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Story Hour
Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)
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<blockquote data-quote="shilsen" data-source="post: 3829233" data-attributes="member: 198"><p><strong>Lizardfolk Army Deep-Fried (Part 2)</strong></p><p></p><p>An hour and a half later, some five miles to the east of their camp, Nameless looks around at his companions. “So we’re all clear on the strategy, right? Gareth, Six and I are coming in from the northwest, and you two,” he looks at the druids, “From the southwest, starting about five hundred feet from us. When we get about three hundred feet from each other, we box the bulk of the lizardfolk between three <em>wall</em>s <em>of fire</em>. Leave gaps at the corner to funnel them in. Then follow up with three more to close the box. And then we make them unhappy for being in the box.”</p><p></p><p>Luna flashes a large ursine grin in anticipation. “Sounds good to me. Just make sure you three don’t get killed while I’m not there to protect you.” She glances at Korm. “But I’ll look after you.”</p><p></p><p>The Gatekeeper shakes his head and says nothing, idly patting the back of the large black <em>phantom stag</em> which he summoned a few moments ago. </p><p></p><p>“All right,” says Nameless. “Let’s do this.”</p><p></p><p>. . . . .</p><p></p><p>As planned, the Angels angle in from two directions, steadily closing on the lizardfolk army and making sure to stay low, using the large equatorial trees of the Q’barran forest for cover. As they pass over the outlying screen of poison dusk scouts, there are a couple of scattered cries as a particularly alert watcher sees the figures flash past overhead, but few are studying the sky or even awake at this point. By the time the alarm slowly spreads, the Angels are well past and closing on the bulk of the army.</p><p></p><p>Though they are too high and moving too fast to pick out precise details, the Angels see that the lizardfolk are spread across in the forest floor in small groups, evidently using no tents or any structures to make camp, simply clumping together to sleep. Nameless picks an appropriate area and then transmits over a pre-cast <em>telepathic bond</em> to the druids, “I’m going to start it off. Luna, put your <em>wall</em> north to south at ninety degrees to mine from the west end, and Korm, you throw yours up parallel to mine at the southern end of Luna’s.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Luna growls back over the <em>bond</em>, “Stop talking and just do it.”</p><p></p><p>Nameless shrugs mentally and complies, causing a twenty-foot high and two hundred and sixty foot long wall of flames to erupt. Shocked screams erupt from those that are caught in the flames, devolving into the groans of the dying and echoed seconds later by shouts of alarm from the hundreds shocked into wakefulness by the sight. The cries and screams increase substantially in volume as Luna’s and Korm’s <em>wall</em>s appear to, linking to Nameless’ to create a gigantic three-sided box. </p><p></p><p>The Angels swoop in, prepared to close off the far end of the box with another trio of <em>wall</em>s, and the two druids cast theirs perfectly. But before Nameless can cast his, there is an unexpected interruption.</p><p></p><p>As Nameless flies in, with Gareth and Six flanking him some fifteen feet away, the warforged’s preternatural eyesight lets him notice what seem to be four eagles flying out of the darkness. If their complete unconcern at the noise of the lizardfolk and the lurid flames of the magical <em>wall</em>s weren’t enough to arouse suspicion, they are heading directly for the three Angels. Even as Six shouts a warning, the eagles screech and gesture with their talons in a manner that he has seen Luna do often enough. </p><p></p><p>There is a burst of sound and a roar directly above the Angels, and all three look up as a gigantic form appears in mid-air, barely twenty feet above their heads. Their startled eyes meet the gaze of two ancient orbs, set deep in the sockets of a tapering head that resembles a gigantic, reptilian skull. Two horns, each as long as one of the Angels, curve forward to bracket the skull, and a large crest rises from between them to snake its way down the long serpentine neck. The body and tail, covered in large scales ranging from dull ebony to a mottled gray, stretch a further sixty feet. The four limbs, terminating in claws the size of swords, hang below it. A flat tongue extends from the half-open mouth, acidic slime drooling from its forked tip. The gargantuan black dragon looks down at the Angels and roars its challenge, and cries of “Rhashaak!” rise from the forest to greet it.