Derulbaskul
Adventurer
Once again, I am amazed how the Midnight campaign setting has inspired uniformly excellent story hours. Thanks, Dirigible; great work!
Cheers
D
Cheers
D
[Midnight] Though The Mirror, Darkly
- Thread starter Dirigible
- Start date
Derulbaskul
Adventurer
Bump... 'coz I really like Midnight.
Dirigible
Explorer
Urlandt burst from the treeline, his war-maul held low and ready to swing up, ready to take bone and metal with it. The human soldiers rallied almost magically as the giantblooded man arrived, halting their flight and turning to face the goblins that pursued them. The oruk pointed it's vardatch at the approaching man and snarled a challange.
Coel sized up the remaining forces. The humans were still outnumbered and outflanked, but at least now they had someone of equal size to the enemy commander. The wildlander saw that, should his charge continue, Urlandt would be cut to pieces before even reached the oruk. Quickly, he drew another arrow, flexed his fingers, and set to his bloody craft.
*THWANG*
One of the goblins holding the line fell.
*THWANG*
Another.
*THWANG*
Another.
Urlandt met the the oruk face to face, the mountain striking the earth.
With deadly precision, the backwards-facing spike of the vardatch swung around, the air, time itself seeming to slow. The spike gouged a line across Urlandt's chest, tearing his armour. The giant man slowed, his charge almost halted, but the momentum of his maul was unstoppable, arcing up to splinter the oruk commander like stone beneath the hammer -
The backslash of the oruk's swing shredded his throat. The hammer did not slow, and Urlandt's final blow landed home even as he was cast down.
Urlandt fell, fountaining blood and gurgling his death rattle. Coel's next shaft left the string within a half-heartbeat, and buried itself fletching deep in the oruk's ribs. Still reeling from the Dorn's blow, the Shadow soldier raised one meaty paw to the fresh wound, puzzled, and crumpled to the earth.
By the time Coel reached the battlefield, the only sounds were the buzzing of flies and the creak of old branches in the cold wind. The few remaining refugee humans had quit the field as soon as they were able. Ellionwy was kneeling by Urlandt's slumped corpse, her face slightly bowed and hair falling in a pale curtain around her.
"He... was too far beyond my skill." she said softly, gently closing his fiercly defiant eyes with her fingers.
Coel said nothing, but held a hand out to help her to her feet. Urlandt had been a fool and paid the price, as far as Coel was concerned, but he did not put voice to those words. He had trusted to much in his own size and strength, and had not had proper fear and respect for his foes. He had commited the sin of bravery; synonymous with death in the Last Age.
Coel cast his eye over the carnage. Too many bodies to administer the proper precautions. Speed-kissed boots would be their only hope here.
"We must move" her said flatly, scooping the diminutive woman up over his shoulder, ignoring her shrieks. He broke into a run.
- - -
Long after the echoes of Coel's swiftness had faded into the laughter of uncaring leaves, there was the sound of bone and flesh being ground into oblivion by heavy, slow strokes.
- - -
They set the smallest fire they could, many hours later. Coel had carried the healer as far as he could manage, then they had run on foot until darkness was deep. Ellionwy sat, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the fire with a melancholy expression. Coel methodically groomed the fletchings of his arrows, keeping one eye on the forest.
The sound he had been, not dreading, but expecting with grim certainty. Heavy, dragging footsteps. Coel glided to his feet like a big cat, squeezing his bowstring taut. Ellionwy looked up sharply, her eyes glittering in the dim firelight. Coel took aim, and the branches parted at head height.
Stepping into the circle of illumination, his face pale and bloodless, bruised and caked with dirt, Urlandt stared down with dead eyes.
Coel sized up the remaining forces. The humans were still outnumbered and outflanked, but at least now they had someone of equal size to the enemy commander. The wildlander saw that, should his charge continue, Urlandt would be cut to pieces before even reached the oruk. Quickly, he drew another arrow, flexed his fingers, and set to his bloody craft.
*THWANG*
One of the goblins holding the line fell.
*THWANG*
Another.
*THWANG*
Another.
Urlandt met the the oruk face to face, the mountain striking the earth.
With deadly precision, the backwards-facing spike of the vardatch swung around, the air, time itself seeming to slow. The spike gouged a line across Urlandt's chest, tearing his armour. The giant man slowed, his charge almost halted, but the momentum of his maul was unstoppable, arcing up to splinter the oruk commander like stone beneath the hammer -
The backslash of the oruk's swing shredded his throat. The hammer did not slow, and Urlandt's final blow landed home even as he was cast down.
