[IC] Wok: Science Ascended

[Conor77]

This is the In-Character thread for the Wok Play-by-Post game. Posting here if you are not a member of the thread is probably a terrible idea.

Out of Character (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=14902925#post14902925)

[Conor77]

The day is as bright and cold as any in the late autumn has the right to be. Clouds tower in majesty on the edges of the horizon, leaving blue sky between you and the sun. Salor itself stands majestically tall, fields in front of it, mountains at its back. The field that opens up beneath that sun is being picked at by vultures. They know what gathers near here. They know what happens next.

And you know too. You gather at the parapets of Salor, peering at the blackness crossing the fields. They are about a mile and a half away from the city, which means you have about an hour until the infantry march here, less for the forward skirmishers. You aren't really supposed to be on the parapets, since those are for the archers. But those men and women are sitting slumped against the wall, merely waiting for their time to do and die. They say nothing to you, so you continue to gaze into the approaching army.

None of this would be accepted if any of you were proper soldiers. With a few exceptions, you just aren't. Even the soldiers don't really act like warriors, most of them probably replaying their last conversations with their families. Aside from a few exceptions, most around you are just regular citizens or travelers with some spears and chain shirts. A few notables are a doruk polishing and checking some oily piece of weaponry she brought from Eastern Te'ara, and one human who just mutters to himself while paging through a book. He's supposed to be some kind of mage, but it looks like he can't handle eating oatmeal, let alone the mysteries of the universe.

In short, you feel rather helpless. You share this feeling with almost everyone in the city.

What do you do now?

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Right then," August finally said, turning and heading down from the walls, moving to take up a position with the warriors at the gate, where he figured the heaviest fighting would likely be. He'd guarded that gate for years, albeit mainly against people trying to enter without proper authorization, or the odd beast or bandit. Not an army.

Well, no matter. The scale was different, but the rules were the same. They wanted to get into his city, they'd have to get through him first.

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt groans, his head cradled in his arms which shield his eyes from the harsh light of day. He can barely stand to be outside with this hangover, but his roiling stomach makes the idea of standing to face what comes all but impossible. The brutish Joshorun leans sideways from his crouch at the base of the fortifications and vomits loudly. Grogily, he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. The taste is vile, but at least his stomach has settled down.

He prises himself away from the wall leaning heavily on his spear, and makes his way to the top of the wall to take another look.

[Conor77]

Kurt's second view looks much as the first did. The forest that originally stood on the slopes of the mountain and across the field was torn down and fed to the growing city, to provide building material and to prevent enemy movements from being hidden. As their scout cavalry dares dip closer and closer to the walls, you almost wish they did have cover for their movements. The horde in front of you is, frankly, insurmountable. Salor has some of the best Magigrammatical defenses spellcasters could give it, but the numbers out there... they might make you more sick than the alcohol did. Easily over 100,000 troops, all of them trained heavily and Lots of people joke grimly that if there was a back entrance they would flee without question. This was followed by a lot of people searching for one, in every conceivable location. They found a street urchin in the lord's throne-room, trying to uproot the throne to get to the secret entrance he thought was beneath.

The Doruk with the odd weapon walks over to August as he approaches the gate. You judge her age to be more or less 80ish. She says, in a voice that sounds slightly hoarse, "Now whassa kid like you doing out here by the gate? You should be someplace else, back further up"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"At your command," August replied, taking that for an order and heading back up the walls, sheathing his flail, securing his shield, and taking out his bow.

[Conor77]

"Kid", she darts forward, and grabs him by the shoulder.

"I ain't your commander!" She chuckles before continuing, "No one's the commander out here. I don't think anyone really even cares anymore. Hey, don't lets go on the wall, they'll be shooting people up there soon, I don't want to see you go down that way. The rest of us are sharing a drink over to the left of the gate, you want in? We're just biding time until they run us over anyways, might as well have a ball while we're at it, eh?"

She speaks quickly, obviously very tightly wound.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August nodded slowly, followed for about two steps, then halted. Someone did care. He did. For a moment, he wanted to snap at the woman and her defeatist attitude.

But he didn't expect it would help. "Aye, I'll take you up on that drink. After we win!" he said with a wink, before looking with a critical eye at the forces and fortifications they had assembled, trying to consider any manner of strategy more advanced than "plant yourself in the gate and swing the flail around until your arm falls off". No one was in command, hmm? Well, someone had better step up then!

Was it hopeless? Maybe. But he'd still put everything he had into trying. It wasn't for nothing his friends called him Badger.

[Dark_Stalion]

"Heh, back entrance."

Kurt grunts to himself with amusement. Of course, the unintentional double entendre tickled the baser humour recently awoken by his recent tavern experiences, but it was more the idea of running from such an implacable foe that caused him to chuckle. Nothing short of divine intervention was going to save them now.

He set his spear to one side, laid his crossbow down in front of himself and knelt. Through the fuzz of the recent alcohol abuse, he searched for the appropriate words, a request for divine protection from those gods that supported white order and peace.

"Dear gods of White,
Order, grace and light,
Grant to us protection
From all who'd harm the right."

It started off as a simple litany, repeated over and over to bring comfort, but soon, Kurt remembered a tune from his childhood, a simple, but powerful melody, that he used when originally learning the words that turned them from comforting to heartening. His voice is gruff at first, alcohol abuse having done nothing for his vocal chords, but it carries the words well in the chill air.

[Failed Phantasm]

"Tell me again - why are we slogging our way across this rain-soaked, mud-ridden, bandit-infested, GODS-FORSAKEN road to Salor? Our clients always come to us, not the other way around."
"Because, Xander, no one has ever made us an offer that ended in so many zeroes."
"As if we're going to see any of it..."
"What?"
"Nothing. You've kept all our papers dry, haven't you? The sooner we finish, the sooner we can be home in our own beds in Treth."

--------

'How long ago was that? A month? A week? ...a day?' Xander opened his eyes to the sky, which was brighter and bluer than it had any right to be on such a miserable day. Everything that had happened after arriving in Salor was just a blur in his memory. Things had been going so well at first: the meeting with the mercantile company, the pleasantly quick negotations, the contracts that had been drawn up and signed after only a few days. And then the news came. The caravan and guards who had escorted them to Balarath fled the city in the middle of the night, leaving Xander and his associate trapped in a city where everyone who had some way of fleeing had already done so.

And so he found himself leaning against the battlements on the walls of Salor, holding a borrowed shortspear in one hand and trying his hardest not to think about the battle he had become swept up in a long time ago. Xander lifted his free hand and furrowed his brow, staring at his fingers until a few sparks of light briefly flashed into life. 'At least I have my magic.' He clenched his hand into a fist. 'I only hope that's worth something.'