</p><p></p><p><em>Sh*t! We’re dead!</em> The thought flashes through Nameless’ mind a split second before he registers what his magically enhanced sight is telling him. The ‘dragon’ overhead is a spell effect. “It’s an illusio…,” he begins to say, before recognizing the tell-tale signs in the aura, very distinct from that of illusory magic. <em>Evocation?</em></p><p></p><p>Before he can add any more, the giant dragon raises its wings and flaps them, once, twice, and again. Each beat sends a powerful blast of air slamming down onto the Angels. The first knocks them fifty feet downwards, and the next smashes them through the intervening branches and bushes to the ground below with bone-shattering force. Which, in their case, leaves them slightly bruised. As they hit the ground, the dragon disappears, the spells that manifested it ending*. But the remaining two shamans complete their spells, causing the three Angels to glow lavender with <em>faerie fire</em>, clearly demarcated for their enemies.</p><p></p><p>Luckily, since they landed outside the giant box created by the flaming walls, the bulk of the army is separated from them. Even so, a few dozen lizardfolk see the three and rush them, screaming bloody vengeance for the allies who they can hear dying within the <em>wall</em>s. The closest of the poison dusk warriors hurl nets onto them as they momentarily lie prone. </p><p></p><p>But the Angels all have significant protective spells on them, and the nets slide off their forms, all imbued with <em>freedom of movement</em> spells. “Time to get back up and take those shamans down!” says Nameless, and all three rise into the air, followed by disappointed cries and a few ineffectual arrows and javelins.</p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, the brief delay has given other enemies a chance to get into the battle, and the magically-lit Angels are easy to pick out. The blackscale guardians charge into the Angels, draconic wings propelling them at incredible speed. As with the first army, there are six of them led by a larger specimen, and this time Luna’s forbearance means that all of them are present. Two each head for Nameless and Gareth, while the leader and another two attack Six. The shamans aid them with their spells, whether beams of <em>searing light</em> or others that strike the Angels with numbing cold.**</p><p></p><p>If the odds were not bad enough for the three Angels, this is when luck completely deserts one of them. Nameless and Gareth, though both wounded, manage to dodge or deflect a couple of attacks, the paladin’s <em>cloak of minor displacement</em> coming in especially handy. Six is not as lucky. His harness wraps him in shadows that shift constantly as he moves***, aiding him as the cloak does Gareth, but one of the guardians manages to land a lucky hit. It knocks the warforged sideways, disrupting his defenses just as the blackscale leader swings his sword in a huge overhand chop. The blade blasts through the shadowy concealment and into Six’s chest. The warforged’s modification by first the harness and then Mordain makes his mechanical vitals difficult to target****, but sheer happenstance drives the sword into a seam in his plating. Alchemical fluid sprays like blood and Six’s entire breastplate crumples. </p><p></p><p>The only luck that Six has is in being airborne, since the blow knocks him flat on his back and down a couple of feet, robbing it slightly of momentum. If he had been on the ground it would possibly have torn him asunder, but here it leaves him barely clinging onto consciousness and almost nonfunctional*****. Hoping that the enemies won’t be able to tell the difference, Six promptly drops his chain and floats there, arms and legs trailing, as if he were unconscious or dead. </p><p></p><p><em>Sh*t!</em> Wounded and with only one ally, Nameless frantically calculates his options. <em>I’d like to drop a Cloudkill on them and Dimension Door away, but I can’t cast both fast enou…</em>, he begins to think, when he feels a tickle in his mind. The whispery voice is instantly recognizable as the one in which Edgar, on very rare occasions, communicates with him – <em>Do it! I shall help you.</em></p><p></p><p>With two of the guardians roaring into his face and slashing at him, the alienist doesn’t even consider arguing. Dodging beneath a sword, Nameless conjures a <em>cloudkill</em> around Six, Gareth and the enemies around them. “Stay in there, Gareth!” he shouts. “I’ll be back with the other two!” <em>I hope!</em> Nameless attempts to cast the next spell, knowing that he still lacks the enormous expertise needed to cast two spells of this power in such a short time. But as he focuses, he feels a warmth flare against his belly, from the pouch where Edgar resides, and suddenly the arcane formula leaps into his mind with dizzying speed. Nameless speaks a word and disappears.