Urlandt fell, fountaining blood and gurgling his death rattle. Coel's next shaft left the string within a half-heartbeat, and buried itself fletching deep in the oruk's ribs. Still reeling from the Dorn's blow, the Shadow soldier raised one meaty paw to the fresh wound, puzzled, and crumpled to the earth.
By the time Coel reached the battlefield, the only sounds were the buzzing of flies and the creak of old branches in the cold wind. The few remaining refugee humans had quit the field as soon as they were able. Ellionwy was kneeling by Urlandt's slumped corpse, her face slightly bowed and hair falling in a pale curtain around her.
"He... was too far beyond my skill." she said softly, gently closing his fiercly defiant eyes with her fingers.
Coel said nothing, but held a hand out to help her to her feet. Urlandt had been a fool and paid the price, as far as Coel was concerned, but he did not put voice to those words. He had trusted to much in his own size and strength, and had not had proper fear and respect for his foes. He had commited the sin of bravery; synonymous with death in the Last Age.
Coel cast his eye over the carnage. Too many bodies to administer the proper precautions. Speed-kissed boots would be their only hope here.
"We must move" her said flatly, scooping the diminutive woman up over his shoulder, ignoring her shrieks. He broke into a run.
- - -
Long after the echoes of Coel's swiftness had faded into the laughter of uncaring leaves, there was the sound of bone and flesh being ground into oblivion by heavy, slow strokes.
- - -
They set the smallest fire they could, many hours later. Coel had carried the healer as far as he could manage, then they had run on foot until darkness was deep. Ellionwy sat, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the fire with a melancholy expression. Coel methodically groomed the fletchings of his arrows, keeping one eye on the forest.
The sound he had been, not dreading, but expecting with grim certainty. Heavy, dragging footsteps. Coel glided to his feet like a big cat, squeezing his bowstring taut. Ellionwy looked up sharply, her eyes glittering in the dim firelight. Coel took aim, and the branches parted at head height.
Stepping into the circle of illumination, his face pale and bloodless, bruised and caked with dirt, Urlandt stared down with dead eyes.
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Dirigible
Explorer
Gosh. This is the last update for Session 2 of the game; took me a frelling long time to get around to typing it up.
So, the giantblooded meatshield is dead. Well, that'll learn me.
I badly, badly underestimated the power of an oruk wielding a Large vardatch. One readied action later, one dead Dorn. Very dead. -25 hp dead.
I rolled a '1' on Urlandt's Will save after he died, causing him to instantly return as a Fell, rather than the usual waiting period of up to a week.
So, the giantblooded meatshield is dead. Well, that'll learn me.
I badly, badly underestimated the power of an oruk wielding a Large vardatch. One readied action later, one dead Dorn. Very dead. -25 hp dead.
I rolled a '1' on Urlandt's Will save after he died, causing him to instantly return as a Fell, rather than the usual waiting period of up to a week.
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Dirigible
Explorer
Session 3
- - -
A deep, bestial rumble welled up in the ungrael's throat, and Cael's former companion stepped forward, his giant wooden mallet surging up in his hand. The wildlander loosed his arrow, and it bit deep into Urlandt's thigh, tearing a strip of dead flesh away. The huge figure stumbled just a little, tearing leaves from the branches as he twisted. Coel's fingers found the fletchings of the next shaft by instinct, and he barely heard Ellionwy's gasp of fright.
"Wait..." the word spat like gravel from Urlandt's cracked and bloody lips, his tone low and drawn out, as if in great pain. He took a step foward, his maul digging a shallow furrow in the forst floor. "I can... control the... hunger". He shuddered, a look of misery and anguish etched on his face. "It gnaws at my belly like a starving wolf... but I can endure it."
Ellionwy's eyes were as wide and dark as the sky itself, and she clamped her hands over her mouth as if holding in a scream or holding down her gorge by main force. Coel tensed, and sidled backwards into the shadows of the canopy. Something felt wrong... wronger than the fact a former ally in battle had returned as one of the deathless. Urlandt's filmed eyes roamed over the clearing, and suddenly alighted on the iron pot that simmered over the hot ashes of the cooking fire. He lunged forwards with a sorrowful howl, flinging himself to his knees in front of it. Reaching down, he cupped the pot like a tiny bowl between his massive hands, and raised it to his lips. Coel could hear the sound of dead flesh sizzling as the giantblooded ungrael slurped down the soup, his lips pressed to the too-hot metal heedless of pain. Or more likely, unfeeling.
