Eirik casts about for a small trickle of water - stream, creek, even a plant whose roots might have tapped a water table closer to the surface - but to no avail. The Scarred One's ruination of this region of the mountains was once again nearing completion. All knew that when he moved on again, there would be not only the upland damages to the ecosystem, but everything downstream in the heart of their beloved country as well.
   Time was of the essence now....

   In his haste to get up the ravine and moving again, the barbarian had stowed the smaller valuables of Shaene in folds and pockets of his clothing, then tucked the wand unceremoniously into his belt. As he ascended the semi-sheer face of the stunted cliff, the wand began to work its way out of his belt; each time his leg came up to a foothold, his tunic bunched and the gem-studded magestick worked its way closer to a long drop.
   Catching this out of the corner of his eye, Eirik jabbed his hand down on the protruding base of the thing, still angry about his emotional display and bitter about the loss of Navarra, even if only temporarily.
   The move succeeded in stowing the wand more securely in his belt, but also dislodged one of the precious stones embedded in the magical shaft. He watched in stunned fascination as it *popped* loose and tumbled quickly back down the short distance to the ground, bouncing once off a hard stony outcropping, then off the corpse of the Thayan wizard before coming to rest in the dirt there.
   Certainly the gem, if not the wand itself, had been damaged by this action....

   Sure enough, a small flaw ~had~ been chipped into the gem as it fell. Now, as it sat upon the rocky ground like a semiprecious gem-seed, it began to emit a faintly colored smoke. All eyes watched as the gem dissolved and the smoke formed first the image of a hunched figure, and then solidified into the clothed body of a living person!
   The woman, seemingly dressed for travel in the wilderness, looks down upon the fallen form of the Red Wizard at her feet and gives a low chuckle...apparently she is no friend of the man either. Look upwards she spies Eirik perched some two dozen feet above her on the cliff-face, and a handful of additional people above him at the edge looking down.
   "I suppose I have you to thank for finishing what I started?" she says with a look of disdain at the corpse of Shaene. "And who do I have to charm to get some firewine around here? And where *is* here, anyway?" she looks around herself in the base of the cleft she is in.

"Oh, right, that's why we were out here." he recalled. By the gods, it had felt like years.

Eirik wiped off as much of the muck as he could, scraping his hands clean on nearby rocks, leaves and grasses. Not that he minded a little dirt, of course, but in his eyes it would leave him blind, and on his hands it would make his grip slippery. Either was bad for a warrior.

That taken care off, he set about the climb out of the ravine.



"Ah, damn it!" Eirik swore a stream, as he set about clambering down the cliff-face to retrieve the stone. Of all the bloody stupid things to do that could ruin everything.



He looked on, startled and surprised and open-mouthed as the woman took form. He stared, stunned, at her, with no idea how to respond. But he'd traveled far and wide on his dajemma, and heard all sorts of fantastical tales. A woman materialising from a gem sounded familiar. "Are you a genie?" he asked at last.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:54, Sat 19 Apr 2008.

Vicril took a step towards the woman. I am Vicril. A druid on his endless travels of the earth. And who might you be if you don't mind answearing. One question deserves another one. Now how did you get into this situation. I beg you to answear quickly for much evil is a foot here and it seeks to send Rashemen into ruin. He found it strange that one woman would pop out of a gem, but then again this journey had shown him many strange things.


DM edited to properly tag speech color
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:25, Sun 20 Apr 2008.

Cecania chuckles at Eirik's comment.  'They seem decent enough.  Locals, most likely.  Ignorant of the wand's powers, that seems certain.'

"Well met, Vicril," she says, making a peculiar salute to the man.  "I'm Cecania Cormaeril, of Arabel, in the good kingdom of Cormyr, and I'm no genie, though I suppose I could summon one if I ever learned its true name.  I'll answer what questions I can in good time, but by Tymora, my throat is parched!"

"So no wishes then." A human, and not a Thayan. That much at least was a good sign. Perhaps she'd been trapped by the Red Wizards in the gemstone. Did that mean she understood the Wand somehow?

Scrambling down the rock-face yet again, Eirik passed her his water-skin, which was beginning to run low in this thirsty land. "Here." Once she'd taken her fill, he took the skin away and added "Now talk."

Drinking from the flask, Cecania smacks her lips in satisfaction.

"Ahhhhhh!  Myrkul's Bones, I needed that!  Being stuck in that gem was sort of like being trapped in a dusty closet filled with pins and sand up just past your neck, and everything you see from the closet is refracted about a hundred times, and of course, it's all from the perspective of a stick on a man's belt, so I can tell you how pleasant that was sometimes," she says, stopping to take another long draught from the flask.

"Anyhow, you get the idea.  Thankfully it would seem that I was only in there for a few weeks, since the weather hasn't changed too much.  I'm lucky you came along - another month and I'd probably end up as insane as every other spellcaster and creature powering that that wand."

Mixed looks of confusion, horror, disbelief and disgust crossed the barbarian's face, and he really was not sure what to say to the gem-woman called Cecania. "Right..." he began at last, soon tailing off.

He clutched the Gemstone Wand, still tucked not-so-safely in his belt, then dragged it out, holding it with a look of uncertain fear. "This wand? The Gemstone Wand?" He peered intently at the gems set in it, wondering if he could catch sight of the spellcasters and creatures said to be trapped within. "There's people in here? Can we get them out?" He caught himself, then waved it in front of Cecania's nose. "Do you know what this does, how it works? Do you know how to slay the Scarred One?" he insisted, urgent.

Finally remembering manners browbeaten into him by Navarra, he added. "Oh, the name's Eirik, a warrior of Rashemen. Uh, welcome?"

Ah forgive my friend Eirik. Now I guess you have been trapped for quite some while I assume, but evil is afoot here and it's not safe for man nor beast. We must slay a wisard called the Scarred One. A thayan madman. Just as it would be we could need your help as you seem to be of more nobel blod then the thayans He took the time to cast a angry look at Jostyn. Any information that you may have of the matter is important, but I would like to remind you we got little time as it is.

   "The Scarred One?" The woman makes a face - either from the drink on her tongue or the name she is spitting out, then frowns and shakes her head. "The name does not remind me of anyone I should know...should I know this name?" She looks around at the small assemblage of new faces.

   "Now Shaene" she starts again, spitting on the ground immediately after saying his name, "was a vile servant of...well, some very vile people and things."
   "Tell me about it" chimed in Jostyn with an agreeing nod.
   "He had his hands in many cookie jars, including one which involved his use of this wand." She takes Eirik by the hand and holds the gem-encrusted wizard's stick up to look at it more closely, like the others. "The wand, as far as I can tell, is a conduit of sorts, draining the essence of living users of the arcane to power the wielder's own incantations. It grants some measure of defense against magic to the holder, and *should* allow for enahancement of certain schools of spells."

   She releases his wrist, but does not let her eyes stray from the wand as she finishes. "As to the release of the other hostages, I would not be so hasty to be the liberator of some of the others. Demons, elemental fiends, and worse...far worse...now populate the gems adorning that thing."

"The Scarred One's an evil wizard from Thay. But aren't they all? He cursed the land of Rashemen to wither and die. We're going to slay him."



"Great." the barbarian muttered, and clutched the Wand tight as if it were a snake about to bite him. Damned crazy wizards.

"So, how do we use it?"

Relgar observed the situations stoitically but had grinned little when Eirik wailed like babe, it was both disturping and funny but understood funny irony of the protection enchant to present situation.

When woman came form gem Relgar at first hand reached to his scimitar but after while his hand left it and observed woman curiously.

Her accent is odd indeed.

He let others talk and fill the woman in from the situation but Relgar bowed his head to her and introduced himself; "I am Relgar, a woodsman and warrior of Rashemen."

Vicril looks at the ground and shakes his head. Just what we need. More evil beasts moving through the land. Well I now highly suggest that we get moving people. You are free to join up with us.

Switching back to his original (albeit white-haired) form, the halfling gives a florid bow and announces to no one in particular, "It appears that an enemy has provided us with a friend. So begins the second chapter of our tale, enter Cecania!"

Adding under his breath (thoughtfully out of earshot of Eirik) "and a fiery replacement for that stern witch"

Cecania nods at Relgar and Eirik's introductions, and the halfling's comment.

"Thank you, I think.  I'd be glad to aid your fight against the Scarred One, though if he was the one that killed Shaene, we may be up against more than we can handle.  I saw glimpses of the battle between them fromt he wand...it...well, it wasn't pretty, and I've seen my share of spell-duels."

Looking back to the Gemstone Wand, her face takes on the same slightly sour expression she had when talking about Shaene, though at the same time, her expression is almost...longing?  It's readily apparent that however distasteful she finds the item, it doesn't prevent her curiosity.

"I'm not certain how to use it yet.  Well, how to use it safely anyhow.  Let me prepare the proper incantations, and I'll see if I can learn more about it tomorrow," she says, searching her pouches. "Or the next time I find a pearl the size of my pinkie, at least..."

"Eh, he didn't exactly kill Shaene, he just made him run off screaming like a little girl. The ground killed Shaene when he fell into this gully and snapped his neck."

Eirik looked around and sighed. So one witch replaces another, even if she was not Rashemi. And she wasn't Navarra. But was he supposed to serve her as well? "We should get moving. We've, uh, wasted enough time." He waved Cecania towards the rope hanging down into the gully. "You need help getting out?"

   Newly re-formed with the surprising addition of Cecania, the group turns its attention once more to the task at hand: finding the 'Scarred One' and his minions, and retrieving the elemental relic of stone he posessed. None thought it would be easy, and in fact several of them reflected on their lives as though this journey may well be their last.

   Uphill they trudged, back from the edge of the crevasse [after Cecania's emergence, of course] and along the path they had made in following the flight of Shaene from the scene of combat. Nothing new leaped out at them, no new tracks to follow across the broken ground, no new servants of darkness rising up from the shadow of a boulder to waylay them.

   Shortly they found themselves standing once more at the pile of rubble that had marked Jostyn's 'final' resting place. The animate Thayan zombie-knight stopped to stare for a disturbingly long time at the mound of dirt and stones, his face a serene mask of reflection that until now had not been seen.

---

ooc: just trying to pass a little more time while another new party member puts the finishing touches on their sheet; please RP/interact here for a few posts. :)

Cecania looks at the pile of rubble for a moment, and then turns to the others quizzically.

"Forgive the question, but why are we standing here, looking at a pile of rocks?"

"It's where he was buried, not long ago." Eirik explained, gesturing vaguely at Jostyn. "Oh, he's a Thayan warrior cursed with a living death until he lays hand on some trinket for his masters."

"Hey Jostyn, we should get moving. You're starting to smell!"

"Oh yeah, which way now to the Scarred One, Relgar?"


_{EDITED: Because I keep mixing up these Thayans!}
This message was last edited by the player at 01:12, Sat 10 May 2008.

"Oh, I understand now," says Cecania, who doesn't really understand.  "Er...I'm sorry to hear about that, Jostyn..."

   The pair's use of his name seems to jostle Jostyn from his reverie. He turns his slightly damaged face to the new mage-woman in the group.
   "Where I come from, apologies are a sign of weakness, so save it if you want my respect or assistance later...though I should expect neither, given your vocation and previous interaction with Shaene." He looks back at the pile of loose stone and dirt, kicking the now-defunct earth elemental's remains once more.
   "It is strange how, only in hindsight, we can see that the price of conscience is often more terrible than we should be willing to pay."

   His cryptic words pass over the others, leaving a slight chill in their wake.


ooc: I'll give Cecania a chance to respond [or others] before posting the introduction of the final member of the team. :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:24, Mon 12 May 2008.

Relgar shrugs and says; "Pick one the three trails and we follow it then I quess."

"Right." Eirik said, both to Relgar's verdict and Jostyn's cryptic statement, and set to moving.

"So how did you end up in this thing anyhow?" he asked Cecania, tapping the wand.

Slightly chilled by Jostyn's words, Cecania just nods curtly at him.

"I'll try to remember that next time."

Turning to Eirik, she shrugs slightly.

"Well, magic.  But I'm not entirely sure of the exact process myself - with time and study, hopefully I'll have a better explanation..."

If we know the heigh and weight of the wizard me might eliminate some tracks. Is that not so Relgar. He walked over and looked at the tracks. He studied them closely. He called his wolf to come by his side. He seemed to be talking to himself as he sat there over the tracks.

[Private to GM: OCC:
17:03, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 29 using 1d20+14. survival.
to see what he can find out about the tracks. height and weight.]

"No, I meant did you get into a fight with him over something and lose, or something?"

   Vicril easily picks up the trail - three different sets of tracks, actually. One is excludable as belonging to the Thayans who had set up their makeshift camp here before the ambush by the Scarred One and his minions; the other two are clearly followers of that evil being: the thin, almost skeletal footprints of the things that chased Shaene down the mountainside, and another set of scratchings that seem half-human, half feral beast. They confuse both the druid and the ranger, though the prints suggest a creature that squats and rests both hands and feet on the ground at regular intervals.
   Both of the 'creature' tracks seem to head to the west upwards and along the ridgeline, upslope of the direction the party most recently came from. Had they not taken the low route around the mountains and had their chance meeting with the Thayan hunters, they might never have discovered the renegade...passing like ships in the night.


[continue conversation please :)]

Watching the trackers go over the trail, Cecania shrugs at Eirik.

"Something like that.  I was following Shaene's trail, hoping to find an opportunity to confront him.  He and some big guy ambushed me one night while I was walking back to the inn.  I never even got a spell off, I'm sorry to say."

"Oh." was all Eirik really had to say. The tale hadn't really been a bard's epic.

The barbarian stared hard the clearer prints, wondering what kind of creatures might have made then, and what kind of fight they might put up. He hoped it would be a good one.

"So, we go west, right? We'll find the Scarred One, his minions, his magic, and we'll make the whole lot of them sorry they ever invaded Rashemen and messed with our land." He tried a rousing speech, but didn't feel it. He still missed Navarra, of course, and he seemed to have inherited her role as leader, but it felt awkward on him.

Vicril smiles as Eirik spoke. Speaking like a true warrior Eirik. I say we follow these tracks as they are the only one that we can follow. Still some strange tracks here. If only he had taken the ridge line as we went here. Then we would have faced it. Whatever it is. You are right about one thing Eirik. They are going to pay with their lives for entering Rashemen. Stands his full height and stare at the ridge line. After a little while he looks at the sun if it's out to try to find out how long they have till nightfall.

[Private to GM: OCC:
14:26, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 20 using 1d20+13. Knowledge nature. ]

Relgar nods and say; "Shall we go immediately to the chase then? I can keep eye on tracks along with Vicril while we travel."

"No time like the present""

Yes let's strike while he is weakend from killing the Thayans. No offense ment Jostyn. You did a nice job of draining the mans power He smiled a cruel smile at Jostyn before starting to move alongside the tracks that he had made out that headed towards the ridge line. Tarnin track. he sayed in rashemen to his wolf companion.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:51, Tue 20 May 2008.

   The party moves forward, intent on gaining a few more good hours of travel time in an attempt to gain some precious ground on the [hopefully] combat-weary Scarred One and his minions, who must rest to regain their power reserves. This, they feel, is something that cannot be allowed to pass....

   *squaaak!*

   Snowflake, all but forgotten in the uphill press of bodies and magical exfiltration of Cecania from her tiny prison cell, takes a moment to leap off the barbarian's shoulder and streak upwards into the air overhead.

   *Silver is gold! Untouched by the cold! *squaak*

   Tight circles are flown around the party, though whether it is a warning to them of something or just another of the bird's annoying habits, no one knows. Tarnin, however, does not seem to feel that the party is in any danger - though he does look off and to the southwest, over his shoulder.

"Bah!  Stupid bird!" mutters Cecania, seeing it fly around, squawking erratically.  "Whose pet is that anyhow?"

"Navarra's" Eirik grunted, and sighed. "She was my- our Witch. But she had to return earlier this day to her Sisters to seek help against the Scarred One."

He glared up the bird. "What are you on about now, bird?"

Vicril looked at Tarnin and then at the point that his friend looked at over his shoulder. he speaks in a strange language. After that he says to the others I do not like this. Tarnin must be sensing something to the south west. He could not shake this feeling of his mind. He now turn his attention to Snowflake Silver can never be gold unless changed by magic. Untouched by cold would suggest that it's not from Rashemen or has been sealed in the earth and the cold has never touched it. When shall this bird start talking normally and not in riddles. In a low whisper he speaks to himself as he draws breath.

In response to Vicril's rhetoric question, Harto quips "When is a Raven like a writing desk?"

Seeing no one laughing at his quip, he continues, "Maybe the bird speaks of silvered weapons, though they work better against the shapeshifters than the undead. Maybe undead shapeshifters? Now that would be a sight to behold! In any case, as unheroic as this is following the bird, we must keep following. Riddles usually make more sense when their meaning becomes clear", still wearing his almost permanent grin.

What a golden weapon that has been silvered. That seems strange to me at least now. He continues walking alongside his friend Tarnin and kept looking back he as well towards the south west.

"Gold in the sense of being valuable, worthwhile."

"So what, they change shape - and they're still dead? What good is that?" Eirik knew that he shouldn't listen to the halfling. Harto only made his head spin.



"Yeah, when it's far too late to be of any use." He was still thinking of that blood and stones riddle, which he still wasn't sure that he had completely solved. Although... And from stone new blood emerges... He glanced across at Jostyn, unnerved, though the Thayan wasn't exactly new or fresh anymore.

"There's been too many riddles on this mission. We were going west, but the dog says south-west. Maybe the Scarred One has turned south and Tarnin can sense him?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:18, Wed 21 May 2008.

   Snowflake's spiral continues, up into the sunlight that is still cresting over the tip of the mountaintops that stand between the eastern horizon and the party and then back down into the late morning shadow. In this rugged terrain, the best anyone could hope for is several hours of 'good' light, bracketed by several hours of predatory twilight....

   Downslope from the party, a figure slowly appeared. Taller than a man, it faded into view not from magic, but from a background that slightly wavered as if heated like the desert sands - an abnormality that was so out of place here. The lower half of the body was wide, like an animal, but the top half was more man-sized. But it was the head that caught their attention.
   Shining like a captured sun, the silvery radiance beamed outward, so bright it left a spot in the viewer's vision if stared at for too long. Tarnin first, then Vicril and Relgar, and then the others, heard the unsteady clip-clop that marked the passage of shod hooves on the mountainside, and as they watched, the figure angled to one side to avoid a rocky outcropping that stood in its path to the party.
   The head ceased to shine, and the diffuse halo that had blinded them to the reality of the figure was made apparent. It was a woman, sitting astride a horse, wearing a face of purest silver.

   Not a face. A mask. A Hathran's mask....

Eirik's response wasn't quite the traditional Rashemi greeting to a witch, or one that the impressive arrival deserved. He groaned and muttered "Not another one." Not that he didn't think they needed the aid, of course they did. But it was because of the bossy witch that he expected, and the one that he missed.

Grinning in bemusement at the emotional warrior, Harto says "My thoughts exactly big man. my thoughts exactly..."

Cecania grins in expectation.  Her last encounter with a Hathran had been over six years ago, during the aftermath of the war, but she remembered her vividly despite their short meeting.

Well aware of the Rashemi witches' reputation as masters of elemental conjuration, she had been looking for an opportunity to meet with another one, but the witches' rarity and secrecy - not to mention her own hunt for the gemstone wand that Eirik now carried - had made it an unlikely goal.

"Greetings!" she shouts to the woman, nudging Eirik forward.  'Go on!  You're a local - ask her if she's here to help us,' she whispers crossly to the warrior.

With one last clip-clop the horse comes to a stop, not 20 feet from the nearest member of the group and neighs.
Astride the horse is seated a small woman robed in close knit green/brown robes that cling to her body, revealing a sultry form. The robes are held at her waist by a wide belt lined with pouches, straps, loops holding scrolls of parchment and short tapering sticks in small sheaths. A quiver is strapped to one side and a bow is strapped by her side to the saddle. A large, fur lined snow white cloak, rests on her shoulders clearly set for the cold. in her right hand is a long sturdy staff.
Her coarse black hair flitters in the breeze.
None of these seem particularly out of place or even in ordinary in the least, her mask however is another matter all together. It is like nothing any of the group have seen. As she looks at you, each directly in turn, you can see your face perfectly reflected in the face of the mask, as if you were looking at a mirror, its reflective surface slightly shadowed from the sun by the woman's hair. Instead of your eyes in the reflection though you see a pair of ice blue piercing eyes, which you can feel as if they were boring into you behind your own eyes.
The masked face rests on Cecania and the dead Thayan for a moment longer then the rest.

After a moment of silence, a voice speaks from behind the mask. You can tell it is a soft voice though it is muffled by the mask, making the voice sound slightly harsher then you suppose it would otherwise.

"Greetings indeed, defenders of our land and the blessings of the three upon you. Eirik, brave warrior of our people. Relgar, scout and tracker of our land. Vicirl, guardian of the land and you"

The masked face turns its attention to the Thayan warrior.

"though we suspect you have a role to play yet, know that you are a blemish and a scar upon our land, and when you have fulfilled your task you will not be welcome. Seek not your eternal rest here."

Finally the masked face turns to Cecania once more.

"You I do not yet know. You must be new to this group of heroes, for I have just recently last looked upon these faces. Know you all that the wychlaran follow your cause and are pleased. I am Bergdis, a Blethran among the wychlaran. Yes, another one."

The mirror mask turns pointedly to Eirik and then Harto, both get the odd feeling that the face behind the mask might be grinning at them as those cold blue eyes soften but obviously then can see nothing but their own reflections.

"I come to offer what guidance and aid I may in your cause, which is the cause of Rashemen itself. A great evil is upon us, this you know but even now you underestimate the damage it would cause. Already the spirits are restless and the earth quivers, the rivers shift paths and the trees and stones whisper. Come, let us move forth as you intended before my arrival, we can talk as we proceed and I shall answer what questions I can and have what answers you may provide. We must not lose a moments time."

With that, as if she had been with the group from the day of their first meeting, she moves her horse so he stands parallel to the group and looks sideways at them. Her head now held high, her back straight, the sun once again shines off the mask and brakes upon its surface. Clearly she is waiting for them to advance.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:00, Fri 23 May 2008.

Eirik found himself thrust forwards, and glanced up fearfully at the new Witch. How was one supposed to greet one of the wychlaran, especially this one, who seemed haughtier than Navarra had been. But fortunately for him, she seemed capable and willing of carrying out introductions and conversation all by herself.

He winced, embarrassed, as she repeated his disrespectful words, and managed a crude "Uh, right, welcome." Settling back into his place in the march, he added "Let's go."

His first question found itself easier to say. "Did Navarra send you? Did she make it back okay?"

Without looking over and down at the barbarian, the witch replies to his question and something in her voice seems almost compassionate.

"No, I was sent by others and I do not know my sister's fate but I am sure the Hidden One watches over her and the presence of her soul mate reassures me."

Having spoken and after a pause, the witch looks over at the barbarian, her eyes scanning him momentarily.

"Are you wounded?"

Soul mate? Oh, she must have meant the bird. "Oh, okay."

Eirik rubbed the frost burns that the Thayan wizard Shaene had inflicted upon him; he'd forgotten them in all the rush and fuss. "Yeah, a bit."


OOC: I forgot to update my biolines at the last level-up. Thanks for reminding me. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 07:47, Sat 24 May 2008.

"Come nearer."

As she speaks, Bergdis moves her mount closer to Eirik and reaches and outstretched hand to touch the top of his head, the closest extremity to her. Firmly connecting the top of his head with her palm she speaks.

"Bhalla invigorate and heal this warrior of your land!"

Instantly as those words are spoken Eirik can feel the warm, momentarily burning, sensation of magical healing flow from his head down through his very core and out to all the bruised and burned areas. Bergdis retracts her hand and pulls up the hood of her cloak so that it covers enough of her face to ward the sun off her mask and cease any reflective effects.

"Scars are a sign of prowess, those of the lodges would say, you should ware them proudly. But it would not do to have our fierce warrior wounded if battle should ensue. Bhalla preserve you."


((OOC: Healed Eirik back to full hp.))
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Sat 24 May 2008.

Vicril could not hide the look of discomfort with the witch entering the party. He merely looks at her as she speaks with Eirik. He was always the one who got best along with the witches. He did not care to stop for long before continuing to follow the trails he said only Well with that out of the way let's move. The trail is getting colder by the moment spent here chatting. I'm sure that you would not want that. Also don't assume to much about what we can imagine or not. We know maybe more then  you who has watched it from afar. We have seen the rivers, felt the earth. I have felt the spirits and what they feel. I'm almost surprised that you have not striked me down yet as you know my name. He then continues to walk the trail that he had his wolf track.

Judging by her reaction, a slow turn of her masked face to look over at the man, it would seem Bergdis is little bothered by the hint of scolding and imparted wisdom Vicril's words, if not his tone, suggest.

"I do not make it a habit to strike down those who aid in saving this land from the machinations of the Red Wizards. Regardless of their past."

Her masked face moves to regard the undead Thayan with a glance but she soon returns her attention to Vicril.

