the bodyguards as he lands.

As it falls to the ground the other Harpies fly off, aiming for the two other exits below, joined By the surviving two Harpies that had attacked the Rangers when they entered.

"Fly sisters...We must join the others and protect the eggs."

Dispatching the struggling Harpy with a sweep of his blade Salen is joined By Henal and then Kobal just as an immense feeling of dread flows over them.

From the darkness behind comes a wave of vermin, squealing in  terror as they struggle to escape what ever it is that follows...
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:35, Fri 30 Oct 2015.

Lying on the rocky floor Hoskar, his body racked with pain, finds that memories of his childhood have come flooding back....

His father walks beside him, whilst Hoskar, perhaps ten years old, sits astride a young Rhino, deep within a travelling caravan.

Ahead the beginings of rolling hills....Behind the vast open plains of Prax.

From somewhere ahead comes the voice of his mother issuing commands.

Icy talons grip Ohanzee By the neck and begin to squeeze...

With a roar heard by all, the ancient guardian fully materialises next to Kobal.

"I will do my best to protect you from magical attacks, but it is up to you three to stop what comes....At any cost. It must not be allowed to live and walk our lands."

Down below, amongst the sharp rock spires, the pygmy brave flicks his long knife to clear it of gore and then seeing the fleeing Harpies readies his bows and another charm, intent on bringing them down...

Kobal checks to make sure the shaman is dead.  For a moment he wonders whether it's possible to follow the fleeing harpies.  But this thought is quickly chased out of his mind by the doom that approaches.

No time to ask whether the others need any healing, he looks into an unknown fear and braces himself.  Sword and shield are gripped as if life depends on it.  It's hard to remember to keep both hands loose and relaxed.  "Storm Bull!  Waha!  And the Green!" he shouts, but this time it's as much to re-assure himself as to challenge the Enemy.

Henal shakes with the struggle to control his aching stomach and bowels as the wave of dread sweeps over him from the approaching creature.

He readies his sword casting a charm of sharpness onto it and yells out.

"Aid us against chaos today Storm Bull help us blow it into oblivion! Waha! For the Green!"

He stifles a sob as the pure harpy dies, but then with a fierce determination to avenge her, he looks round for something to kill. He see's the only harpy left is attacking Amara, so, with the javelin in hand, he runs towards it. As he does so he casts a charm on it to scare it and once he has a clear shot he throws the javelin at it, hoping that it will distract the harpy and save Amara.

She fell.

Where? How?

Father? We journey again? But why are there harpies in this caravan, looking new-hurt as we walk towards the hilly gorge; that one pure, it seems? Didn't know you knew Peat too; or is that his uncle that walks with us, dog beside him?

Why will he not turn towards me, looking forever on towards the horizon so I see but one side of his face?

Mother's ahead, sounding more like the god than ever; guiding us true in caravan; but to where? Pain, and the thought there is something I should remember. Do I belong here? Do I belong here yet? Do I belong anywhere?

A sudden sense of homecoming but a sudden sense of loss: is this my caravan at all? To stay with it seems easy - the joy of family and the peace of fate - but a call to leave remains.

Father. Why do you walk when I ride? Does mother watch our path true? Wasn't Greeshar kind back there - don't think he meant to hurt me when he threw me over that rock and it was fun to wrestle till the snap.

Maybe that's why I still hurt so.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:05, Fri 30 Oct 2015.

Amara tried to break free of the harpys grasp, fully intent to use her fists to end the harpy if she couldn't use anything else. "You? You are nothing harpy. Your elders have fallen, your shaman has fallen. Most of your kin are dead. What remains?"

Ohanzee visibly pales as the talons grip about his, his breathing laboured and misting in the spirit chilled air. As the spirit tightens its grip talons pierce flesh but it is not blood that is drawn, rather the essence of his soul that leaks out like wisps of smoke that dissipate in the air.

Through force of will the Raven brave manages to keep the bull-roarer spinning and thus the horde of disease spirits at bay. With the other hand Ohanzee plunges the arrow into the spirit creature's leg, letting go of it and gripping the ancient spirit's leg.

He holds the leg tightly, his fingertips digging into it just as it gouges him and like him his the spirit begins to leak some of it's own spirit essence, this though black and tainted.

The two combatants remain locked like this, the spiritual battle raging just as the physical battle rages about them. Ohanzee is weakening, his physical form looking drained, pale, drawn. Then with a final push he drags more essence from the Harpy spirit and it tries to take flight, panic in its attempts to escape. Ohanzee holds it tight though and then it explodes into a shower of dust that dissipates on the air.

He turns; turns to look at me, but his face is a mask. What face is that? Fringed with black feathers, it is. Father? No, not father.

The mask smiles, and it's the smile of a Raven. Between a song and a joke, a voice chortles.

Melock? But you're not here.

As I blink, the mask falls away as if into deep water, earth-solid earth-rippled like a marriage of elements, leaving behind a face that is gazing ahead.

It is twilight now. Where did the light go? Where does the wind go behind the stars?

I guide one path: choose yours calls the voice of Becx...or is it the god...far ahead.

The Harpy twists Amara around, the movement eliciting a loud scream of pain from the red haired brave, and leaning down so that her face hovers above her captive she laughs shrilly.

A laugh which turns into her own squawk of pain as Tarosh's javelin pierces her wing. Turning fast to meet her attacker the Harpy has no time to register her surprise as her head flies off, detached from her neck by a well aimed axe blow.

The Blue Llama brave can see that he'll need to pull the now broken dart through his friend's side and apply some quick healing to stem the blood and help her too her feet once more.

Tarosh grins triumphantly as he kills the harpy and pushes its corpse off of Amara. "This may hurt a bit." he pulls the dart out of her side in one swift movment and then quickly uses a charm to stop the bleeding and get her walking again. "Where's Hoskar? he's better at healing than me." He stands up and looks for Hoskar.

The three warriors on the high rock are joined by Leaper, who as nimble as a Manul cat shoots up the steep sides, his bow pulsing with magical power as he steps in close to the ghostly form of Emesh-Ga

At their feet lies the very dead shaman, killed by a single shot from Hoskar, who must still be somewhere below. No time to look though for a wave of dread and a stench worse than anything they'd ever experienced washes over them.

Movement...

Slow and steady...

First comes a long clawed hand and then a questing tongue that flicks out, uncoiling past the ducking braves to snap at the air beyond. As it recoils, from out of the darkness comes it's owner...

It was once a Harpy that much is certain, though time or chaos has seen it's body twisted and malformed, grown in size so that it dwarfed those stood before it, each brave momentarily frozen by the pure horror of the thing. Warts and boils cover it's leathery, perverse hide and as it hops further into the cave, it grabs stalagmites for support with it's taloned feet.

If it had been able to straighten it's featherless wings and sinewy limbs, it would have stood two lances high and with outstretched arms, twice that in width. But now it was hunched over, cruel claws kept close to the monstrously misshapen head, which as it came fully into the light can be seen to crudely resemble that of a toad. Protruding from it's mouth are the still twitching legs of the last sacrifice, who'd just moments before been kicked screaming over the edge.

With a quick gulp the man is swallowed, joining the others in the beast's bulging and squirming belly, and then it roars, blasting all those in the cave with it's fetid, disease filled breath.

Leaper, barely keeping his sanity at the appearance of the creature, stumbles backwards and then begins to fire arrows one after the other.

Henal at the sight of the twisted malevolence of the harpy daemon turns and flees across the cavern, frequently turning to see if the abominable creature is following. He struggles to hold his shield and sword as dry heaves from his aching stomach convulse him.