[Conor77]

August notes that the runes normally coating the wall, providing it with extra strength, hardness, and special defenses, were bright enough today to rival the sun. You'd heard from some of the other guards that the entire wall could channel magical energy, and that the silver decorations on the outside were conduits that could provide extra defenses. Sounded like pure fancy until today, when you can see lightning arcing between the chrome spikes. The gate itself, you notice, is also sparking. Best not to touch it. Someone's dragged a metal barrel beside to the left of the gate, and lit a fire inside it. A number of soldiers carouse around it, even those on the wall battlements gathering around the rising heat. You also see the gate-defense commander, drinking some ale and staring deeply into the fire.

The soldiers around Kurt give him a polite applause. One Aaran, looks like just a random person caught up in all this, asks Kurt, "Umm...sir? You're a priest, right? Do, you, uhh, could you pray for me? I'm only eighty-f-" He (she?) catches herself (himself?) and blushes, "...only a kid. I don't want to die". The Aaran seems shaky, and indeed very young, a child by any measure except age. Not that the human-dominant Salor would catch that. Poor kid probably got the wrong sex put on their draft papers too.

The enemy army gets closer. By this time, the horse scouts are close enough to shoot with arrows. Two of them indeed are shot, before the rest run back to join the army.

You can already see the trolls and the Enlarged heavy infantry, as well as various siege weapons. Any doubt about the wall's magic is erased as the crenelations burst into life, sending magical defenses screeching upwards, just as the first ballistae fall upon the wall. The battle is starting, and yet the only thing you can do for now is wait.

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt looks up at the young soldier. A twinge of pity pulls at his heart. Someone so young spiritually should not have to put their life on the line. Still, with what was coming, no one would be truly safe. He pats the ground before him and motions the youngster to kneel there. Taking their hands he recites another prayer.

"Gods of life and light, watch over this soul, grant... uh," he struggles with the gender for a moment before deciding to just skip that bit, "this one protection from all who would, uh, do harm.".

Satisfied that he had circumvented upsetting the youth, he stands and pats himself down.

"Oh for..."

He bends down and picks up his weapons.

"Hey, kid, where do I find ammunition around here? I'm all out of bolts, apparently."

[Quellian-dyrae]

August made his way over to the commander. "Commander?" he asked. "Thinkin' they'll be here 'fore long. What's the battle plan?"

He was eyeing the walls warily as the fireworks started. It was impressive, but he didn't really like the idea of letting the walls do the heavy fighting. Much as he was used to having them at his back, he wasn't quite sure he trusted them to have his back, as yet.

Blink.

[ArcturusV]

Walker caught himself flinching in spite of himself. It was hard not to when you saw a giant bolt promising death in a very painful, large fashion flying in your general direction.

It never hit however. He breathed out a huge sigh of relief as he saw the wall hold. With a shake he moved away from the battlements. He had seen the opening shots. No show of men on the wall was going to dissuade the enemy from this attack. The chance to bluff has passed. And with that, the only role he played on the wall had passed. An unarmed man looking out at the army. The only way he'd get involved is if one of them broke the wall and rushed him point blank.

He shuddered and backed away from the wall some more. He started to find some steps down to ground level, more than willing to abandon his post for the moment. It wasn't his fight. He wasn't meant for it, he wasn't trained for it. He told himself that as he looked inward. Past the walls, past the soldiers pressed into service, citizens with simple tools and weapons called to the defense. Abandoned houses. He could go there, he could hide. Maybe pick up a few pieces in the confusion. Surely no invading army was as familiar with the city as he was. They'd never find him... and if we held the wall? Well... they'd probably be too tired to care to do anything about it for the moment.

Walker Tam was rubbing his hands as he went down the stairs at a rapid clip. He hit the ground and was striding away from the wall. He heard scared, confused people at the gate. Some priest calling down what seemed to be a half hearted benediction upon a soldier. Another confused about their role. Walker scoffed. Fear allayed by falsehoods. He found his mouth opening to interject before he thought better about it.

[Conor77]

The hail of missiles almost sounds like electric rain against the wall.

The Aaran child says they don't know anything about ammunition, and to ask Commander Kenten.

Meanwhile, Commander Kenten looks up at August, carefully wipes the top of his bottle, and shoves a rag in it. You notice he hasn't actually exhausted much of the contents of the bottle. He sees you looking and smiles, "Booze bombs've saved my life before, might today, too." His face then hardens, "Plan is to hold this wall. At first I didn't know what they'd throw at us, on account of how they haven't exactly left many survivors to tell the tale, but now we know they've got looottts of spellcasters. Which means we should be in good shape, because of the wall. It also means that we change tactics to try to intercept anything summoned or crafted to break the Wall. The other gates will do something similar, and the areas of straight wall are nigh unbreakable so we don't have to worry there. Actually, Salor is probably the only fortress that could withstand something like this.

At first, he was shouting above the din, but gradually he came down in volume to a voice projected to those around the wall. You notice that now there are only a few arrows pattering against the magical surge.

The Commander swears, and then begins yelling, "That means they're moving in infantry, bowmen to the walls, I want everyone drawn and ready, anyone with a polearm stand by the gate, stick it through the holes at them, everyone else on me!

Everyone has barely enough time to register his command when a massive boulder comes punching through the magical defenses and smashes part of the wall, rolling off and down onto the barrel-fire. At least 8 soldiers are killed immediately, including the Aaran. Kurt was close enough to feel the whoosh, and August is literally right next to it now.

Everyone just sort of stares at the thing.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August's head swerved fast to the boulder, eyes going momentarily wide, but he quickly gathered his wits, took a breath, and formed up, taking up a position beside the commander. The man's leadership would be critical to fending this assault, which meant that there was no better place for August to be than at his side to fend anyone coming after him.

He clenched his flail and shield at the ready, awaiting something to hit.

[Dark_Stalion]

"Dammit, someone give me some bolts!" shouts Kurt after recovering from the shock. There are tears in his eyes. What a way to go. At least it was quick. "Someone show me where this captain Kenten is!"

Kurt is shaking a little, a combination of rage, fear and shock assaulting his body.

[Conor77]

Not taking his eyes off the boulder, Kenten says loud enough to be heard, "That's Commander Kenten". He continues to stare.

"Now how the hell does this one boulder make it through, I wonder...", he says.

Ruminations are rather rudely interrupted by a huge, low horn. [Something akin to this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpQQ7UZ7brA)] The sound travels up your legs and through your body, rattling your skull around with its power. It seems to come at first from the boulder, and then from across the wall. You realize more of these things fell, all across the wall, and that together, the rumble they emit is a signal.

The boulder cracks. Stone jumps apart and falls to the ground as spiderweb cracks turn into gaping caverns across the surface of the rough sphere.

The old man who was muttering over the books runs shrieking "Get away! Get away! It is immune to weapon and spell!"

The stone...stands up, far taller than a humanoid. At first your eye can't trace the outline well enough, but soon you see it as sort of the shape of a man. More stone falls off, and you see the shell rock as some kind of concrete, inside of which is a form of pure, dark granite, humanoid. With only a slight delay, it turns around and stumbles towards the gate, leaving trails of concrete in its wake.