The hairs on the back of Coel's neck stood up, and he drew his bow, aiming into the night sky. Ellionwy stepped forward, hand out to touch Urlandt's shoulder, a look of pain and sympathy etched on her features. There. The silent swoop of a feathered form stooping form the sky, talons extended towards the woman's head, eyes red with malign intelligence. Coel let his shaft fly... but not fast enough. The hawk screeched as it slashed Ellionwy's face, and she stumbled and screamed. Blood splashed down her cheek and over her shoulder form the gash, matting her hair, and strange motes of golden light seemed to flicker out of the wound, coallesing on the hawk's talons.
Then it met the arrow.
The bird twitched faintly as the shot pinned it to the trunk of a tree, a tangle of it's own limbs pierced through wing, breast and head. Pale smoke seemed to ooze out of the creature's beak, and for just a moment it hung in the air, an image of a repellent, malevolent spectre, before fading into the night.
It was all over in a fraction of a second. The bowl dropped from the fell giant's fingers, and he started to rise, his warrior instincts active even in death. Ellionwy gasped, reaching up to gingerly probe the wound, looking dazed form the suddenness. Coel steeped past them both and wrenched the arrow from the wood, scraping the dead animal off against a branch.
"A demon-sniffer," he growled. "Which means..."
Not far away, a war-horn sounded.
- - -
A deep, bestial rumble welled up in the ungrael's throat, and Cael's former companion stepped forward, his giant wooden mallet surging up in his hand. The wildlander loosed his arrow, and it bit deep into Urlandt's thigh, tearing a strip of dead flesh away. The huge figure stumbled just a little, tearing leaves from the branches as he twisted. Coel's fingers found the fletchings of the next shaft by instinct, and he barely heard Ellionwy's gasp of fright.
"Wait..." the word spat like gravel from Urlandt's cracked and bloody lips, his tone low and drawn out, as if in great pain. He took a step foward, his maul digging a shallow furrow in the forst floor. "I can... control the... hunger". He shuddered, a look of misery and anguish etched on his face. "It gnaws at my belly like a starving wolf... but I can endure it."
Ellionwy's eyes were as wide and dark as the sky itself, and she clamped her hands over her mouth as if holding in a scream or holding down her gorge by main force. Coel tensed, and sidled backwards into the shadows of the canopy. Something felt wrong... wronger than the fact a former ally in battle had returned as one of the deathless. Urlandt's filmed eyes roamed over the clearing, and suddenly alighted on the iron pot that simmered over the hot ashes of the cooking fire. He lunged forwards with a sorrowful howl, flinging himself to his knees in front of it. Reaching down, he cupped the pot like a tiny bowl between his massive hands, and raised it to his lips. Coel could hear the sound of dead flesh sizzling as the giantblooded ungrael slurped down the soup, his lips pressed to the too-hot metal heedless of pain. Or more likely, unfeeling.
The hairs on the back of Coel's neck stood up, and he drew his bow, aiming into the night sky. Ellionwy stepped forward, hand out to touch Urlandt's shoulder, a look of pain and sympathy etched on her features. There. The silent swoop of a feathered form stooping form the sky, talons extended towards the woman's head, eyes red with malign intelligence. Coel let his shaft fly... but not fast enough. The hawk screeched as it slashed Ellionwy's face, and she stumbled and screamed. Blood splashed down her cheek and over her shoulder form the gash, matting her hair, and strange motes of golden light seemed to flicker out of the wound, coallesing on the hawk's talons.
Then it met the arrow.
The bird twitched faintly as the shot pinned it to the trunk of a tree, a tangle of it's own limbs pierced through wing, breast and head. Pale smoke seemed to ooze out of the creature's beak, and for just a moment it hung in the air, an image of a repellent, malevolent spectre, before fading into the night.
It was all over in a fraction of a second. The bowl dropped from the fell giant's fingers, and he started to rise, his warrior instincts active even in death. Ellionwy gasped, reaching up to gingerly probe the wound, looking dazed form the suddenness. Coel steeped past them both and wrenched the arrow from the wood, scraping the dead animal off against a branch.
"A demon-sniffer," he growled. "Which means..."
Not far away, a war-horn sounded.
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Dirigible
Explorer
Trallok lowered the horn from his lips, and listened. A few beats later, another sounded nearby, shaking the trees. The orc turned and looked up at the mounted woman, givng her a grim nod. "Wargrak's bloodtrackers have their scent too, Legate. They are ahead of us, down the gully. Not far," Trallok reported in orcish. He adjusted the set of his throwing axes, feeling the comforting weight against his chest.
