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Rigby checked his potions again. Left hand, down and right, his best healing potion. Left hand, down and left. He knew the motions, but he practiced so he wouldn't fail in battle. The plan was pretty good- teleport in high, to avoid any magical traps. Have some spells running- a sentry with detect magic concentrating into the noonday sun wasn't going to be their style. Feather fall to get the drop, then attack. But even with a good plan, Rigby thought, there was no predicting what would happen when that divinely evil axe started swinging, no telling what lucky spells their accursed sorcerer would cast, no telling what Urran had gifted the shaman with, no telling what combat techniques the dragon had perfected over his life of violence.
He felt See Invisibility well up within him, syllable on the lips, power crackling from a nexus somewhere where he used to imagine his heart to be. Forced it back. Brought it forward again, forced it back. The spell was part of him, but what else to do while waiting for breakfast but practice?
Alenka forced the twiddlehen eggs down her throat. They were, she knew, prepared perfectly- either the chef was a master, or he had simply cooked up three times the breakfast and given the rest to someone else. The table was quiet for a moment, tactical discussions having been all that was mentioned for several minutes prior, and they stayed predominantly on her mind. She was fast, that she knew, and had spent much of her recent training parrying logs held by Morgrim and Keichi, as close to a giant's club as they could easily afford in practice. It frustrated her, the precision needed. Every attack had a line, every weapon a delicate series of points, and the expertise necessary to knock away a blow swung five times the speed that a man could, was frustrating. It wasn't even possible by timing- she had to discern what her opponent would do before he was even aware of it, get the proper distance, choose the proper angle- all while implying she was doing something entirely different. It was these thoughts that occupied her mind now, as she choked down the delicacies prepared with rare spices that had likely been saved for when nobility or the heads of the knightly orders visited Fort Dellior, not even tasting them. Would she be attacking a nigh invincible orc? Would she be fending off the dragon? Would she be attacking the sorceror as he mumbled magical words as fast as his tusks would allow? She looked around at her hosts, and her allies. The only one truly enjoying the meal was Rigby, the lucky pixie. And possibly, she supposed, Morgrim, as his smile and his frown were both essentially the same from a distance of an arms reach or more.
Caleb had prayed first to Battle-mind Jaenca, for the internal peace he needed for the battle. He prayed to Unorthodox Zem, for fortune and protection for his allies, friends come back to save his nation, in just the nick of time. He prayed then to Valorous Erinth, and Just Erinth, first to not shrink from his duty, and second for divine aid on his mission, to save Dulal- and civilized Arcata- from the organized orc hordes, and the champion of Reaver Urran. Finally, he prayed to the god of victory, the god of dark knights- he prayed to Victorious Urran. He prayed for the strength to defeat Urran's own champion, and Urran's own will. He prayed for the power to empower himself and his weapon, and he felt his few spells trickle into his mind, power granted from an evil god to oppose his own stated and acted goals, because he knew in his heart that any victory expertly executed, any death he caused in the execution of his duty, would ultimately please him- Urran understood duty, he told himself. He extinguished the incense, a strange blend from the Kuroshiran line. The merchant had sworn that the blood of thousands of Pallians who had died fighting over that border had, over the years, infused the herbs with an essence, an extra will to fight, but he had purchased them because he liked the smell. From Pallian spices, he thought briefly of Keichi Gahn, a mostly
silent warrior who he cautiously considered himself friends with, a Pallian who seemed to exist only to fight, but did not crave blood. He handled his weapons as a monk handled his own body, and he could draw himself from visibility with his own internal essence- what lessons could his order teach, if they were not so secretive? What, for that matter, WAS his order? His enshindo was different than any he had seen, every movement as if he had been born with a pair of weapons. It wasn't obvious when he had first met the group, but obviously he had learned enough in his training, and mastered it through practice in battle. Standing, he cleared his mind. It was nearing noon- time to finish putting his armor on and find his friends. Time to fight.
Morgrim had discussed spells before breakfast. With his books open, he went over the lines, carefully ensuring that each syllable was pronounced, ah he slowly cast the spell. When he got to the last, instead of the completion glyph, he stated it inverted. Chain Lightning, down to the last moment of the spell, swirled in his mind. He thought the symbol that would free it, three times, mouthing it but not speaking it. Each time, he experienced the same urge, to quickly focus on something- in this case, the same four annoying pictures of oceans and boats that were on his walls for some reason. They were not particularly good pictures, and selecting them as targets for a chain lighting would likely improve their status, and maybe add a bit of realism to the boat painted by either a terrible artist or maybe a monkey animal companion, as it sat without perspective in a poorly drawn ocean. It looked as if it was stretching itself, or perhaps it was made of rubber.