"As for assuming, I do no such thing, assumptions are for the arrogant and are, more often then not, the mother of all failures. There is much I do not know and could not scry from afar but now I am here, so by all means, tell me, defender of the spirits, what it is the spirits have told you. Who or what is this evil that threatens our lands? Before you speak though, you too look wounded wise Vicril. Would you let a witch mend your wounds?"

Her voice and manner seems sincere.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:39, Sun 25 May 2008.

Vicril looked at his scratched and cuts. They can wait. I can heal them myself. He takes a few breaths before looking at the witch. The one who is responsible is after what we have found out someone called The Scared One. A thayan madman. I do not know how he makes the changes that happens to our land. It's magic that is above all that I have seen. AS for the spirits. I asked for their aid at the dried riverbed. It was close to a small village that had been abandoned a while ago. What I felt was. Extraordinary. I felt trapped and buried alive. Trapped. A prisoner of the earth. Whatever is happening is somehow trapping the spirits somehow and thus changing our lands. That is what I know for sure.

He shakes his head. Is it not strange. That a spirit of the earth should feel buried alive inside a earth grave. Also it appears that the thayan idiot who fancies himself as Jostyn has told a man of nature, has stolen a artefact from the thayan wizards who so often defile our lands with their evil acts. As most of the wizarding kind so often does.

"Thanks." He did feel better, and not just in his wounds. The spell also invigorated and refreshed, and Eirik felt the long troubles of the day and aches in the soul begin to fade.

He fell into his march alongside the group, and listened to the conversation between Vicril and Bergdis. Here we go again...

Bergdis nods to Eirik silently. It was her duty in her eyes to do as she had just done and no thank yous need be forthcoming but the word of gratitude showed a measure of respect and that, if nothing else, needed to be acknowledged.
Looking ahead again, sitting tall in her saddle, Bergdis pondered aloud.

"The Scarred One..."

After a moment of quite contemplation she look over at Vicril again.

"Have it as you wish. You are a harsh judge. Wielders of the arcane are also the protectors of this land and its spirits, I would have thought one of your nature would be more even handed and understand of the delicate balance that exists in all things but I am sure you have your reasons for thinking as you do, the Hidden One forgive you. What you describe is odd and very disconcerting. This madman, this Scared One that you speak of, he has managed to divert the path of two major rivers in Rashemen. Perhaps what you felt was the spirit of one of those rivers, now dry and so feeling trapped by earth."

Berdis looks over the whole group.

"You should all know, if only for the sake of better understanding, the danger our beloved Rashemen is in. If this Thayan were to somehow manage to divert our two other major rivers, the disruption Thay will have caused to the fabric of this land my be irreversible and may finally turn the tides in favor of the Red Wizards. This is why my most powerful sisters are not here. They are hard at work trying to undo the magic that has wrought this disaster and appease and preserve the spirits of these great rivers."

Looking over at Jostyn...

"Tell me more of this artifact he speaks of..."


OOC: Knowledge [arcana]/[history] Checks to see if the name is familiar: 19/6
Does Jostyn appear wounded/damaged?
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Wed 28 May 2008.

OOC: Jostyn appears dead and mauled alot :P.

Relgar checked for tracks and did not much talk at all while focusing on his task, now that Vicril is once more holding somesort spiritual covnersation with the witch he focused what was his task; tracking (and which witch had forth comingly mentioned).
[Private to GM: 17:32, Today: Relgar rolled 23 using 1d20+11. Follow tracks (survival). ]

Cecania, who had been studying Bergdis' mask and wondering what enchantments had gone into it, turns to Vicril abruptly, wondering if she had heard his words correctly.  'So the rumors about the artifact are confirmed once more,' she thinks to herself.  'And if it can reroute the land's elements, it must have enough power to make the Gemstone Wand appear to be a child's plaything...but can it be controlled, I wonder?'

Turning to Bergdis once more, she addresses the witch.

"You mentioned that your 'sisters' are working against the Scarred One's magics at this moment...are the Witches of Rashemen capable of circle magic as the Thayans are?"


OOC: I think it's the Scarred One actually.  And Jostyn's (un)dead...it took Cecania by surprise as well.  Nobody ever mentions the important stuff... :P

Eirik listened to the spell-slingers speak, not really getting their mystical topics. Talk, talk, talk, was that all wizards and priests and druids did?

As he walked, he flexed his arms and hands, feet and legs, making sure that they were limber and ready for the coming fight. He wouldn't do to be stiff and slow now, not at what might be the most important fight of his life. He was on a mission to save all of Rashemen; his parents would be proud.

Contemplating, he tracked the scars he'd accumulated around his body, cuts on his hands and forearms, other nicks around his body and legs. Numerous marks from blades and arrows, the claws of the snow tiger, frostburn and others. It was a ritual to Tempus, proof of his prowess in battle as the Witch had said, of his worth in the Lord of Battle's eyes. He was proud of his scars, and he was sure of his skill. He was ready to face the Scarred One in battle.

When there was a suitable gap in the talk, talk, talk, Eirik spoke his mind. "You said scars are a sign of prowess, Lady Witch." He used a formal title, deciding to play it safe with this new one. "The Scarred One has scars, but his are a lie, he carved them himself, Jostyn here said. He uses his own blood for his magic, right? If his scars are a sign of his prowess as a wizard, then we should be careful." He remembered what else he'd learnt from the Thayans, taking his moment to fill in the newcomers on the essentials. "And Jostyn said he's disguised, somehow, so maybe we won't know him when we see him."

The masked face looks over at the sorceress, the icy eyes behind it plainly settled on her for a couple of moments.

"Not quite, we do nothing like the loathsome Red Wizards. An odd question, where, if I may be so bold, and I am, do you hail from and what know you of the circle magics of Thay?"

Their conversation interrupted by the barbarian's question and pondering, Bergdis turns her attention to the man and answers his question before returning it to the foreign sorceress.

"In this small company and under the circumstances you may call me Bergdis proud warrior. Titles are for formal settings though your respectfulness is noted. Your observation is a wise one. The Red Wizards are fools but many of them are powerful fools and if this wizard uses blood in his magic it is stronger still, linked to his life force and not just the Hidden One's will. One should always respect one's enemies, even the hated ones. As for disguises, magic can provide many. We should all be wary. I suspect though that we shall know him when we see him for he is a Red Wizard and they are not known for hiding their prideful selves overly well... Even if hidden at first, he will quickly show his true face."

   Try as she might, the name being used by the party to describe the evil threatening their countryside does not call to mind any images or words that could be useful to the witchling. Certain that they were ,even now, being observed by her superiors, Bergdis files away the information that is given to her, in the hopes it will shift more things to the surface of her mind in the near future.
   Jostyn, to her critical eye, is as dead from his wounds as from anything else that may have befallen him in life. His head has a rather serious rent in it, through which part of his brain can be seen, just above one brow. An arm hangs awkwardly from the socket, but apparently causes him no discomfort, and he is still able to use it to gesture during conversations or to shoo away Snowflake, who seems intent on landing upon the Thayan zombie's head and pecking at the bugs that congregate near his wound.
   "The artifact" says Jostyn when he is satisfied that the blackbird is gone for the moment, "is an item partially constructed from extraplanar stone. It has ties to powerful elemental forces, and when used in conjunction with one who can harness power like our Red Wizards, becomes both a potent tool and a powerful weapon. I am unliving proof of the latter, and your dry rivers are a testament to the former."


ooc: Cecania can continue her discussion with Bergdis...

"Right." Eirik grunted. If the wizard used blood in his magic, then Eirik vowed to Tempus that he would spill that blood before long.

He tuned out of the conversation now, and stared off at the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Scarred One or his minions.


OOC: I didn't mean to interrupt earlier, just to talk during a lull in the conversation.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:59, Fri 30 May 2008.

Listening to the undead Thayan's words, Bergdis turns her attention to him with narrowed eyes.

"Can you describe the shape of the artifact or at the very least whether its worn or held and its size?"

Cecania grins at Bergdis.

"I come from Cormyr, and I've fought against the Red Wizards a few times in my life, enough to recognize their work when I see it.  Cormyrean magic is rarely cooperative however - the War Wizards prefer to assign a single spell-caster to aid a large body of soldiers instead."

Cecania turns to Jostyn as well.

"And will undoing the artifact's power over Rashemen's lakes and rivers have any effect on the enchantment that preserves you, sir?"

Relgar replies to Cecania's question; "It's someform of geas, if he touches the artifact his task is complete and he can go to rest. Hey, wait a second; If scars what Scarred One bears feed his magic, is his spilled blood somehow related to the odd riddle what we got from Redwood witches?"

Though her attention seems to remain on Jostyn and his imminent reply, Bergdi's words are clearly aimed at Cecania.

"Yes, the War Wizards. I've heard tell of them. [her voice seems to imply she's more then just 'heard of them'] My sisters fought at their side when the barbarians of the eastern wastes invaded our lands. Powerful in Art but lacking in strategy. If memory serves me right though, your land does not need to contend with the constant threat of a nation of power mad wizards. How fortunate for you. What brings you to..."

As Relgar speaks, Bergdis turns her attention to him, surprise and pleasure in her voice.

"You spoke to the witches of the Red Tree and they provided you with guidance? Please, let us hear it."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:59, Fri 30 May 2008.

"They gave us riddles and spooks." the barbarian grunted, clearly not satisfied with the service of spirits. "Graros was there, but he's gone now. Oh, and Harto saw the whole thing, didn't you Harto?" he accused with a laugh.

"They dredged up the ghost of old Tarin Two-Bears the Iron Lord, and he said... how did it go?" He recited the riddle that the Witch spirits of the Red Tree passed on

"Blood follows blood unto stone, and from stone new blood emerges. All blood which enters Rashemen unwelcomed is enemy, but not all blood shed on the soil of Rashemen shall be enemy. Look to the bloody blades, not robes, for aid."

"I thought that maybe that 'blood' means 'life' and 'stone' means 'earth' and that we should ask the Thayan warrior here-" He jerked a thumb at Jostyn. "For help, rather than the Red Wizard, or, uh, the Witches, maybe. I don't know." He shrugged, as if to say that he didn't necessarily agree with his own potentially blasphemous conclusion.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:27, Sun 01 June 2008.

Cecania laughs with pleasure at Eirik's remark.

"Sounds like a surprisingly down-to-earth riddle, really!  Maybe it was their way of telling you that Red Tree wouldn't be able to send much help, since they would be working against the Scarred One anyways."

Reminded of their situation, her laughter fades, though she still seems in remarkably good spirits for somebody who was recently released from a magical prison and on a truly dangerous quest.

"And with that said, perhaps we should walk and talk, and they say in Waterdeep.  Every minute we stand here in discussion is another minute that we could be pursuing the trail."

((OOC: Cecania to the best of my knowledge we're already moving. I suggested it a while ago and some of the other posts suggest the others got to it.))

Looking at Cecania and Eirik, Bergdis glance over at the undead Thayan and her eyes narrow for a moment.

"The riddle does sound quite "down to earth", as it would, being the words of a past Iron Lord. If it pertained to the witches of the Red Tree though, they would have spun their own riddle. No, this riddle pertains to someone, or something else.  I believe Eirik here has the gist of it. Arriving as I have, now, I believe the riddle was very straight forward. It all seems to point directly to this dead Thayan warrior. The only piece of the puzzle I can't quite figure out has to do with knowledge I'm missing, namely, how did they come across you?"

The question is addressed to Jostyn.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Fri 06 June 2008.

Maybe thinking about it to much will cloud our judgement. If we focus to much on it it might take over our action and lead us to more harm then salvation so to speak. It all will become clear to us when the fog that covers our eyes shall be lifted and spread in all directions that the wind goes. He continued to watch his friend Tarnin follow the tracks and hoped that they would soon lead him to the one responsible for the suffering of the land.

Bergdis turns her attention to Vicril and sighs, her eyes closing for but a moment as she takes in a deep breath, as if to calm herself before a storm.

"Perhaps you speak wisely. Those of your ilk do tend to think in the manner of your speech, all is in the hands of the seasons and as they pass, so shall all things come to be and pass, clearer in the eyes of those who can sense the land. Of the little I've seen though, wise one, you know the power of the spirits of all things here in Rashemen and the spirit of Tarin Two-Bears is one such, as are those of the witches of the Red Tree. Take their word not lightly, wave them away at your own peril. These things, my guide says, you know. "Hind sight is always that of an elf" they say and that might be so but the risen Iron Lord's words were meant to guide and aid your task. So while they should not take over your actions they must guide them and so pondering them is as vital as any other step."

Bergdis pauses a moment to let her words sink in but continues before any one can interrupt.

"That having been said, as I begun before, I believe this cryptic phrase has already come to pass in the form of this undead Thayan warrior. So I ask again,
how is it you came to cross paths?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:49, Fri 06 June 2008.

Vicril nods to Bergdis words. True they are meant to guide us, but a guiding word might also mislead. As a voice within the fog. One may never truly know their meaning nor where they lead.

He takes a few deep breaths.

As to how we meet the thayans that Jostyn lead. Well our first meetiung was with the clash of steel against steel and magic against magic. A test of power you might say. Upon that little test we opened talks if you will with them. They said they though we where the servants of  the thayan mage known as the Scared One. That was their excuse to attack. We made a deal. A soldier against a soldier. They took Eirik and we got their scout. He his dead now. They tried to trick us. We followed their tracks and soon was meet by a fleeing Eirik. He had been wise and understood that the thayans did not have a chance against the mage without us. He lead us to where the battle had been fought. Terrible magic of your kind was used. Their do to the pact of Jostyn meant he could not cross the barrier between this and the next. He swore that he would help us if we helped him. His oath was made so that he might not rest before he could touch the artifact. We needed the strength that he might give so we made it a deal.  He lead us to the fallen mage that he had brought. Their we got a hold of a wand. It's gem shattered and out popped this little beauty.

Vicril pointed towards Cecania We talked a bit then chose a logical pair of tracks and followed it. Then you came. I believe that is the big picture of the story that has unfolded.

"Don't trust him," Eirik warned, in regards to Jostyn. "He and his crew tried to make me their slave while I was over there. They reckoned I could help them better by myself than all of us could together, and make them a profit on the way."

He turned to Jostyn, accusing. "Why was that, anyway? The Scarred One interrupted us last time. Turns out I wasn't as useful as you thought." He felt no guilt for refusing to fight and die at the Thayans' sides. For one thing, he didn't care for them. For a another, fetching his friends was the right thing to do.


EDIT: Changed 'though' to 'thought'. That changes as the meaning of sentence a fair bit. :(
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Sat 07 June 2008.

Eirik's words bring him the swift and sharp attention of the witch, a frown evident in the eyes behind the unnerving mask but no words issue forth and slowly the masked face turns to regard the undead Thayan.
It would seem that his answers to the questions posed by her and the barbarian are of more import to her then anything she was about to say.

   Jostyn stops his forward progress for the second time today and returns to where the others are talking further back in line.
   "To be fair, I am certain that the northman here" he says with a tilt of his damaged head toward Eirik, "had no real intention of remaining with us, either. I regret that you fell into what must seem like a 'press gang' contract with our group but really, you must see things from our perspective. Stopping the Scarred One from escaping with the artifact he holds is - was - our primary concern, and you were our best chance to get that done. Stopping his predation and destruction of your countryside is an aftereffect that I'm afraid only *your* group is concerned with." The Thayan knight crosses his arms and stares hard at the barbarian, shifting his gaze once to take in the masked sorceress. He does not, however, make eye contact with either Vicril or Cecania.
   "And if you'll remember right, it was Shaene's cowardice that was our undoing, not the surprise attack of our target. Had the spineless worm actually stood his ground for a few moments more, the elemental would have been defeated and I would have been free to deal with the other minions whilst you and he brought low the necromancer." He shook his beaten skull.
   "It was folly to pin the plan's execution on the courage of one such as he. And you" he says looking at Eirik, "simply hadn't been briefed on your role yet. Had you known what we were up against, you would have performed admirably, no doubt, and we would be on our way to the royal gardens right now to claim our rewards. Yours might even have been enough to purchase back your freedom and return home" he added matter-of-factly.
   Apparently, slavery was still a normal part of Jostyn's thought process and vocabulary.

As their eyes meet, the seething hatred in her eyes does not escape the Thayan. Could he have still felt a shiver down his spine, he would most likely have done so.

"He did preform admirably. Your words almost make me laugh dead one. A Thayan master would sooner sign a treaty of peace with the Queen of Aglarond then reward a slave with anything sweeter then harsh words threaded with painful arcane syllables or a scorpion whip! Far worse would fare a Rashemi Warrior. In your accursed land a slave is a slave, alive or dead. That you hunt your own is no saving grace for you. Such are the ways of the Red Wizards, may The Three take them!"

Bergdis's eyes flitted to Eirik for a breath. I shall have to report this witch Navarra to the sisters. She let him go alone with a contingent of Thay, with one of the red robes no less... She should have known better, we shall have to get to the bottom of this when this threat is abolished.
Her eyes drop to the wand in the barbarian's belt. One hand let go of the reigns and reached out to the barbarian.

"The wand at your belt, let me have a look at it."

As she waits to be handed the wand, her eyes return to the undead  Thayan.

"This Red Wizard you accompanied, this coward, may the Hidden One torture his soul, surely your master did not send him empty handed to face a rival red robes in possession of an artifact... What know you of the weapons he carried in this task?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Mon 09 June 2008.

"Ha!" Eirik rejected Jostyn's promise of a reward. "The witch is right; I'd have gotten nothing from you Thayans for my aid. Nothing but death or hard or hard labour or being tossed into one of your arenas."

"And your precious plan would have gone a whole lot better if you'd have let the rest of us help... Uh, not that there was time before the Scarred One showed up, but it was doomed to failure from the start. If you'd been open with us and told us everything, you'd still be alive."

To Bergdis he explained. "I thought going with them would help, and that it was what the spirits and the riddle wanted us to do... Last time I trust a Thayan, or a spirit's riddle." he muttered.

He handed her the Gemstone Wand, glad to have the accursed thing and its trapped entities out of his position and into safer hands.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Mon 09 June 2008.

Taking the wand in hand, Bergdis turns it around in her hand and examines it closely as she moves forward and speaks to the barbarian warrior.

"What is done is done son of Rashemen. No actions is wasted if a lesson is learned. The spirits of the land say every action we take in turn breathes life to a reaction. Even if our actions seem wrong or unclear, the reactions may yet be positive. Unless you wish to enlighten me as to reasons why it should be otherwise, I shall hold on to this for safe keeping and study."

[Assuming there is no objection] Bergdis tucks the wand away from prying eyes, somewhere behind her cloak.


OOC: Knowledge [Arcana] and Spellcraft checks to see if Bergdis can tell anything about the wand.
00:16, Today: Bergdis rolled 13 using 1d20+11. Spellcraft.
00:16, Today: Bergdis rolled 11 using 1d20+8. Knowledge [Arcana].

I swear if a machine could hate, this dice roller hates me!
This message was last edited by the player at 04:17, Mon 09 June 2008.

"Alright... Jostyn or Cecania could tell you about that wand better than me. After all, she was was trapped inside it for a few tendays, is that right?" he directed to Cecania.

Though no one could tell her intrigued state from the cool gaze of her eyes, Bergdis turns her attention to Cecania with just that feeling lurking behind the masked face.

"Damn straight it is," Cecania mutters darkly.  Feeling Bergdis' gaze on her, she tries to ride along for a while in peace and quiet, but finally turns around to the witch once more.

"The wand works in conjunction with powerful necromantic magic.  It serves as a receptacle - a box, in layman's terms - for the souls of those captured by its owners through their magic.  There might be others trapped inside, but if there are, then they are almost certainly insane by now.  Once we're back at a temple, we should probably destroy the damned thing."  'But not before I get a chance to study it just a little more,' she adds silently, glancing sideways at the wand with barely masked curiosity.

Relgar keeps helping group by checking tracks and he speaks; "Besides the riddle what we shall do once we face Scarred One? What would be the battle plan basically. Shall we bash might against might or shall we outwit him somehow?

I think it would be highly hazardous and lunatic's work go headlong against him. I would suggest we somehow strip him off the artifact or items of power before we open the conflict. He seems to be a guy who depends alot for trinekts to be able so powerfull."

Vicril held his hand out towards Bergis. I may not be a master of the arcane, but I think I'll take care of that one. It's not as much that I don't trust you, but rather that I don't know you. For all we got is your word. Sometimes the word of a stranger is untrustworthy. Id rather not take any chances in such a important part of our mission,

If he gets the wand he turns to Relgar. The spirits are strong and my connection to the land should be useful. I'm rather skilled in summoning powerful animals. May it be for a distraction or as a assult. I learned tricks when I was young and in training that makes mine stronger then that of the average druid.

Bergdis' head turns slowly to regard the druid, her manner is grave even as the expression behind her mask is hidden. Her eyes lock with his in a cold piercing gaze. Her words take on a cool tone for the first time. It is not threatening rather, if anything, it sounds to be promising.

"Perhaps my sister witch never clarified our respective rolls. In Rashemen the word of a witch is not the word of a stranger for you to trust or mistrust. In Rashemen, the word of a witch is the law! I do not tell you, nor even ask you to trust me son of Khelliara but you will obey the law. Trust must be earned, even a witch is aware of this. Every wise spirit in this land pays us due respect, even if they do not call us friends and as one who claims to be close with the spirits, you would do well to heed their wisdom. Your lack of mastery of the arcane and your desire to safe guard the mission have been noted."

Without another word, let alone handing over the wand, Bergdis turns her attention to Cacania. The eyes that meet the woman are not the cold ones that had just locked gazes with the druid but rather radiate a serene calm.

"Very interesting. So you resided within the wand. A sort of 'magic jar' as it were. Vile Art that, the trapping of souls. Typical of the Red Wizards. So one Red Wizard at least sought to capture and bind this Scarred One rather then destroy him. Perhaps we could give this necromancer a taste of his own vile Art. If we discover the manner in which this wand works, we can attempt what this red robes Shaene failed to do, if only for fear that the artifact the Scarred One carries will make him more powerful then we alone can handle. If we could trap him, my more powerful sisters might be able to release him in a controlled environment and destroy the wand and the artifact. We both should examine it later and see what we can learn."

Finally, looking at Relgar, Bergdis nods.

"A plan is a fine idea but with what little knowledge we have of our foe, it would be pointless to make plans at this point. We will have to rely on each other's strengths and make up for our weaknesses together. If we can speak to the spirits and animals and ask for guidence before we encounter him, assuming he does not sneak up on us like he did with the last group that sought him, we shall see about a plan then."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Tue 10 June 2008.

I know that a witches words is law. You said that if none objected you'd keep the wand. We are at a most interesting time. We have a mad Thayan who likes to change his appearance and has servants that would do the same. Would I not be a fool to leave the wand in the possession of someone I do not know. If it is my life you want to see fade away and join the spirits then may it be so, but now is not the time. It's always better to try and keep things safe rather then risking it all on a strangers words.

He seemed neighter scared nor worried. He returned the witches stare and never let his eyes of her. awaiting her reply.

Looking at the druid once again, Bergdis' eyes relate none of the heavy handedness they did before and are as calm as ever. If he could see behind her mask, Vicril would swear she was grinning. When she speaks it is like the sweet words of a mother after a harsh rebuke.

"I am glad you know your place son of Khelliara. These are interesting times indeed, dire times in fact. We wychlaran have a saying: "The Hidden One is in the details." You are wise and your heart in is the right place, that I can clearly see but what I asked was not if any had an objection. I asked if any wished to enlighten me as to reasons why I should not keep this wand. Though your reasons are sound, your suspicions are misplaced and do not therefore enlighten me as to good reason why I should not hold on to it. Had I been a minion of this Scarred One I would have already fled or slain you all where you stand, not stayed and discussed strategy. I do not wish you ill nor want to see you fade away and it is for this reason exactly that I hold on to this dangerous weapon. Tools of the arcane are better kept in the hands of those who know something about such things. Would you not agree Cacania?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:04, Tue 10 June 2008.

Eirik sighed, felt it better to stay silent and kept on walking and watching.

Cecania sighs.  She had been hoping not to get dragged into a quarrel with either Bergdis or Vicril.

"Actually, I see no harm in him keeping the wand for now.  Just make sure you don't drop it," she says, grinning at him.

Relgar added to Vicril's argument; "Altough questioning witch is same as asking to turned as toad for day, as my father used to say, but he has point. We know you are according mask what you wear and words what you said a witch, but there had been dark forbidden tales which gives reason every rasheman be cautious towards strangers who call themselves a witch.

So, fair deal would be we give the wand more closer study once you prove with act your words. Altough I dont ask you do any demonstration right now or anything, but when spirits make Vicril feel he can trust you he will give the wand.

What comes to planning we know Scarred one is caster, highly likely necromancer with artifact. You can plan how to slay a bear even when you havent met the bear, know does it have cubs, where find it or is it female or male?" It is unclear what Relgar means with 'dark forbidden tales' but it is apparently sliding a subject what is highly forbidden to speak (at least in Relgar's home tribe or outside the family) out aloud.