Soldier-Legate Sharain unlimbered her shield, and began straping it to her forearm. As she did so, she replied down to Trallok "Let the horn's pannick them. Shethryn will return soon, and by then they will be on the run. Fleeing prey doesn't guard it's back." Although her pronounciation was terrible, the fact she could speak orcish at all had always impressed Trallok; most humans could never master the subtlities and inflections of his native tongue, and their own came to him as easily as childs play.
That was why he had followed her into this elf-haunted killing ground; true, he had come on raids into the Caraheen before, but always at the point of an oruk's spear or a Legate's whip. Sharain was the only shadow-priest he would follow into the woods willingly. Strong was his wish to be back in the foothills of the Lia Rudh Emyn, home, though; the cold, open slopes were much more to his liking than the overly warm, dreadfully cramped eaves of the woods. His female would be entering heat by now, he thought mournfully.
Sharain turned in the saddle, idly running a gauntlet down the mane of her stallion as she did so. Gallimar was massive, of Dornish warhorse stock, bred by the Temple horsewranglers for size and ferocity. The horse whickered under her touch, stamping a blade-shod hoof impatiently, hungry for battle. The Legate ran her gaze over the twenty of so orcs crouched behind her; Trallok could not help but notice those she looked at straightened and - he could think of no other word - preened, wiping dirt off the blades of their battleaxes, puffing out their black-scale armoured chests and trying to look especially fierce for their commander. Cleary, Trallok was not the only orc here who held the human woman in great esteem.
Another thirty or so blooded warriors, led by Wargrak, Braator, Hungark and others, were spread out through the woods around them, moving wide to cut off potential escape routes from the humans they sought. Trallok would be the first to admit he was an orc of little intelligence (well, second; Hungark thought himself the warband's resident wit), but why his band had been sent to find some sword was far beyond him. Worse, he wasn't sure of Sharain herself knew why; when a Greater Legate said "Do it!" a wise follower of the Shadow did not stop to enquire his reasons. The fact that a platoon of goblins had been dispatched to provide cover told him that whoever had ordered it considered this important; that, or they were incompetant and cared little for Odrendor lives. Both were distinct possibilities.
A rustling in the brush close at hand brought Trallok out of his thoughts. From behind him, he could hear the creaking of bowstaves being drawn back as several of his men took aim. Moments later, one of the small, striped forest bears that inhabited this accursed woodland emerged and cast a contemptous glare at the orcish bowmen. A slight motion from him would have had the beast pincushioned and ready to be served for evening rations, but he had learned to be cautious when it came to animals. Often, they were more than they seemed.
Sharain kneed her steed a few paces closer. "Shethryn..." she studied the bear carefully. What passed between them then was beyond the orc's ken.
"Missstresss. I have sssseen them, not far to the easssst. Three in number, though one issss a deathwalker. The otherssss are both Wielderssss; one hasss felt my ssssting, though lightly." The asterix reported. The bear sat on it's haunches, licking it's snout, as if tasting the blood from it's previous host.
Sharain nodded, her thin lips showing the ghost of a satisfied smile, and glanced over her shoulder at the assembled orcs. "We move! By pairs, bloodtrackers to the fore, and stay wide! The accursed wood-fey may have yet more snares to waylay us!" She drew her mace from the saddle, and spoke to Trallok. "Spread the word."
Baring his tusks in a feral grin, Trallok raised the horn to his lips.
- - -
Coel sprang to his feet as the horn cried out, a curse on his tongue. He grabbed Ellionwy by the arm and shook her. "Pack. Hurry." She stared at him for just a moment, then began quickly gathering her belongings. Urlandt rose as well, flakes of dried blood and dirt cracking off his pallid skin. Coel scowled, and prepared to tell the dead, giant fool that there was not a chance in the Dark he would be comming with them...
"I will stay behind" the Dorn sighed, his thick voice resigned and regretful. Coel stared, then nodded. Good. He'll hold them up for a few minutes... The wildlander stooped and picked up his pack and quiver, and saw that the girl had likewise finnished her packing.
"Urlandt...I..." she sounded on the edge of tears. No bloody time for this, Coel snarled to himself.
"Don't spend your words or tears on one already dead, child," the ungrael replied softly, picking up his war maul. He glanced across at Coel. "Run like the bloody wind, you swift bastard".
Coel snorted, and pulled Ellionwy after him into the forest. Behind them, Urlandt turned to face the oncomming foe, his stiff, cold fingers tightening on the haft of his weapon. His boot came down on the fire, extinguishing the last embers.
He smiled in anticipation.
Soldier-Legate Sharain unlimbered her shield, and began straping it to her forearm. As she did so, she replied down to Trallok "Let the horn's pannick them. Shethryn will return soon, and by then they will be on the run. Fleeing prey doesn't guard it's back." Although her pronounciation was terrible, the fact she could speak orcish at all had always impressed Trallok; most humans could never master the subtlities and inflections of his native tongue, and their own came to him as easily as childs play.