</p><p></p><p>…</p><p></p><p>Across the battlefield, things have been going substantially better for the two druids, but even they have a few problems. After throwing up the last two <em>wall</em>s, they begin to indulge themselves in different ways. Luna unleashes a <em>fire storm</em> that decimates the lizardfolk trapped within the gigantic box of flame, but Korm decides to take a more hands-on role, flying down on his summoned stag to slash into the first of the blackscales he sees. As the headless body topples, Korm hurls his meteoric blade. The sword scythes through a row of enemies and the Gatekeeper bellows an orcish war-cry. </p><p></p><p>A few of the poison dusk warriors in the area shoot at him, to no avail, and then turn and flee. But as Korm’s sword flies back into his hand, a different missile hits him. The bola wraps around his neck just as he urges the stag forward towards a clump of enemies, and to Korm’s surprise, flips him backwards off the stag’s back and to the ground.****** To add injury to insult, a few blackscales charge him, brandishing their clubs and foaming at the mouth with rage.</p><p></p><p>Luna, looking down at the scene, laughs and shouts, “Need some saving, Korm?” Then a searing pain burns into her shoulder and she growls and spins around in mid-air. A large shadow, though significantly dwarfed by her bulk, swoops out of the darkness, revealing itself as a dire bat. Luna’s eyes narrow and she growls, “There’s only space for one big flying druid here,” and drops a column of flame around the bat. It screams as the flames scorch its hair and rip small tears in its wings, but remains aloft, clearly protected against fire to some degree. </p><p></p><p>As Luna growls even more loudly, a figure outlined in lavender flames appears near her. “Hey, Nameless!” she chuckles, ignoring the bat for a few seconds, “You look pretty. And beat up.”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Faerie fire!</em>,” the alienist says shortly, dropping down to use a tall tree’s branches as cover. “And we got trouble there. Six is down. I left Gareth in a <em>cloudkill</em> to protect him. Where’s Korm? And who’s the bat?”</p><p></p><p>“Some idiot shaman. And there’s Korm.” Luna points as the Gatekeepers rises from amongst a clump of blackscales, stoically absorbing a blow to the shoulder before he eviscerates the attacker with a single sweeping stroke. Then she floats towards Nameless, extending a paw. “Let me drop a <em>heal</em> on you.”</p><p></p><p>“No!” says Nameless urgently, recalling the possibility that the spell might heal his ‘affliction’ and remove all the benefits he gets from it. As Luna gives him a puzzled look, he says, “I’m okay. Really. Speaking of which….” He transmits to Six and Gareth, “<em>You guys okay?</em>”</p><p></p><p>…</p><p></p><p>“<em>Little busy, Nameless, but yes</em>,” Gareth transmits back, as he hears the sound of the blackscales flapping their way into the <em>cloudkill</em> in search of him. Then he grins at the sound of a strangled gasp nearby, followed by a thump some distance below him as a body hits the forest floor. “<em>At least your spell’s whittling them down.</em>”</p><p></p><p>“<em>I’m alive too</em>,” transmits Six, triggering the wand held in the sheath he had built into his form months ago, feeling parts of his superstructure slowly unbuckle and straighten itself. A second later, an eagle flaps past his face, pausing to consider his floating form and evidently not realizing that the warforged is still functional. “<em>Gareth – watch out!</em>”</p><p></p><p>Even as the warning rings in his mind, multiple enemies locate Gareth. One of the guardians roars a warning to the others as it sights him, swings up its sword and then collapses as the poisonous vapors of Nameless’ spell take effect. But two more are rushing in, along with the leader, and the eagle-shamans also head in the same direction with triumphant screeches. The paladin whirls and dodges amongst them, the combination of Mordain’s magical protections, heavy armor, his cloak and the partial concealment afforded by the <em>cloudkill</em> aiding him, but there are just too many enemies to remain unscathed. </p><p></p><p>A sword crunches painfully into his knee, cracking bone, and as he bats aside one of the shamans, another drives its talons into the back of his head. Though Gareth’s helmet prevents actual contact, the shaman’s claws flare with magic and the paladin shudders as he feels valuable energy flow out of him. Before the paladin can turn to retaliate, the roaring leader is in his face, hugely muscled arms bringing its blade around in a disemboweling