He made a small snort, and flipped to Teleport in order to memorize it, and began muttering the syllables, casting it all but for the last breath as he did every spell. Teleport to a predetermined section of sky- an interesting idea, but a bit hard to picture when casting. He had been sure to scry from high in the sky, a distance far enough to picture where he wanted to take everyone, and here he was putting every element of that spell into his magical mind. He was hopeful, not scared. He knew that they would win- his only worry was ensuring that no one's soul went to Urran at the hands of that brutal and fundamentally stupid orc leader. Hiding in a stupid makeshift house in the middle of the desert, with such a powerful item- a fool, certainly, but also thankfully.
Otherwise, this might actually be hard.
Keichi held Ash's hand, and Caleb's. The casters bent space with their words, and he exhaled and closed his eyes. He opened them a moment later, air rushing past him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to sand and rocks in all directions, and all rushing up at him. He stayed still, and he heard a grunt from the dwarf as suddenly the air rushing past him subsided as he fell, the air feeling like a warm liquid that he descended in. He gently pushed off from his allies, drawing his weapons once the heartbeat had passed where he might still accidentally cut his allies.
Ash waited as they approached. There were hushed discussions, what to attack, how to enter. The area was surrounded by guards with decent armor and weapons, almost all of them focussed outwards. The building that they floated towards was surprisingly large, and made of the strange wood he had seen in the anomalyously placed jungle. Lithonian pointed out that they were very near the door indeed, and that an opportunity might present itself. Silently, he looked at the enemies. The arrows were of course going to be poisoned, and the poison would be fresh. The ogres were going to try to attack him, maybe split him in half... he corrected himself. He would not let such a mistake occur again. If the ogres attacked, he would simply dodge once the blow was committed, and not mistake a twitch due to poor ogre balance to being the blade tracking a different spot than actually was occurring. The ogres, he reminded himself, were merely a distraction- the only real threat would be from the dragon, and the unkillable warchief. And, he supposed the sorcerer. And also the powerful shaman. And probably something else, because why not. Hrm.
Hearing Ash's suggestion regarding the door, Alenka drew her lockpicks with her left hand. With the almost inaudible breath of Rigby directly behind her, she waited, as did the entire party. A large ogre, his attire clearly indicating high rank, was out looking around. The party held still at her back, as he made his way inside, apparently having satisfied whatever urge to be outside that he had. Alenka tapped Rigby with her right index finger, then her right pinky. Follow, follow, follow said the tap. She crept forward.
The door opened without effort- closed, but not locked. The party crept in, seeing in the dark the softly illuminated forms of the guards- and the sorcerous orc, lying in a soft set of exotic cloths, not twenty paces away. The lunged forward almost as one, but became visible as they entered the glow of another one of the lamps- while all should clearly have had the invisibility purging ghost plant material burning, the one above the entrance definitely did not. Immediately, the honor guard called out the threat- but Keichi and Caleb were already upon Sfe'che, his magics having helped him escape once before. No quarter was given, as Caleb's greatsword sunk into his stomach, the soft crunch of his spine barely audible, while Keichi with one smooth sweeping movement pierced his heart with one katana and sliced open his neck with the other. The orcs cried out for aid, and the audible responses were immediate: Fellarraxxen-Rampadoosh, bonded red dragon of Vog'sghn, stirred, waking, his cry combining with the warning to wake the army at the base of the hill.
Keichi was pleased that the sorcerer would no longer threaten his group- whatever he had done to deserve such an ignoble resting arrangement had certainly cost him his life. He turned his attention towards the hallway leading from the greatroom and saw a flare of fire roar into a formless mass of fire, tendrils or orange heat licking the ground as the bulk moved towards the guardian orcs with polearms.
Alenka's fire-friend seems to have that under control for the moment
His katanas were pointing at the ogre before he had decided consciously, when suddenly he heard a cry from Rigby...
The barrel became a Voriphan and healed the orc!
How helpful he noted, looking down at the now healed, but still injured, orc near his feet. Perhaps he got hit with a confusion spell of some sort
He cleanly seperated the head from the body, giving a twist to the edge of the blade to seperate it from its owner.
"No, Frix!" Alenka thought, as he discorporated at the behest of a destruction spell cast by the shaman. Frix, of course, was simply back at the heart of the fire source, but his migration outwards to being able to assume his normal form would take generations. She glared at the shaman from her perch along the wall, where she was flying and still invisible. Mere feet away from her, the door gave way at the edges, as the red dragon forced its way in- nearly simultaneously, Vog'shgn came racing out from the living quarters, clutching the Second Axe of Strife, screaming at her and her friends- well, she thought, invisibly, at least screaming at her friends...