Vicril laughed. Well is that not just what a spie would say. You see one would think a idiot would lay that kind of plan. A wise and skilled man would let his spy stay until they meet in combat. Then with the knowledge of our strategy and the key to our victory at hand  we would walk into certain death. You see it's better to learn as most of what one can know about ones enemies as I'm sure you know. I still ask for that wand.  You yourself said that it was a reasonable idea. Then why not follow it, because would I not be a fool to leave it in your hands when it's a nice idea to keep it safe myself. I know not much about the arcane matters in this world, but I know a thing or two about people and how they act.

He held out his hand still if it where to be cut of the next second or find between it's finger a wand. he rested his other arm along his side.

Eirik felt quite relieved, to be honest, as the dispute over the Gemstone Wand arose. This time, he was under absolutely no obligation to defend the Witch, and for that he was glad.

But he felt a little guilty for just handing it over to the Witch, and foolish for not realizing that a Scarred One in disguise might come to them instead. The Witches of Rashemen had their menfolk trained well, he mused. But he figured he could trust her.

And he knew that they could not afford this debate.

"I've seen the Scarred One in battle against the Thayans, as well as his minions, and I do not feel that Bergdis here is one of them. If she was, then she'd have struck by now, for the Scarred One is a greedy man." He guessed, anyway.

He turned to face the three spell-slingers. "Look: druid, mage and witch. The three of you are the wisest and most knowledgeable ones here, each in different ways, and you're the only ones here capable of understanding this thing." he said, gesturing at the damned Gemstone Wand. "Maybe it has some curse on it that makes spell-slingers suspicious and greedy for it, or maybe it's just the power it has. I don't know. But the only way we'll defeat the Scarred One and save Rashemen is if you three work together to understand it and use it against him. Or else we're all doomed."

Cecania looks slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, actually chances are we probably won't be able to use it against him.  If my studies were correct, it's basically a magic box for soul-stealing spells - it saves an evil mage the need to carry several dozen rare gems wherever he goes.  It probably aids the power and duration of such spells as well, but that's mere conjecture at this point."

Cecania coughs before continuing.

"Not that we're all doomed, or anything.  But it's never too late to start filling out those insurance forms."

Bergdis listens to the druid and the ranger's words but seems to ignore Cecania, despite her comment regarding the harmlessness of handing over the wand. At  Eirik's words she looks over at the barbarian and nods to him solemnly, saying nothing but acknowledging his words with her gesture. She makes no move to hand over the wand and simply continues riding alongside the group, not speeding up but not slowing down either.
Once all have spoken, Bergdis looks at Cecania.

"I do not know what these inssurance forms you speak of are, some kind of Cormyrian last will and testament? It is, however unfortunate that such is the case. If what you say is true, it is important we keep the wand out of the hands of this Scarred One at all costs, especially if he practices the necromantic arts of Thay."

Turning her attention to Relgar, Bergdis looks down at him.

"Your father was wise and spoke true. One should be cautious around the witches of Rashemen, lest one overstep their bounds. Perhaps he did not teach you though, that we do not rule Rashemen by might but by right, a right our great ancestors earned when they saved this land from total desolation by mighty magics. A right they have earned time and again by leading Rashemen's armies to victory against the deprivations of Thay. There are drak forbidden tales aplenty, they are what makes our enemies fear us and this serves to protect all the people of Rashemen, present company included."

Finally, she turns to look at Vicril.

"You may know many things and your logic is flawed, as are your listening skills. Perhaps you have spent to long listening to spirits and too little listening to those around you. Though a spy may act as you suggest, I have just now said that I suggest no plan is possible at this time. What strategy of yours then would I have wise one? And now I suppose you would say: "True, but this is exactly what a spy would say!" Well... You seem to know much about spies and such so I shall not contend this but instead I would ask, why not ask me to prove I am a witch instead of making wild accusations? It would not do for us to be divided, plan or otherwise, so I suggest, based on Cecania's words which ring true to me, a compromise."


Bergdis raises her hand high in a flourish, wrist parallel to the ground and shouts out in Rashemi.

"Snowflake to me!"

Once the bird has landed on her wrist she hands the wand to the bird to put in its beak and speaks to it in Rashemi.

"Go friend, to Navarra. She is to take this with her when she reports this group's actions. Go with my message and prayers to your mistress, may the Hidden One guide you!"

With that she lets the bird take wing and fly off. Once it is far off she turns to Relgar once again.

"Yes, you can make plans to hunt a bear and though it is a powerful foe to be respected, it is still an animal and not a highly intelligent wizard. What's more, we do not truly know this wizard's weaknesses as we might an animal's. We can make all the plans we want but this is not a campaign, it is a skirmish and in the end, I fear we are going to have to do what we can."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Sun 15 June 2008.

My listening skills. Well I walk not the towns and villages that much. Usely just me and my friend Tarnin has had each other as company. Maybe you are right that I have spent to long a time alone with the spirits and animals, but they treat me with the same respect that I treat them. Also may I add as I'm sure you might know seen as you spoke of my actions. My abscesses was not entirely done willingly. Better to live with the things I love in life then to long for them in death. He lowered his hand. He walked in a nice speed. He spoke a few words to Tarnin even though none could understand what he said.

As for the spy thing, well Maybe not our tactics seen as we have not made one, but maybe our weaknesses. Surely only knowing that we do not have any experience in fighting together and the fact that we seem to be divided between ourself would be of great use to him. But still I understand your reasoning to some extent. but still you should not have sent the wand away seen as we might have use for it.

"You've got a good point there Vicril.  Maybe our group could use some good, old-fashioned military planning before we try to take on any fights," Cecania says with obvious relish.

"If I guess correctly, Eirik's a frontline fighter, and you're an archer, right?  Conjuration's my vocation, so I'll probably hang in the back and summon some creatures to help keep the Scarred One's minions from getting past Eirik."

Frowning, she peers over at the other side of the group.

"Though I have to admit, I'm not really sure where the halfling fits into all this," she adds thoughtfully.

Relgar replies; "He is sneaky scoundrel, that should be enough of his abilities. I myself I am front line combatant also and if Scarred One uses undead I have been gifted by Mielikki to sense them and I am experienced figthing against them."

Eirik nodded, and gripped the hilt of his greatsword for emphasis. "That's right, I'm a warrior. Not a clever or fancy one, but I get the job done."

   The halfling, all but forgotten where he stands to one side, has been quietly shifting his forms to match what each of the speakers is mentioning during their long-winded discussion: a skeleton with a severely white skull; an ursine humanoid with a streak of white fur on his head; a burly halfling-sized barbarian, complete with random tattooing upon his bare, muscular chest.
   This last one makes even Eirik chuckle under his breath.

   Harto stops his flexing and returns to his old self..which is to say, the image of the dandy-dressed demi-human they have come to know. He shrugs and twiddles his fingers, in response to Cecania's comment, then finds something interesting on the ground a few feet away to occupy his attentions.

Bergdis laughs. It is a hearty and boisterous laugh, typical of the rougher women of Rashemen. When it is finished she looks over at Vicril.

"One moment you are insinuating I may be an agent of our foe and the next moment you would have all here speak of their strengths and by deduction, their weaknesses? A shrewd tactic wise one. It would seem your trust is as shifty as the spirits of the winds..."

After a brief pause, Bergdis speaks again, this time she takes on a somber tone.

"As a wychlaran, I am versed in a variety of skills. Both the soothing touch and swift slaying Art are at my fingertips and I shall use both to exhaustion and then claw at our foes if need be to aid this party in securing safety for our land."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:31, Sun 29 June 2008.

Vicril smiles. I only said what only a complete fool would not have missed. He turns to Cecania and says. </darkblue>It seems we are at least in some sense. I to summon powerful animals to fight. together we shall crush then in numbers.</darkblue>

   The tense mood broken [Harto of course taking all the credit], the party continues its banter about roles and assignments when, not if, they should reach their quarry. Relgar moves to the fore, along with the softly padding wolf of the druid, and together they unburden themselves from the arguments of man, and focus instead upon the often unseen trail being left behind by their targets.
   More than once Relgar notes - with no small amount of adrenaline rush - that those odd, thin footprints seem to be marching along steadily every time soft earth is struck. The pair of them, slightly heavier than Eirik's own muscular bulk, leave the impression of size but not density...his mind whirls, and he thinks he knows where he's seen their like before. But for now, he'll keep those thoughts to himself.

   It is an uphill trek, made slightly easier by fortune of no rainfall in several days, then worsened by the harshness of the landscape: rocks and scruffy trees jut out at odd intervals, coupling with shallow ravines and spring washouts that force the party to double- and triple-back their journey upwards...if they want to keep their mounts with them.

---

ooc: and so...if you want to gain ground on the enemy, you'll have to go on foot, otherwise, zigzag and take your chances that they will be forced to stop for rest and repowering of spells.
   It is closing on midday.

Eirik sighed. "Looks like it's the long way or the hard way. But if we want to catch this Scarred One, then we'll have to be quick."


OOC: I think only Bergdis has a horse, right?

Cecania nods.

"Bergdis, is your mount trained to return home on its own, or to hide and wait somewhere?" she asks hesitantly, unsure of the bond between witch and mount.

Her own horse, Crane, was stabled safely back at the village where she had been ambushed, unless the inn-master had decided to risk a wizard's ire by selling her.

Without turning her head to Cecania, Bergdis stops her trot and dismounts as she speaks, keeping the reigns in her hands as she does so.

"She is a trained horse like any other, smart enough to know she cannot survive for long alone in the wild. She will wait."

Making sure there is enough grass around for her mount to feed for a while, Bergdis gathers those things she needs as well as her impressive staff and leans close to whisper a few words to her horse's ear before she lets go of the reigns and turns to the others.

"On foot it is then, better still. Lead on."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:46, Fri 04 July 2008.

Relgar nods and keeps steady speed while tracking the tracks and pondering what they are exactly besides his suspicion. He keeps up near tireless march phase during tracking.

   OOC: Clearly I need to find some other line of communication for letting my people know when I will be unavailable; this one has failed me twice in one month now. :/

   Tomorrow I will be posting the current map for you as you encounter the rearguard of the Necromancer's small group of minions. It will be late afternoon and you will be in rough terrain, obviously.

   Relgar's attention to the trail, rather than the current [and often ongoing] discussion-slash-argument between the spellcasters of the group pays off in the end, as he looks up and notes that the demarcation line between snowbelt and forest is quickly approaching. remembering that at least one of these beasts - according to Eirik's personal account - bears a shadowy form, the ranger redoubles his efforts to hear, and sense, his surroundings. He knows all too well what can happen to the unwary caught in the open by *some* undead.
   Presently he stops, motioning to those behind him to do the same. His eyes scan the ground and terrain before him, allowing the light of the late afternoon sun to pass overhead, from his right, and cast its long shadows from the sparse trees that dot the landscape of the mountainside. Long shadows....

   There! To the left of those two low rock-ridges, he sees movement. Whatever it was, it was standing...or floating...lurking, in any case, right beside the trunk of the single large tree there. Relgar mentally notes the things location, turning his eyes away and then back again to make sure he can identify the thing if he needs to.
   Vicril steals up beside the ranger, having noted the other's stealthy manner and particular gaze to the front left of his position. A curt nod from the ranger directs the druid to look at the tree [words and gestures might be seen by the target] and Vicril, too, is appraised of the target's location.

   Just as Relgar was about to back away from his hiding spot and relate the creature's position to the rest of the group, his eyes caught something in the snowy field that wasn't quite right. Furrowing his brow, he stares hard just off-center of the spot, and locates a pale, prone figure there in the snow. Actually, almost under the snow, it appears to have flopped sown on the frosty ground and tried to partially burrow under the thin layer of snow there. The coloration of the skin on this pale humanoid makes it almost completely invisible to the untrained eye....






ooc: Ok, Vicril and Relgar automatically made their hide and silent movement checks to get where they are; movement forward or backward will expose them to the shadowy thing at 1 or the pale thing at 2 [ie require
   One square [I think you can see the size of the icons for your names as being one square] is 10', which puts #1 right about 120' from Relgar and Vicril's position. Go from there.
   There will be no need for initiative rolls until either you engage the enemy or they spot you and advance [if they do]. Casting prep spells or changing weapons at this point is a free action...but the rear half of the party needs to be appraised of the locations of these two things, remember. :)

Eirik stopped dead when Relgar beckoned, tensely watching the snowfield ahead like a tiger looking for prey. He was snow-blinded by the bright reflection of the sun, but his hearing was all the more keen for it.

No sudden movements now, the sword would come readily to his hand when he wanted it...


OOC: Spot 1, Listen 20

Noting the sudden stop in their movement and the apparent watchfulness of their trackers, Bergdis comes to a halt beside Eirik. Reaching underneath her robe, she removes a rolled up piece of vellum which she proceeds to quietly unfurl and then quickly reads out loud, keeping her voice as quiet as possible.
Feeling the familiar momentary rigidity as the weave bends and warps to her will with each mystic syllable, her eyes squint at the horizon as a shimmering field seems to wrap itself around her, the shimmering gone almost as quickly as it appeared leaving some translucent aura around her form.
Satisfied, Bergdis restores the vellum  and draws one of the tapering sticks from her belt, wrapping her free hand tightly around the familiar smooth surface of her staff.
Silently she calls upon the spirit within her, summoning his aid to enhance her senses with his. As her senses sharpen she turns her full attention to the horizon, her eyes no longer squinting.

[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Cast mage armor (AC 15/13/15), draw wand and Spot (19) and Listen (10)]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:23, Mon 14 July 2008.

Seeing the others prepare for a fight, Cecania quickly and efficiently chants some of the most basic spells of protection that every mageling learns.

"What do you see?" she whispers to Bergdis, sensing that the witch's vision was probably greater than her own.

[Private to GM:
Cast Mage Armor

By the way, I updated the character sheet at last.  Below are her spells prepared:

0-level - DC 15, DC 16 Conjuration (C = Conjuration, required for some slots)
--Acid Splash (C)
--Acid Splash (C)
--Acid Splash (C)
--Resistance
--Detect Magic

1st level - DC 16, DC 17 Conjuration
--Grease (C)
--Grease (C)
--Mage Armor (C)
--Color Spray
--Color Spray

2nd level - DC 17, DC 18 Conjuration
--Web (C)
--Summon Monster II (C) (With Extend Spell)
--Summon Monster II (C) (With Extend Spell)
--Summon Monster II (C) (With Extend Spell)
]

Relgar taps to Vicril's shoulder and nods towards the snowy field, trying inticate where look other foe. Then gestures with hand they should go back to others so Relgar starts move quietly and stealthy manner as possible back to the others. Using natural foliage and trees to get cover and even crouch low to help remain unseen. But his hand remains close to his scimitar and ready to act quickly.......

Vicril nodded to Relgar, but he stayed. He crouched down a little to make himself smaller and drew his blade. He was ready. He had on his new armor and felt t56hat t6hey had a good chance. His friend tarnin at his side. Everything was like it should be. Back into the wild where beast lay waiting. How often had this not happend when he walked the northen parts of Rashemen. He also lay his hadn at hsi pouch for the components he would need to cast his spells.

Her attention still on the trackers and the rear guards ahead, Bergdis whispers back to Cecania, just loud enough for Eirik to hear.

"A shifting creature of shadow lies ahead but if there are any other dangers they escape my notice so far..."

"I see..." murmurs Cecania, waiting for the others to finish their preparations.  "I hope you've prepared some fiery spells, since my own school of magic isn't exactly useful against such foes..."

Vicril looked around before he started to point at himself while facing the others. He pointed at himself and then moved two of his fingers over his palm. It looked as if a two legged person walking. Then he pointed at the group of trees that was not to far from him. He then pointed at the rest of the group and at his eyes. Then in the direction of the two enemies before with his sword showed stabbing and other acts with the sword that would suggest combat. Then he nodded and awaited a reply.

Eirik mouthed back a silent "Huh?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:55, Fri 01 Aug 2008.

((OOC: It's so much more fun to guess what he's saying though Eirik, makes the role playing more exciting ;) ))

Despite her better judgment, Bergdis nods to Vicril. This was not the way of the Rashemi that she knew. Sneaking around and risking losing the element of surprise seemed foolish and more like a Thayan tactic to her but Vicril had a better vantage point and his motions with his weapon suggested there was more then one foe, which meant that one or more had escaped her notice.
Nodding to Vicril, Bergdis makes a circling motion with her hand, pointing at herself and the others and then points to the slits where her eyes are and then at Vicril. She then makes the same "walking" with fingers on the palm signal and points to the trees Vicril pointed at. Finally, she makes the same circling motion she began with and points at the ground, suggesting she and the others will wait for him to get to the trees before they move.
That done, she turns to Eirik and whispers.

"He will move into position where those trees are. Upon my mark, charge the shifting guardian to the left."

She knew she did not need to tell him to use his rage to his advantage, all the berserkers of Rashemen knew that. Looking to the undead Thayan with them she added:

"You help him [Eirik]"

Better that he be at Eirik's side at all times, just in case he needed to be delt with. Looking to Cecania she continued.

"We'll stay back here. Once all the foes have shown themselves, we'll utilize our spells as best fits the situation."

Finally she looked to Relgar.

"You'll aid the druid."

Cecania nods quietly, affirming her place in the plan.

Flexing his biceps and cracking his knucles, Eirik nodded to the Witch. "Right." This he understood.

Upon the mark, Eirik let rip.

With a mighty roar, the barbarian pelted across the ground, drawing his great blade and swinging it around his head to build up speed. A wordless cry of rage spilled from his lips. Legs pumped, propelled him over obstacles and pushed him at speed.

The great mass of Rashemi fury descended upon the lurking terrors, and the sword hacked wildly into whatever he found there.


OOC:
Initiative 6
Charge Attack: attack 29, rolled a 20. Crit confirm 20
Standard Damage: 12
Critical Damage: 7 (Total 19)
Jump check over any obstacles: 28

Though their foes were still a fair distance away, it was not the way of the Rashmi to hesitate or sneak about in battle. Seeing the druid take his time, Bergdis thought it might be wise to act as a leader of her people should!
Buying the druid some time while drawing attention would just be a bonus.
Removing a scroll she let it unfurl.

"This spell will make your motions swifter."

She spoke to the warrior beside her. Swiftly she read its mystic syllables quietly, motioning to the barbarian as she did so. A brief blue glow suffuses him and he jerks slightly.
Rising up, Bergdis gave Eirik the mark and made to move swiftly to the bushes slightly to her left and ahead. If she were to use her skill at Art to strike at their foe, she would need to be closer.


[Private to DM Lobo: Wand in hand, Bergdis unrolls a scroll of nerveskitter and casts the spell on Eirik. +5 to his initiative if we roll within 1 round. She then rises and moves, trying to reach the bush before her and to her left. If we're 120' from #1, I don't think Eirik can charge him yet. Let me know when its initiative time.]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Mon 18 Aug 2008.

   ooc: Eirik, I recalled you making a 1 for your spot check, so with the added assistance of Vicril's and Relgar's pointings and gestures, and a reroll by me, you'll be charging the whitish thing (#2) that is/was prone, rather than the shadowy thing (#1) to the front-left, which you still haven't picked out yet.

---

   Eirik's low, lurking slink forward to the ranger and druid only served to fuel his muscles' burning desire to explode; the half-crouched gait was unnatural, and made his thighs and lower back ache to stand upright again.
   With a roaring challenge he does, breaking cover and charging across the fairly even ground in a direct path to the pale, prone form seen half-buried in the snowbank directly ahead of them. It is a long stretch of ground to cover, and as he does so he feels an unnatural tingle in his joints, as though he had struck his funnybone and it sent the shock throughout his body.... [Bergdis casts Nerveskitter on him, +5 init]

   The creature, caught unawares, at first seems to wonder what is happening. The element of surprise should be his - the master had said as much! Still, a weak-willed and weak-minded vessel is a poor sustitute for a trained hunter in the wilderness, and as the realization dawns upon it that there is a fight to be had, the scent of Eirik's sweaty flesh reaches the beast moments before the barbarian himself...and the hunger begins to grow within.
   Rising from its snowy bed, the ghoulish humanoid prepares to lash out at the fast-approaching, poorly-armored human, only to suddenly find itself on the receiving end of a mighty overhand chop. Barely avoiding a fatal cleaving, the undead barely registers the pain of the wound as it lashes out at the warrior with grimy, sharpened claws. Both swing wide of their mark, however, as Eirik's luck seems to hold, and he finds his footing on the slippery snowpatch.

   Unbeknownst to the barbarian, the shadowy form detatches itself from the darkness of the overhang under which it resides, and flows rippling across the ground, like a black silk scarf blown by a summer breeze. It approaches him from the flank....

---

   Good hit, and the rest of the party can act for the rest of the round. I'm simply going to assign the following order of battle, until I get initiatives to slide into the lineup:

Round 1: Eirik begins his rush [move only action], Bergdis casts scroll spell
Round 2: Eirik attacks [11 init][hits]
- Ghoul counterattacks [10 init][misses]
- shadowy thing passes spot check [10 init][move only action]
- Bergdis [9 init unless she wishes to roll for better][not moved yet]
- rest of the party's second-round action, and whatever your init roll will go into effect on the 3rd round

((OOC: Not quite how I saw things happening but I'll roll with it...))

Still moving to shorten the distance between herself and the shadowy, shifting creature, Bergdis raises the short tapering stick in her hand as she moves and points it at the creature, uttering a single harsh syllable as she does so. Small silently crackling bolts coalesce at its tip and fly forth as a searing blue/white bolt of energy, ripping into the creature's shadowy essence.


[Private to DM Lobo: Initiative: 17; Move 30', launch magic missile from wand: 3 damage]
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Wed 20 Aug 2008.

Seeing druid hesitate and see Eirik charge Relgar drawed his scimitar and releasing a wailing warcry he charges into melee to same foe what Eirik did! Also Relgar entered into battle frenzy, especially seeing the hiding foe was ghoulish undead! Guided by his fury he swings his scimitar in deadly accuracy to the ghoul, and same time the lurking spirit of winter unleashed freezing wrath upon the ghoul when Relgar's blade succeed hit it.

---

OOC: Charge attack action to the ghoul

13:32, Today: Relgar rolled 7 using 1d20+4. Iniative.
13:31, Today: Relgar rolled 5 using 2d6. Cold Damage.
13:31, Today: Relgar rolled 9 using 1d6+5. Damage (+2 if undead).
13:31, Today: Relgar rolled 13 using 1d20+11. Crit confirm.
13:30, Today: Relgar rolled 30 using 1d20+11. Charge attack.

Moving forward after Eirik, Cecania smiles at the warrior's success against the strange, whitish creature.  Drawing out a small pice of wolf fur, she murmurs an incantation, summoning a reddish-black portal behind it.

Out of the portal leaps out a dark black blur of fangs and claws, which immediately charges into the ghoul's back!  Growling and ripping at its flesh, the devil-bred wolf tries to knock the creature back down onto the ground!

"Yes!" whispers Cecania with satisfaction.

[Private to GM: OOC:
 Cecania
  Move: move forward as necessary for the spell's range
  Standard: cast Summon Monster II (Fiendish Wolf with Augment Summoning, Rapid Spell and Extend Spell)
 Wolf:
 Move+Standard: Charge the ghoul to flank it with Eirik (HIT AC 27 for 7 damage, 17 on the trip attempt)

Spell durations:
Mage Armor: several hours
Summon Monster II: 6/6 rounds

Dice:
13:44, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 17 using 1d20+3. Trip attempt.
13:43, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 7 using 1d6+3. bite damage.
13:43, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 27 using 1d20+9. Wolf charge ghoul.
]

Vicril begins to speak loudly and move his arms. He has started to summon a black bear to aid them. He aims his summoning spell towards the closest enemy that he has. He cast a look towards the arcane mages to see if they have any protection.

OCC:
11:27, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 22 using 1d20+2. init.

Stats Black bear;
Hit Dice:3d8+8 (25 hp)
Speed: 40 ft. (8 squares)
Armor Class: 13 (+1 Dex, +2 natural), touch 11, flat-footed 12
Base Attack/Grapple: +2/+6
Attack: Claw +8 melee (1d4+6)
Full Attack: 2 claws +8 melee (1d4+6) and bite +2 melee (1d6+3)
Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision, scent
Saves: Fort +7, Ref +4, Will +2
Abilities: Str 23, Dex 13, Con 19, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6
Skills: Climb +6, Listen +4, Spot +4, Swim +10
Feats: Endurance, Run

This message was last edited by the player at 09:32, Fri 22 Aug 2008.

   Relgar's steel is already out of its sheath when his charge brings the ghoul inside the area of his detection aura. Almost literally seeing red, the ranger's grip tightens upon his weapon and he lets out a yell for Eirik to move aside, which the raging warrior ignores...but it doesn't really matter. The sudden appearance of the wolf behind the undead causes it to falter in its defense, a subtle shift in footing and both Relgar and the summoned canine connect, neatly demolishing whatever remained of the corpse-eater's mortal coil. The ghoul is dashed to the ground, where it expires without even time to wail about its fate.

