Battle at Harkon Manor

Hearing the words, Mal can only turn and gauge the reactions of the others. He watches the line drawn in the ground, yet simply glances about. Shrugging, he asks the nearest person, "Can anyone translate that for me? I can't speak 'drowning dwarf', as I can only make out a few words."

Knowing that his allegiance was with Harkon Manor and it's rulers, Mal ignores the grumbling Martomum for now, as he turns his attention back to the wounded. He moves south, (or north, if more wounded are there) trying to prevent them from bleeding out. If he could just keep them alive, then he could eventually make sure they heal and remain alive after this battle.

His focus set on the wounded, he takes his leave of the main group that is withdrawing while he tends to the wounded that can't move on their own.

[sblock=Aura and OOC]Aura is still Fast Healing 1, and he will move south to cover that whole area that he can hopefully bring the dying back from the light. As for Martomum, seriously, with him being not from the normal regiment, he has no idea who this guy is, who the gnolls are, or how to decode the words. So, he's doing what he needs to do for now.[/sblock]

"Finally!" Lora thought as she saw the mass of dog-men rush trough the clearing. She had expected Martoumum to convince his old allies to aid Harkon and had already voiced that this was the best their rag-tag force could hope for. Obviously by the looks on the others faces they had not paid attention to the Wizardress's words.

"MART! - the girl yelled as she slowly backed away from the fight, still holding her polearm. - Vance and the others will ride form the East, behind their archer line. We can box them in form three sides with your Gnolls!"

She then gazed at the sky and conjured her Dancing Lights again, creating four balls of white light, the size of a lantern each, pointing towards the battlefield, and hovering a hundred feet up in the air. "Hopefully Vance will know that this is a call for him to attack the archer line form the back!"

[sblock]Dancing Lights to create 4 spheres to point at our location like an arrow
[/sblock]

Now that the pressure of battle has abated, Trinham becomes cognisant that he may actually survive after all. Anyone looking at him at that exact moment would have seen multiple emotions flash across his face almost simultaneously: surprise, relief and happiness. At almost the same time he realises how pleased he is to see Martomum and that he actually likes the old dwarf. Still Martomum's accent seems to have got worse while he was away and his manner certainly hadn't improved. Pausing to puzzle out what Martomum had actually said, Trinham looks over the battlefield and starts organising the remaining villagers to get the wounded over to Martomum's line. However, at the same time he is aware that there is a battle going on and keeps looking to make sure that nothing untoward is going to happpen.

Jareth catches the look of "later," assuming Martomum could even say that clearly. He withholds the snort and sneer that are practically second nature to him, instead just giving a slight, cold nod.

He steps over to Malaroc, motioning a "come here." The injured young man, large portions of his body now the same or darker than the color of his hair, quietly says, "He wants us to gather the wounded near him and hold position there. The rest was questions about people you wouldn't know."

He turns his head as Lora starts shouting. For some reason, he doesn't remember a single word about hitting their archer lines from behind after Vance was supposed to take out the commanders. He looks at the fray of the gnolls setting into the Treylor soldiers... Like those dog-faced berserkers will listen? goes through his head, though he doesn't voice it. Rather, he starts looking about for wounded lying on the ground and starts dragging them to Martomum's position.

Mal nods at the translation, seeing that this man was seemingly in liege to the dwarf. Surveying the scene, Mal answers, "I can help them more if I move about. If I can stop their bleeding, then they can heal quicker. You can feel it, can you not? The feeling of a slight power? It is a gift, and one that does well to any allies near me. Concentrate on the south side of the battle, gather those villagers. I will head north, to grant those the benefit of healing. We will gather here, where the dwarf has stated. With luck, no more will die today, on our ranks."

Mal then moves north (Position 5,7 on map), calling out to the able villagers to gather the wounded to the back lines. "Get the wounded back! Let the gnolls deal with the Treylor!"

As if the height alone wasn’t enough to make her dizzy, the circles that the Griffon made in the air as it rose would certainly would. Darling closed her eyes tight and fought the urge to escape from the back of this beautiful beast. The wind whistled through her ears despite her hood, and she wished she had been more prepared for the cold.

When the circling stopped, Darling dared to open her eyes. The scene was breathtaking, caught between Heaven and Earth, she felt like she could see forever. Far below she could see the soldiers marching like a stream of metal ants. She leaned over hard to see the terrain below her and was grateful that Fallon had all but tied her into the saddle.