Commander Kenten shouts immediately, "IT'S GOING TO BREAK THE GATE, SOMEONE TAKE IT OUT!", he lights his prepared firebomb immediately and lobs it, a perfect hit on the shambling form. The monster of course does not pause to consider the heat.

[Failed Phantasm]

At the sound of the rumbling horn, Xander looked up and then turned around to see out onto the battlefield. He could see the large boulder laying rather innocently on the gr- 'Are those cracks?' He didn't have much time to take a closer look. As the noise grew louder and louder, he was forced to shut his eyes and clasp his hands to his ears. 'Where is that infernal noise coming from?!' Over the sound of the horn and the rumbling of the boulder as it broke open, indistinct shouting could be heard and so he opened his eyes again and let go of his ears. "...weapon and spell!" He looked back at the boulder, only to see a large, golem-like thing towering over the soldiers who were scrambling towards it. Most of the men who had been near him were rushing off the wall, towards the gate - presumably to take up defensive positions or maybe to attack it head-on.

Xander quickly decided that being on the walls was probably a bad idea now that it stood a good chance of being breached. Scratch that. It stood a good chance of being smashed into rubble. "Well, this is going to be the shortest siege in history," he quipped. He half-heartedly pointed his index finger at the concrete golem-thing, took a brief moment to aim, and loosed a thin ray of eldritch magic. Xander didn't expect it to do much, if anything. Without stopping to see if it had, he told himself, "Worth a shot," and then started running to get off the wall as quickly as he could.

[ArcturusV]

Someone take it out. Someone take it out.

Walker found himself seriously considering that. He felt his fingers flexing. This was a moment, make or break. He might be some hero to these guys if he suceeded. Just imagine the sort of leverage that would give. THAT thought brought a smile to Walker's face as he measured out the golem closest to the gate. He reached for his tools, pulling out some climbing gear.

At the very least, it'll be a hell of a story, he thought, as he considered what he was about to do.

Walker broke out in a run towards the golem, hoping it was too occupied with it's programed goal to really notice a guy who wasn't explicitly bearing weapons or attacking it. With a running start he threw himself at the golem, trying to CLIMB the thing and get up onto it's shoulders, certain that if the thing did have an off switch, or some magical control behind it, it'd be in that hard to reach, hard to hit area.

(Guessing you need a climb check:

[roll0] + 3 Str Bonus, +4 Climb Ranks

Here's hoping that the dice favor the insane.)

[Dark_Stalion]

At first Kurt assumes that this commander was crushed by the boulder, but something in his tone of voice, an emphasis on "commander", and a sense of pride, suggests that he might actually have accidentally addressed the commander.

He sighs in resignation that the gods seem to wish him ill today, then jumps back as the rock begins to split. As the stone gradually assumes humanoid form he takes another shocked step back.

"White preserve us all!"

Seeing others charging for the giant stone creature he slings his useless crossbow over his shoulder and grabs his spear. With a cry of pent up rage he charges after the retreating back of the golem.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August looked at the creature, eyed his flail dubiously, looked back at the creature, and narrowed his eyes. "Right then."

He too charged after it, taking a hard swing. "Come on then boulder-brain, let's see what yeh got!" he yelled, trying to draw its attention in what was no doubt a brilliant defensive strategy.

Full Round - Charge: [roll0] for [roll1]. -2 AC for rest of round.

Iron Guard's Glare will cause it to take -4 to hit against my allies while it remains in my threatened area.

::Hard stare::The wall is an ally.

[Conor77]

Xander's blast surges forward, but fades and ebbs into nothing before it reaches the rock-man.

Kurt and August wail on the thing, crunching concrete but not even scoring the hard granite beneath. August does seem to do a little damage when he attacks behind the creature's massive knee, as he hears a sharp splinter instead of the "thwack" everyone else is getting. They do seem to spur other members of the army, who try to hold the golem back or damage it. But it wades through the forces attacking without so much as a a stumble. Walker takes a running jump, over the heads of those around it, and starts scaling the golem. The cracks and chunks of light-grey rocks still clinging to the golem make it an easy climb to the top of the thing's head, though he dislodges a lot of it on the way, including the flaming debris left by the firebomb.

Once there, he feels around its head with his hands. He feels the standard "human-ish" face that most golem sculptors go for (the vague bone-arrangement, browline, jawline, nose, etc.) with the exception of the mouth, which is open like a mail slot, and its forehead, in which is stuck a black, gemstone sphere. As you touch it, the sphere swivels, and you feel the texture on it is reminiscent of an eye, with the pupil being slightly depressed, the iris gently lined, and even very minute veins around the edges. As the eye swivels, the golem stops, and begins to reach up its massive hands...

[Quellian-dyrae]

Assuming by OOC thread that means we're up again; if not, let me know and will delete post.

"The joints! Go for the joints!" August yelled above the din, demonstrating with another whack for the creature's knee.

Standard: Vanguard Strike at [roll0] for [roll1]. If the attack hits, allies receive a +4 bonus on attack rolls against the golem for one round.

Maneuvers Available: 1.

[Dark_Stalion]

Well, if someone had an idea it was more than Kurt had. He jabs at the back of the knees.

[roll0] to hit
[roll1] damage

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander jumped down the last few steps and stopped dead for a moment. 'I'm in a battle,' he thought bemusedly. 'I've barely done anything, but I'm actually in a battle. Shouldn't I be terrified?' His hands were starting to shake, but he couldn't tell why. Was it fear? Or excitement? He clenched his hands into fists and shook his head, as if that would disabuse him of the notion. 'No! No. No heroics,' he told himself emphatically. 'You're not a soldier! You've got to hide somewhere.' But that wouldn't work either. If the invading army breached the walls, how long would the defenders hold? Was there any chance of them winning? If they lost, being pinned down in a building would be worse than being cut down in the open. Burning, starving, capture, torture, slavery. Who knows what? He'd be trapped like a rat. Xander looked up again, towards the gate and unclenched his fists.

"Worth a shot."

He ran as quickly as he could, following the surge of conscripted men and desperate defenders through the gate. Still, his caution hadn't suddenly evaporated into blind recklessness. He saw the golem almost immediately, but he certainly wasn't going to flail at it helplessly with his spear. Xander raised his hand, taking a few moments to properly aim this time. "Please work," he whispered as he fired.

-----
Actions taken

Invoke an eldritch blast at the golem's legs: [roll0]
(Critical confirmation, if necessary): [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

[ArcturusV]

"Okay... time to bail!" Walker called out loudly to help focus himself. He jammed his hand into the Eye, forming a pointed blow and driving it as hard as he could into the "eye" of the Golem. Regardless of hit, miss, or otherwise, he was gonna jump off and bail before the thing squished him flat, taking a dive off its back to land behind the golem.

( Guessing you want an attack roll: [roll0] + 1 BAB + 3 Str bonus.