   The shadow, meanwhile, continues to flutter along the ground, making a beeline for the unprotected backs of now three(!) targets before it. The monster's mind doesnt' register the danger to itself until it is almost too late; Vicril's summoned bear crashes into and through the unsubstantial mist, ripping at it with powerful claws and letting out a roar in challenge. The thing slows, roiling up off the ground and folding over upon itself to confront this newer, closer threat.
   The rise puts it directly into the focus of the witch, who hadn't been certain with what she was dealing, but now could see more clearly. A single bolt of magical energy darts from her wand, flying unerringly to strike the beast in a crackling splash of released energy.
   If it could have shouted in pain, it would have. Instead, it slashes out at the summoned ursa, who *does* growl in pain, though somewhat more weakly than one would expect from a creature that size and bulk.

---

ooc: ok, we are into round three and I misread Relgar's init, but will keep things as they are just the same, with the movements and castings and all, so as I see it, only Eirik has yet to go this round, then it will be:
Vicril + Bear
Bergdis
Eirik
Shadow
Cecania + Wolf
Relgar
[Harto] - who is mysteriously out of sight right now :)

   Assume approximately 50' from the shadow to the two warriors and the wolf, though the bulk of the bear will preclude a direct line of travel for another charge.

Proud of the Rashmi warrior's proper zeal at the sight of their enemy and their fine work, Bergdis keeps her sights and rising fury on the shifty shadow before her, letting another bolt of energy fly from her wand at the gathered shadow, much as it had the first time.


[Private to DM Lobo: 07:50, Today: Bergdis rolled 5 using 1d4+1. MM Damage. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:52, Mon 25 Aug 2008.

Relgar, still in battle frenzy hemoves to the shadowy creature which is mauled by the bear. he cannot strike it this round but he moves into good position to charge it into it's flank.

---

OOC: Not having aid of map I say I do move action with 40'ft speed to get into 10'ft away from the shadow and prepare action to charge early in next round (before anyone else acts or at least go before shadow's iniative).

Vicril takes out a scroll out of his haversack. He holds it in his hand.  He awaits to see what happens in the next few moments that follows to better make a correct action.

Cecania sights her crossbow at the creature, but the mist and the many creatures fighting it unnerve her, and she aims high in an attempt to avoid shooting her companions.

Watching in dismay as her shot flies past the thing's shoulder, she suddenly grins widely, watching as her summoned wolf bites into the shadow...and then groans as its teeth sink into insubstantial mist!

"Sweet Tymora, I hate incorporeal creatures," she grumbles to Bergdis, wishing she had brought a few wands of her own.

[Private to GM:
Actions:
 Cecania:
  Move: load crossbow
  Standard: Fire crossbow (Miss at AC 12?)
 Wolf:
  Standard+Move: Charge the shadow (Hit at AC 15, and miss on concealment)
Dice:
15:37, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 85 using 1d100. 1-50 hit (incorporeal).
15:36, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 8 using 1d6+3. Bite dmg.
15:35, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 15 using 1d20+9. Wolf charge.
15:35, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 12 using 1d20-1. Xbow on shadow. ]

Eirik stalked around to the shadow, and still flushed with excitement after dispatching the ghoul, he launched a mighty strike against the shadow... He liked to think that it was the shadow's nature that made him miss, and not his clumsy swing.

The backswing was much better, but passed harmlessly through.

"It's a shadow! How can I cut it?" he bellowed.


OOC: Apologies, I didn't realise that I was supposed to act last round.
Move: to a position to hit the shadow
Power Attack: -2/+4
Attack: 7
Attack: 20; 50% ignore chance: 42, ignored

   True to its nature and design, the shadow manages to dodge, defeat, or otherwise avoid every physical attack that comes its way, including two well-aimed but unimposing slashes of the greatsword Eirik used to good effect upon the ghoul.
   The bear takes another hit, a dark line of shadow-tainted blood appearing on its flank, and a paleness washing over its features and fur that indicated the otherworldly creature was slowly draining the life from the huge mammal.
   A second magical missile blasts the shadow, breaking the stalemate of ineffectual attacks by the party, and the shadow wraps its insubstantial body into a tighter coil, trying to place the greatest bulk of the bear's body between itself and the encroaching Relgar...whose magical blade the shadow seems to sense approaching.

---

ooc: Cecania's bolt misses by 1, the bear has suffered a significant deal of STR damage, and Harto is still lurking about the fringes...

   Eirik, by broadsword I mean a typical conan-style sword, with thick blade and meaty handgrip. You know, anti-cultist weaponry. :P I bet with a little practice and concentration you could get it to switch to something you are even more familiar with....

   Relgar [and others], I am forgoing the use of the map cause it seems a waste of time to bother with placement and uploading when there is only one enemy left standing. Unfortunately, the shadow has taken steps to ensure that the one person with the currently-equipped magic item is on the opposite side of the bear from him, so you can only do a standard move to get into melee combat.

"With magic or enchanted weaponry, obviously!" snarls Cecania, her hands weaving a spell of conjuration familiar to every mageling who first starts to play with spells of fire and acid.

She felt downright indignant at having to resort to such a simple cantrip, but the shadow's ability to fly, its defenses against mundane weaponry, its immunity to magical webs, and its utter mindlessness all negated every single other Tymora-damned spell she knew.

Finishing the incantation she aims and throws a tiny ball of acid, no larger than a child's fist.  Watching as the tiny ball of acid impact across the creature's shoulder, she sighs slightly.  This was going to take a lot of cantrips.

[Private to GM: OOC:
Actions:
 Cecania:
  Move: move within 40 feet of the shadow
  Standard: Cast Acid Spray (HIT AC 14 for 2 acid damage!)
 Wolf: continue to attack the shadow (auto-fails to affect it)
00:15, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 2 using 1d3. Damage CMON THREE!.
00:15, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 14 using 1d20+3. ranged touch acid splash. ]

In a deceptively calm manner, Bergdis raises her arm and once again points at the billowing shadowy form of their opponent. As she does so she moves quietly and confidently with an even stride forward towards the creature, despite the fact she wears no armor. Her visage baring down on it, she snarls.

"Go an await your master in the hells to which I shall send him!"

Once again a bolt of searing energy leaps forth from her outstretched wand to rip a tear in the fabric of the creature's shadowy essence.


[Private to DM Lobo: Move 20' and 10:25, Today: Bergdis rolled 3 using 1d4+1. MM Damage. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 10:04, Wed 03 Sept 2008.

Relgar grows to the elusive shadow, he then moves besides the shadow and tries cut it with his blade but blade harmlesly passes trough the shadow! Relgar growled in frustration and in Mielikki blessed furyand hatred for anything unliving!
[Private to GM: rolls;
12:26, Today: Relgar rolled 13 using 1d100. >50% hits.
12:26, Today: Relgar rolled 12 using 1d20+9. Slice!.

Also assume shadow gets AoO for entering threatened square so my AC is 10 during raging. Also each Str damage what shadow does it gains +5 HP back as I recall.]

   Again the phosphorescent bolt of energy streaks past the flailing limbs and weapons to unerringly blast a hole in the side of the insubstantial creature from the nether. Vicril's bear, duty bound and still full of vigor, maintains the shadow's attention even as Relgar steps around the bulk of the great forest mammal to swing - and miss - at the undead thing. Howling his frustration only manages to bring what must be a smile to the elusive creature's shadowy 'face'....

   Harto appears at the barbarian's hip suddenly, almost getting stepped on in the ensuing melee. He sets a hand on Eirik's belt [making the warrior wonder if the halfling hadn't gone mad and was trying to pickpocket him in the midst of battle], while his other hand slips across the barbarian's wrist to tap the end of his still-held greatsword. A spiral of silvery-bluish light ascends the blade, wrapping around it like a snake until the entire weapon is rimed in a pale nimbus of magic.
   "Well use it, silly!" says the bard with a slap of his tiny hand on Eirik's buttocks.

---

   As I see it, we still have Vicril [holding a scroll of some sort], the bear, and Eirik to go before I can attack again with the shadow. :)
   Magic Weapon cast on Eirik's greatsword.

Vicril stepped forward against the shadow. Taste the fire of nature you unholy beast. He wills the bear to move back and not attack. He then starts to cast a spell and a sphere of fire is currently where the shadow is.

He says to the others. Let this beast burn. Try not to get hurt okey people.

OCC:
00:16, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 6 using 2d6. damage, fire sphere.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:17, Sat 06 Sept 2008.

"Thanks." Eirik grunted to the halfling, then swung the now-enchanted blade at the shadow with force - only to glide right through. "Tempus give me strength!" he cursed.


OOC: Power Attack -2/+4
Attack 13 (inc. +1 from MW)
Damage 16
Assuming it's a basic shadow... Incorporeal 50% chance to ignore damage: 13 :(

   Tha magical fire is an altogether new experience in pain for the shadow, and though it wanted desperately to flee this one-sided battle, its orders had been clear...and orders given by the master *must* be carried out. To the death, if need be.
   A lunge at the withdrawing bear drains still more strength from the summoned beast, but the real source of the shadow's pain now became visible: the human with the odd aura. Vicril saw the wispy undead begin to flaot towards him...

   ...which exposed it to two ready strikes from the warriors as it passed through their zones. Relgar's was the first to bite into the insubstantial flesh, followed quickly by Eirik's own freshly ensorcelled blade. An ear-grating hisss escaped the thing as its form was rent, and the negative energies that supplied it with what passed for life were released harmlessly into the surrounding air.

"Back to the hells with you!" Eirik declared as he ran the shadow through, finally, gratefully, harming it. He cast his eyes about, looking for undead to slay. "Any more?"

   The area is deathly quiet, save for the panting of the summoned bear and wolf. Soon enough, though, those sounds fade as well, as the two beasts are relased from bondage and return to the aether from which they came.

   A corpseless scene here, and a bloodless corpse at the spot where the ghoul fell. Nothing to see, nothing to pick up...although Cecania notes with more than a passing interest that there is an oddlly interesting residue left behind at the point where the shadow was slain...a semi-sticky blackness that she dares not touch with her bare skin, but feels certain would be of some use [or value] to someone in a more largely populated area....

"Well, that wasn't so hard... If this is what the Scarred One has to throw at us, he can't be so tough, right?" The barbarian was experienced enough not to be complacent, but figured a little confidence to be a good thing to build. "We should get going, the Scarred One probably left these guys to slow us down."

Cecania nods, sending the wolf back to Baator with a wave of her hand.

"Onward then."

Vicril is silent. It would be a wise tactic for him. It would make sure that we are weakened before battle. A easier kill.

He scratched his wolf friend Tarnin behind the ear.

Relgar breathed laborously, he felt tired now when his battle vigor had ended. He sheathes his sword and says; "Aye, let's proceed. He should not be too far off, and I think he is expected to be followed so we must be careful against further ambushes and traps." Relgar again started lead when he looked around tracks to follow and once he (or someone?) found them he started follow them with steady stride phase.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:30, Mon 15 Sept 2008.

Bergdis sheathes her wand and gazes across the windswept horizon. Once she is satisfied there are no more looming immediate threats she looks around at the others. She is pleased with the Rashmi's words. The futility of his weapon had not escaped her notice and she could read the frustration he must have felt on his features. That he should muster the others and speak bravely was a good sign.
Of the others she knew not what to expect but it seemed they were motivated and the battle had not phased them, this was a good sign too, the undead were not an easy sight on untrained eyes.
Like many Red Wizards, the Scarred One too could no doubt create links with his risen and may very well now know where they were. Time was indeed of the essence.
As not a word was necessary, not a word was spoken by the wychlaran.
Moving over to the corpse of the ghoul, Bergdis takes advantage of the time it would take to find the tracks anew to set it on fire.
Once this is done she silently follows the trackers.


OOC: Whatever happened to that undead Thayan warrior that was with us?
This message was last edited by the player at 01:26, Thu 18 Sept 2008.

During the journey, Eirik sidled over to walk beside Bergdis. Something had been bothering him. He held his greatsword out for inspection. "Mistress Witch, I couldn't cut the shadow. My sword is Rashemen-forged, but it has no spirit of magic in it. The halfling enchanted it, but I think it's worn off now." The barbarian shook the blade, as if trying to get it started again. He gave up and sheathed it at his back.

Then he brought forth the broadsword that had once belonged to Jostyn. "But this one is Thayan-forged, and magical. Once it was a little curvy thing, but it turned into a proper weapon. Should I use it in our battle against the Scarred One?" It was clear that the superstitious warrior was uncertain about wielding a Thayan weapon against a Thayan mage, or if he could even trust the sword at all.

Relgar replied what much he knew about such things; "What I know from magical weapons is that magic is not good or evil, it gains goal and purpose only in hand of a mortal. So blade may be thayan but it is tool of war like any sword and I think most likely magic in it is not cursed. My sword was thayan origin and so far it have not let me down."

Bergdis turned her attention to the barbarian and regarded him with her cold, piercing blue eyes, his face fully reflected in her polished mask even through the shadows cast over it under her hood.

After letting the ranger finish his words, she speaks, completely disregarding the man's words.

"The Red Wizards are not the masters of magic they would have us all think. Magic is a tool, much like that blade. The purpose of the blade is to kill. The purpose of its magic is as yet unknown to me but it is clear it makes your strikes more deadly and it is also clear that it has not harmed you. Yet. None can know what will be. The Hidden One and the spirits keep that knowledge to themselves.
It has altered its form to better serve its purpose in your hands and this is a good sign. It is only fitting that this Thayan's blood be spilt by a blade of his own country men's forging."

With that she abruptly turned her attention back to the harsh landscape around them, her eyes searching out any signs of danger or clues.
There were many things more that could be said about enchanted blades, their properties and such but the truth was that Bergdis knew little of these things. They were the purview of the vermyonni and such it was going to stay.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:43, Wed 17 Sept 2008.

"Alright." Eirik answered, relieved to have that problem solved. He decided to trust the blade, and kept it in his hands, ready for use against the Scarred One. "Thanks." he said, both to Bergdis and Relgar, for their advice.

The warrior practiced a few swings to get used to its weight and balance and grip. He also shook the sword about and tried to think about making it larger, to make it more like his old weapon. He hoped that he didn't have to rub it.


OOC: Come on, greatsword!
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Wed 17 Sept 2008.

"Try rubbing it," Cecania says with a wry smile, watching the warrior shake his sword around.

Eirik waved the sword at Cecania and said with a smirk "You're a mage, do you want to try?"

OOC: Whatever happened to that undead Thayan warrior that was with us? You are about to find out...

---

Backpost:


   Bergdis' destruction of the ghoul, and her lingering gaze upon the corpse and dark spot that once was the shadow-fiend, do not go unnoticed by the group's Thayan companion. Jostyn coughs, a dry, rattling sound as he moves forward from his previous position at the extreme rear of the party, and moves up beside the witch.
   "Your mask does not hide your thoughts, sorceress" comments the revenant with a sideways glance at her. "The Scarred one indeed has far-reaching control and senses...thus my own presence in this battle would have removed the element of surprise from our future encounter with him." He stood silent once more.

   "More than likely you were skulking about in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to do us wrong" came the quick retort from the usually jovial halfling. His features have shifted slightly, making him look almost ratlike in appearance, and his clothing has changed to mirror that worn by the Thayan warrior at the moment.

   "Hardly, little man. But if this necromancer you hunt has any sense at all, he will no doubt ensorcell me at first opportunity - a feat made easier by my current condition - and turn me against you with little effort. It is my duty, both by word and by the spell that created me, to see that the Stone of Erudion is returned safely."

   Ah...now Jostyn was making sense, and talking like a true member of their cohort! But he had also let slip the nametag for the mysterious artifact that had until now been only a trinket of power in some minds.
   Or was it just another of his mind games with them?

---

Current:

   Eirik gives the sword a few swings and is more than mildly surprised when, after a few of his well-placed chops and slashes, he stops to examine the blade, and sees that it has indeed grown to the proportions and weight of the blade he pictured in his mind's eye.
[Private to Eirik: Unless your MW greatsword is a family heirloom or of some other personal significance, you will have a new desire to rid yourself of it at first opportunity. Throwing it away in the snow would be wasteful, but strapping it to Bergdis' horse to rid yourself of its useless weight for the rest of the journey would be appropriate. This is not a charm, just a minor compulsion at this point. :)]

OOC: I hate backposting but I just want to reply to your post. Hope that's OK.

Backpost:

As the undead Thayan moves beside her, Bergdis turns her head slowly to regard its decaying form, her eyes falling upon its sunken eyes.
"He can read my thoughts..." She feels violated and even a little concerned or was that, fear? Knowing she can show no weakness in the face of a Thayan, undead or otherwise, she narrows her eyes at his first words, thankful for the mask that hides her expressions, if not her thoughts. She makes a mental note to think of nothing important beyond the current mission as she finds herself getting aggravated by the Thayan. She was always a little hot headed. "This is no time for such anger" she reminds herself.
The fire from the burning corpse reflecting on her mask makes for an eerie scene that may have caused a living being to shiver.
Looking down at the halfling as he chimes in, appearing out of nowhere as she had come to accept he does. Bergdis cannot help but wonder at his words... Was it truly the Thayan of these two that she should worry about?
Before she begins to fully contemplate the presence of the two though, the undead mentions the stone he is bound to. Without appearing too preoccupied and keeping in mind the Thayan's veiled threat, Bergdis wonders if she has ever heard of the stone or its namesake before.
In an attempt to divert the undead's attention from her thoughts Bergdis returns her gaze to the dying embers of the corpse as she speaks in a low tone.

"Easier... Perhaps. The Red Wizard who ensorcelled you used powerful Art to bound you so. The Scarred One may be powerful but even he may not find it easy to turn you from your duty despite your state. Let him try, it will occupy him and drain his strength, perhaps enough to allow us a victory."


OOC: Checking for knowledge of the Stone of Erudion:
04:31, Today: Bergdis rolled 15 using 1d20+4. Knowledge [local, Rashemen].
04:30, Today: Bergdis rolled 13 using 1d20+8. Knowledge [arcana].
This message was last edited by the player at 13:34, Fri 19 Sept 2008.

"Alright!" Eirik cheered when the sword grew to the proper proportions for a Rashemi warrior to wield. He gave it a few more practice swings, then sheathed it, glad of his new acquisition.

After a moment's though, he drew his old greatsword again, and frowned at it. It was a bit big, and would get in the way in the next battle. On a sudden whim, he called to Jostyn, gesturing the blade. "Hey Thayan! You didn't want your old sword back - do you want a replacement? It will serve you better than zombie claws, or your old knitting needle."

Vicrl looked at Jostyn. His claw may have reached far, but he shall fail and his reach be shortened quite a bit.

He stood there pondering about the naem of the artifact that he had just heard about. Who know. Strange how a little thing can change something so bit, but that was the way by magic he assumed.

23:47, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 21 using 1d20+13. know:nature.

OCC:I'm leaving for a trip., be back on monday afternoon.

"Well, the longer we wait, the longer his claw grows," Cecania says impatiently.  "Unlike some men I've known."

Turning the ghoul over to check it for valuables, Cecania waits for the more nature-attuned members of her party to start scouting again.

OOC: This is why I don't like backposting... Vicril, Cecanian, just in case you misunderstood. DM Lobo, correct me if I'm wrong but Bergdis's conversation with Jostyn has already 'happened' a while back. The group is now already on the move for a while, following Relgar's tracking.

Vicril walked behind his wolf as he hoped it still had the scent in it's nose to lead them to this thayan madman

   As they move along the trail that only Tarnin seems able to follow insitctively [Relgar follows by periodically stopping and taking one knee to examine the ground for disturbances, of course], Jostyn notes with some measure of amusement the barbarian's enjoyment of the magical weapon he has in his grasp.
   "Again, I defer to you the powers of that blade, for now. Though your fellows seem overly sure that my soul's defiant nature will extend beyond death once more and protect me from the Scarred One's fell dominance, I would not be a wise commander to let the most powerful tool you have...aside from the wand you also possess...to be carried by one such as myself." The corner of his undead mouth turns up ruefully, his eyes locking once more on the blade he used to call his own, before reverting to the ground before his shuffling feet.

   "Ah!" exclaims the ranger an hour later, as a patch of soft soil gives him a clear imprint of the larger set of footprints he has been following. Tarnin trots back and forth in place, eager to continue following the trail, and feeling the emotions of his master's impatience to get this hunt over with quickly.
   "Now I see. The big ones are not living either. See the toe-claws? The gait? The instep lean? These are mountain trolls...but lighter. Probably skeletons." His eyes narrow.
   As do Eirik's. His mind races back to the scene of the battle at the Thayan's campsite: the shadowy form lurking beneath the boulder upon which the evil necromancer stood...probably the shadow they just slew. The two large, brutish hulks that raced off with odd gaits and great speed into the darkness in pursuit of the fearful mage...probably these trolls, if Relgar's reading is accurate.
   But what else does the mage of the dead have in store for them?

   "That would make sense" agreed the dead Thayan to the ranger. "A wizard of his power and talents would build his army as he moved, as fast as he could, to protect him as he roamed the countryside. Trolls being stupid and superstitious, he probably only had to slay the first pair that approached him to ensure they were sufficiently cowed." He snorted derisively through his nose, an action that made his head sound even more hollow with the split in the skull still present.

Eirik frowned at the Thayan's words. Too many and too complicated, but he got the general gist of his statement. Don't rely on him. "Alright then." He approached Bergdis' mount, and attached his sheathed greatsword to its pack. The lengthy blade would throw off his balance and tangle his legs in battle if he wasn't going to use it.

He stared at the footprints and trying to tally up the beasts they'd encountered. "I remember them. They chased and killed Shaene. The shadow we've already destroyed. And you defeated the stone-creature, Jostyn? They were all the ones that I saw at the battle at your camp." He thought a moment and went on "The two zombies we met and defeated a few days back, one was met again by you Thayans, right? That leaves one more walking dead. The ghoulish one was new. So there may be others."

The barbarian cursed. "We should have burned the ghoul's body, but there was no time. We'll have to do it on the way back. Well, if we do come back."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Thu 02 Oct 2008.

Cecania nods, frowning, at the information.

She had faced skeletons of all shapes and sizes before, and she much preferred dealing with skeletal trolls over their living brethren.  Still, she had a few cantrips left over to deal with regeneration if necessary.

"If he desires haste, then it is unlikely the necromancer is raising any more zombies at least.  Besides trolls, what creatures are common in this part of the land?  If he is building his forces on the move, then it might help us know what we might face."

OOC: Eirik, Bergdis left her mount a while back to proceed on foot in order that the group may make it to the Scarred One faster and she also burnt the ghoul's body after the battle. Just in case you want to edit your post.


Bergdis looks around as the others speak of the undead minions of the Scarred One, avoiding the Jostyn's eyes lest he suspect her thought and try to read them again. Despite what the Thayan voiced, she did not actually trust his nature to resist the Scarred One's magics but she prayed to the Hidden One that the spells necessary to ensnare him would take their toll on the Scarred One and buy the others time.
Pondering Cecania's words, Bergdis knew there were not many magical beasts in this region that he could use. This might have calmed her were it not for the evidence that this Thayan Necromancer did not fear to deal with those magical creatures that did abound in this region, the spirits of Rashemen. This cause an involuntary shiver to run down her spine.

"Our Cormyran companion is right, if we move fast, he will have less time to raise more allies. He may have some more trolls with him though and the remnants of those Thayan's he may have slain. If he could summon shadows he may have all manner of undead servants as his beck and call. It would be best to expect the worst."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Wed 01 Oct 2008.

"This land is dead, and all who once lived here have moved on. We may find a few animals or people in the Scarred One's control. I hope it is just that."


OOC: I removed the line about burning the corpses, I'd missed that. As for the sword, for some reason Eirik feels the need to put away the old one... I'll assume he put it somewhere safe.

Relgar deeply frowns when he finds the tracks and descripe the undead minions.

Filthy undead! Freaking barody of life and abominations of nature and living!

When was discuss of numbers of undead foes Relgar says; "I can detect any undead minions close range, and leave any of those undead for me to deal with while you rest focus kill the necromancer."

OOC: Btw, did we get no level after premier battle?

Vicril walked next to Tarnin Sure thing. I'll summon powerful beasts to rip him apart for the crimes he has comitted

Bergdis nodded to herself, pulling her hood over her masked face once again as she listened to the boastful plans of these men she had been sent to guide and watch. Their confidence was reassuring, justified or not. She had her doubts but this was no time for such.
There were no secondary outcomes to this scenario. The Red Wizard, his creations and followers needed to be dealt with, permanently.
Silently, she said a prayer to the Three for guidence and protection.

We should move. Not best top linger anyplace to long. Also he gaiuns ground. We must speed it up to have hope of getting close to him. Even though it's a risk to do so.

Vicril started to follow afterv Tarnin as he had given orders to the wolf to track.