That was why he had followed her into this elf-haunted killing ground; true, he had come on raids into the Caraheen before, but always at the point of an oruk's spear or a Legate's whip. Sharain was the only shadow-priest he would follow into the woods willingly. Strong was his wish to be back in the foothills of the Lia Rudh Emyn, home, though; the cold, open slopes were much more to his liking than the overly warm, dreadfully cramped eaves of the woods. His female would be entering heat by now, he thought mournfully.
Sharain turned in the saddle, idly running a gauntlet down the mane of her stallion as she did so. Gallimar was massive, of Dornish warhorse stock, bred by the Temple horsewranglers for size and ferocity. The horse whickered under her touch, stamping a blade-shod hoof impatiently, hungry for battle. The Legate ran her gaze over the twenty of so orcs crouched behind her; Trallok could not help but notice those she looked at straightened and - he could think of no other word - preened, wiping dirt off the blades of their battleaxes, puffing out their black-scale armoured chests and trying to look especially fierce for their commander. Cleary, Trallok was not the only orc here who held the human woman in great esteem.
Another thirty or so blooded warriors, led by Wargrak, Braator, Hungark and others, were spread out through the woods around them, moving wide to cut off potential escape routes from the humans they sought. Trallok would be the first to admit he was an orc of little intelligence (well, second; Hungark thought himself the warband's resident wit), but why his band had been sent to find some sword was far beyond him. Worse, he wasn't sure of Sharain herself knew why; when a Greater Legate said "Do it!" a wise follower of the Shadow did not stop to enquire his reasons. The fact that a platoon of goblins had been dispatched to provide cover told him that whoever had ordered it considered this important; that, or they were incompetant and cared little for Odrendor lives. Both were distinct possibilities.
A rustling in the brush close at hand brought Trallok out of his thoughts. From behind him, he could hear the creaking of bowstaves being drawn back as several of his men took aim. Moments later, one of the small, striped forest bears that inhabited this accursed woodland emerged and cast a contemptous glare at the orcish bowmen. A slight motion from him would have had the beast pincushioned and ready to be served for evening rations, but he had learned to be cautious when it came to animals. Often, they were more than they seemed.
Sharain kneed her steed a few paces closer. "Shethryn..." she studied the bear carefully. What passed between them then was beyond the orc's ken.
"Missstresss. I have sssseen them, not far to the easssst. Three in number, though one issss a deathwalker. The otherssss are both Wielderssss; one hasss felt my ssssting, though lightly." The asterix reported. The bear sat on it's haunches, licking it's snout, as if tasting the blood from it's previous host.
Sharain nodded, her thin lips showing the ghost of a satisfied smile, and glanced over her shoulder at the assembled orcs. "We move! By pairs, bloodtrackers to the fore, and stay wide! The accursed wood-fey may have yet more snares to waylay us!" She drew her mace from the saddle, and spoke to Trallok. "Spread the word."
Baring his tusks in a feral grin, Trallok raised the horn to his lips.
- - -
Coel sprang to his feet as the horn cried out, a curse on his tongue. He grabbed Ellionwy by the arm and shook her. "Pack. Hurry." She stared at him for just a moment, then began quickly gathering her belongings. Urlandt rose as well, flakes of dried blood and dirt cracking off his pallid skin. Coel scowled, and prepared to tell the dead, giant fool that there was not a chance in the Dark he would be comming with them...
"I will stay behind" the Dorn sighed, his thick voice resigned and regretful. Coel stared, then nodded. Good. He'll hold them up for a few minutes... The wildlander stooped and picked up his pack and quiver, and saw that the girl had likewise finnished her packing.
"Urlandt...I..." she sounded on the edge of tears. No bloody time for this, Coel snarled to himself.
"Don't spend your words or tears on one already dead, child," the ungrael replied softly, picking up his war maul. He glanced across at Coel. "Run like the bloody wind, you swift bastard".
Coel snorted, and pulled Ellionwy after him into the forest. Behind them, Urlandt turned to face the oncomming foe, his stiff, cold fingers tightening on the haft of his weapon. His boot came down on the fire, extinguishing the last embers.
He smiled in anticipation.
Dirigible
Explorer
The treeline broke suddenly, letting sunlight, unusually bright today spill down on the two fleeing Erenlanders. Coel was having to drag the healer, to all intents and purposes; they been travelling hard for nearly thirteen hours (NB: Aryth, the world of Midnight, has a 26-hour day), and Ellionwy's shallow reserves of energy were utterly spent. She was panting, and stumbled constantly, slowing them even further. He kept casting glances behind them; the orcs were close on their heels, he knew. The horns had stopped sounding, meaning they felt the prey was within sight.