And in case luck continues the favor the foolish: [roll1] +3 Str Bonus )

[Conor77]

[Xander, the gates are shut and locked, the golem dropped inside the gates and is moving towards them. Your action still stands]

Xander skips down the steps from walls, as soldiers move both ways, shouting. He aims where everyone seems to be jabbing their various weapons and lets loose with another blast of mysterious magical energy, which again goes "ptew" before it can so much as close with the golem.

August and Kurt both join with other soldiers thwacking away at the backs of the knees of the golem. Nothing really gets done, and it begins to get very crowded. You hear a few more splinters, but none under your own blows.

Except for Walker. Walker, deciding the eye is the big deal, neatly strikes it from its socket, before jumping off the golem, before its massive hands close around its head. Now, it seems confused, it flails around wildly, hitting nothing, before simply shrugging and turning back towards its intended goal. Or, somewhat. It is now pointed at a 45 degree angle, and if it keeps moving forward will hit the wall to the right side of the gate rather than the gate itself.

The old man screams, "The gem! Find the gem! And the scroll! You can't attack it with magic or weapons, you need to burn the scroll!"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Is it blind...?" August murmured. "Might be blind...an' it probably can't feel much bein' made o' stone... he reasoned. "Push it back! Keep it away from the wall!" August yelled, darting around the creature and heaving against it, hoping the press of soldiers would follow his lead to check its advance. He didn't know what scroll the old man was yelling about, and figured to leave the gem to the man who dislodged it in the first place.

Move Action: Move around to the front of the thing.
Standard Action: Bull Rush! [roll0], but hopefully some of the soldiers will help or something. If we could halt the thing that'd be great, but even if we can just turn it away from the wall, that'd work too.

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt narrowly misses being landed on by a falling body. He looks up, trying to see where the body came from. Then the shouts come, it's blind, it's disorientated, go for the scroll*.

Scroll?

Assuming that the scroll would be on or in the stone monstrosity, Kurt uses his natural strength to try and get a grip on the creature and find purchase to get up to the main body.

Action
Climb check: [roll0]
Search Check: [roll1]

OoC silliness:
*Go for the scroll, Boo!

[ArcturusV]

"Come on... little more flash, a little more substance. Put some effort into it!" Walker called out as he saw the further attacks, and the aftermath of his daring. He had a cocksure smile on his face, and an Idea that was forming in his head that might not top the last stunt, but would definitely be a good follow up. He reached into his pack, taking out the length of rope, and his Kama. Without further word, he started tying off the end of the rope to his Kama, only moving far enough away that he would be out of the immediate path of the Golem and unlikely to catch any collateral damage from it's blind rampage.

(Insane Plan, part two. I don't think I'd need to make a roll for this.)

[Conor77]

A Strength check:
[roll0]


Kurt, as well as one other man, climb up the body of the golem. The other man is on the front, Kurt being closest to the back. Kurt finds it harder to climb up than Walker did, due to the ruble having fallen more, but he still manages to clutch the creature's shoulders and haul himself up. The others keep swinging.

Walker, meanwhile, goes in front of the golem, underneath the overhang and next to the gate, and starts doing something with his weapon and a length of rope.

August goes in front and shoves his body up against the golem's. It does not stray any further from its course, but appears to stop just in front of the wall, straining forwards against August's weight, and the soldiers helping him. You hear a loud crack and bits of granite shower from its head on the climbers: The Doruk took her shot.

Xander runs sideways along the wall, not pausing to glance at the archers on the wall next to him. He can see the targeting spires of the nearest gramarie cannon. That cannon, he knows, could easily obliterate a golem of that size, its just a matter of convincing the gunners to fire it.

EDIT: There were going to be more checks until I realized that Walker was preparing to trip the golem with the kama. He hadn't actually done so yet. I wondered what the rope was for :smallredface:

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt keeps looking for this scroll while clinging on for dear life.

climb check, If necessary [roll0]
Search check [roll1]

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Keep at it all!" August called in encouragement to the soldiers, continuing to push with all his strength.

Standard: Bull Rush at [roll0]

[ArcturusV]

"Who dares, wins," Walker whispered to himself as a form of focusing as he finished up his prep work. He held his "weapon" by the rope, swinging the Kama end in a circle to build up some momentum to it. "Might want to stand clear..." Walker warned the soldiers pushing at it. He then whipped the Kama out on it's length of rope so that it would wrap around one of the Golem's legs, using the weight and blade of the Kama to hook onto the Golem and secure the line. With that done, he ducked under the golem's legs, carrying the rope with him, around the outside of the other leg, and back under his legs again.

(So... rolls I likely need? Ranged Attack roll I imagine, so:

[roll0] +1 BAB, +2 Dex Mod.

And a Tumble Check for moving around the Golem as I need to:

[roll1] +4 Skill Ranks +2 Dex Mod.

Here's hopin'.)

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander continued to rush down the wall towards the cannon. He'd never seen a weapon of that kind being used before - privately, he wished that never would in his life - and had no idea whatsoever about the kind of power it had. Common sense, however, told him certain things. "Ok," he breathed as he ran, 'It's a siege weapon. That probably means firing it into a crowd of people is the last thing these gunners will be willing to do.' Xander nearly stopped dead as he wondered how this was going to work. 'How am I going to convince them?' he asked himself. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and one of his spells sprang to mind immediately.

Holding the index finger of his right hand up to the level of his eyes, Xander stared for a moment until the tip of his finger ignited with a spark of indigo light. He held out his hand and began to sketch an image in the air before him; it was no work of art, but it was unmistakably a rose: petals, stem, and thorns all illuminated in indigo light as it hung suspended in the air. Xander bowed slightly, and the rose floated into his chest. He felt the subtle magic work its way through him, enhancing his features to make him seem more personable, inspiring new words and thoughts to express with his silver tongue. There also came to mind, totally unbidden, the thoughts of fiery horrors and infernal contracts, terrifyingly imposing and possessed of unearthly charm all at once, and he felt himself take on some aspect of them. He looked up and resumed his run towards the gramarie cannon. 'Time to improvise.'

-----
Actions taken:

Invoke beguiling influence as a standard action (+6 untyped bonus to Bluff, Diplomacy, and Intimidate checks)

[Conor77]

The golem tries to lurch forward, but is kept in place by the valiant efforts of three soldiers, August, and the Commander (essentially, being bull-rushed 20 feet back, and moving 20 feet forward). It seems engulfed in consternation, or at least as consternated as a golem can be.

Taking advantage of the golem's non-movement, Walker throws his kama, dipping in between the golem's legs to tie its legs up with a rope. Unfortunately, as the golem moves its huge legs, the kama clatters to the ground, skittering as the rope is moved by the twisting mass of soldiers and rock.

Kurt only barely hangs on to the golem, but searches its back until he is sure there is no scroll on it. The soldier from the front of the golem has dropped down and started to help pushing it aside.