   Vicril's wolf has very little to track in the way of scents: the necromancer's most foul-smelling attendant, the ghoul, now lies in a smoking pile of ash behind the party, and the vile spellcaster himself most likely has little left about him that resembles the odor of a human. Skeletons leave little behind, as do...most of the other things the black magician might conjure to do his bidding.
   But tracks in the snow are aplenty; Relgar has no trouble at all finding the path taken by their fleeing quarry, and Tarnin, once on the trail, is as tenacious as if it were a wounded deer he chased.
   Uphill, over rough terrain of switchbacks and draws, the undead they pursue tireless as their master in their trek across the mountain's southern face. The horse is dismounted, again, and led along by reins as the party struggles to not lose any more time...for time is their most precious commodity, and they cannot afford to give another hour to the Thayan spellcaster ahead of them.
   Vicril gasps, clutching his side and stumbling on the thin layer of snow upon which they walk. Fearing another ambush, Eirik and the others ready their weapons, while Tarnin bounds back to his master with a yelp, and Jostyn moves to the druid's side to check for an arrow or other object.
   But there is none, and Vicril straightens, gritting his teeth. "The thomil of this mountain is no more. We are very close." His explanation given, he nods curtly to the undead knight beside him, brushing past Jostyn and continuing onward up the nearby slope as if nothing had just happened. Confused - but at the same time relieved that their friend is not injured, the rest pick up their own paces and continue forward, their energy renewed.

   Topping the next and final rise, the scouts stop behind a small line of fir trees, greeted by the scene of a wilderness landscape in pain. Northeast from their position, some two hundred feet away, stands a black abomination, a stone-and-iron tower made of obsidian and metal that seemed to absorb what little light there was this late in the day. It stretched upwards more than three stories tall, with a parapet that ringed the top of the tower iteslf like a black balcony from which evil things were shouted and done.
   Around the base, spaced on opposite sides of the structure, strode the hunched forms of the massive troll skeletons that Jostyn and Eirik had mentioned. Eight feet tall was the shorter of the two; both wore thick furs and bore spiked clubs and shields. Around the base of the tower they stalked, performing their guard duties without distraction.
   Between them and the party, a dry riverbed sat. Exposed stones glistened from the frost and ice that had formed upon them, and a solitary fish flopped weakly in what used to be it's frigid home. It did not escape the notice of the viewers how *very* recently this river had been diverted....
   Directly north of their hiding place, the river's plunge from the underground well-stream was severed, and instead of flowing briskly downhill and to the valley below, dove directly into another of the deep shafts that Relgar and Eirik 'discovered' at the last site.

   Aside from the two large skeletal undead, nothing else is in sight.





ooc: ok, had some serious things to take care of, got the mapmaker working again, and adjusted the scene/situation to reflect that you don't have the Thayans here as allies to yourself. I'll do my best to get stuff on track for this final fight...though I might be going out of town again this sat-tues.

Inwardly cringing at the druid's words upon the discovery of the death of one of the nature spirits of the land, Bergdis doubled her pace and steeled her resolve to end this plight to her sister's land in a swift and decisive manner.

As they crested the last rise and the iron and obsidian tower came into sight, Bergdis's eyes narrowed. The sight of the drained riverbed coupled with the unearthly and strikingly misplaced construct was a blow to the young wychlaren.  Bergdis could practically smell the foul arcane stench that emanated from the structure. The river needed to be restored to its proper route but first, the threat of the Thayan necromancer had to be stemmed before he could do any more damage.

Taking in those defenses she could see, a part of the young witch rang with alarm, a pang of fear struck her, not fear of the Thayan foe, any such fear had been bred out of her by her wychlaren training, but fear for these Rashemi and outlanders who stood with her to confront this evil for the sake of Rashemen. They might very well lose their lives this day and she only prayed to the spirits that they find a worthy place in the next world.

Though the thought had crossed her mind that there might be hidden defenses and that perhaps the necromancer knew of their arrival, the fury and raw emotions that had been building up in her as she saw abomination after abomination on Rashmi soil now took over her senses.
The wychlaren spirit of leadership and responsibility came over her along with the fury.

"This ends now! I shall entangle those skeletons. Eirik, Relgar and myself will then be able to use our bows against them while Vicril and Cecnia find a way into that fortress. Jostyn, you stay by me. Everyone take some distance from the others, if magic is called forth, better it affect as few of us as possible. Prepare yourselves."

That said, Bergdis reaches for a scroll at her side and unravels it, intoning the arcane syllables that will cause the air around her to coalesce into a barrier of solid force. She then removes another scroll as she moves her fingers in a swift and deftly executed motion. A blue nimbus of light engulfs her and before it has faded she has already unrolled the other scroll and is chanting a final divine syllables that will bring forth writing roots and strands to hold the skeletons in place.


OOC: 22:28, Today: Bergdis rolled 28 using 1d20+13. Initiative (after casting Nerveskitter).

[Private to DM Lobo: Remove scroll of Mage Armor and cast. Then cast Nerveskitter as a quickend action and remove scroll of Entangle and cast in an area that includes both skeletons.]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:58, Wed 05 Nov 2008.

As you wish Mistress. A little hint of sarcasm can be heard in his voice. He walk over to Cecania. Let's head for those tree. Keep fifteen feet behind me and Tarnin or would you like to first milady. He stands ready next to Cecania ready to run over to the trees.

The barbarian actually growled as he moved off towards the hateful tower, his thirst for battle and vengeance rising redly. Finally, after so long searching and wandering, it was time to end this Doom of Rashemen once and for all.

Tempus grant me strength to slay this wizard and his minions, he prayed, And to avenge the curse to this land.

Eirik's boots crunched the snow as he dashed closer, cold air whispered through his nose and brought every sense into crisp clarity. He longed to rush at the troll skeletons with greatsword swinging, but the Witch had spoken. So he retrieved his bow and nocked an arrow.

As soon as he came in sight of the trolls, he stopped suddenly and let fly the arrow, but in his haste, the arrow went wide, and Eirik cursed.


OOC: Initiative 5
Move 40ft closer, Draw composite longbow.
Attack 7
What a magnificent start. :(

Cecania shakes her head, looking at the troll skeletons with concern.  'Damn.  I'd forgotten how large trolls could grow.'

"You go first, Vicril - I'll stay behind you.  With luck, the door will be unlocked," she says, worriedly securing her pouches and following the man at a run, hoping to make it to the trees before the necromancer noticed the assault on his tower.
[Private to GM:
Has it been 3 hours since the last fight (Mage Armor's duration)?

Cecania runs with Vicril for her action, checking for a doorway, windows, easy-to-climb rocks, etc.

initiative: 3 (Woo-hoo!)]

Vicril starts to run across the open ground. As he moves between the trees he leaves no tracks thanks to his boots. As soon as he get to the trees he turns and look for how it goes with Cecania. If she makes it safely to the trees he turns his attention to the tower.

[Private to GM: OCC:
10:55, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 15 using 1d20+2. init.
10:54, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 22 using 1d20+10. Spot. ]

ooc: no map update at this time, so let's just do some additional strategic movements on the board until I get back tuesday night. Please try to be specific when you mention where you are, like 'the single tree near the middle of the field' or 'just west of the row of trees SE of the tower', etc.

---

   Bergdis' professional demeanor bleeds out into those around her, and while she quickly rattles off tactical orders and spells, the others leap into action, fulfilling their individual roles within the group. Jostyn remains by her side, perhaps as much to guard her against ambush by enemies as to distance himself from the obvious occupant of the tower....
   Relgar speeds along with Vicril - a kindred soul, and one in whom he knows he can trust to assist in the destruction of all things undead. The ranger's seething hatred is pushed from his body in puffs of breath through clenched teeth, made thicker by the exertion of movement over the terrain. Tarnin follows closely.
   As the trio reaches the 'dry' riverbed, they are forced to slow slightly, cutting their distance moved in half [compared to where they wanted to end up]. Eirik follows suit, but seems largely unhindered by the rocky riverbed as he leaps down and dashes across to the far bank, his pace unimpeded by the slippery rocks. Bow freed and arrow nocked, he pauses to take quick aim and fire at the skeletal guard on this side of the building.
   His arrow sails harmlessly forward and over the shoulder of the nearest skeleton, who has the presence of mind to turn eyeless sockets to face the archer before letting loose an eerie screech - made all the more chilling by the obvious lack of lungs on the thing. The other appears almost instantly from the opposite corner of the tower, and the two begin their own headlong charge at the party.
   The first is stopped short, however, by the sudden emergence of grasses and plants erupting from the thin layer of snow and grasping at the skeletal feet that pass by. It stumbles once, then stops in place as the magic strengthens the binding greenery. Behind it, the second trollish skeleton rushes blindly into the area of the spell's effect, intent on only fulfilling its orders to stop intruders - and getting itself caught in the process.
   Harto, as usual, is nowhere to be seen.

---

ooc: Though I left it out, Cecania is in the riverbed with [behind] Vicril and Relgar. Eirik, based on his desire to choose the Frostrager as a potential PrC, is beginning to gain some of the intangible benefits of that class, at least in my roleplaying text. :)
   The skeletons have been stopped about 20' off the nearest corner of green that surrounds the tower, meaning that from the forward positions of Eirik, Relgar, and Vicril, its about 140' to the near one, and about 160' to the further one.
   There is nothing new to note about the tower from this distance or at this time, though that will change as you get closer. Yes, it has been half a day or so since the last encounter so no one has any active spells on them save the ones Bergdis just cast on herself.

As her last spell takes effect, Bergdis takes a deep breath. She had been holding her breath, unsure if her spell would hold the large skeletons. Without a moment's hesitation she motions to Jostyn and leaps into a sprint, keeping some 30 feet behind the warriors but trying to close to within spell range of the skeletons. As she reaches the nearest cover she can find, and having taken in the possitions of the others, she shouts out.

"Stay clear of the abominations, use bows and such. My spell does not know friend from foe."

As she speaks she draws a thin slender wand from her belt and points it at the nearest skeleton, intoning a single quiet syllable. A long bolt of searing pure blue-white arcane energy leaps forth from the outstretched tapering stick to fly unerringly at the large skeleton, searing it's bleached bones.


[Private to DM Lobo: Posting 2 rounds of actions in one post as moving into range to do anything would take Bergdis 1 round, at least.
- Round 1: Run 80 feet or so to the bottom left tree of the three trees in the center but keeping at least 30 feet behind the warriors at all times.
Entangle: 9 turns left
- Round 2: Draw wand and loose a magic missile at the nearest skeleton.
22:12, Today: Bergdis rolled 4 using 1d4+1. Bergdis MM damage.
Entangle: 8 turns left]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:12, Sun 19 Oct 2008.

Relgar had moved alongside with Eirik, holding his bow ready while Eirik fired. After shot missed and trolls approached, and one getting entangled by the spell, Relgar fires his bow on the abomination which he haves seething boiling hate inside him!

Relgar exploited his entangled foes condition to try help hit better them from long range. But after first shot Relgar proceeds bit closer, somewhere cover near the trolls (behind tree, cover vs attacks from tower and prevents troll reach Relgar by charge or at least gives cover vs charge attack) into range of his composite hunting longbow and fires again!

---

OOC: Posted both first and present round actions above. he readied to act after Bergdis had casted her spell.

22:50, Today: Relgar rolled 12 using 1d8+4. Damage.
22:50, Today: Relgar rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Ranged attack. Nat 20! Damn undead crit immunity!
22:50, Today: Relgar rolled 9 using 1d8+4. Damage.
22:49, Today: Relgar rolled 12 using 1d20+4. Ranged attack (readied action, range pen.

Moving more carefully now, Eirik stalked closer to the tower, and fired another arrow at the tangled skeletons. The shaft strike the bony thing a sure hit in the skull; pity the arrowhead could do little against it.

The barbarian was growing impatient. He was terrible with the bow, and like any Rashemi warrior, greatly preferred a real weapon in his hands. Like his new sword...


OOC: Move 40ft to somewhere between the lone tree and the 3 trees in the central area.
Fire composite bow again at closest troll skeleton
Attack: 23 (rolled a 20! nuts!)
Damage: 9 (max damage too!)

Vicril heads for the pool of water that rest at the end of the dry riverbed. He moves as quickly as he can. Well aided by his magical boots that make sure that he does not slip on the ice. When he gets there he starts to look around for possible enemies. He has his scimitar drawn ready for use.

[Private to GM: OCC:
22:40, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 15 using 1d20+10. Listen.
22:40, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 14 using 1d20+10. Spot.
Also remember my boots of Winterland. Seen as we are in a area of snow and winter.]

"Don't be alarmed," Cecania says to Vicril and Relgar, pulling up her cowl and drawing a small handful of dry, specked scales from the pouch at her side.

"I'm casting a spell that will temporarily change my formsss," she finishes, a strange, hissing noise accompanying her words, as her body abruptly hunches over, stretching the robe in strange, unnatural ways as scales erupt over her skin, and a mottled gray tail begins to wave from inside as she creeps behind the pair, the color of her new form gradually fading to match the land around them.

OOC: Cast Alter Self into a troglodye, and continue to follow the pair.

[Private to GM: Benefits from alter self: +6 Natural Armor, +4 Hide (+8 underground), Multiattack, Claw and Bite attacks (1d4 each, bah)]

ooc: note that the 'dry' riverbed acts as difficult terrain, so it halves your movement speed the round you move through it [with the exception of Eirik the Barbarian]. This puts Bergdis slightly behind where She may have thought she was, but still well within range of her wand's power.
   Also note that Cecania wanted to follow 'the pair' but Vicril went north to the pool and Relgar assaulted the skeletons; Cecania is now with Vicril.

---

   Relgar's first arrow is a clean shot - too clean, in fact, and his well-aimed placement sends the missile into the ribcage of the nearest troll skeleton, dealing no damage to the thing. In fact, it notices the arrow as much as it notices the ground entangling it, which is to say not at all. Single minded in its purpose, the hulking skeletal brute struggles to move forward against its targets...and seems to be making some headway in freeing itself.
   The one behind, meanwhile, has stopped in its struggles, and is actively smashing the foliage at its feet with the heavy spiked club it wields. It, too, seems to be making progress, but for each swing that frees a foot, more grasses and plants push through the snows to take hold of the undead.
   confident in their position, and with the magic of a Rashemi witch backing them, Eirik and Relgar move up in unison, the *twang* of their bowstrings only moments apart. Both arrows find a home in the closest troll again, and this time both make sick, though muted, cracking sounds as the heads find bone beneath the furs. [AC 14 and DR5 for future reference]
   After navigating the river-turned-trench, Bergdis, too, adds her own power to the fight, in the form of a glowing magical dart that streaks from her wand to the now-wounded skeleton. Another shard of fur and bone is stripped away, though at this distance it is hard to say how effective they are really being.
   Jostyn seems unfazed by the party's combat situation, instead following closesly beside the masked Rashemi woman, and keeping his eyes trained on the tower...as if expecting the inhabitant to burst forth any moment now.

   Vicril turns from the fight, knowing [or perhaps willing] that his companions will be able to deal with the guards on their own. Cecania follows closely, shifting her form to one that offers better defense in the way of camouflage, should any more unwelcome visitors be lurking about.
   As they rush along the dead river, they begin to feel a slight tremor in the ground beneath them. It is a steady vibration, not erratic enough to be an earthquake, nor heavy or cyclic enough to be war machinery. It disturbs the druid to no end, for he can sense he is approaching the area where the Thomil was recently destroyed. With nothing in front of him save for the pool of water and the hole in the ground, he wonders if perhaps he will discover what killed the earth spirit.
   And will it kill him?






OOC: Eirik is now 60' from the lead skeleton, 80' from the further one. Both skels are still caught, though the front one only missed his strength check by 2. Relgar is 20' behind Eirik, and Bergdis is 15-20' behind him. Do the math. :)
   Vicril is about 40' from the edge of the hole in the ground, with Cecania right behind him and Tarnin [the W] right beside him, unless Vicril directs the wolf elsewhere.
   The first troll skeleton is wounded, but not at half health yet. There are no other enemies in sight, and no reaction from the tower, yet. I'll allow another round of action but am sure that at least one skeleton will break free, if odds are with them.

Sensing the danger posed by the possible release of the skeletons from her spell's bindings, Bergdis' innate and keen senses also feel the battle rage brewing within the two Rashemi warriors before her.
Recalling the tactical lessons of her sisters and those she had picked up among the berserker lodges, Bergdis feels confident enough in her safety to let the two warriors loose to do as their fiery souls would guide them.

"Eirik, Relgar, drop the bows and close with the near one before he can gain ground!"

Confident the two will do as she says, Bergdis' attention turns momentarily to the druid and the foreign witch. The same could not be said for them.
Why were they not following her directives? Did they not understand the danger that opening a new front would pose right now? her attention had to be on dismantling the skeletons... This was the druid's doing. He was too attached to the land, not enough to its people and traditions. He of all people, she thought, should understand the balance.
There was no time though and she only hoped he was not leading the Cormyrian sorceress into a trap she was not ready to handle. Powerful as she was, Bergdis could use the extra arcane assistance in assailing the tower, even if it was from a foreigner...

Sighing in a futile attempt to suppress her own rage, Bergdis turns her attention to more important things and aims her wand once more, this time at the far giant skeleton, unleashing another bolt of raw arcane energy at the massive abomination, following it swiftly with a dash in the direction of the nearest crop of trees, her eyes never long off the skeletal Thayan 'companion' at her side.


[Private to DM Lobo: 05:27, Today: Bergdis rolled 5 using 1d4+1. Bergdis MM damage.
Entangle: 7 turns left]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:56, Wed 05 Nov 2008.

Eirik was already tossing his bow to the ground and running towards the troll skeleton when Bergdis gave her order. He didn't need to be told when to leapt into battle.

The new sword nearly flew into his hands, and with a great roar like a snow-cat, Eirik descended upon the skeleton, his booted feet pelting across the frozen land. He circled the blade up and over his head and brought it down in a mighty smash down on the skeleton, cleaving through fur and bone alike. He snarled in savage fury as bits of bone flew about him.


OOC:
Charge Attack -2
Power Attack -4/+8
Attack 26, natural 20!
Damage 24, only 1 point off maximum, yeehah! :D
(I'm assuming a base enhancement of +1 greatsword for Jostyn's Sword.)

Charging to nearest troll-skeleton, bottom left corner from it.
 T
E

-2 AC due to Charge

I don't think Eirik has any bonuses against diificult terrain, just snow and ice due to his Boots Of The Winterlands.

Relgar decided it was better help Bergdis finish off another skeleton via ranged combat and leave melee for Eirik's dominance. Relgar had spend his rage earlier so he cant enter one yet until he have rested, but his fury for undead is effective tool even on ranged combat.

So Relgar unleashed rapid succession two arrows towards most distant skeleton who was just in range of his bow.....but he was ready join melee combat if Eirik ends up into trouble.

---

OOC: Going melee does not much help as they got DR vs everything expect bludgeoning so Relgar keeps using his bow. But does not AC drop in skellies because their entangled (or attackers get bonus vs them?)? Or are those factors included in listed AC.

10:28, Today: Relgar rolled 6 using 1d8+4. Damage.
10:28, Today: Relgar rolled 7 using 1d20+4. Attack 2 (rapid shot).
10:28, Today: Relgar rolled 21 using 1d20+4. Attack (rapid shot).

"Strange..." murmurs Cecania, pausing briefly to feel the ground as she ran alongside the druid.  The vibrations sent an eerie chill down her spine, but didn't seem to be immediately threatening.

OOC: Just keeping pace with Vicril now - Vic, it's your call if you want to investigate the pool further or head towards the tower.

Vicril turns and head for the monsters. HE tries to come within 35 feet of them. His hand clutching his scroll.

   When the gods created the races of the world, they made the form to fit the function. Dwarves were stocky and robust, as befits a hardy race of subterranean workers. Elves were light and graceful, meant for light, fast movement through the undergrowth or among the treetops. Orcs were large and strong, requirements for survival in the harshest of envirornments and conditions.
   Trolls, for all their might and size, were simply not meant to be struck by large, sharp pieces of metal swung by rampaging barbarians.

   Eirik's cleaving strike smites the troll skeleton on the spot, his powerful overhand chop separating bones from magic as the enchanted blade once borne by Jostyn seems almost weightless in the warrior's hands. His weapon ends its path buried in the ice and earth, and the skeletal troll collapses to the ground, lifeless once again.
   Relgar's arrows sing over and past Eirik's shoulder, the second missile striking home moments after another of Bergdis' sorcerous darts also unerringly finds its mark in the once-living flesh of the further troll. Still rooted to the ground as it is, the hulking brute can only swat ineffectually at the ground with its blunt weapon as the missiles take their toll. The ranger grins wickedly at Eirik's success, though a small part of him wishes he could have felt the joy of destroying that particular undead creature himself.
   Vicril turns on his heel, changing course to move around Eirik's left side, even as the barbarian drops the nearest of the two skeletons. Tarnin easily keeps pace with his master, and Cecania, too, shadows the movements of the druid, casting a glance over her shoulder every few paces to see if anything is back there.

   "Fools!" booms the voice of unfettered ferocity from high above the battlefield. "You dare interrupt history!?!" Heads turn upwards to spy, on the nearest corner of the high parapet, the wind-swept figure of a man known until now only in stories told by Jostyn.
   "Look again, wretched thief!" shouts back the skeletal Thayan from the ground. "We've bested every pawn you've sent at us!" He shakes a flimsy, bony fist at the black-clad figure up above.
   "Then I shall send more!" comes the cackling reply of the necromancer, his eyes - even at this distance - wild with the inner fires of madness.

   Behind and beneath the heroes, the ground trembles.





ooc: I've found a better representation for the hole in the ground...don't be alarmed, it hasn't gotten bigger or anything. :P
   Eirik is now 15-20' from the remaining troll; Vicril is 30-35' from it as requested [move-only action this round], and Relgar was able to move up 5' after his full-round attack option of rapid fire.
   The Scarred One is high up, maybe 40' off the ground, and has 40% cover from the railing/edge, in case anyone wants to try a shot at him. Range and wind modifiers would definitely apply [though for some reason the wind isn't whipping around at ground level....].

Eirik yanked the sword out of the heap of the troll skeleton, relishing his new weapon's effectiveness and power.

"Send them, then!" he cried to the necromancer, knowing no fear. " And we shall march over their shattered bones to reach you."

Doing just that, Eirik skirted the field of entangling plants to approached the second troll. Ducking its swing cat-like agility, he approached and thrust his sword in its general direction.


OOC: Move to upper left corner of remaining troll
Tumble 25 to avoid AoO
Power Attack -2/+4
Attack 13, Damage 17
This message was last edited by the player at 07:56, Tue 28 Oct 2008.

Frowning at the words of the undead Thayan beside her, she agreed with his words but despite her aggressive state, she knew taunting the necromancer might not be the wisest thing to do. Though it might also work in their favor if it put him off his guard. Time would tell.
In the meanwhile she was a little surprised with Vicril. Of all people, she hoped he had the wisdom to put personal glory and vendetta aside. She hopped his movements were to the doorway and not to the skeletons to help Eirik. He was clearly doing well enough on his own.
Bergdis grinned at the words of the Rashemi warrior. The Thayan had more coming then he expected and she prayed silently to the Three that it would come sooner rather then later.

"Relgar, the necromancer!"

With that she moved another few feet and unleashed another bolt of energy from her wand, this time it was aimed at the robbed figure taking cover on the parapets of the stone and iron abomination.


[Private to DM Lobo: 05:54, Today: Bergdis rolled 3 using 1d4+1. Bergdis MM damage.  Entangle: 6 turns left.]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:55, Wed 05 Nov 2008.

Relgar noticed rumbling in the ground behind him, but hearing Bergdis order he nodded. Relgar closed some distance towards the tower, avoiding go close to anyone to avoid get caught in area effect what necromancer could toss at them.

Relgar then lifted his strong hunting bow and aimed, and prayed for three his shot hits true kill foe what he most despises. He releases his arrow and curses when suddenly earth rumbled near by and ruined his firing stance and caused arrow go wide miss!

---

OOC: Move action forward towards tower, avoid go closer than 20'ft from anyone and shoots arrow.

18:38, Today: Relgar rolled 8 using 1d20+6. Ranged attack.

Feel the wrath of the lands you bastard. He then starts to read from his scroll. He seems angry. His face red of the anger.

OCC:
Summon Nature II from scroll.
Hippogriff 35 feet into the air as close to the mad wizard.

"You're history, you sick bastard," mutters Cecania grimly, wincing as she pulls a live spider from a pouch at her side and swallows it in a single gulp.

"Aghhh..." she coughs, as she finishes the spell, trying not to think of the little legs brushing against her throat.  From behind and around the necromancer, dark gray webs with the strength of steel formed a tangled barrier, filling the parapet with their mass.

"That should keep you from escaping!" she adds with fierce delight.