slash. Gareth’s armor holds, but even the magical metal buckles at the impact, and a burst of agony flares from his shoulder to his waist as multiple ribs are shattered under the blow. </p><p></p><p>“Six! Get in here!” Gareth shouts both verbally and mentally, before adding a prayer to the Flame. Spinning in a circle despite the pain shooting up his side, Gareth uses the momentum of his foe’s attack to aid his own, calling on every power granted by the Flame to further empower it. The Endless Blade flashes with silver fire and depicts a neat half-circle, biting through scales, muscle, flesh and bone. The blackscale leader’s eyes continue to glare into Gareth’s for a second, and then fall away as its body and head part company. </p><p></p><p>But as the leader falls, its enraged allies swarm over Gareth. More claws strike his back with the same draining effect, and then the remaining guardians are biting and cutting into him. A sword-slash tears open his side and then a second strikes through the weaker part of his armor under the arm, punching through his armpit and puncturing his left lung. Everything goes black and Gareth collapses, blood streaming from multiple wounds*******.</p><p></p><p>Ironically, and unseen by the Angels, the few seconds that Gareth takes to fall are enough to slay his enemies. The time they have had to spend in the <em>cloudkill</em> finally overcomes their resistance and one by one, they drop. The last of the shamans turns to flee the poisonous cloud, only to see Six’s chain leaping at it. As it falls, the last guardian seizes Gareth’s floating body, planning to take him as a trophy. But even as its wings propel it forward, it shudders and falls.</p><p></p><p>. . .</p><p></p><p>On the other side, Luna and the shaman-bat exchange spells for a few seconds, but the latter has neither the shifter’s power nor her resistance to damage, and with Nameless taking a hand too, it is soon on the verge of death. As she prepares to take it down, the bat desperately casts a familiar spell, encasing itself in a greenish-yellow <em>cocoon</em>. </p><p></p><p>“Oh, come on!” growls Luna, before Nameless says, “Just <em>dispel</em> it.” Her attempt to comply fails and leaves the bear even more upset than before. </p><p></p><p>“Here’s how you do it.” The alienist casts, and has the pleasure of seeing the <em>cocoon</em> disappear even as a panicked expression appears on the bat’s face. Swiftly replaced by a terminal one as a swift volley of <em>magic missile</em>s blast it from the sky.</p><p></p><p>“Son of a bitch – that was mine!” growls Luna, before beginning to cast another spell. “Korm!” she shouts as she does so, “Get your ass out of there!”</p><p></p><p>Below, the Gatekeeper is holding off four enraged blackscales at once. Strong as the hulking lizardfolk are, they lack the strength and, more importantly, the defenses of the guardians. Every cut and slash of Korm’s sword is followed by a spray of blood, and its effects are underlined by the circle of bodies that already lies around him. However, with the odds are heavily against him and his foes boasting significantly stronger offense than defense, Korm is far from unscathed, his upper torso and ripped tunic incarnadined by the blood streaming from multiple shallow wounds. Already considering retreat, Luna’s warning makes the decision for him. </p><p></p><p>“Sorry, kids – I’ve gotta go!” Korm grunts, spinning his sword in a circle to force his enemies back. Then, calling on a rarely-used ability, he fixes the closest enemy with a glare. The blackscale quails at the malign power of the Gatekeeper’s gaze, stumbles backwards, and flees screaming. As its allies pause in confusion, Korm leaps away in the opposite direction, mentally thanking the Gatekeeper who had trained him in the use of the evil eye. A quick whistle and the stag, which has been trampling the few cold sun and poison dusk lizardfolk who have remained, turns and rushes toward Korm. As it comes, he leaps forward and throws his arms around its neck, not even bothering to try and mount. The magical deer’s hooves crunch over the fallen foes once, twice and then it is airborne, heading back towards the other Angels. The blackscales that had rushed after Korm howl their disappointment, and then Luna’s patented column of fire explodes among them. When the blast clears, all of them lie dead, driving the few remaining lizardfolk into even more of a panic. </p><p></p><p>“That seems to have done the job,” Nameless says. “Let’s go back and find some corpses to talk to.” He pauses as Six sends a message. “And put Gareth back together.”