Remembering her mission, she looked ahead to the pillar of pollution billowing up from the land. The source of the smoke was not visible, but it must be quite the blaze, as it could be seen from miles around. As her eyes scanned the ground, she noticed a patch that was littered with debris and writhing with life.

A battle? Darling thought to herself, But that isn’t where… she squinted her eyes at something just above the trees What’s that light?

As the gnolls push back the Treylor infantry and the villiagers gather all the wounded, one of them asks, "What about the wounded elves?"

Martomum doesn't hesitate in answering. "Et's em..." A huge shadow passes over the dwarf and group.

"Wat's dat? Knife-ear ravarly?" the dwarf says pointing towards the sky and the huge winged beast surrounded by a white nimbus.

At about the same time the Treylor archers take aim and start firing at the griffon and rider. The arrows are like small darts, and from so far up that they are easily avoided. But Darling isn't so much worried about the arrows but more about the bobbing and weaving that they are causing the griffon to perform and the effect it is having on her stomach.

Knowing she needs to land soon and best if it were away from the archers, she heads to the "left" side of the battlefield. It looks like people are gathering near there anyway.

Turning to the dwarf, Mal shrugs as he can only guess what the dwarf said. "Translation?" he asks, wondering just what 'Et's em' means and waits for someone to speak plainly.

Then he spots the shadow and the figure above... as his thoughts race back....[sblock=Flashback]
Again, Mal finds himself facing the wolves. This nightmare had repeatedly played over and over, each time more dire in consequences. Knowing that his salvation was in the form of a dragon, a copper dragon; the shadowy figure above swoops down, as he waits for the wolves to scatter and die. Instead, the shadowy figure is another wolf, with wickedly black wings, swooping down to pin Mal into the ground with its sharp claws. The horrid breath hovering over him as the saliva drips onto his face; Mal unable to move from the vice-like grip.

His breathing quickens, and is labored. The pain shoots out all over, never ceasing. He cries out... and awakens. As he looks around for the enemy, he only finds a curious face with an inquisitive look peering at him as if in amusement. Almost tauntingly, the copper dragon nods slightly, and says, "Humans are such fragile creatures. I take it another big bad wolf came to haunt your dreams?"

Angered by the frailness that his dreams show, Mal shakes off the dragons words and falls back asleep....[/sblock]Realizing that his hopes of the female copper dragon coming to save them and show her might were futile, Mal sees that the figure is not a dragon, but something else. And it appeared to have a rider....

"Is that friend or foe?" he asks, wondering if they should swarm the beast and attack...

Jareth pulls another downed soldier back to the dwarf, his lean, bloodied body aching all over from the strain. He growls a Draconic curse at his exhaustion, and a second expletive escapes his lips as he sees the griffon and rider. But then the Treylor start shooting it...

He shouts out, "Don't shoot the flying thing! If the Treylor don't like, maybe it'll be a friend of ours! Focus on the wounded, get them to safety!"

Even so, he doesn't take his eyes off it for more than a few seconds at a time. He takes a few deep breaths and goes back to the lines to grab another of the numerous wounded. His gaze involuntarily drifts back up to it, his fingers drifting to his chain. At least, I hope it's a friend. If it's not, it will be riddled with spikes and charred beyond recognition as soon as it attacks.

Still slightly shocked by the ferocity of the battle that he found himself in the middle of, Elms shakes his head and takes stock of his surroundings.

"Those bastard archers are running low on arrows!" he yelled out to all nearby.

Seeing that most of the remaining Treylor had been occupied by the rampaging Gnolls, Elms backed away from his position and, sheathing his sword, approached the main group. The first he sought out was the rough-faced villager that had struck down the Treylor soldier that Elms had been fighting. "My new pal!" Elms clapped the man happily on the shoulder. "Good job I was keeping him busy so long, you took your time swinging that club!"

As Elms begins to breathe a little more easily he notices a villager staring straight up in the air, turning he sees another pointing into the air as a mumble of uncertainty passes over the crowd. Wrinkling his brow in confusion at the gruff dwarf's words and then nodding as Jareth speaks, Elms tugs the bolas from his belt. "You speak sense, mate..." Elms nods again at Jareth "...but you don't look sure. If that thing comes close and we don't like the look of it, I'll be clipping it's wings.".

Elms begins spinning the bolas in his right hand quickly, it spins into a blur and a sharp hum fills the air. "Keep your distance unless you want a rock in the face... and be ready."