[Private to GM: OOC:
 Move: Cecania will move north 30 feet, closer to the tower (but not necessarily to the troll)
 Standard: Cecania casts Web on the parapet of the necromancer's tower, covering most of it, with the Scarred One at the center.  DC 18 Reflex (semi-negates).

http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/Web.htm]

As Vicril and Cecania turned their attention to the figure on the parapets as well, Bergdis gritted her teeth, closed her eyes for a flash of a moment and took a deep breath.
Deep in the forests of the Urlingwood, in small open glades, the young Witches of Rashemen are trained in the art of fighting the Red Wizards. Those who have been to battle with the barbarian's teach the ways of war and control. How to lead the Rashemi warriors and when to let their spirits lead them.
Those who have fought the arcane might of the Red Wizards teach another lesson all together. Though the Red Wizards were weak as a whole because of their arrogance, lack of trust and incessant infighting and backstabbing, as individuals they could be worthy adversaries for any Witch. Their guile and might in Art was not a trifle.
Though this was the first time she had faced such a powerful Red Wizard before, Bergdis had listened as carefully as any of her sisters when her elders spoke.
She knew those who followed the necromantic arts among the Red Wizards did not much favor the arcane arts of illusion but that did not mean they had not mastered some of them.
It were not beyond this one to use a decoy, an image, one of it's abominations or any other tool to fool this young band of eager heroes.
And now they were aiming all their attention at this form on the tower.
Even if the druid did not have the wisdom to do as she had said, at least he had had the wisdom to summon a flying beast, one that could be directed elsewhere. Bergdis prayed to the Three that this Red Wizard was of the type arrogant enough to show himself so early in the fray and that Vicril's flying beast would stay for a while longer.
Her arcane bolt should tell her what she needed to know and as her mentor had often said, "If you want something done right, do it yourself!"

With that she prepared to move to the tower doors...


[Private to DM Lobo: Spellcraft check to see how MM interacts with the figure, if something seems aracnely amiss. Spot check for any other hints of something being off.
22:14, Today: Bergdis rolled 18 using 1d20+11. Spellcraft check.
22:16, Today: Bergdis rolled 13 using 1d20+3. Spot check.]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:54, Wed 05 Nov 2008.

   Eirik's tumbling maneuver brought him close enough to the skeleton to make it forget the entangling roots and grasses that bound it in place. A smash of the spiked club agains tthe ground missed the barbarian by inches, though his own thrust-and-twist shattered bone and sliced sinew. Unsteady, and unable to turn effectively to deal with its attacker, the backhand swing of the skeletal troll was also easily avoided by the warrior.

   Bergdis' magic missile streaks unfailingly at the necromancer, only to flash out of existence in a brilliant display as it collides with some defensive spell the black-robed mage has in place. Undeterred, he begins casting a spell of his own - one whose ritualistic motions and lengthy wordage require much more concentration than the average combat incantation.
   Midway through it, a halo of white appears over him, and moments later a silent rain of spiderwebs comes down all around the necromancer and his lofty perch. Through some miracle of the dark gods, the vile spellcaster remains largely untouched by the surrounding sticky strands...though his easy escape from the field of battle is now blocked by the mulitple layers of spider silk draped along the length of his balcony.
   Lest he think that an airborne route was open to him, Vicril's voice shouts out from below, a challenge to the man whose very existence was an affront to nature itself! A spiralling beacon of light appears in the air between the two, from which a stately hippogriff flies. The screeching beast circles once, tightly, before coming to hover just outside the range of reach of the red wizard. Though the webs prevent it from landing on the parapet beside its intended target, it has the tenacity to stay close at hand, should the situation change....

   Relgar's arrow streaks upwards, thrown off-target by the sudden shift in stability of the ground beneath their feet. Sure enough, some dozen paces behind the archer and his two nearest companions, the ground heaves upwards, giving birth to a samite monster that two of their kind...Eirik and Jostyn...have seen once before in the battle below. An earth elemental, covered in the snows of the ground that bore it, rises up on two leglike trunks, growling a challenging sound before flowing toward the three closest targets.
   "Northman! Your blade is still the bane of stone! Engage the beast before it's too late!" Jostyn dodges between the trees, coming up beside Bergdis, eyeing the oncoming stone elemental warily.

   High above, the Scarred One laughs triumphantly as its summoned creation bears down on the Rashemi witch and her cohorts. "Feel the crushing wieght of defeat, witch! I *am* the Doom of Rashemen!" With a flourish he finishes his spell, sending a deceptively fast coil of darkness and blackfire at the waiting form of Bergdis.




ooc: He made his reflex save exactly, as you can see in the dicebot. :P
The skeleton is still trapped, having swapped the option for full-round action to break free in return for a swing at the barbarian. Note that if eirik wants to move away to attack the elemental, he will have to a) move through the entangle zone to reach it this round, otherwise two rounds [too late] and b) open himself to an AoO by the troll.
   I am looking for something specific from Bergdis at this point, saving throw or otherwise, before I post results of the spell effect on her. :)

Eirik glanced wonderingly at his sword. The bane of stone? Time to test it, then, he decided.

He backed away from the stricken troll, for it was helpless, and decided to risk a parting shot from it in order to get to the creature of stone quicker. Skirting the edge of the waving plants again and stalking back across the snow-field, he approached the earth elemental, observing its size and defenses.

Then he leapt, the sword swinging overhead to crash down upon the elemental, shattering rock and stone beneath its edge. Eirik roared with triumph at the strike.


OOC: Move to upper-right corner of Earth Elemental, risking both AoOs. :(
Power Attack -2/+4
Attack 25 (rolled a 19, no opportunity for crits, again!), +2 for bane = 27
Damage 18
Bane Damage 10
Total Damage 28
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Tue 04 Nov 2008.

"How dare he! The arrogance!" Bergdis wanted to reply but there was no time, with the dark magic of the Red Wizard baring down on her and the massive spirit of the earth tearing it's way out towards her, Bergdis suddenly felt small. Very small. She was just a young Witch, untrained and inexperienced in fighting other arcane spellcasters. Had she led these brave souls to their deaths?
As the fear rose to her throat, Bergdis caught hold of herself and swallowed it down.
She had to lead them. No one else would and as a Witch, it was her responsibility.

"Guard your Witch!"

With that curt command aimed at the undead Thayan beside her, Bergdis leapt away from the oncoming fiery darkness in an attempt to dodge it. As she leapt, she reached for a scroll jutting out of her belt. Her body hitting the snow hard, she let the scroll unravel so that she might quickly chant out its contents.


[Private to DM Lobo: Not sure what you meant here by "looking for something specific" for Bergdis. You didn't tell me what saving throw to roll so I'm assuming you have something in mind. I rolled a d20 anyway and you can add whatever adjustments you need to.
22:04, Today: Bergdis rolled 19 using 1d20. Bergdis Save.
My saves are on the side here. I also rolled a Spellcraft check with my last action which I thought would identify the magic he cast. Do I need to roll another one? One way or another, if I get an action now, it'll be to leap away from the darkfire spell and cast Protection From Evil on myself from a scroll.]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Tue 04 Nov 2008.

Watching the elemental in alarm, Cecania decides that dealing with the creature is probably a high priority.  Smearing a roll of fat around her fingers, she chants surely and carefully, conjuring a pool of slick grease under the extraplanar intruder.

OOC: Cecania casts Grease under the earth elemental, trying not to hit Eirik with it. 

[Private to GM:
Standard: Grease with Extend Spell on the elemental.  Reflex DC 17 partial, and the elemental should be flat-footed from balancing on the grease.
Move: loads her crossbow

http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/grease.htm

Active spells:
-Alter Self (+6 Natural Armor, +4 Hide) 29.8/30 mins
-Web (moving requires full-round actions and escape artist stuff, entangled: DC 15+ spell level to cast spells while inside) 29.9/30 mins
-Grease 6/6 rounds
]

Vciril shaked his head. How normal. At the first sign of trouble it's defend the witch. He seemed a bit angered by the shouting of orders. He started to cast his spell summoning a Badger from a scroll.

[Private to DM Lobo: OCC:I will cast the spell next round as It's a move action to retrive the scroll from my handy haversack. ]

Relgar notices earth elementals and chaos in battle, but he knows greatest threat is the thayan mage. He moves away from elementals and others to avoid any area effects land on several of them. Also he was far off from troll incase if he gets loose.

But Relgar crouched, draw a arrow ready into bow and aimed towards Thayan focusing manner but did not fire. He seemed wait something......
[Private to GM: Ready action; Interrupt spellcasting with bow shot to Thayan.

22:35, Today: Relgar rolled 6 using 1d8+2. Damage.
22:35, Today: Relgar rolled 23 using 1d20+6. Ready attack.
22:35, Today: Relgar rolled 9 using 1d20+6. Ready attack.

Well, reason for two rolls was because dice roller got stuck, so I clicked several times it get moving and it made two rolls :P. You decide do I hit or miss miserably in key moment......]

   Relgar, steady and ready, aimed carefully at the necromancer high above him, as the battle unfolded around him....

   Eirik's leap away from the skeletal troll was followed quickly - though not quickly enough - by the swatting smash of the abomination's spiked club. Missing the barbarian cleanly, it smashes into the ground at its feet. The undead's simple mind and single purpose dug at it, and it cast about to find another target even as Eirik leaped the two corners of the entangling spell on his way to intercept the elemental. Relgar, the nearest [and now unmoving] of the living creatures seemed the best choice for attack, and with great effort, the now-weakened vines and plants holding the skeleton in place finally gave way, allowing the former troll to close with the archer.

   ...the movement of the 8-foot set of bones bearing down on him caused a momentary lapse in concentration with the ranger, and his aim dipped a fraction of an inch...just enough to send his arrow skipping off the edge of the parapet's ledge and into the webs surrounding the spellcaster he'd targetted.
   But now he could deal more directly with his most hated foe, the undead.

   Eirik, meanwhile, had no knowledge that the ranger had missed, or even what he was shooting at; his focus was on the living earth that was sweeping across the ground to crush the witch who had most recently replaced Navarra. He met the thing obliquely, bringing his great sword to bear upon its front flank - and was rewarded by a sundering of a great section of the summoned creature! Just as when Jostyn had struck the previous elemental, so, too, did the blade cleave off a swath of stone and dirt as though it were so much clay before his might.
   Of course, being a thing of stone, it felt neither pain nor despair, and quickly rotated on its midpoint, bringing around the opposite appendage. A two-foot-wide fist smashed into the northman's body, pummelling him painfully and cracking something in his side. He retained his footing, though, and was mildly disappointed when his eyes refocused and he found the thing almost atop the witch.
   Apparently, it wasn't walking *atop* the earth, but gliding smoothly along *through* the earth. Cecania's grease spell was on her tongue, but noticing this, she stayed her spell and chose instead to target the ground in front of the now-freed skeletal troll. The 8-foot stack of rushing bones had no chance whatsoever in avoiding the region of ground that was affected, and with the planting of the first bony foot therein, proceeded to fall flat on its back with an audible *thud*. Adding insult to injury, the undead had not yet exited the region of wriggling plant life animated by the entangle spell, and was once again grasped firmly by the grasses and vines. [another STR check will be required to move again next round]

   Bergdis, though, was at the end of her rope, or so it seemed. With a giant stone creature from another plane bearing down on her, and the Scarred Thayan above raining spells down upon her own head, she dove aside, stammering out the words to a rapid ritual of proection from evil forces.
   The scintillating bolt of darkness, however, was undeterred, and bent in its flight to follow her movement. Just as the final syllables to the spell of protection escaped her lips it struck her. Agony like she'd never thought possible coursed through her bones, her muscles, she felt as though it even brushed against her very soul...and left a blackened streak upon her exposed flesh as if she had been burned by a flaming torch.
   But she did not swoon, and instead gritted her teeth, steeled her resolve, and refocused her mind on the situation at hand. It occurred to her with perfect clarity that she'd been told of the gemstone wand's defenses against the Scarred One's spells, and she, in her frustration with the druid, had sent it away to be studied by her superiors. Would that she had kept it now!

   Vicril rummaged quickly for an item in his pack as his hippogryph continued to maintain its encroaching position on the necromancer.

   Jostyn moves to stand, not between the approaching elemtnal and the witch, but between the tower and the lady. Perhaps he knows something more of his condition and their enemy than he's said so far.

   Harto, the elusive bard, has still not surfaced in the fight yet.

---

ooc: ok, so there is a change necessary for Cecania; if she wants to instead target the grease spell under the now-free skeleton, I'll do that; if she wants to switch to another spell [acid splash or some such] at the elemental, that's fine too, she just realizes that the grease will have no effect on the elemental and probably hurt Eirik more than help.
   Eirik makes it around the edge(s) of the entangle spell without difficulty, hits the elemental [who has no reach capability], is in turn hit, and takes 12 damage from the strike as the thing moves on [without a return AoO from the barbarian]. I think this is fair, given the circumstances and people's actions, and still allows him to charge it from the rear on his next move if he wants to.
   Bergdis gets hit with an energy substitution darkbolt, so instead of 'normal' magic damage it does unholy damage to her...13 points. Fortunately for her, its very nature gives it the "evil" descriptor, so her protection from evil spell will allow her fortitude save of a 19 to succeed, and prevent her from being stunned for 1 round. :)
   The troll is freed from the entangle spell, and will reach Relgar on the next round, though the ranger will have initiative over it.
   I'll update the map and insert it into this post once I find out what Cecania wants to do. :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:00, Fri 21 Nov 2008.

OOC: Cecania will change to the skeleton indeed :)

From her prone position, Bergdis rolls over to her side with a grunt of pain. That bolt of dark energy had hurt like nothing she had ever felt and any more of those might be the end of her.
With a glance over at Eirik and the elemental she grimaced. He looked wounded. She was not worried about herself. Her spell had worked and the elemental would have a hard time striking her as long as she avoided striking it.
She wanted to heal the warrior but she knew well that if she were dead herself, that would not be possible.
Furiously resigning herself to letting the others take care of the wizard for a moment, she pulls forth another scroll from her belt and without even bothering to get up, intones the divine prayer she had scribed upon the vellum.
Behind her mask, Bergdis grimaces and then sighs with relief as the searing heat from the spell burns away her wounds and cools away the pain.


[Private to DM Lobo: Cast CLW from scroll on self.
02:43, Today: Bergdis rolled 6 using 1d8+1. CLW .
Entangle: 5 turns
Protection from Evil: 9 turns

Just to clarify, in case you missed it, if that was a Darkbolt, the save is will not fortitude and my adjusted save would be 26 before any adjustments, 28 if you allowed the PfE to take effect before the spell hit her.]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:00, Sat 15 Nov 2008.

Eirik grunted as he realized the sharp pain in his side from where the creature of earth had whacked him. Then he growled, putting it out of his mind as his anger and battle-fury grew within him. It was only as one came closer to death that one struggled all the harder to hold on to life.

"The hell you will!" Eirik snarled as he saw the elemental approach the witch, running after it to swing his sword at its back, to get its attention if nothing else, for the sword hit only the air.


OOC: Charge the earth elemental, +2 attack
Power Attack -2/+4
Attack 10, miss :(

-2 AC to Eirik

"Blast it!  How many minions does he have?!" fumes Cecania, tossing an orb of acid at the elemental in frustration.

[Private to GM: OOC:
Standard: Cast Acid Splash at the earth elemental, hitting a touch AC of 17 for 2 damage. (I forgot the -4 from shooting into melee)
Move: head closer to the tower, looking for some sort of entrance

19:33, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 2 using 1d3. Dmg.
19:33, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 21 using 1d20+3. Acid splash on elemental. ]

Vicril spends his round summoning a badger to right next to the elemental. He knew it would not be much but everything help.

Relgar saw the undead abomination coming close on him! He knew he gets skewered by his foe if he goes close first but he wants strike the troll when it is weakest. Relgar drops his bow and noticing this foe was skeleton, so slashing blade, despite it being enchanted, would not do much good at all. So he draw his morningstar and waited troll make it's move.......

Once troll was in reach for Relgar, he screamed loudly and entered into furious rage and smashes wildly with his morning star on the undead creature bones! Intending crack it up badly!

---

OOC: I assume we have rested enough so Relgar can enter into barbarian rage again. if not take -2 off from attack and dmg. Also forgot add favored enemy bonus to dmg roll. Anycase Relgar drops bow as free action, draws morningstar as move and uses standard action to attack troll once it is in melee reach of him (if troll charges Relgar can strike troll while it has AC pen from charge). Also use rage during readied action.

15:25, Today: Relgar rolled 8 using 1d8+4. blu/pie dmg.
15:24, Today: Relgar rolled 12 using 1d20+8. Smash! (morningstar).

   Vicril's summoned badger appears directly in the path of the stony behemoth, and reacts as all of its kind would when suddenly confronted with an enemy several times larger than itself; it growls and attacks! The normally unfazed elemental, still reeling from the damage caused by the magical acid and the barbarian's baneblade, lurches to one side, throwing off the attacks of both Eirik and the ferocious mammal flanking it.
   Summoned, but not mindless like the skeletons, the earthen being misjudged the threat posed by the badger, stopping long enough to smash it back from whence it came. A tiny puff of smoke was all that remained of the forest creature when the great stone fist was lifted....

   Nearby, Relgar switched weapons to deal with the approaching skeleton, and was both surprised and pleased when it first slipped on the ground, then elated when the last few feet of entangling grasses held it fast for him. Wasting no more time on it, the ranger swung his morningstar in a vicious arc, bringing down the heavy weapon and dispelling the animating magics on the troll in one final blow.

   Granted a moment's reprieve from the arrows and spells of the heores below, the necromancer takes this opportunity to point a single finger at the flying menace Vicril had summoned earlier. A sickly grey beam passed between that digit and the body of the hippogriff - and the beast fell from the sky, its wings no longer keeping it airborne as its heart stopped cold.

   Very near the top of the tower now, Harto silently attaches his grapnel to the ledge and lets the rope uncoil as it falls to the ground below. He silently waves an excited little arm at his companions far below, hoping they'll see his handiwork, and take steps to use his provided pathway, rather than the more obvious [and probably deadly] front door of the tower.

   Jostyn, noticing the halfling but fearful of pointing him out to their enemy, who stood a mere dozen feet from the hanging Harto, instead turns his attention to the melee on the ground. Eyebrows furrow on a half-broken face as he struggles to remember something important about the elemental....

Vicril enraged by the slaying of his summoned friends start to move over to the rope. He knows that this is taking a great risk, but it has to end, One way or another. If he can make it he will also start to climb up the rope.

[Private to DM Lobo: OCC:
06:21, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 12 using 1d20+2. climb.
Also added the Xp and went over my sheet. Fixed some skills. Had not calculated after applying the new armor.]

Rising to her feet with a stager, her eyes darting between the earthen behemoth and the small figure high upon the tower, the witch notes the small figure and the rope as well as the druid's movement toward it.
Though the barbarian could no doubt use some help, Bergdis knew she was shielded from the elemental for now and it was merely a distraction, if a powerful one, not the real threat.
The spirit of the earth would have to wait as would her warrior's wounds, first she had to distract the Thayan, lest he notice the rope or their diminutive friend before either was put to good use.
Though he had managed to shrug off the damage of her last bolt of arcane energy, she knew such defenses could often be worn down if one persisted and she had the means.
As she brandished her wand once again with a swift motion, she uttered a prayer to the Three under her breath to guard her and to the Hidden One in particular to guide her Art.
Waiting patiently, wand poised to strike, she looked for the signs of spellcasting from the necromancer.


[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Draw wand, Delay action till necromancer casts a spell, then launch a MM to try and disrupt his casting.
01:02, Today: Bergdis rolled 5 using 1d4+1. Bergdis MM damage.
Entangle: 4 turns
Protection from Evil: 8 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 06:04, Tue 13 Jan 2009.

Eirik continued to struggle against the earth elemental, batting blade against stone. He grimaced when he saw the badger pounded into nothingness. Better you than me, he thought ruefully.

The distraction gave him time to check the situation with the others. They seemed okay for now, but injured. And there was the halfling, scurrying up the side of the tower like a thieving mouse. Somehow, he wasn't surprised.

Now he turned his attention back to the elemental, and struck it hard with the baneful sword, hoping to Tempus it would be enough to bring it down before it struck back.


OOC: Attack 21, damage 16, bane damage 8, total damage 24 at earth elemental

Worried that Vicril might attract the necromancer's attention, Cecania rummaged through her pouch, finally coming up with a tiny patch of black fur.  Following him to the foot of the rope, she peers up at the top worriedly.

Chanting quickly and carefully, she calls upon the Abyss, summoning a massive black wolf to the top of the tower, blocking the wizard's sight as best she can!  With luck, Vicril would be able to climb past it and the remaining webs to deal with the necromancer, as she had no real illusions about her summoned creatures having any effect upon him.

[Private to GM: OOC:
Move: move up to the foot of the tower
Standard: Cast Summon Monster II with Extend Spell (Fiendish Wolf)

Wolf:
Standard: Attack the necromancer! (Hits AC 9 for a miss!)]

ooc: Since the only moves are Vicril and Cecania to the base of the tower [her to the front door and he to the southeastern corner and the rope], I don't see the need after all for putting up a new map this time. I'll control Relgar in line with his previous actions.

---

   Jostyn stood between the earthen elemental and the Rashemi witch, expecting to be ground to undead paste by one of those stone hammers hanging at its sides. The Thayan's broken face made a rueful smile as Eirik's blade - formerly his own, he remembered - clove off another great swath of stone and debris from the extraplanar beast. But it turned.
   Realizing now the danger it was in...not physical danger, but rather how its destruction would keep it from completing its summoned task...the elemental rotated smoothly in place, surprising the burly barbarian who had been rushing from behind to bring it down. Eirik didn't realize how lucky he was this day, that Cecania had diverted her grease spell from its original target zone to the spot under the skeleton. Had she not, the northman would have landed flat on his back, rather than barely sidestep the smashing overhand blow meant for his skull. The foot-deep crater left behind in the dirt beside his feet left him little doubt what *could* have happened just now.

   With nothing to hinder his actions now, the necromancer moved closer to the parapet's ledge, the better to lean over and fire off another of his unpleasant [to say the least] arcane spells. His eyes searched the small figures below for some seconds before he cried out in a mix of anger and satisfaction.
   "Ah...so the wytchling does not have the gemstone wand after all. I wonder...did that fool mage carry it with him to the afterlife?" He made a gesture with his withered hand, just as Bergdis fired off another of her magical darts. It zipped unerringly between the two spellcasters...only to be dashed apart again in a splash of color and light by the invisible protective shield the Scarred One had in place.
   His casting may have already been completed, but Cecania's own spell did not go unnoticed by the man. His brows furrowed as he watched Vicril run past her and around to the side of the tower that did not have the doors on it, and when he turned, his eyes focused on the halfling there on the ledge at his level. With a canopy of webs separating the two, it seemed unclear how the pint-sized daredevil would be more than a nuisance, until the wolf suddenly materialized between them!
   Jaws snapping at air, the wolf was only momentarily held back by the webs, then broke free and lunged at the necromancer, who could only manage a yell of surprise before he backed away quickly...over the edge of the tower's wall!
   "Ahhh!" He shouted as he tumbled backwards.

   His quick movement spared him from what would have definitely been a mortal wound as Relgar's timed arrow instead grazed the evil man's cheek, drawing a thin red line as the fletching passed him by. Surprisingly, though, the necromancer did not fall to his death, and instead hovered in the air, a foot from the slavering jaws of the wolf standing where he had just been.

   "Harto! Get down from there!" Shouted Jostyn as he was given a moment to turn from the elemental. "It's-"

---

ooc: Heh...caught in mid-sentence. Poor halfling and my cliffhangers! :P
Vicril had to cross the open ground, and so is only just beginning to climb, so he has two rounds [this next one just starting and the one after that] to get to the top, if he so chooses.
   Relgar gets a 19 on his hit roll, but a 1 on damage [after switching weapons again]. :(
   It would appear that the Shield spell is still functioning normally.
   Eirik, I missed you by your Dex bonus. Flat footed you'd be hurtin'. :P

Eirik longed to join in the battle against the necromancer, to test his sword against his black arts and free Rashemen from his clutches. But he knew that he could not leave the earth creature at their backs, not while his sword was bane against elementals. He would continue to struggle against it, no matter how hard it hit him, until one or both of them lay dead. Preferably just the elemental.

As he sidestepped the crushing overhead blow, he stepped back in fast, and swung his blade down hard against the elemental's arm as it ponderously brought it back up for another go. Between the speed of the blade falling and the force of the arm rising, and the bane-magic between, the two collided with shattering force.


OOC: Power Attack -2/+4 vs EE
Attack: 24 (inc. +2 from bane). Add +2 if I'm still flanking with #2 (what was #2 anyway?)
Damage: 18
Bane Damage: 12
Total Damage: 30!

Vicril tries to climb up the rope, but his mind is elsewhere. Focusing on the words from Jostyn to the halfling. What was he to find when he reached the top. Only the bloody remains of Harto and meeting the end himself or was harto to be okey and Vicril in extreme danger. It did not mean much to the druid as he would atleast die fighting for the land.


These where some sweet rolls right:P
12:41, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 5 using 1d20+2. Climb.
12:41, Today: Vicril Shipsail rolled 8 using 1d20+2. Climb
Unsure if one would do or if you needed both.

Frustrated by the failure of her modest magics to affect the Thayan threat, Bergdis decides that perhaps it would be better to aid her barbarian in the hopes that he could move on sooner to face the true threat to the land... Once again she aims the tapering stick in her hand at a foe, but this time it is the elemental and not the necromancer who would feel the pain of her arcane bolts!

[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: 01:02, 23:47, Today: Bergdis rolled 2 using 1d4+1. Bergdis MM damage.
Entangle: 4 turns
Protection from Evil: 8 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:51, Thu 22 Jan 2009.