The reason the forest thinned here became apparent; the ground rose swiftly and sharply, comming up to a spire of rock that thrust like a spearpoint into the sky. A rough spiral pathway seemed to run around the peak, the foot of which they were on already.
Ellionwy jerked free of his grip, and stood stock still for a moment, seeming to concentrate, or listen to a distant sound. When she looked up, her eyes had turned entirely black, and she pointed upwards dramatically, gesturing to the pinnacle of the spire.
"That is where we must go...", she intoned, her voice a whisper that resonated with the wind all around, the rustle of the trees a surrussal chorus to her words. Coel supressesed a shiver. It was the second time the young channeller had been taken by these visions; he was certain such powerful divinations were beyond her skill to invoke naturally; perhaps she had the blood of the Old Prophets in her veins. In any case, if they remained standing here any longer, that blood would not be in her veins much longer, nor his either.
"Then we'd best move," he growled gruffly. Her predictions unnerved him more than he'd like to admit. Ellionwy shook her head, a hand pressed to her temple, seeming confused. Coel sighed and grabed her by the elbow, pulling her after him.
They hurried up the curling pathway, qucikly gaining enough height to look down at the Erethor canopy. Though gaps in the leaves, Coel thought he could see a band of orcs creeping towards the spire, glimpses of black metal and green-grey skin metting his eyes. He breathed a curse.
It was not long afterwards that he began to hear the sounds of pursuit; orcish voices barking orders (though only a few, mercifully, by the sound of it), the whinying of a horse and the sound of beasts moving. Coel pushed Ellionwy to the side of the path, gestured to a large boulder and snarled, "Take cover!", then he ran back a few paces and dropped into a firing crouch, sliding an arrow into pace. He might not be able to defend Ellionwy if it came down to a melee, but he might be able to draw their pursuers away.
After a few heartbeats, the enemy came into view. Urlandt grinned a savage grin, his maul up and ready to smash the wildlander. Any trace of control was gone; he had apparently given completly into the inhumanity of his Fell state. A few paces behind him pawed a small, wiry bear, blood stained maw open and growling. Still rounding the corner, Coel could see a tall, armoured, hard-faced woman mounted on a great warhorse, her hair tied back in a tight braid, a mace and shield readied. At her back a small group of orcish warriors scrambled up the slope, a tracker with a longbow at their head.
Urlandt let out a gutteral laugh, and broke into a charge, the stone of the pathway trembling under his inexorable bulk. Coel swallowed and began to back pedal, looking for an opening to fire an arrow. He leapt back just in time to avoid a stroke from the giantblooded's war-maul, splinters of rock spraying up all around. Urlandt laughed, and turned towards Ellionwy's hiding place.
Undeterred, the channeler stood up behind the boulder, and began chanting a spell. Runes of silver and yellow light flickered on her fingertips, and she completed the spell with a sharp gesture towards the Legate. The air around where she pointed semed to ripple, and a burst of dim, greyish light washed over the area. As one, the orcs began to yawn, and within two paces they began to fall, tumbling over each other to the ground as they fell asleep, snoring loudly. The Legate, wheeled her horse and stared incredulously at her minions as they dropped under the influence of Ellionwy's spell. She spun back, glowering angrily, and began to incant a spell of her own.
In the mean time, the giantblooded had reached Ellionwy's cover, and swung his maul in a mighty but clumsy arc that struck the boulder, sending splinters of stone scything through the air all around. The asterix-possessed bear crept along the cliffline, edging closer to Coel.
The wildlander decided he needed more ground to continue the fight, and began retreating up the slope. As he did so, the Legate completed her spell, and Coel felt iron bands close around his mind, trying to force him to submit, to be still. He struggled against it, and, gathering his will, managed to break free of the sorcery. Hurrying up the slope, looking for a better firing position, Coel saw his path blocked; an elegant, golden-furred dog watched him with orange eyes, head tilted to one side. The ranger reflexivly drew his bow to his shoulder and loosed an arrow... but it never found its mark. The dog gave a "Yip!" as he fired, and then it just... disappeared. The arrow clattered against the stone where it had been a mouses heart beat ago.