Walker runs at top speed towards the large cannon, buffeted by tons of humanoids crushing in exactly the opposite direction. As he cast his spell, he realized that that was perhaps a clue he could have taken into account. He sees a black column of smoke, slowly rising from some distance away. He hopes it is not the cannon, but given the way everything else has gone today...

[Quellian-dyrae]

August gritted his teeth and kept at it, while casing about for the dislodged gem in the press, or this scroll.

Standard: Bull Rush at [roll0].
Move: Spot at [roll1].

[Dark_Stalion]

Finding nothing, Kurt grunts in frustration and effort as he attempts to make his way to the creature's head. Maybe this soulless thing was commanded through something there.

climb check [roll0]
Spot check [roll1]

[ArcturusV]

"Well.... so much for thinking..." Walker muttered to himself as he saw the failure. He took a moment to brace himself, ball up his fists, and grit his teeth as he faced the Golem again. Disheartened, and thus without a better idea for the moment, Walker threw himself at the golem alongside August, throwing his shoulder into the rock monster and helping push it back.

(Aid Another on August's Bull Rush:

[roll0] +3 Strength bonus)

[Conor77]

With Walker's help, the golem is slowly pushed away from the wall, until it is 10 feet away from the gates, and enraged that it cannot reach them. Shouts and cheers go up from the soldiers around, as more crowd around, some throwing ropes around the thing to bring it down while others pull from both sides. The smell of sweat is evident in the air now, like the twang of bowstrings on the walls.

The old man is closer now, having produced a scroll of parchment from his odd, sagging robes. Though he keeps his distance, he gets within a somewhat close distance of the now weirdly fidgeting golem. He holds it up and begins to pronounce words. From the pavement beneath the soldiers' feet, and from the mouth slit of the golem, a red glow appears. An Aaran non-combatant bends over and picks up a small glowing black eye gem from where it lay in the half-cobbled muck, now identified by the spell. The man looks at Kurt, hanging off the shoulder and a rope, and nods.

Xander continues down the wall, running faster this time, butting past the fleeing men and women. Until suddenly everything is clear in front of him. Another golem, much the same as the other one, but with a few more chunks of concrete left on it. The smoke is issuing forth from something it has in its hands, some kind of reddish clear cylinder with all kinds of bits of metal and wood sticking off of it. It apparently ripped the cannon off its post, and then pulled this thing from the wall beneath it.

Xander sees the magic of the wall fade where he is, and a few of the smaller bolts and bits skitter through. the golem, meanwhile, is using its massive hands to tear the thing in its hands apart. It does this wildly, smashing bits of the clear encasement off, some of which land close to you. Their break pattern and the way they skid reminds you of ice. Eventually, the golem seems to get through and pulls out the inner core, that had been glowing red.

The temperature feels like it increases 40 degrees Fahrenheit the moment the core touches air. Heat ripples from it, actually making the air curve around the golem. The core glows red like iron in a fire, but it must be made of something else because it is simply too hot to be iron. You see all the "ice" melt right away, bits of wood lying on the ground near the thing burst into flames, and metal pieces of cannon and wire start to melt around it. Even the stone of the wall begins to smoke. Naturally the golem is unaffected, but Xander's face feels like he stuck it in an oven.

The onyx eye of the golem, darting back and forth, spots him. The Golem begins to shamble in his direction, each step bringing the inferno closer.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"That's the way all!" August extolled, driving on. He had a singular goal in mind now - keep pushing the golem back, give the old man and the brave priest as much time as they could to disable it. He kept a lookout for anything that might prove useful to the cause, though.

Standard: Bull Rush at [roll0].
Move: Spot at [roll1].

...Except he tripped over the golem's foot and face-planted in the dirt.

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander watched the golem dismantle the thing in its hands with a curious mix of terror, indignation, fury, and a tiny hint of amusement. "Oh, come on!," he groaned to no one in particular. "You had a cannon and you couldn't stop this thing? No wonder you people are losing your civil war!" His patience, however, was evaporating faster than the ambient moisture. "I try to blast these things to bits and nothing happens. I run off to get help for the people at the gate and there's already a golem here that's ruined the damned thing. All right." He cracked his knuckles. "Now I'm mad."

As the golem turned to face him, Xander was already getting ready to sprint back the way he came. 'I know I can outrun this thing,' he thought as the stone monster slowly lumbered in his direction, 'and while it might be immune to my magic, that core it's holding looks unstable enough to blow. I've just got to score a good hit.

"Come and get me, then!" he shouted as he turned and ran back towards the gate. Xander could hear the golem's thudding footsteps behind him, to say nothing of the oppressive heat that the core was emitting. He stopped once he felt like he had a good lead and then turned around to face the golem once more. "I've got another finger I'm going to show you, you gods-damned golem!" he roared as he fired a bolt of magic at the fiery core.

'And I can keep this going all day.'

-----
Actions taken:

Xander's move action is to go 30 feet back the way he came. He then invokes an eldritch blast as a ranged touch attack at the core the golem is holding:
Attack: [roll0]
Critical confirmation, if necessary: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

[Dark_Stalion]

The old man had a scroll. The MAN HAD THE SCROLL! Kurt almost leapt from the golem's back to attack him, but then he saw the light of the gem and the light from the construct's mouth. That meant it was in there, inside the mouth. He shuddered, dreading even contemplating what he was about to do, but do it he must. This was truly life and death, and however worthless his life was, there were far too many innocent souls at risk to give up now.

Gathering his courage, Kurt slides his hand into the slit.

[Conor77]

Kurt's hand reaches inside the gap, just barely scraping his hand through the gap... and across razor-blades hidden in the maw of the thing, dealing 1 point of damage to his off-hand. However, shoving his hand through brought it down on a tiny piece of rolled paper inside the cavity. And paper is really the way to describe it. It is not a long piece of paper, only 8 inches long at most, rolled once and tied loosely with a piece of string. The fragile crisp of parchment nearly disintegrates when Kurt's hand falls on it, and for a moment, Kurt can feel Wok.

In a single instant (or was it a century?), Kurt feels unnaturally heavy, the gravity of his body dragging him deep into the stones of the world. At the same time, he feels the depth of the golem's stone, the weight of it, and then outwards, through the golem's feet, to the cobbles and mud and soil and bedrock of the area. And then further, reaching out beyond everything, getting faster and faster until it feels like his mind encompasses the entire world. All of Wok's immensity fills his thoughts, and he sees himself in perspective to the whole, truly, for the first time.

He is very, very small. A tick on a mammoth.

And then everything comes rushing back, and Kurt is clinging to a motionless statue in the shape of a man, all malice, intelligence, and animation gone from it. His hand is stuck inside its mouth, hand and wrist bleeding, fingers curled around papery dust.

Cheers go up from the soldiers, who with nothing to push against, promptly tip the thing over and put it on the ground, where it crashes with finality. Walker and August take deep breaths, and everyone stands around the now-cracked granite for a moment.

The old man says, "This... scroll and eye golem. Its not a kind I've seen outside of some...very...very old books. But, why?"