</p><p></p><p>* Downdraft, from the Spell Compendium</p><p>** Hypothermia</p><p>*** Child of Shadow stance from Bo9S</p><p>**** 75% immunity to criticals</p><p>***** He got dropped well past -10 and only kept alive by throwing in three cards. PCs dropped to -10 and saved by cards are normally out of a fight, but since there was a card that allowed PCs between -1 to -9 to rise to 0 hp, I let him do so. Esp. since it seemed they needed it. See – I am an angel too!</p><p>****** Yes, the 13th lvl druid berserker with 26 Strength got dropped flat on his ass by a 1st lvl ranger’s bola</p><p>******* Also dropped past -10</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="shilsen, post: 3829233, member: 198"] [b]Lizardfolk Army Deep-Fried (Part 2)[/b] An hour and a half later, some five miles to the east of their camp, Nameless looks around at his companions. “So we’re all clear on the strategy, right? Gareth, Six and I are coming in from the northwest, and you two,” he looks at the druids, “From the southwest, starting about five hundred feet from us. When we get about three hundred feet from each other, we box the bulk of the lizardfolk between three [i]wall[/i]s [i]of fire[/i]. Leave gaps at the corner to funnel them in. Then follow up with three more to close the box. And then we make them unhappy for being in the box.” Luna flashes a large ursine grin in anticipation. “Sounds good to me. Just make sure you three don’t get killed while I’m not there to protect you.” She glances at Korm. “But I’ll look after you.” The Gatekeeper shakes his head and says nothing, idly patting the back of the large black [i]phantom stag[/i] which he summoned a few moments ago. “All right,” says Nameless. “Let’s do this.” . . . . . As planned, the Angels angle in from two directions, steadily closing on the lizardfolk army and making sure to stay low, using the large equatorial trees of the Q’barran forest for cover. As they pass over the outlying screen of poison dusk scouts, there are a couple of scattered cries as a particularly alert watcher sees the figures flash past overhead, but few are studying the sky or even awake at this point. By the time the alarm slowly spreads, the Angels are well past and closing on the bulk of the army. Though they are too high and moving too fast to pick out precise details, the Angels see that the lizardfolk are spread across in the forest floor in small groups, evidently using no tents or any structures to make camp, simply clumping together to sleep. Nameless picks an appropriate area and then transmits over a pre-cast [i]telepathic bond[/i] to the druids, “I’m going to start it off. Luna, put your [i]wall[/i] north to south at ninety degrees to mine from the west end, and Korm, you throw yours up parallel to mine at the southern end of Luna’s.” “Yeah, yeah,” Luna growls back over the [i]bond[/i], “Stop talking and just do it.” Nameless shrugs mentally and complies, causing a twenty-foot high and two hundred and sixty foot long wall of flames to erupt. Shocked screams erupt from those that are caught in the flames, devolving into the groans of the dying and echoed seconds later by shouts of alarm from the hundreds shocked into wakefulness by the sight. The cries and screams increase substantially in volume as Luna’s and Korm’s [i]wall[/i]s appear to, linking to Nameless’ to create a gigantic three-sided box. The Angels swoop in, prepared to close off the far end of the box with another trio of [i]wall[/i]s, and the two druids cast theirs perfectly. But before Nameless can cast his, there is an unexpected interruption. As Nameless flies in, with Gareth and Six flanking him some fifteen feet away, the warforged’s preternatural eyesight lets him notice what seem to be four eagles flying out of the darkness. If their complete unconcern at the noise of the lizardfolk and the lurid flames of the magical [i]wall[/i]s weren’t enough to arouse suspicion, they are heading directly for the three Angels. Even as Six shouts a warning, the eagles screech and gesture with their talons in a manner that he has seen Luna do often enough. There is a burst of sound and a roar directly above the Angels, and all three look up as a gigantic form appears in mid-air, barely twenty feet above their heads. Their startled eyes meet the gaze of two ancient orbs, set deep in the sockets of a tapering head that resembles a gigantic, reptilian skull. Two horns, each as long as one of the Angels, curve forward to bracket the skull, and a large crest rises from between them to snake its way down the long serpentine neck. The body and tail, covered in large scales ranging from dull ebony to a mottled gray, stretch a further sixty feet. The four limbs, terminating in claws the size of swords, hang below it. A flat tongue extends from the half-open mouth, acidic slime drooling from its forked tip. The gargantuan black dragon looks down at the Angels and roars its challenge, and cries of “Rhashaak!” rise from the forest to greet it. [i]Sh*t! We’re dead![/i] The thought flashes through Nameless’ mind a split second before he registers what his magically enhanced sight is telling him. The ‘dragon’ overhead is a spell effect. “It’s an illusio…,” he begins to say, before recognizing the tell-tale signs in the aura, very distinct from that of illusory magic. [i]Evocation?