Now that necromancer was in open and out of defensive walls of his tower Relgar aimed and released barrage of arrows towards necromancer with devoted fury against anything unholy and perverted magic of necromancy and undead!

So, his fury was great when he sees by twisted fate all his arrows missed! He growled in frustration and fury burning in his eyes and felt he was cursed by necromancer or by the gods somehow!

---

OOC: Year changed but my infamous archery roll luck has not changed sadly.

22:00, Today: Relgar rolled 7 using 1d20+4. Attack 2.
22:00, Today: Relgar rolled 10 using 1d20+4. Attack 1 (-2 rapid shot).

Covering Vicril, Cecania aims and fires at the necromancer, hoping to knock him out of the air with her trusty light crossbow.

[Private to GM: OOC: Hits AC 19 for 1 damage!  Woo!

21:23, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 1 using 1d8. Dmg.
21:23, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 19 using 1d20+3. Light Xbow. ]

   Caught in mid-sentence, Jostyn's normally resonant voice falters as the necromancer barks out some strange word while hovering just outside the summoned wolf's snapping bite.
   Almost instantly, the tower shrinks from the monolithic edifice it is to something no larger than a child's toy. There is a great whoooosh as it vacates the space it occupied, and all those nearby feel the rush of air [and the sting of accompanying snow] as the magical fortress reduces itself to its four-inch height. Vicril, moments ago frustrated and angry at his inability to make greater headway up the rope he gripped, was suddenly very grateful for his lack of climbing skills; his short fall was no more than an inconvenience, and he quickly scrambled to his feet as Tarnin rushed to his side.
   Harto, however, never saw this coming. One moment he was carefully skirting the ledge, edging his way closer to the trapped Thayan mage - webs all around and an angry wolf bearing down on him - and the next, he was almost comically flapping his arms in midair, trying to gain balance and footing on an obsidian structure that simply was not there.
   Together, the halfling and his newly summoned lupine companion fell to the ground below...and while Cecania's wolf yelped and rolled to its feet, Harto bounced once on the soft earth, and then lay still, his arm seemingly cracling the tiny, toylike tower.
   Surprised at the turn of events, and angered at the casual and callous treatment of her summoned beast, Cecania draws a bead on the necromancer and fires. The click of her crossbow comes just as he swoops to the left to avoid a pair of shots from Relgar's bow, and though the ranger's arrows miss, hers manages to clip him slightly. If only they could get him pinned....

   Eirik's cleaving stroke sunders the elemental as it raises another trunk-like appendage to smash him, the magical blade slashing through its form like so much hot butter as the magical bolt of energy from Bergdis strikes home. Unable to withstand the physical assault, the binding magics holding it in place are utterly disrupted, and just as at the last battle scene, it collapses into an uneven pile of rubble and dirt.
   Panting, the barbarian casually wipes his backhand across his brow, allowing a faint, feral grin to flicker across his face, one that vanishes just as quickly as Jostyn turns back to face him. The undead knight's eyes narrow as the Thayan focuses on something a bit behind him, and Eirik turns in time to see a geyser of earth and snow erupt from the ground partway between himself and the hole in the ground.
   "I knew I was forgetting something. That damned stone can summon twice per day" mutters the zombified man as the second earth elemental bursts forth from the underground. Somehow, this one seemed slightly larger than the last, and it wastes no time at all picking out targets: the northman is charged at immediately.
   "Ha! Once I've done for you, savage, the rest shall fall like chaff before my might! Then there shall be a reckoning for your interference this day!" The evil laughter that followed the floating wizard's tirade was beginning to grate on everyone's nerves.

Bergdis lets out a premature sigh of relief at the collapse of the summoned elemental, knowing it is but a summoned earth spirit and not one of the land she does not fret over its return to the plane of earth and instead thanks the Three and turns her attention to the fight above only to gasp as the monolithic fortress shrinks to the diminutive size of a Rashmi wood doll.
The thought crosses her mind, if only for an instant, that had the others done as she said and entered the fortress, they would have been crushed by the sizing magic.
Her eyes darting from the Thayan to the newly forming mound of earth only steps away from her countryman, Bergdis steels her resolve and tugs her bow from her shoulder, setting an arrow on the string and taking aim at the necromancer.
She had noticed the brave small figure laying limp by the side of the newly shrunk monolith but she knew well that tending to the wounded was saved for the end of battle, first the true threat must be eliminated before it can do any more harm...
She would have to trust the job of dealing with the elemental to the warrior.
While she did not have the magic to bring the Thayan to ground and he had wards against her bolts of energy, she had noted solid arrows and bolts had managed to have some effect and so should hers.
Waiting till he made to move his hands or mouth in the motions of another incantation, she let loose an arrow to try and disrupt the foul casting.



[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Draw bow, Delay till the necromancer tries to cast a spell then fire at him.
11:41, Today: Bergdis rolled 21 using 1d20+2. Bow Attack Roll.
11:41, Today: Bergdis rolled 1 using 1d6. Bow Damage.
Entangle: 3 turns
Protection from Evil: 7 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Eirik stood over the crumbling rubble of the earth elemental, snatching back his breath, exalting in his victory over the mighty monster.

Then he turned his head and saw the next one. "Oh, for crying out loud..."

Not stopping, he hurtled towards the second elemental, screaming in animal fury. He stopped short, swung the banesword around, but he cut only the air.


OOC: Charge the 2nd earth elemental, +2 attack
Power Attack -4/+8
Bane attack +2
Attack 11 :( (corrected from diceroller, looking at wrong sword, for all the good it would do)

"You can say that again!" gripes Cecania as she fires another shot at the necromancer.

Her wolf, meanwhile, stands up and limps towards the elemental - it's time for some summoned monster on summoned monster battling!

[Private to GM: OOC:

Cecania: Shoots at the necromancer (hits AC 18 for 6 damage!)
Wolf: stands up and runs at the elemental!
Dice:
23:47, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 6 using 1d8. Dmg.
23:46, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 18 using 1d20+3. Shoot Xbow. ]

Relgar turns his bow's angle and just growls; "Just shut up!" Relgar curses that mage is floating in air and not hovering closer to the ground when he could leap and strike him! But for now Relgar fires quickly two arrows, which one is better aimed while other goes wide stray.

---

OOC: I use rapid shot to get 'two chances' to roll well but so far all rolls suck :P. I start remove modifier from the rolls does it fare better.

11:45, Today: Relgar rolled 6 using 1d8+2. Dmg.
11:45, Today: Relgar rolled 8 using 1d20+4. Rapid shot 2.
11:45, Today: Relgar rolled 13 using 1d20+4. Rapid shot 1.

   Eirik wastes no time at all in re-assessing his situation. It had gone from bad to worse, with one less working for his side - Harto - and a replacement reinforcing the fallen elemental. The Thayan blade still felt good in his hand, warm even, and so the barbarian set out across the snowy ground to intercept the second wave of the magician's summoned army. He met it head-on, cleaving effortlessly down upon the thing's form...but this one seemed to anticipate the attack, or perhaps sense the danger in the slab of metal he bore...and so moved aside with a deftness that belied its great bulk. Eirik returns the favor, finding his footing solid on a patch of exposed grass, and sidesteps the great bash from the stone arm. Cecania's summoned wolf, feeling its second wind now, dashes across the ground to fight at his side.
   Relgar's arrows sing past the flying necromancer, missing just to the left and right in quick succession. The vile man sneers down at the ranger and begins casting a spell aimed at that very archer, not realizing that the shots boxed him in, and gave Bergdis a better shot - the shot she'd waited for. Unfortunately, the mix of her excitement at getting a clean aim and lack of real skill meant her missile only grazed the man as he cast his spell, barely even bringing forth a grunt as a small globe of white shot from his outstretched hand.
   "Trouble me no more!" Shouted the Thayan mage as the magical snowball struck the ground between Relgar and Jostyn, exploding into a shower of frigid shards of snow and ice, pelting the three closest targets with his magic.
   The undead knight, caught unawares, could only throw his arm across his face and cringe as the magically-driven energy assaulted his body...and did nothing save coat him with snow and frost, and slightly bruise his already battered body. "Idiot spellcaster!" he shouted with his own malicious grin. "*You* made me this way! Don't you realize I am immune to the effects of the frozen wastes?" A rude gesture followed as he cast about for something to use to attack the floating man with.
   "Bah. Ere the sun sets, you'll beg me for rele-aaargh!" The necromancer's return verbal jab was cut short as Cecania, quietly lining up her own shot from below, sunk her crossbow's bolt into the meaty part of the mage's flank. It wasn't pretty, but a butt shot was better than a miss.
   Across the field of battle, Vicril pulls the slender wand from his belt and administers a soft, healing glow from the tip to the stricken halfling. Though Harto does not stir, the druid seems relived at his efforts.

---

ooc: The DC for the Snilloc Snowball spell for Relgar and Bergdis is 15. the damage is 14 on a failed save, 7 on a successful one.
   Eirik I missed you by 1 again. :|
   Note the subject line in my post...this could be the last round of combat, depending on how things go in the next! Also note that Bergdis' shot was timed to try and interrupt spellcasting, forcing him to make a DC16 concentration check [which he passed], while Cecania's was simply an attack on her initiative, which hit. Either way, good work to both of you...and I'm not saying one or the other will do any more or less good in this next round. :P

With a inaudible grunt muffled by the sounds of snow flying, Bergdis is pummeled to the ground, her bow flying lose from her grip to fall in the snow beside the battered witch. For a moment she lies unmoving and then, a whisper...

"The Hidden One take this one!"

Feebly but confidently, one of her arms reaches for her bow as she pulls herself to her feet.
"A Snilloc's Snowball Swarm spell... he must be down to his last spells if he is resorting to such lowly battle Art. If only there were a way to tell the Cormyrian to time her bolts better without giving away our intention. May the Three grant her the wisdom to notice what I was aiming to do."



[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Spellcraft to ID spell cast by Thayan. Failed save brings Bergdis to 0 hp. Use 1 standard action to activate belt of healing for 2 charges (3d8 healing), action causes 1 point of damage.
22:56, Today: Bergdis rolled 6 using 1d20+2. Reflex Save vs. Spell.
22:55, Today: Bergdis rolled 29 using 1d20+11. Spellcraft Check.
23:02, Today: Bergdis rolled 17 using 3d8. Healing .
Entangle: 2 turns
Protection from Evil: 6 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Fri 06 Feb 2009.

Eirik followed his sidestep through, trying to flank the behemoth with the wolf. He waved at it, signalling it to move as well. If only the animal would understand the maneuver. "Move! That way!" Finally he shrugged, he guessed he wasn't getting through to it.

So he attacked the elemental again, swinging his blade in a mighty chop from right to left, impacting savagely on its belly. "Why won't you things just die?!"


OOC:
Eirik 5-foot steps to the west.
Handle Animal 21, trying to "push" it into a 5-foot step to the north-west, to set up a flank. I guess that's a fail though.

Power Attack -2/+4
Attack 28 (inc. +2 from bane)
Damage 19
Bane Damage 7
Total Damage 26

After taking care to heal some of the halflings wounds Vicril started to cast his spell. How he had hoped that he would have a clear line of sight to the necromancer.

[Private to GM: OCC:
Sorry about not posting last round. I'm summoning a Hippogriff again. This time from my own spell list. ]

Hellbite barked at the human warrior playfully, wagging her tail eagerly.  He wanted to be part of Hellbite's pack!  Glee!  Dancing to the side, the fiendish wolf leaped forward and bit at the strange elemental's back, trying to drag it down so she and her new packmate could feast on its remains!

Elsewhere, Cecania grins with malicious satisfaction at the sight of the bolt sticking out of the necromancer's rear, then loads another bolt into her crossbow and fires at the him again, oblivious to the witch's desperate attempts to spontaneously develop the capacity to communicate telepathically with her.

[Private to GM: OOC:
Cecania:
 Standard: Shoot at the mage! (AC 14 for 7 damage!)
 Move: Reload!
Wolf:
 Free: 5-ft step to flank!
 Standard: Bite at the elemental (AC 27 for 6 damage!  Trip attempt of 22!)

Dice:
12:55, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 7 using 1d8. cecania possible dmg.
12:54, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 22 using 1d20+3. trip attempt on the elemental.
12:52, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 6 using 1d6+3. Dmg! (assumes confirm fails).
12:52, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 10 using 1d20+7. Wolf confirm!.
12:52, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 27 using 1d20+7. Wolf atk elemental.
12:48, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Cecania shoots!. ]

   The flying necromancer doesn't even register the fall of the witch as she succombs to his icy spell, an oversight that goes unnoticed by most still continuing their desperate struggle for survival in the frigid battle.
   Eirik and the wolf seem to connect on some feral level, passing what seems like a plan between their mirroring actions as they each move further to flank the rocky behemoth. Unable to find purchase with its teeth on the rock elemental's form, the summoned canis instead throws its weight against the target, trying to pummel it into submission, or at least distract it enough to give the human a better shot.
   A better shot indeed! The baneblade strikes home again, borne with the fury and precision of hands that hold it as naturally as any skin of wine or haunch of meat. The barbarian's eye catches the falling slab as it slides to the ground with a thud, but the movement is not all just separated stone; the elemental rotates the portion of its body on the wolf side to the front, slamming into Eirik with the force of an ogre's hammer, bringing stars to his eyes and a ringing to his ears. [ooc: crit but no confirm, you can't beat the opposed roll vs str for slam, it backs you up 5 ft]
   A large dent in the ground where he *was* indicates just how badly he could have been mauled had he not sliced off a large portion of the elemental's form a moment earlier....
   Relgar chooses to return to the single shots that had served him well earlier in the fight; firing fast is only frustrating him. The necromancer, still in the act of staring down at Cecania, who is busily reloading her crossbow for another shot, does not seem to notice the oncoming arrow. Unfortunately, the invisible shield the hovering mage still has up defelcts the arrow easily.
   The deflection catches the Thayan's attention, and from her near vantage point, Cecania can see his eyes open slightly wider as he takes in the scene of battle. His minions dead or dying, his fortress reduced to a toy, and his own body damaged by enemy attacks, things were looking rather grim for him.
   "This is but a temporary delay, nothing more." He grins evilly, moving his hand in what seems like a grandiose gesture from his left to his front. Not interested in listening to more of his glib tirade, Cecania shoots again, point-blank...but sees her bolt ricochet off the same invisible shield, too!
   "I've done enough to ensure the death of Rashemen's central plains. Without food, where will you go now? Thesk? Hardly. Narfell, and look up old relatives? The Hordelands, and fight daily for a living? Best to just surrender to the mercies of Thay and get it over with! Muahahah....!" A flourish of his hands, and the necromancer's body dissolved into a cloud of thick smoke, then began floating rather quickly off to the northwest, just as a second hippogriff explodes into existence beside him. The beast pursues the cloud quickly, snapping and diving at it all the way.

---

OOC: Eirik takes 17 damage, max for the possible, but fortunately it wasn't a critical, huh? :)
   I had almost forgotten that a shield spell's facing can be changed once per round as a free action. Whew.

Eirik ground his boots into the ground to halt his slide back, gritting his teeth to resist the elemental and the pain. Bruised all over, ribs cracked, a half-dozen bloody gashes, he snarled at the stone-beast like a wounded animal. Fury burned cold within him as heard the necromancer's words, until he roared out loud "We will never yield!"

With a new-found strength and endurance born of the threat to his homeland, he leapt forwards, attacking the elemental in a mighty overhead swing, the bane-blade crashing down with the force of a champion of Rashemen "Yaaah!"


OOC: Finally! I've never been so glad to take damage before. :D
Beserker Strength triggered: Strength +4, Saves +2, DR 2/-, AC -2 (all the red bits on my sheet)
5 foot step forwards
Power Attack -2/+4
Attack 16 (+1 for bane, +2 for flank, corrected from diceroller)
Damage 18
Bane Damage 8
Total Damage 26

Swift action: Cloak Of Predatory Vigor, heal +4 hp

I hope this hits. I guess I shouldn't have gone for the Power Attack. :(
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Wed 04 Mar 2009.

Relgar runs after the mage but shouts while running; "HEY! Someone who summoned that flying beast order it pick me up! I spank the wizard while I fly it!" While Relgar said that he draws his scimitar, which now started release a cold mist from the blade, anticipating to taste flesh and blood soon if plans go well.....

Vicril orders the hippogriff to return to pick up Relgar and he shouted after the mage Come on you bastard. Fight like a man you coward. I'll chase you all the way to the abyss if I have to.

He was clearly angry by the escape of the mage. This was a treat he could not let pass by without being taken cared of.

Relgar mounts Hippogrift, taking tight hold on neck of the beast while other hand hold blade ready. He said to the animal; "Now please no jumpy flight please, just fly close that bastard so I can swing it okey?" Relgar then hold for his dear life when hippogrift took off, and prepared swing his blade hard when they pass close the transformed mage who retreated slowly.....

---

OOC: Not sure what all pens are involved in flying unsaddled exotic flying mount so made roll with my normal mods.

22:35, Today: Relgar rolled 20 using 1d20+2. Ride (no pens).

Turning her attention to the Thayan as he goes on his maniacal rant, Bergdis narrows her eyes. On her knees now, she reaches for another arrow, only to see the necromancer vaporize into a cloud of darkness.

"Curses be on this vile infectious wound of the Red Wizards!"

his threats were not hallow, and Bergdis knew this. He had caused much damage, but she had the full confidence that, with the aid of her sisters, it could be reversed and the natural order restored to the land. Though it would take years for the scars to vanish. If the necromancer was not killed however, he would keep working against the land, and this could not be allowed! With a glance over at her barbarian, she nodded to herself and let the arrow fall back into the quiver.

She had recognized the incantation woven by the cowardly necromancer and she knew that nothing but Art could harm him in that state and his protective wards would still be active. His weakness was the speed at which the incantation allowed him to float through the air. Though she was weak yet to master such Art, the raven within was crowing, she could move faster!

"Yes my spirit!"

Focusing her mind and preparing for the momentary pain, she let out a single loud howl which began as the imitation of a howl, her body twitching and contorting at as fur covered her limbs and they shortened. Her body fell forward on newly formed paws and a snout elongated from her face as her spine snapped and shortened till she was no longer and in her place was a wolf with a mane white as snow. The howl ended as a true one.

Without a moment's hesitation she was off, running faster then any average human could run, from rock to rock and mound to icy mound, bounding after the receding cloud of darkness.


[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Spellcraft to ID spell cast by Thayan.
22:08, Today: Bergdis rolled 24 using 1d20+11. Spellcraft check.
Cast Aspect of the Wolf and give chase at Move: 50 feet.
Entangle: 1 turns
Protection from Evil: 5 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:29, Tue 17 Feb 2009.

   Eirik's telling blow falls upon the rocky form of the elemental, but at the last possible instant the being shifts, bringing up an 'arm' to block and deflect the chopping attack before it can gain any real momentum. A struggle ensues, in the form of a test of might - the implacable elemental with one stony pseudopod raised, holding back the magical blade of the resolute barbarian, the latter's breath coming in gouts of mist in the cold air.
   A slight shift, and the elemental slides forward a fraction, pushing aside the blade to win the contest, but using much of its available leverage. The counterattack misses Eirik badly, and the earthman is left vulnerable for the finishing blow. [ooc: critical fumble so +2 circumstance to next round for Eirik and wolf]

   Relgar watches with impatience as the hippogriff banks in midair at the call of its summoner to return, wishing there were some way to speed it up so that the necromancer wouldn't get away. Behind him only a few steps, Bergdis completes a spell of her own and dashes past the ranger, a look of grim determination upon her face.
   "Blasted...! I'm not staying like this forever! Bring back that stone!" shouts Jostyn as he, too, begins running after the fleeing Thayan wizard's cloudy form. It seemed to be moving slightly faster now - not much faster than a man's running pace, but then again, it had no slippery ground nor hazards of terrain to deal with in its straight line of travel through the air.
   Finally the summoned mount arrives, and Relgar practically leaps into the spot between wings, realizing immediately that without a saddle...or any real training with flying mounts, for that matter...this might be more difficult [and dangerous] than he'd anticipated. But the fact was, no personal danger could be so grave as to let a necromancer - one whose very existence was an affront to the living - escape justice. Or Relgar's own wrath.
   With a great beat of wings, the hippogriff ascends, nearly pitching the ranger to the ground immediately. He manages to hold on, though, and notes only with some dismay that the necromancer is almost invisible, seemingly so far away now. Then he notices now quickly he is gaining on the cloud...

   Apparently, so does the necromancer, for in the next instant the cloud coalesces, coming together and solidifying to recreate the evil Thayan spellcaster once more. Still he bears the wounds of the fight, but even at this distance one can see how angry he is at being pursued.
   "The Abyss take you! And let none find your frozen bones on this rock!" Arms out wide, he hovers just above the ground, tilting his head back and chanting some words that mean nothing to the untrained. But Bergdis knows this spell, having seen it foil goblin archers before, and raises a paw to ward off the coming blast...
   From in front of the necromancer, several armspans wide on either side and as high as the hippogriff is flying, a furious wind arises. Snow, ice, and what little dirt is present are all picked up and hurled with stinging force at the pursuers. Relgar wishes he knew what the command word for 'up' was right about now....

---

ooc: It's a Fort save, DC 17, to be able to move at all against this windstorm [Gust of Wind spell]; normally its a DC 15 for this level/force of wind, but this is a spell effect. The hippogriff will be pushed back 1d6 x 5 feet, and Relgar will need another riding check [but fortunately is only 20-30 feet off the ground so will not suffer greatly if he doesn't succeed].
   Regardless of outcome on that save, a Spot check will also have to be made, this round or next, to be able to see the necromancer again through this brief snowstorm, as he will be reverting back to mist form.
   Bergdis, as this is a spell you do not have access to and thus have no way of learning at present, you cannot determine what it is by spellcraft check. I am therefore applying your roll to the second spell as an automatic success, and you may either add +2 to your fort save or +2 to your spot check due to being prepared for the blast. :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:30, Fri 20 Feb 2009.

Relgar curses when he grips on his mount desperately and try bear the blast while trying remain on his mount.....

---

OOC: 'reverting back' you mean he casts the spell again turn gaseous form? What are odds a wizard have TWO such spells in disposal :P. Anycase I think Relgar failed ride check but is it allowed him to do grapple check on mount and use it instead check does he remain on mount?

23:39, Today: Relgar rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Grapple.
23:36, Today: Relgar rolled 12 using 1d20+6. Spot.
23:36, Today: Relgar rolled 24 using 1d20+8. Fort save.
23:35, Today: Relgar rolled 8 using 1d20+2. Ride.

Unable to move forward in the gale force winds of the incantation's onslaught, the wolf form that is Bergdis moves to run around the wall of winds and spot the necromancer so she might continue the pursuit.


[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Last round, Bergdis cast a spell which transformed her into a wolf. She cannot raise a hand against the Gust of Wind as you wrote nor could Relgar see her run by. He could see a white wolf run by and she could raise a paw, though that is unlikely. That is what Aspect of the Wolf does and it's what I tried to describe.
On the matter of Spellcraft, knowing the spell and being of sufficient level to know it should not be a factor according to the PH. All the check allows you to do is recall some memory from studies or otherwise of what the spell generally does. in other words, she might have recognized it as a Gaseous Form spell but she would not know the duration since she does not know the spell. Since the check is 15 plus spell level, a 24 would identify even a 9th level spell. Think about it, a wizard or cleric doesn't need to know a spell to know of a spell. Of course, the final word is up to you.
Anyway, took the +2 to the Fort. save.
17:02, Today: Bergdis rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Spot Check.
17:02, Today: Bergdis rolled 8 using 1d20+6. Fort. Save.

Bergdis is now trying to run around the area of the Gust of Wind to get at the necromancer, remember that her movement is now 50 please.

Entangle: 1 turns
Protection from Evil: 5 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:10, Thu 19 Feb 2009.

Eirik cursed the elemental that kept him stuck here, that stood between him and pursuing the necromancer. He dared not leave it behind, lest the monster cause damage to the land on the Scarred One's behalf. Yet he knew he ought to be hunting the slaying the man himself, who was the greater threat.

He swung at the stone-man's exposed flank, not so wildly this time, and scored a solid blow. He wanted to hack it apart with all his might, but the thing's stony hide was too  tough; he had to aim for the weaker spots with care.


OOC: Attack 27 (including +2 circumstance, +2 flank, +2 bane), Damage 17, Bane 7, Total Damage 24

I should have Power Attacked after all.

Seeing the wizard escape, Cecania curses, running after him as quickly as she can manage under the circumstances.

Meanwhile, Hellbite the fiendish wolf inched to the side, working with her newfound packmate to bring the elemental down!

OOC:
Cecania: double moves in pursuit of the necromancer.

Hellbite:
5-ft step: into flanking range
Standard: Attacks the elemental (Hits AC 20 for FOUR damage, then free trip attempt (DC 15 opposed strength check)

Dice: 02:51, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 15 using 1d20+3. Trip attempt o the elemental.
02:50, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 4 using 1d6+3. Dmg!.
02:50, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 20 using 1d20+7. Wolf atk elemental.