The Onyx eye tracks the bolt of magical energy right to where it impacts the red-hot metal, leaving a fist-sized dent and bending the bar into sort of a "checkmark" shape. The golem pauses briefly, and whoever is controlling it looks back and forth from the bar to Xander, and appears to get an idea. The golem raises its arm behind its back, placing the core out of view for a moment, but unmistakably in the stance of a javelineer about to throw...

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt gradually becomes aware of the pounding of his heart, the shrarp pain in his hand and the cheers of the men around, but it all seems so insignificant, dulled and muted by the divine revelation. What did it matter, life or death, one or a hundred or a thousand or more? In the grand scheme of things, what did it matter? Staring blankly into space, the world seems to tip around him as he rides the golem to the ground.

The hard impact brings him back to his senses, his ears flooding with the noise of the crowd and the other battles raging in the distance brought into sharp focus and immediacy. Gingerly he extracts his hand from the mouth, glad that the fall hadn't lacerated his wrist and severed a major artery.

Standing, he brushes himself down and looks to the old man who had held the scroll.

"Thanks," he grunts, holding out his non-wounded hand.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August picks himself up off the ground, "Good play, man!" he calls to Kurt.

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt turns at the call and notices that it's aimed at him. He nods in recognition while still holding his hand out to the old man.

"I believe you were one of those holding it back. Well done yourself." The response is gruff, but not insincere.

[Conor77]

Golems aren't built for throwing. They are much better at smashing. Apparently the mastermind of this one decides that he can make the shot, because they have the golem curl back its arm and prepare to throw. Xander's eyes crack wide, and his brain sort of shuts down... but his legs, having thousands of years of surviving all sorts of nasty crap thrown at his ancestors, immediately turn him around and start him running.

About 6 seconds later, he feels sharp, searing pain on his right arm; the golem's throw went wide to the right and landed far behind him, but got close enough set his sleeve aflame. Meanwhile, the sturdy oak constructed buildings near the wall burst into fire. As he runs, Xander notices (an odd time to notice this) smoke coming from other parts of the wall. It becomes evident that this wasn't a one-time happenstance. They knew to smash the siege cannons first.



The old man shakes Kurt's hand, and then speaks a strange word. The single hit point of damage is cured, along with the lacerations on Kurt's hand. "If all the lore about this type of golem is true, though I'm not sure it is, you don't want to let their wounds sit, for soon they decay and rot. Best to keep up with magical healing too I think, rather than letting wounds go on their own."

Kenten climbs the ladder to the top of the wall, takes a quick look in every direction, and then blows his horn. "Fall-back, everyone. Everyone, fall-back. They have more golems outside the walls, they have more inside the walls, and it looks like the other gates didn't quite have our tenacity. If we stay here, they'll cut us off by circling around from one of the other gates. Sorry to say, but lets move now or never" Taking his own advice, not waiting for a response, he starts moving off.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Stinkin' blinkin' golems!" August growled. He'd help get folks organized and moving, and follow after in position as a rear guard.

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt frowns down at his now cured hand. Yes the old man was right, best not to let wounds sit, even the non magical kind. He considers the healing for a moment. Yes, the old man probably was a fellow priest. The recent drinking must have affected him more than he realised. His thoughts are far too slow. He absent mindedly follows the short man who had been helping to push the golem back and now was urging others toward the rising columns of smoke.

"Hey, short man, what is your name?" he asks bluntly.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"August, yourself?"

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander grimaced as he felt his sleeve burst into flame, but he had the strange feeling that being on fire should hurt more than it did. Disregarding all else for a few brief moments, he dropped to the hard stone of the wall beneath him and rolled over again and again until the flame had been smothered. Flopping on to his back, Xander turned his head to face the golem again and then lay motionless for a moment. He could see where the core had landed, as the building it crashed into was quickly disintegrating into so much ash and charred wood. The golem itself was so far away that even with this short respite, there was no chance of the stone monstrosity catching him. 'Change of plan, then. Again.'

Without an impromptu explosive to disable the golem and without a weapon of some kind - 'Where did I lose that shortspear, anyway?' - Xander knew he had little chance of defeating the golem on his own. He hauled himself into a sitting position and started to struggle back to his feet. He would have to regroup with the main body of the defense force in the city, even though there'd be little for him to do unless more... mundane... soldiers marched into the city.

[Conor77]

As you march back up the street, you see others running up to join you from side-streets and alleyways. According to them, they hadn't even known about any kind of scroll, though some had other methods of taking the golems down. By listening to the chatter of those around you, you determine there to be easily over a hundred golems in this assault, only a handful of which were tossed over the walls. Evidently the idea was for them to break the gates, the cavalry to sweep into the city, and infantry with more golems following. Only a few gates remain, and most of them were on main streets with easy access to the horsemen, so right now this minor boulevard is the safest place in the half-circle of the city (minus the citadel).

Xander runs up behind you, and the entire gaggle of troops moves towards the city, protected by the still intact gates (the golem that attacked Xander is right now trying to retrieve his core, presumably he will destroy the gate once he does that).

The group moves slowly, if surely, and you might have time to do other things before getting to the citadel.

What do you do?

[Quellian-dyrae]

August looked around as they moved, trying to come up with something, anything, that they could use to improve their standing.

Not much. Still and all, as they went, he hustled his way down side streets, running quick patrols to scan for approaching enemies, and other troops or people. If he encountered allied forces, he'd either report their presence to the captain (if they were large and organized), or guide them to the column (if they were individuals or small groups). In either case, he'd make it a point to quickly discuss the key points of their encounter with the golem - specifically, the method the others had pieced together for defeating it. If there were more of those things here, he figured, the more people who knew how to destroy them, the better.

[Dark_Stalion]

Kurt looks at the chaos around him and the doomful mutterings of those joining. The city was breached, the major thoroughfares were being assaulted, or were going to be, by horsemen. Running was not an option, fighting in the open would get everyone killed. The only option was to use the local's knowledge to evade and attack in the small streets. Maybe they could barricade themselves off, create new walls. Maybe they could take down more of those golems. But as he thinks of the golems his heart sinks. More than one hundred.One almost killed me. A hundred would certainly do the trick, and no amount of make-shift barricades could survive their onslaught. Still. A plan was better than none. A glorious last stand for survival.

"Barricade the entrances," he starts calling out. "Use furniture, tables, chairs, doors. We can hold them in small spaces, throw stuff down on them from above. We can fight this! Make this alley ours, defend it with our lives."

He tries to rally the people, but without much hope.

[Conor77]

The Commander leads the group, still getting information from runners and Sendings. His face just keeps getting grayer and grayer, and he looks like he's about 10 years older than when the battle began.

"Keep up" he says to everyone, "we're going to go to the Citadel and see if we can't hold them off from the garrison there".