[/i] Before he can add any more, the giant dragon raises its wings and flaps them, once, twice, and again. Each beat sends a powerful blast of air slamming down onto the Angels. The first knocks them fifty feet downwards, and the next smashes them through the intervening branches and bushes to the ground below with bone-shattering force. Which, in their case, leaves them slightly bruised. As they hit the ground, the dragon disappears, the spells that manifested it ending*. But the remaining two shamans complete their spells, causing the three Angels to glow lavender with [i]faerie fire[/i], clearly demarcated for their enemies. Luckily, since they landed outside the giant box created by the flaming walls, the bulk of the army is separated from them. Even so, a few dozen lizardfolk see the three and rush them, screaming bloody vengeance for the allies who they can hear dying within the [i]wall[/i]s. The closest of the poison dusk warriors hurl nets onto them as they momentarily lie prone. But the Angels all have significant protective spells on them, and the nets slide off their forms, all imbued with [i]freedom of movement[/i] spells. “Time to get back up and take those shamans down!” says Nameless, and all three rise into the air, followed by disappointed cries and a few ineffectual arrows and javelins. Unfortunately, the brief delay has given other enemies a chance to get into the battle, and the magically-lit Angels are easy to pick out. The blackscale guardians charge into the Angels, draconic wings propelling them at incredible speed. As with the first army, there are six of them led by a larger specimen, and this time Luna’s forbearance means that all of them are present. Two each head for Nameless and Gareth, while the leader and another two attack Six. The shamans aid them with their spells, whether beams of [i]searing light[/i] or others that strike the Angels with numbing cold.** If the odds were not bad enough for the three Angels, this is when luck completely deserts one of them. Nameless and Gareth, though both wounded, manage to dodge or deflect a couple of attacks, the paladin’s [i]cloak of minor displacement[/i] coming in especially handy. Six is not as lucky. His harness wraps him in shadows that shift constantly as he moves***, aiding him as the cloak does Gareth, but one of the guardians manages to land a lucky hit. It knocks the warforged sideways, disrupting his defenses just as the blackscale leader swings his sword in a huge overhand chop. The blade blasts through the shadowy concealment and into Six’s chest. The warforged’s modification by first the harness and then Mordain makes his mechanical vitals difficult to target****, but sheer happenstance drives the sword into a seam in his plating. Alchemical fluid sprays like blood and Six’s entire breastplate crumples. The only luck that Six has is in being airborne, since the blow knocks him flat on his back and down a couple of feet, robbing it slightly of momentum. If he had been on the ground it would possibly have torn him asunder, but here it leaves him barely clinging onto consciousness and almost nonfunctional*****. Hoping that the enemies won’t be able to tell the difference, Six promptly drops his chain and floats there, arms and legs trailing, as if he were unconscious or dead. [i]Sh*t![/i] Wounded and with only one ally, Nameless frantically calculates his options. [i]I’d like to drop a Cloudkill on them and Dimension Door away, but I can’t cast both fast enou…[/i], he begins to think, when he feels a tickle in his mind. The whispery voice is instantly recognizable as the one in which Edgar, on very rare occasions, communicates with him – [i]Do it! I shall help you.