Startled, Coel almost forgot to turn back to the enemies behind him. When he did, he saw his foes being harried by a number more of the curly-haired, yellow hounds - somewhere between half a dozen and a score, it was impossible to tell as they appeared and vannished on all sides of their enemies, as if they moved without crossing the intervening distance. Their teeth tore savagely at the bear, snapping at it's flanks and drawing blood, while several more pranced and barked all around Urlandt, drawing his attention. The giantblooded ungrael cursed voluably, swinging and stamping oafishly all around, trying to hammer his elusive tormentors. More still snapped at the hamstring of the Legate's warhorse, while the rider grimly cast waves of reddish black unlight into their midst, attempting to maledict them.
Never look a gift hound in the mouth... he thought to himself wryly, and sent an arrow into the throat of the bear, laying it low. Urlandt continued to stumble around the path, drawing perilously close to the presipice, but the Legate was holding their own, her mace and the bladed hooves of her warhorse keeping the hounds at bay. Two of the hounds detatched themselves from the bear, while another remained behind, worrying at it. They loped over to the boulder from where Ellionwy stared in astonishment at the rapid events of the battle, and placed their forepaws up against it, tongues lolling. Coel got the odd impression they were enjoying themselves.
The two dogs, and the boulder, disappeared... but a moment later, they were in the air above the Legate. The hounds yapped at each other, rolling and falling through the air for a moment, before shifting their positions back to the ground. The slab of rock, on the other hand, plummeted downwards... the Legate looked up, her eyes widening in alarm... she wheeled her horse away, trying to leap clear...
Dust and earth exploded up from the path as the boulder smashed down.
Urlandt stumbled at the impact so close at hand, teetering on the edge of the cliff... his maul tumbled from his grip as he flung out his arms, striving to find something to hold on too...and then he fell.
The giantblooded's roar still echoed against the mountain side as the dust cleared, and Coel could see the warhorse struggling to get back to it's feet, the woman clutching at her left arm which hung broken and useless at her side, its armour shredded. He fired an arrow at her, but the dust was in his eyes and the arrow deflected off her breastplate. She spat a loud curse at him, and pulled her warhorse upright by the reins before scrambling up into the saddle, going white-faced from pain. She dug in the spurrs, and her mount galloped away down the path, leaving sight a moment later.
Coel grunted and stood upright, struggling to catch his breath. One of the golden hounds trotted up to his side and st, lookng up at him quizzically. Cautiously, he reached down and ruffled the furr of it's head. It gave a bark of pleasure... and, with a burst of disorientation, Coel found himself elsewhere...
The reason the forest thinned here became apparent; the ground rose swiftly and sharply, comming up to a spire of rock that thrust like a spearpoint into the sky. A rough spiral pathway seemed to run around the peak, the foot of which they were on already.
Ellionwy jerked free of his grip, and stood stock still for a moment, seeming to concentrate, or listen to a distant sound. When she looked up, her eyes had turned entirely black, and she pointed upwards dramatically, gesturing to the pinnacle of the spire.
"That is where we must go...", she intoned, her voice a whisper that resonated with the wind all around, the rustle of the trees a surrussal chorus to her words. Coel supressesed a shiver. It was the second time the young channeller had been taken by these visions; he was certain such powerful divinations were beyond her skill to invoke naturally; perhaps she had the blood of the Old Prophets in her veins. In any case, if they remained standing here any longer, that blood would not be in her veins much longer, nor his either.
"Then we'd best move," he growled gruffly. Her predictions unnerved him more than he'd like to admit. Ellionwy shook her head, a hand pressed to her temple, seeming confused. Coel sighed and grabed her by the elbow, pulling her after him.
They hurried up the curling pathway, qucikly gaining enough height to look down at the Erethor canopy. Though gaps in the leaves, Coel thought he could see a band of orcs creeping towards the spire, glimpses of black metal and green-grey skin metting his eyes. He breathed a curse.
It was not long afterwards that he began to hear the sounds of pursuit; orcish voices barking orders (though only a few, mercifully, by the sound of it), the whinying of a horse and the sound of beasts moving. Coel pushed Ellionwy to the side of the path, gestured to a large boulder and snarled, "Take cover!", then he ran back a few paces and dropped into a firing crouch, sliding an arrow into pace. He might not be able to defend Ellionwy if it came down to a melee, but he might be able to draw their pursuers away.
After a few heartbeats, the enemy came into view. Urlandt grinned a savage grin, his maul up and ready to smash the wildlander. Any trace of control was gone; he had apparently given completly into the inhumanity of his Fell state. A few paces behind him pawed a small, wiry bear, blood stained maw open and growling. Still rounding the corner, Coel could see a tall, armoured, hard-faced woman mounted on a great warhorse, her hair tied back in a tight braid, a mace and shield readied. At her back a small group of orcish warriors scrambled up the slope, a tracker with a longbow at their head.