Sure enough, within minutes you are passing through the Citadel's fabled gates. If anything could hold against those golems, it would be the fabled Doors of Bastion. They were almost always wide open and de-activated, until today, when their maximum-activation hum fills the air. In fact, it almost seems to shake the pavement. You know that to merely tap one of these doors without also touching the handles on the inside will destroy you entirely. They are legend, and right now they are on full-shield defense

No time to gawk though. As each person comes through, the guards at the Doors open them enough for the person to slip by, and then close them back up again. The surge of soldiers moves inside, and even though you see almost all of the civilians within, the up and ready-to-fight soldiers are very, very few. Soldiers move among those standing, most of them have papers in their hands and are looking through the standing men for something specific.

They are apparently looking for you. Several persons, including you, the woman with the firearm, and the man who identified the golem, are asked to accompany certain officers upwards, towards the Citadel.

Everything about it is grand, but you are being rushed, very quickly, through many hallways, vault-doors, magical traps, and other security devices until you reach the vast Throne Room, where the Lord of Salor, Carl Yosaff, paces back and forth in front of his throne. He gives a brief nod of the head in your direction, before slowing down and pouring himself a glass of water from a nearby table. The officers depart, leaving about a dozen people behind.

In front of you is the Lord of the City, trying to choke down a glass of water, a strange old (old here means reeeeeaaaaalllllyyyy old) Aaran man (large bushy beard tips the sex) scrawling a huge circle on the floor behind the throne in chalk, and Kolum Salor.

The Senub who named himself Kolum Salor is one of the oldest Senub in the world, perhaps one of the oldest hominids, and he has stayed the Regent King of Salor the entire time. He bows to the lords and ladies of the city, but only by choice. No one really knows how powerful he is, but some say his axe could cleave a house in twain. He is a legend, and right now he is staring silently at the throne.

[Failed Phantasm]

As Xander entered the courtyard of the Citadel, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief once they had passed through the great doors. Having seen how easily the walls had been bypassed and the cannons disabled, however, also made him feel somewhat as though it were only a false sense of security. The diminished number of soldiers, too, did little to engender confidence. 'Why did I ever come to this blasted city in the first place?' he thought forlornly, though he said nothing. He tried to scan through the throng of civilians for his associates from Treth, but he had little time to do so before his group were being led into the Citadel itself.

While they were being rushed along by the attendant guards through the halls, Xander tried to take in the sights as best he could, but they were being hurried along past so many side passages, doors, and vaults, and they were taking so many turns that he quickly lost his bearings. Finally, they arrived at the throne room, which was an impressive and grand affair that Xander would otherwise have never had the opportunity to see - even at home in Treth, being invited into the house of a lesser noble or rich merchant was an extreme rarity - though he would have much preferred to see it during more peaceful circumstances. However, he felt much more in his element here than he had on the battlefield.

Xander sketched a deep and respectful bow towards the Lord of Salor and the statuesque Senub standing nearby, knowing very well not to speak unless spoken to. He managed a glance at the Aaran who had been sketching what could very well be a summoning or (hopefully) teleportation circle behind the throne itself, though he could not get close enough to attempt to decipher the runes and script that were being drawn in chalk.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August followed the officers without a word. He'd had few occasions in his life to walk the halls of the Citadel, but taking in the sights of the grand structure was the last thing on his mind. When they arrived in the throne room, he bowed deeply to the Lord, and gave a formal salute to Kolum Salor. He stood silent at attention, awaiting orders.

[Conor77]

The Lord clears his throat, and speaks even now with a voice that oozes authority and purpose. "I, am not your lord. Well, not the lord of most of you. I cannot order you, and all orders so far have simply been a matter of necessity, to somehow prevent the city from falling." Here, he seems to lose his train of thought. You can hear vague mutterings from the Aaran behind you, and a couple of curses. Kolum is motionless, a living statue.

The Lord picks up, "The worst that can be said to happen in the reign of a ruler has occurred: The city given to me in trust has fallen. I have no doubt, that the invaders will take the city and murder everyone in it. Quarter has been given in every major battle we have fought against them, and never has it been taken. They have killed everyone, all people that stand in their path, for one purpose."

He nods to the Senub, who picks up his axe and cleaves the throne into two pieces. After sorting through the halves, he pulls out a sphere of dull metal, perhaps 8 inches in diameter. Kolum Salor, the oldest (somewhat-)living man in the city, walks over and gives it to August. Carl now addresses him:

"You once guarded the city-gates, and I thank you for that service. Because you stood out against the unknown, my city slept safe. You once guarded them because you believed that cities should be safe, from those that wish ill of mankind. You guarded those gates because you had honor, dignity, and compassion. And now I would ask too much of that honor, to take this piece of platinum, and flee with it, leaving us here to die. Salor is gone now, a dream of the past. They will wreck it and turn everything in it to ash. But they must not have this. Do you hear me, August Winters? This is what I order you to do, and it is my last order: Take this away from here, and keep it from those that would take it from you."

Now he addresses the others: "I cannot order you. You signed no contract, agreed to nothing but to defend your own lives at the best point for trying, which is the noblest thing one can truly ask of someone. The best I can hope for is that when times look low, you will do the right thing. I am sending all of you outside the city, right now. High up into the mountains, from which you may take a road downwards, into Lakar. I request that you accompany Mr. Winters, and keep him safe. For if he is not, the entire world is not. That is all I have time to explain, and all the time we have. Do as you will. I go now to certain death." He then walks out of the room, briskly.

The Aaran gestures, and everyone gathers around his chalk circle, where he has marked out many, many runes. He says "This is a teleportation circle that can break the containment on our fair city. Obviously you can't just pop in or out of here as you will, so there are encoded instructions you have to put in your spells. This circle will carry everyone within this line (he taps it), into the mountains. And I come with you, of course. The only problem I think we have...", he says, counting heads, "...is size. We have one too few spots, which means I'm gonna need to redraw the damned thing"

Kolum Salor speaks for the first time. "No. I have lived too long, and seen too much. Now is my time to perish.". And he, too, walks out of the room.

The Aaran just stands there, looking astonished.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August stood...stunned. The reality of the situation finally pierced his stubborn will. Despite it all, the size of the army, the surprising assault by the golem, the destruction of the wall that he had defended for so many years, he had not, for a moment, admitted defeat. They had their mages, they had the Gates of the Bastion, they had Kolum-Flame-Blasted-Salor. He refused to accept that they would not be able to turn this around.

Now he had to.

Part of his mind told him he should say something. Swear some kind of oath? Maybe turn to those with him and plead for their aid? Void, he'd be dead already were it not for the priest and the monk who had managed to disable the golem.

Nothing particularly eloquent came to mind, and actions spoke louder in any case. Without a word, he took the platinum sphere. He was curious what it was, why it mattered, but he didn't ask. If it was need-to-know, he figured, they'd let him know.

Another shock came when Kolum Salor chose to remain behind. He was so surprise that he let out a sort of strangled "G-what?" It seemed insane, that so mighty a warrior would stay here, while this sphere was entrusted to a mere guardsman.