[/i] With two of the guardians roaring into his face and slashing at him, the alienist doesn’t even consider arguing. Dodging beneath a sword, Nameless conjures a [i]cloudkill[/i] around Six, Gareth and the enemies around them. “Stay in there, Gareth!” he shouts. “I’ll be back with the other two!” [i]I hope![/i] Nameless attempts to cast the next spell, knowing that he still lacks the enormous expertise needed to cast two spells of this power in such a short time. But as he focuses, he feels a warmth flare against his belly, from the pouch where Edgar resides, and suddenly the arcane formula leaps into his mind with dizzying speed. Nameless speaks a word and disappears. … Across the battlefield, things have been going substantially better for the two druids, but even they have a few problems. After throwing up the last two [i]wall[/i]s, they begin to indulge themselves in different ways. Luna unleashes a [i]fire storm[/i] that decimates the lizardfolk trapped within the gigantic box of flame, but Korm decides to take a more hands-on role, flying down on his summoned stag to slash into the first of the blackscales he sees. As the headless body topples, Korm hurls his meteoric blade. The sword scythes through a row of enemies and the Gatekeeper bellows an orcish war-cry. A few of the poison dusk warriors in the area shoot at him, to no avail, and then turn and flee. But as Korm’s sword flies back into his hand, a different missile hits him. The bola wraps around his neck just as he urges the stag forward towards a clump of enemies, and to Korm’s surprise, flips him backwards off the stag’s back and to the ground.****** To add injury to insult, a few blackscales charge him, brandishing their clubs and foaming at the mouth with rage. Luna, looking down at the scene, laughs and shouts, “Need some saving, Korm?” Then a searing pain burns into her shoulder and she growls and spins around in mid-air. A large shadow, though significantly dwarfed by her bulk, swoops out of the darkness, revealing itself as a dire bat. Luna’s eyes narrow and she growls, “There’s only space for one big flying druid here,” and drops a column of flame around the bat. It screams as the flames scorch its hair and rip small tears in its wings, but remains aloft, clearly protected against fire to some degree. As Luna growls even more loudly, a figure outlined in lavender flames appears near her. “Hey, Nameless!” she chuckles, ignoring the bat for a few seconds, “You look pretty. And beat up.” “[i]Faerie fire![/i],” the alienist says shortly, dropping down to use a tall tree’s branches as cover. “And we got trouble there. Six is down. I left Gareth in a [i]cloudkill[/i] to protect him. Where’s Korm? And who’s the bat?” “Some idiot shaman. And there’s Korm.” Luna points as the Gatekeepers rises from amongst a clump of blackscales, stoically absorbing a blow to the shoulder before he eviscerates the attacker with a single sweeping stroke. Then she floats towards Nameless, extending a paw. “Let me drop a [i]heal[/i] on you.” “No!” says Nameless urgently, recalling the possibility that the spell might heal his ‘affliction’ and remove all the benefits he gets from it. As Luna gives him a puzzled look, he says, “I’m okay. Really. Speaking of which….” He transmits to Six and Gareth, “[i]You guys okay?[/i]” … “[i]Little busy, Nameless, but yes[/i],” Gareth transmits back, as he hears the sound of the blackscales flapping their way into the [i]cloudkill[/i] in search of him. Then he grins at the sound of a strangled gasp nearby, followed by a thump some distance below him as a body hits the forest floor. “[i]At least your spell’s whittling them down.[/i]” “[i]I’m alive too[/i],” transmits Six, triggering the wand held in the sheath he had built into his form months ago, feeling parts of his superstructure slowly unbuckle and straighten itself. A second later, an eagle flaps past his face, pausing to consider his floating form and evidently not realizing that the warforged is still functional. “[i]Gareth – watch out![/i]” Even as the warning rings in his mind, multiple enemies locate Gareth. One of the guardians roars a warning to the others as it sights him, swings up its sword and then collapses as the poisonous vapors of Nameless’ spell take effect. But two more are rushing in, along with the leader, and the eagle-shamans also head in the same direction with triumphant screeches. The paladin whirls and dodges amongst them, the combination of Mordain’s magical protections, heavy armor, his cloak and the partial concealment afforded by the [i]cloudkill[/i] aiding him, but there are just too many enemies to remain unscathed. A sword crunches painfully into his knee, cracking bone, and as he bats aside one of the shamans, another drives its talons into the back of his head. Though Gareth’s helmet prevents actual contact, the shaman’s claws flare with magic and the paladin shudders as he feels valuable energy flow out of him. Before the paladin can turn to retaliate, the roaring leader is in his face, hugely muscled arms bringing its blade around in a disemboweling slash. Gareth’s armor holds, but even the magical metal buckles at the impact, and a burst of agony flares from his shoulder to his waist as multiple ribs are shattered under the blow. “Six! Get in here!” Gareth shouts both verbally and mentally, before adding a prayer to the Flame. Spinning in a circle despite the pain