   As the blast wave of cold air and debris strikes them, Relgar and the hippogriff suck in their breaths in shock. Frigid tendrils of magically-enhanced wind whip about their bodies, freezing exposed skin and making the ranger's eyes tear up. Fighting to maintain its position aloft, the summoned mount squaaks in confusion and anger, beating wings furiously against the brief gale. Relgar, unused to the motions of the beast beneath him, is suddenly upended, and finds himself clinging to two fistfuls of feath and fur, his feet dangling out in the open air! Unbalanced, the hippogriff flaps wildly as the winds push it back and down, until it lands unceremoniously [though fairly gently] on the ground a dozen paces further from the necromancer, and Relgar quickly scrambles up onto its back again.
   Bergdis, or rather the pale wolf whose form she's assumed, backs up a few steps to gather her bearings in the sudden blizzard, then lowers her canine head and bounds off to one side, emerging from the windstorm with snow caking one side of her body, then turns sharply and digs in, moving with leaps and bounds to make up the lost distance.
   Still hovering, the necromancer puts his arms back down at his side and makes the same gesture as before, once again assuming the misty form he is using for escape. However, instead of fleeing to the north, further into the mountain range, he cuts sharply southwest, skimming the surface of the 'frozen' pond. It looks like he is heading for the great hole in the ground.
   Eirik and the wolf, working in tandem at last, deal the elemental a devastating set of blows that finally fracture its hold on this plane. Shattered at last, the creature's form collapses in a heap of stone that is, by now, becoming a familiar sight to the barbarian. A glance at the length of his blade shows it has suffered no ill effects from being struck against solid rock this battle. Bane of stone indeed!
   Harto sits up groggily, holding his head with one hand and looking around, nodding thanks to Vicril for his assistance in saving his life and wincing in pain for the effort.

---

OOC: Yes, Relgar, I'd agree that it would be odd for him to have it memorized twice, but it is in fact a non-rechargeable item with charges he is using. :) Great thinking on the grapple check, by the way!
   Crossing the icy pond on foot will require a DC15 reflex check [or balance skill check if that is higher for you] to maintain footing at normal speed, DC19 if you are using a double move. I'll check your sheets for weight/encumbrance to see the danger of breaking through the ice for the following round. :|

Relgar mounts hippogrift again and tries encoruage the beast to fly after the mist. He doubts wizard can continually do same trick again and again. So he prepares scimitar to cut the cur once they are in range!

---

OOC: Made several rounds worth of ride checks see does Relgar reach necromancer mounted before his summoned mount disappears :P.

13:41, Today: Relgar rolled 6 using 2d6. Cold dmg.
13:41, Today: Relgar rolled 5 using 1d6+3. Dmg.
13:40, Today: Relgar rolled 23 using 1d20+7. Scimitar attack.
13:40, Today: Relgar rolled 9 using 1d20+2. Ride check (next turn :P).
13:40, Today: Relgar rolled 14 using 1d20+2. Ride check.
13:40, Today: Relgar rolled 6 using 1d20+2. Ride check.
13:39, Today: Relgar rolled 3 using 1d20+2. Ride check.

Eirik ripped his sword through the elemental, roaring in triumph as pebbles sprayed everywhere as it finally collapsed and died.

He nodded his thanks to the wolf-spirit, then looked wildly about, eager to find fresh enemies. Where had everyone gone? At last he noticed Harto, sitting up from the turf. He was almost relieved to see that he was okay. "Harto! We're chasing the necromancer!" he yelled, then ran off.

He picked the direction where he had last seen the others and the necromancer heading, and ran, ran, as fast as he could. Memories of the village foot-races came to mind, as he pelted across the snow-bound landscape, boots crunching ice, leaping across gullies and obstacles in single bounds like a great cat. He'd often won the races, even against his brother Vash. He felt he could run forever, with the cold wind against his face, the land beneath his feet, the blood running in his veins, the scent of prey leading him on.


OOC: I'm not sure how far back Eirik is, but he'll just take the Run action until he catches up. At 40-foot move speed, he can Run for 160 feet in a round.

If it comes up, here's some rolls: Jump 31 (corrected for Berserker), Balance 17, Tumble 18. Boots Of The Winterlands means that Eirik can move across snow at normal speed, no tracks, and across slippery ice without falling.

I'll activate the Cloak Of Predatory Vigor a second time (no more uses this day), and heal 4 hitpoints. Eirik is still under the effects of Berserker Strength.

Vicril continues to run after the necromancer and Relgar. He calls out for his wolf friend Tarnin to follow. He was quite glad that he had the Boots of The Winterlands that kept him from falling on the snow and ice. He keeps his sword drawn ready to slice the necromancer in two.

Cursing, Cecania hikes her robes up and starts to run around the small pond, wishing her faithful horse was with her now.

Elsewhere, Hellbite the fiendish wolf howls mournfully as she returns to the Abyss...

Still in the form of a wolf, the witch snaps her canine head to follow the sudden swift retreat of the Thayan.
Without a moment's hesitation, the white wolf leaps through the area of the necromancer's arcane wind, trying to use the force of the gale's thrust on the far side, to propel her form further as she dashes after the escaping cloud of gas, skirting the frozen pond to avoid slipping and loosing her speed.

Though no one is paying them any attention anymore, the wild roots and vines that had erupted from the snowy ground to entangle the giant skeletons only several moments ago where once a tower stood, now vanish back into the ground in silence.


[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Leap through Gust of Wind from "safe" side and run full speed, MV 200, around the pond and after the Thayan cloud.

Entangle: 0 turns
Protection from Evil: 5 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:31, Sun 08 Mar 2009.

  OOC: blankety-blank internet connection...posting from library on my lunch break again...

---

   The winds all but forgotten now that the necromancer is on the move again, Bergdis and Relgar each take their own routes out of the magical one-way storm: the witch in wolf form leaping to the side to gain purchase with her running form, while the ranger, still clinging desperately to the mane of feathers and fur provided by the hippogriff, urging his unsteady mount to greater heights [and less safe] speeds. It is all he can do to clamp his legs around its midriff and keep from flipping upside down, as the summoned beasts' great wings beat strongly, erratically, to keep them both airborne.
   Eirik and Vicril, sporting nearly identical pairs of magical boots, dash forward as fast as their feet can carry them as they both race directly for the accellerating cloud of evil mageness, which seems to be making a beeline [no pun intended] for the deep shaft that has been hollowed out of the ground...the same type of shaft that eirik and Relgar fell into at the *other* dead river site not so long ago. They know from experience how deep into the earth that tunnel will go, and with the torrent of the diverted river's rushing waters also ehading straight down that shaft....

   Bergdis, Eirik, and Vicril converge on three sides of the tunnel just as the misty form of the Thayan Death Mage dives through the opening, his insubstantial form flowing like smoke going into a chimney, rather than out.
   "Don't let him escape!" shouts Jostyn from the edge of the frozen pond, as Cecania skirts to his left and Relgar, finally controlling the hippogriff better than usual, swoops overhead brandishing his magical frost blade. "He can't be allowed to escape with that stone!"

   Truly, if he did, then all this chasing and fighting was for naught; in time, the necromancer would raise another army of undead, stronger this time, and continue his work until the whole of Rashemen was as dry and lifeless as the Anauroch.

On he ran, as fast as he could go and driving himself ever faster. He had to stop the Scarred One, else all was lost, his land doomed and people ruined. That thought consumed him, pushed him on. He had to stop it. He could do nothing but pursue the mage. Jostyn's words echoed in his ears, even above the throbbing of his blood, the crunching snow and earth, the gasp of his breath. He had to stop the mage, whatever the cost.

The shaft appeared before him, like the land had opened up a great dark maw and was greedily swallowing the river, devouring the countryside. There was the smoky form of the mage, disappearing inside. He could be gone for good. There was only one thing for it.

Eirik ran for the hole, put his boot on its ledge and kicked a spray of dirt and rocks, then leapt into the air, then dived down, down, into the dark pit.

With wind rushing about him, whistling in his ears, the warrior glided head-first down towards the Scarred One, the sharp edge of his sword leading the way, ready to run the gaseous mage through. Tempus guide my sword. "For Rashemen!" he cried.


:O

OOC:
Jump 16
Charge Attack: +2 attack, -2 AC - is this possible when falling?
Attack 17
Damage 18

It's a magic sword, so it should overcome the DR 10/magic. And I hope Eirik can fall faster than the 10 foot movement speed of gaseous form. (I recently used it in another game.)

Gods, I hope this works.

Far in the back of the action, Cecania continues to sprint as quickly as the snow and ice will allow, ignoring the burning feeling starting in her lungs.

"Go...Rasheman!" she pants hoarsely in response to the warcry, looking up once to check on the action ahead of her as she kept running.

Seeing Eirik bravely dive down, it brought mad grin to Relgar! He ties rope around his waist and to waist of hippogrift quickly. He then dives after Eirik! Holding saber high he screams; "RASHEMEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

---

OOC: I join Eirik in his nutcase dive but bit smartly by tying rope around my waist (assuming hole is too small to hippogrift to dive into). If rope is about stop Relgar's fall too short to reach thayan misty form then he cuts the rope and takes gamble. Note that when Relgar attacks his dreadful wrath effect occurs so roll for thayan DC 13 will save or become shaken.

23:49, Today: Relgar rolled 10 using 1d20+9. Charge attack.

Doh, I hope GM allows me use old good roll for the heroic leap attack instead fumble -_-

"Damn!" The witch cursed silently as she watched through the eyes of a wolf as one after the other the members of the small band dove in after the gaseous Thayan. Her mind teetered on cursing them for their foolishness but her heart knew their predicament and felt for their rage and passion.
Aggressive as she may be however, Bergdis was a creature of logic, bread into her over years of training under the Hathran.
Her spirit within crocked as it brought her focus back to the gaping hole that loomed just a couple of bounds away now.
She could not harm the necromancer in his current form, she prayed the others could. He might just be fooling them into a trap, he could, after all, in the gaseous form he was in, just float off to the side and come back out of the hole. Something it seems her brave barbarian in his rage, had overlooked.
Stopping at the lip of the hole, she gazed down its depths before assuming her normal form and reaching for one of the scrolls at her sash. She noticed their number was dwindling...


[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Stop at the edge of the hole (move action) and resume human form (standard action). Then draw a scroll of feather fall from scroll organizer (free action) as she looks into the hole.

17:03, Today: Bergdis rolled 22 using 1d20+3. Spot Check.

Protection from Evil: 4 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:38, Tue 17 Mar 2009.

Vicril stopped at the edge of the hole. He was shaking in anger. HE could not let this happen. He cried out in desperation. Khelliara, my mistress. Turn me into what ever you may to rid this plague from this land. Even if it would cost me my life for so strong is my love for this land.

One could see the sorrow in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Tears going down his cheek like rivers in the spring when the snow started to melt in the mountains. Let he save them

The man's sobs reached the witch's ears, carried on the cold mountain breeze. She did not look over at him, she remained focused on her goal, the gaping hole before her and the gaseous necromancer within. She felt no pity for the nature man. She had watched his arguments with her sister Navarra but it was not these that stayed her pity, as a member of the wychlaran, Bergdis was privy to an inkling of the true power of Rashemen. She was no less attached to the land, felt no less hatred for this life defiling Red Wizard but her training had taught her that the land could scarce afford to lose even one of its few guardians. She must do all in her power to live to fight another day and warn her sisters of this threat. The Red Wizard was a fool if he thought he would ever complete his scheme unopposed. This group was but a vanguard for the resistance he would face. Nevertheless, if he could be stopped before he managed to do more harm, all the better.
With one last thought for the sobbing man, she prayed Khelliara would grant him the wisdom and guidence to not throw his life away.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Tue 17 Mar 2009.

   Eirik hung suspended in mid-jump for a heartbeat, the dirt and snow forming a bridge between the ground and the bottoms of his boots - a graceful arc that personified the bond between a Rashemite and the land he loved so dearly. For the barbarian, the sounds of people yelling and wolves barking faded to a muted roar, while his vision narrowed and shrank until his eyes locked, at the apex of his leap, with his newly appointed witch. Bergdis and he shared in that instant the same bond of knowledge and friendship that had taken months to forge with Navarra...and both knew this might be the last they ever saw of each other.
   And then he fell.

   Relgar, hands working frantically to fasten his rope around the hippogriff he rode, could see the figure of the crazy warrior for a bit longer than the rest, positioned as he was high above. A kick of his heels sent the summoned steed into a dive which ended in a swooping hover right above the hole in the ground; though he tried to make it look rehearsed, he as much fell off the bird-beast as jumped, his blade in one hand and the rope playing out behind him in the other.

   At the edge, the other three members of the party stare into the bowels of the earth, watching the wobbling rope and the retreating forms of their two fast-falling comrades as they disappear into the depths. The waterfall of the river was eerily quiet, given that the thunderous crash normally heralded by water reaching the bottom of the falls was absent...which could only mean that the shaft dug by the bound elementals went much farther down than any of them could see or hear.
   This did not bode well for the men within.

   Relgar fell quickly, and realized almost instantly two things: he was going to be grateful for the rope arresting his fall - one that would have otherwise surely ended in his death, and that he was not falling fast enough to catch up with either the necromancer or Eirik. A moment later his length of rope was reached, and the stunning jolt at the end brought his thoughts back to reality, and to maintaining his grip on his blade.
   Up above, the rope goes taut, and the hippogriff squaks in surprise at the weight displacement. It does, however, manage to maintain its position airborne, and the rope holds fast as well, saving them all from the loss of their ranger.

   The faint echo of what sounds like a triumphant battle-cry wafts upwards through the opening, and then all is silent.

---

ooc: Ah, the suspense! The tingling sensation in your shoulders and neck that tell you something major has just happened...for good or ill! Blue elf is about to die...! lol
   Relgar, you take 6 damage from the sudden stop - good thinking on the rope, btw - and must make a DC16 strength check to hold your blade. If you fail, you get a second shot at grabbing it with a  DC16 reflex save, or it falls away from you down the hole....
   On another note, Vicril's player is moving on to a new career starting sunday, and will likely be unable to continue playing his druid. Please take the time to thank him for his company and wish him well in the OOC thread. :)

Relgar winched but he managed hold on his blade, but he releases loud howling cry of sorrow and rage when he saw brave, foolishly brave, Eirik dive after the necromancer! With grimace of sorrow he starts climb up the rope fast as he can. As he is sure the summoned beast will not remain long in the world and it could bring embarrassing end to the ranger if beast where rope is tied disappears before Relgar reaches the surface......

---

22:20, Today: Relgar rolled 24 using 1d20+4. Climb 3.
22:20, Today: Relgar rolled 11 using 1d20+4. Climb 2.
22:20, Today: Relgar rolled 13 using 1d20+4. Climb.
22:20, Today: Relgar rolled 9 using 1d20+4. Climb.
22:18, Today: Relgar rolled 17 using 1d20+2. Str check.

Unraveling the scroll now in her hand, Bergdis quickly and deftly intones the arcane syllables she'd inked on the old sheet in a clear and concise manner and then without a moment's hesitation, she steps over the edge of the gaping hole and gently floats down, like a feather falling of a table on a still summer day, water rushing loudly all around her. Silently, she intones a prayer to the Hidden One...


[Private to DM Lobo: OOC: Cast feather fall from scroll and step into hole.
Protection from Evil: 3 turns]
This message was last edited by the player at 02:12, Thu 19 Mar 2009.

   "Just great" growled Jostyn with anything but what sounded like a happy voice. He rushes to the edge of the well-shaft and cautiously peers over the edge, clenching his lifeless hands into fists from frustration. With the escape of the necromancer and the loss of his quest artifact, one had to wonder if the Thayan knight would remain an undead forever, or would he crumble to dust while his tormented spirit wanders aimlessly?
   Plus, Eirik jumped in with his magic sword.

   "I hope that's levitation you've cast!" he shouts at the retreating form of the witch.

   "Don't come back empty-handed!" he adds in a slightly pleading tone.

"I could do that too," she mutters sourly, watching Bergdis descend down the mine shaft effortlessly.  "If I wanted to."

Pulling out a length of finely made silk rope and attaching the rope's grappling hook securely to the mouth of the tunnel, she thrusts the rope towards Jostyn.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she growls.
[Private to GM:
OOC:
16:32, Today: Cecania Cormaeril rolled 14 using 1d20+4. Use Rope check. (Success!)]

Eirik fell, legs apart, arms spread wide like the wings of the eagle, to slow and steady his descent. Yet the air still rushed past him, buffeting him, pushing him around, cold against his face, whipping his hair. He gritted his teeth, flexed his knuckles, intent on his prey. Diving, swooping, falling...

He was still in his frenzy, the blood-lust that came over all warriors in the heights of battle. Reflexes faster, strength greater, senses sharper. So he became aware of every detail around him. The patterns and shapes of the dirt and stone walls of the shaft, a collapsed burrow, roots peeking out alongside earthworms and bugs, all that had survived the starving of the land. From above the spray of sand and flecks of water and small stones against his skin, alternately stinging hard and refreshing cool. The roar of the waterfall as the river spilled into the shaft beside him, seeming to slow to a halt as he approached its speed, matched it, then accelerated past it. The inky darkness below, full of the unknown, and silence...

The hole was much deeper than he'd thought. He'd hit the far distant water as if it was solid stone.

He didn't panic. He wasn't afraid. The experience was strangely calming; this must be how an animal felt when taken by a predator. No choice, no fear; his life became a single line, leading straight down, his path clear, his course set.

He was a Rashemi warrior, and would meet his death with dignity, with honour, with courage. His deeds would be remembered, told by his friends above, the tale of how he gave his life to save his homeland. Warriors would toast his name with jhuild in the lodges, and in his village. His legend would live on, even though he would not.

On the other hand, he was really pissed.

The skalds always said a man's life flashed before his eyes in the moments before death. It didn't seemed to be happening yet, so he tried it now. Childhood in the village, running, laughing, playing, with Vash and the rest of his brothers and sisters. His mother, kind and caring, and her delicious home-made sjorl, fletching arrows in her lap. His father, big, hairy, like the bear, fearsome in battle, gentle and good-natured, blackened from the forge.

He was out playing in the forest with Vash when a blizzard swept up, the worst of the season. They'd gotten lost and seperated by heavy snows, and thought they would surely die. In the driving snow, he'd searched for his brother for ages, calling his name. He found him, unconsious and almost blue. Fearing him dead, he hugged him tight and crouched over him. The snow piled up over the both of them, and they were buried. His parents said they'd found them long after, Vash alive, but he was thought dead, until he'd awoken, preserved by the cold.

Then, growing up, hunting, training, fighting, hearing the tales, the contests of strength and endurance. A swim across an ice-cold lake, a run across the forest, a climb up a rocky cliff, often winning. He only had to keep going, to best himself.

His first major hunt, tracking a snow tiger, all alone. The others said it was too dangerous, alone and inexperienced. He'd ignored them. He wanted to show his bravery and skill, and snuck away. But the cat was hunting him, pouncing out of a tree, knocking him to the ground, clawing him badly. He fended it off as best
he could, though it bit his hand. In a sudden rage, he shoved his fist down the tiger's throat. As it choked and spluttered, he ran off. Later, he was scolded and also praised. He took the snow tiger as his totem animal.

Now he saw Yuldra, his first love, a stolen kiss at the village feast, after his first drink of jhuild. Her green eyes sparkling, laughing. Her whispers through sweet lips into his ear. The touch of her body, her scent, their love.

Later, his dajemma. Pushed out into the world like hatchling, he didn't want to go. Leaving his parents, Vash, Yuldra. Vowing to return. He'd never see them again, he realised; so close, so far. He saw the wonders of the world, cities, civilization, the ocean, the desert. Drink and gambling and bar-room brawls, adventuring in forgotten tombs, the low point of his life. The first time he'd slain a person, a simple goblin raider, hardly heroic, ashamed.

Until Navarra, the Witch in disguise, tricking and humiliating the drunken warrior. Their duel, sword against spell. He still said it was a draw. Yet she dragged him home anyway, made him her bodyguard, and made him Rashemi again.

Finally their quest: an endless trek across a broken land. The undead, the talking plants and hapless gnolls, the nymphs of the lake, the witches of the Red Tree, great storm, the Thayans and their deceits. Relgar and Vicril and Graros and even Harto too, and Bergdis and Cecania, though he barely knew them. And Navarra. Their jibes and curses, hiding their feelings. Holding her close against the oncoming storm, stealing a kiss as she rode off on her mission. He'd never seen the Witch's face, and never would now.

Then the battle, slaying the earth elementals, pursuing the Scarred One, leaping down the pit into the bowels of the earth...

Oh, right, he'd just done that bit.

Finally Eirik sighted the Scarred One, crashing back to reality, realising it had only been a handful of brief heartbeats since he'd leaped in after him. There he was, a tattered cloud, shaped like a man, dim against the waterfall mist and darkness. No time for clever striking, no solid creature to grab and strangle, just grip the blade tight with both hands, point it down, keep falling.

A cry escaped his lips, lost in the rush and roar. The Scarred One came closer.

And in an instant Eirik was on him, through him, falling away from him. His sword had cut right through the cloudy form, shredding it to wisps. Even now he hoped by all the gods that he could cut the man.

He looked up, aim and balance lost, tumbling, rolling, falling through the air. The Scarred One was made of flesh now, amidst a cloud of blood. The magic of the blade had ruined his spell, and Eirik hoped he had no other.

That sword, enchanted, shape-changing, intelligent he supposed. The bane of stone, Jostyn had said. It had torn through the earth elementals so well. Bane of stone.

Almost before he thought the words, Eirik thrust out, wildly, hopefully. The tip of the great blade jammed into the solid stone wall, skidded out, leapt back in again. For an age Eirik dragged it down the shaft-wall, harder, deeper, the blade hungrily chewing through stone like it was sjorl. Rubble, dirt, sharp stones rained down on him from above, stinging his eyes, cutting his skin, battering his flesh and bones. The wall dragged up beneath his legs, belly and face, grinding though chain, leather, cloth and skin. His whole body alive with cold fire, every joint and part screaming its agony. He was screaming too, barely comprehending it, an animal rage. It was dark, he was probably blind, and still his world grew darker as death approached. He only had to not give up, not give in, roaring in the face of death.

Suddenly, he stopped, his joints almost popping with the impact. His hands gripped the hilt so tight he feared it would shatter, that his hand-bones would break. Perhaps they had. But somehow, he'd held, gasping, coughing, lungs so full of dust he felt like he was breathing mud.

Something flashed past, another jolt. It was hanging by his dangling leg, slipped down, grabbed his boot, clutching tight.

Eirik looked down, despite the pain, squinting through ruined eyes. Illuminated in the far distant light, was a red ruin of a man. The Scarred One. His face, his whole body, a mass of scars, old and fresh, frightfully hideous. But, underneath it all, this vile necromancer, this destroyer of Rashemen, was a pathetic little man. He too clutched tight to life, just as Eirik did. He respected that. But too bad. He was pulling him down, his fingers were slipping from the hilt.

The Scarred One had the magic stone, he remembered. How much would it weigh? Yet with both hands desperately clinging to the sword-hilt, there was no way he could reach the mage to retrieve it, not without falling to his own doom. Either way, the Stone was lost, but more important, he had to make sure the Scarred One was in no position to use it.

Eirik kicked the stone wall, hard as he could, breaking a toe through his thick boots, smashing the mage's hand into the hard surface. Again, and again. Eirik grunted with every impact, heard the mage cry out. His hand was mashed, a meaty claw Yet the man held tight, clutching to life with all of a necromancer's knowledge of its boundaries with death. Perhaps he was already dead, his desperation extending into undeath.

He kicked, he shook his foot, trying to lose the dead weight. The mage held tight. Finally, struggling against his failing grip, his aching bones, he raised his leg as high as he was able. It was like lifting his father's anvil. He spat dirt, blood and a broken tooth from his mouth, and forced out the words "Stitch this!" then swung his leg in a great arc.

The mage lost his grip at last, was flung off, hurtling through the air, bouncing off the walls of the shaft, falling down, down, in the darkness, towards the rushing river that would be as hard as stone.

Eirik found himself hanging there, alone, in the darkness, beaten and bloodied beyond all recognition, and somehow, surprisingly, not dead, though probably dying. He could barely see the top of the shaft. He supposed all he had to do now was choose when to fall down. Then the warrior-maidens of Tempus would raise him up to Warrior's Rest, and the Lord Of Battles would honour his bravery and courage. See you soon.

He remembered he had a healing potion at his belt, but he'd never be able to reach it, not without letting go of his sword. He found himself laughing. Salvation was in his pocket, yet he could not get at it. If it wasn't already shattered into a million pieces. So close, so far.

He laughed again, a mouth full of gravel. He remembered the Prophecy of Tarin Two-Bears: Blood follows blood unto stone, and from stone new blood emerges. All blood which enters Rashemen unwelcomed is enemy, but not all blood shed on the soil of Rashemen shall be enemy. Look to the bloody blades, not robes, for aid. He guessed it had come true; he had followed the Scarred One into the stone.


OOC: Attack (the wall) 26, Damage 28, assuming elemental bane
Reflex 25
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Fri 20 Mar 2009.