Urlandt let out a gutteral laugh, and broke into a charge, the stone of the pathway trembling under his inexorable bulk. Coel swallowed and began to back pedal, looking for an opening to fire an arrow. He leapt back just in time to avoid a stroke from the giantblooded's war-maul, splinters of rock spraying up all around. Urlandt laughed, and turned towards Ellionwy's hiding place.
Undeterred, the channeler stood up behind the boulder, and began chanting a spell. Runes of silver and yellow light flickered on her fingertips, and she completed the spell with a sharp gesture towards the Legate. The air around where she pointed semed to ripple, and a burst of dim, greyish light washed over the area. As one, the orcs began to yawn, and within two paces they began to fall, tumbling over each other to the ground as they fell asleep, snoring loudly. The Legate, wheeled her horse and stared incredulously at her minions as they dropped under the influence of Ellionwy's spell. She spun back, glowering angrily, and began to incant a spell of her own.
In the mean time, the giantblooded had reached Ellionwy's cover, and swung his maul in a mighty but clumsy arc that struck the boulder, sending splinters of stone scything through the air all around. The asterix-possessed bear crept along the cliffline, edging closer to Coel.
The wildlander decided he needed more ground to continue the fight, and began retreating up the slope. As he did so, the Legate completed her spell, and Coel felt iron bands close around his mind, trying to force him to submit, to be still. He struggled against it, and, gathering his will, managed to break free of the sorcery. Hurrying up the slope, looking for a better firing position, Coel saw his path blocked; an elegant, golden-furred dog watched him with orange eyes, head tilted to one side. The ranger reflexivly drew his bow to his shoulder and loosed an arrow... but it never found its mark. The dog gave a "Yip!" as he fired, and then it just... disappeared. The arrow clattered against the stone where it had been a mouses heart beat ago.
Startled, Coel almost forgot to turn back to the enemies behind him. When he did, he saw his foes being harried by a number more of the curly-haired, yellow hounds - somewhere between half a dozen and a score, it was impossible to tell as they appeared and vannished on all sides of their enemies, as if they moved without crossing the intervening distance. Their teeth tore savagely at the bear, snapping at it's flanks and drawing blood, while several more pranced and barked all around Urlandt, drawing his attention. The giantblooded ungrael cursed voluably, swinging and stamping oafishly all around, trying to hammer his elusive tormentors. More still snapped at the hamstring of the Legate's warhorse, while the rider grimly cast waves of reddish black unlight into their midst, attempting to maledict them.
Never look a gift hound in the mouth... he thought to himself wryly, and sent an arrow into the throat of the bear, laying it low. Urlandt continued to stumble around the path, drawing perilously close to the presipice, but the Legate was holding their own, her mace and the bladed hooves of her warhorse keeping the hounds at bay. Two of the hounds detatched themselves from the bear, while another remained behind, worrying at it. They loped over to the boulder from where Ellionwy stared in astonishment at the rapid events of the battle, and placed their forepaws up against it, tongues lolling. Coel got the odd impression they were enjoying themselves.
The two dogs, and the boulder, disappeared... but a moment later, they were in the air above the Legate. The hounds yapped at each other, rolling and falling through the air for a moment, before shifting their positions back to the ground. The slab of rock, on the other hand, plummeted downwards... the Legate looked up, her eyes widening in alarm... she wheeled her horse away, trying to leap clear...
Dust and earth exploded up from the path as the boulder smashed down.
Urlandt stumbled at the impact so close at hand, teetering on the edge of the cliff... his maul tumbled from his grip as he flung out his arms, striving to find something to hold on too...and then he fell.
The giantblooded's roar still echoed against the mountain side as the dust cleared, and Coel could see the warhorse struggling to get back to it's feet, the woman clutching at her left arm which hung broken and useless at her side, its armour shredded. He fired an arrow at her, but the dust was in his eyes and the arrow deflected off her breastplate. She spat a loud curse at him, and pulled her warhorse upright by the reins before scrambling up into the saddle, going white-faced from pain. She dug in the spurrs, and her mount galloped away down the path, leaving sight a moment later.
Coel grunted and stood upright, struggling to catch his breath. One of the golden hounds trotted up to his side and st, lookng up at him quizzically. Cautiously, he reached down and ruffled the furr of it's head. It gave a bark of pleasure... and, with a burst of disorientation, Coel found himself elsewhere...
Dirigible
Explorer
Ahh, another convert to the cause. Izrador be praised!
Check out www.againsttheshadow.org; it's Midnight's true lair.
Check out www.againsttheshadow.org; it's Midnight's true lair.
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