shooting up his side, Gareth uses the momentum of his foe’s attack to aid his own, calling on every power granted by the Flame to further empower it. The Endless Blade flashes with silver fire and depicts a neat half-circle, biting through scales, muscle, flesh and bone. The blackscale leader’s eyes continue to glare into Gareth’s for a second, and then fall away as its body and head part company. But as the leader falls, its enraged allies swarm over Gareth. More claws strike his back with the same draining effect, and then the remaining guardians are biting and cutting into him. A sword-slash tears open his side and then a second strikes through the weaker part of his armor under the arm, punching through his armpit and puncturing his left lung. Everything goes black and Gareth collapses, blood streaming from multiple wounds*******. Ironically, and unseen by the Angels, the few seconds that Gareth takes to fall are enough to slay his enemies. The time they have had to spend in the [i]cloudkill[/i] finally overcomes their resistance and one by one, they drop. The last of the shamans turns to flee the poisonous cloud, only to see Six’s chain leaping at it. As it falls, the last guardian seizes Gareth’s floating body, planning to take him as a trophy. But even as its wings propel it forward, it shudders and falls. . . . On the other side, Luna and the shaman-bat exchange spells for a few seconds, but the latter has neither the shifter’s power nor her resistance to damage, and with Nameless taking a hand too, it is soon on the verge of death. As she prepares to take it down, the bat desperately casts a familiar spell, encasing itself in a greenish-yellow [i]cocoon[/i]. “Oh, come on!” growls Luna, before Nameless says, “Just [i]dispel[/i] it.” Her attempt to comply fails and leaves the bear even more upset than before. “Here’s how you do it.” The alienist casts, and has the pleasure of seeing the [i]cocoon[/i] disappear even as a panicked expression appears on the bat’s face. Swiftly replaced by a terminal one as a swift volley of [i]magic missile[/i]s blast it from the sky. “Son of a bitch – that was mine!” growls Luna, before beginning to cast another spell. “Korm!” she shouts as she does so, “Get your ass out of there!” Below, the Gatekeeper is holding off four enraged blackscales at once. Strong as the hulking lizardfolk are, they lack the strength and, more importantly, the defenses of the guardians. Every cut and slash of Korm’s sword is followed by a spray of blood, and its effects are underlined by the circle of bodies that already lies around him. However, with the odds are heavily against him and his foes boasting significantly stronger offense than defense, Korm is far from unscathed, his upper torso and ripped tunic incarnadined by the blood streaming from multiple shallow wounds. Already considering retreat, Luna’s warning makes the decision for him. “Sorry, kids – I’ve gotta go!” Korm grunts, spinning his sword in a circle to force his enemies back. Then, calling on a rarely-used ability, he fixes the closest enemy with a glare. The blackscale quails at the malign power of the Gatekeeper’s gaze, stumbles backwards, and flees screaming. As its allies pause in confusion, Korm leaps away in the opposite direction, mentally thanking the Gatekeeper who had trained him in the use of the evil eye. A quick whistle and the stag, which has been trampling the few cold sun and poison dusk lizardfolk who have remained, turns and rushes toward Korm. As it comes, he leaps forward and throws his arms around its neck, not even bothering to try and mount. The magical deer’s hooves crunch over the fallen foes once, twice and then it is airborne, heading back towards the other Angels. The blackscales that had rushed after Korm howl their disappointment, and then Luna’s patented column of fire explodes among them. When the blast clears, all of them lie dead, driving the few remaining lizardfolk into even more of a panic. “That seems to have done the job,” Nameless says. “Let’s go back and find some corpses to talk to.” He pauses as Six sends a message. “And put Gareth back together.” * Downdraft, from the Spell Compendium ** Hypothermia *** Child of Shadow stance from Bo9S **** 75% immunity to criticals ***** He got dropped well past -10 and only kept alive by throwing in three cards. PCs dropped to -10 and saved by cards are normally out of a fight, but since there was a card that allowed PCs between -1 to -9 to rise to 0 hp, I let him do so. Esp. since it seemed they needed it. See – I am an angel too! ****** Yes, the 13th lvl druid berserker with 26 Strength got dropped flat on his ass by a 1st lvl ranger’s bola ******* Also dropped past -10 [/QUOTE]
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