The first to become aware and act upon the invasion of the greathouse by the minions of light was Dar'tsh, but he had slowly crept forward each round, activating a different power of his ring each round. Finally in position, he lunged at Rigby, but his dual poisoned katanas were evaded with skill by the nimble pixie.
With all the combatents present, the combat became a blur. Though only Rigby ever saw him, a curious Voriphan psion kept attempting to manipulate the battle from outside, constantly stopping time for a moment here and there to try to keep up with the actions of the PCs. Because Rigby's strange lodestone prevented him from being stopped along with the rest of the universe, this meddling was easily countered. Meanwhile, the fortitude granted by Ethmars to Vog'shgn was incredible- blows healed almost instantly, blades nearly becoming stuck in muscle, blood from deep wounds barely dribbling before it staunched. The guardian orcs with ranged weapons entered and attacked the PCs until most of their number had been destroyed, their contribution somewhat minor, while the honor guard was slain by the highly competent antics of the heroes and their high-crit range melee weapons. Dar'tsh remained, a nimble target with a few potions, but as the fight turned sour he decided to make a graceful exit- almost as graceful as the arc of the katana that severed his femoral artery, a smooth sliding crash into the wall at the end of the greatroom.
Though Fellarraxxen breathed a mighty cone of fire that burned quite severely*, it was ultimately to no end- and even though it took great effort to feeblemind the dragon only to have Thuz'grk cast heal shortly thereafter, even he was brought low.
Vog'shgn, reaching the point where even his divine fortitude could no longer help him, become empowered by the axe- lost to even what passes for reason among orcs, eyes burning with mindless bloodlust, he took his last several swings wildly, desperately hoping that Ethmars would strike true- it did not. The rage faded as he realized his death was but moments away. Still feeling the axe cry for blood, he offered it up- first to Caleb, then Keichi, then Alenka. "Maybe one of you...?"
Their enemies vanquished**, the heroes, listening to the rampaging army outside growing closer, gathered as many magical items as they could, then progressed to the silo addition that passed for the dragon's lair. The lair featured many magical items, a tied up horse with a muzzle in the, err, breakfast nook, and piles of gold, platinum, silver, and even copper. The group began gathering platinum, planning to escape at the last moment. Alenka moved towards the horse, with the intention of freeing it, and Keichi, remembering the ability to snarf up evil souls with the extradimensional bartering gem, faded from materialness to quickly head back to the scene of the battle.
Alenka's surprise was when, in pity, she loosed the horse's muzzle and was greeted by "THANK YOU", as the freed mutilated pegasus quickly explained his situation.
Keichi's surprise was when, in preparing to gather the evil souls, he was greeted by a tall man with dark hair, a determined face, and Querisan robes. Upon being informed that the souls were spoken for, Keichi agreed not to gather them, and asked to whom he was speaking.
"I am Urran."
With this news, Keichi quickly returned to the dragon's hoard room, telling them of the first god that that they had ever seen manifested in person.
Fourth actually, as eveyrone had already met Kulah ("Haluk", and you guys couldn't figure that out?), Kysum, and Caelum outside the proditial region of air- but I'll write "first" to be polite, ok?
The group joined hands and teleported back to the keep. In the aftermath, the learned that the army was already greatly weakened- without their divine champion, many of the orcs had simply left, and the remainder had split in two, one portion turning south and the other south east, each with a different enemy to revenge themselves on, assuming the hordes could reach their enemy tribes with any members left. Certainly, Fort Dellior would hold, and would likely not even be assaulted, and the Teryeal Expanse would continue to contain the savage races, as it often had.
The pegasus, Strike-shy, finds himself absolutely thrilled to be surrounded by nice humanoids after his wretched experience, and his wings are regrown by Ash, using one of the looted regeneration scrolls.
All is happy, in fact, until the heroes head to Emerald to check in, and find that Octessa has been slain under mysterious circumstances. Claiming credit for the killings is Narso, the Kuromeran villain who had assassinated a noble in front of the PCs so long ago- and whom they had fought in a more powerful guise. His sword, in fact, had actually cut directly through Keichi's neck as he called Henaro's attention to those who were out of time- so, good times were had by all. Narso's offer is simple- he'll release Octessa's soul from his sword in exchange for the captured soul of Rim-Thul the Cruel, which Keichi has safely inside his barter-gem of evil souls.
The PCs begin training and reflecting while they decide what, exactly they will do next...
*It ignores evasion because I love you.
**"Vanquished" in this case means "in at least two pieces, and totally fucked up".
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