But that appeared to be the situation. With nothing more to do for it, he walked over to the Aaran, awaiting instructions.

[Conor77]

The Aaran's face held some odd mixture of astonishment, deep thought, and melancholy. He shook his head slowly, muttered something, and bent down to the ground and placed the piece of chalk in his hand inside of his bag, where you see multitudes of wizard's equipment. He grabs it, stands back up straight, slowly and with much effort, muttering words you only catch barely, "...ol' boy's onto something there..." The man had a voice like crispy brown leaves, dry of everything but sound. "Now, do gather around the circle.", he says in what might be mistaken for a whisper. Various shuffling sounds indicate that everyone has moved over. It is quiet, for the most part, the squeaking of leather on buckles and the slight clink of armor all there is to be heard.

"As I said before, anyone standing inside the circle at the time the command words are spoken will be instantaneously transported through the dimensional lock on this castle, to the mountains of Blackstone. The atmosphere change and teleportation may be untoward for some of you, but I suppose it beats nearly certain death."

With nothing to really do, and casting glances askance at the small man with the artifact, everyone steps forward into the chalk, taking care not to smudge it even at the magician's insistence that it would not matter.

The words, from some language no one can really know, seem to slime their way through his teeth: "Yulzthees Keeyumla"

And with a fizz-pop, you are gone.

---

Silence overwhelms you. You open your eyes but cannot see, open your mouth but cannot speak, and indeed feel the air slammed from your lungs as if you were the bellows of a particularly bellicose smith. Choking on nothing at all, eyes bulging slightly, you reflect variously on death and dying, before you feel pressure and the air normalizing, followed by a glow. You are in a very, very, very dark place, the only light coming from the old Aaran, the air seemingly also provided, as he holds some nick-nack over his head that is hissing and appears to be releasing air into the void. There is no up or down, no sides, no surfaces, no gravity. You simply are, sustained only by one man's planning with what appears to be a bottle, endlessly gushing air.

"Now", he says, voice faintly carried on the thin air, "what I want to know is how they put a Dimensional Lock on the castle without having any spellcasters physically in the damned place. Ah well no matter, we'll break through in just a moment,hang on and don't dematerialize just yet..."

Even as he speaks these words, he pops out of view. You twist and turn in zero gravity, but he is gone. The air thins away, as it is wont to do, and without the bottle replacing it, you begin to despair once more. Many clap hands over their eyes, and some take large gulps of the remaining air. You feel dizzy...

---

The ground rushes up to meet you and, somewhat over enthusiastically, hits you full-body. There was some amount of unconsciousness, you're not sure if for a while or only a little, but you are alive now. For a while, most just breathe, though some enterprising individuals get up and do some stretching. The 3 scholar-magicians appear least shaken by the trip, chatting lightly while regaining their breath.

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander regained consciousness slowly, as if waking lazily from a dream, feeling returning to his fingers and the seeing the scene before him resolve from an indistinct haze into sharp clarity. 'Why's everything sideways?' came his first idle thought, his mind not entirely collected after the teleportation. Uttering a stifled groan, he managed to lift his arm up to place a hand on his chest. He could feel little metal scales beneath his fingers, newly-forged and ready for action. 'Armor.' He reached down to his waist, feeling for the hilt of his new weapon. 'Sword. Could've used one of these earlier.' The uncomfortable feeling of many items of assorted hardness and texture pressing into his back could only mean one thing. 'And backpack. I think that's everything.' Xander could feel the strength returning to his limbs and the spinning sensation in his head was subsiding. 'All right, Xander,' he told himself, 'let's see what you've gotten yourself into this time.'

Uttering a groan, he managed to pull himself up from lying prone into a sitting position. He gave himself a quick pat-down, making sure he hadn't lost any body parts in the escape from Salor. 'Speaking of which... where is Salor? How far did we travel?' Xander looked around, trying to determine which way was which. He then managed to struggle to a standing position, staggering for a few moments as his legs felt as though they would not support him any more. All things considered, however, Xander felt like he was in good enough shape to stretch out and walk around for a bit. However, there was an odd tingling sensation in his forehead, just behind his eyes. He shook his head for a moment, as if that would cause the feeling to disappear, but it persisted. 'Must be an after-effect of the teleportation magic,' he told himself, 'it'll go away.'

Looking around, he could see a handful of vaguely-familiar faces but he was otherwise surrounded by utter strangers in a land that was not his own on a task he knew nothing about. "What now?" he murmured softly to himself. Suspecting that his question would be answered soon enough, Xander took a few tentative steps towards the person nearest him and started to help get the others on their feet. The faster they were up and ready, the sooner they could get moving towards whatever goal they now had.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August took three long, deep breaths before picking himself up. A quick analysis indicated that he was in one piece, the sphere still clenched tightly in his hand. That, he placed carefully in his belt pouch.

He cased quickly about, getting a lay of the land, checking to make sure they weren't in immediate danger. Then, he began moving about, helping people to their feet and checking to ensure everyone was alright, offering healing to anyone who was hurt, either by the transport, or the previous battle.

He focused on the situation at hand. No time to think of anything else. They had a mass of refugees to organize and keep safe. Whatever else, these were still his people and he was still a guard. He had his duty.

Spot: [roll0]

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Among those who stepped inside the teleportation circle was a Jushorun warrior. He had arrived in Salor a few days ago as an escort to a young human merchant who promised him good compensation if he did the job well. The trip took four days, and save for a few run ins with some wild beasts, which the warrior took care of handily, it was on the whole a fairly safe one. As soon as they entered one of Salor's gates, the eager merchant immediately paid the Jushorun and rushed on towards the market, where he said he was to deliver his goods.

Now when the man said good compensation, he really meant good compensation; the Jushorun had never held that much money in gold all at once in his entire life. He began to wonder what that man was carrying with him to warrant that much pay on a guardian, but he was not the type to put too much thought into matters that did not concern himself. And so he put to use his mental faculties into matters that did concern himself: what to do with all that gold.

Perhaps rather an uninspired decision, the Jushorun found himself in one of the taverns drowning himself and every patron present in ale and food. Suprisingly for someone of his looks and demeanor, he had never tasted a drop of liquor in his life, and so he indulged himself this time. Not surprisingly he had quite the tolerance, and with nothing else to do and having the money to waste, he drank and ate for two days straight.

On his third day in Salor, he found himself in a luxurious room he could only hope was an inn, with no recollection of the days past and having a severe case of hangover. While trying desperately to keep the world from spinnning around him, he went over his gear, then his pouch.

18 gold pieces.

That wasn't right. All that food and booze couldn't have possibly cost him all that money. Someone must have taken most of it.

Oh well, gain easy, lose as easily, he thought to himself. At least it appeared he had not lost any of his articles. He went on to check if he had bruises or any broken bones.

None. Good.

It seems like he avoided starting a fight this time. That, or heavens forbid he just beat the crap out of everyone so effortlessly. But then he would have woken up in a prison cell somewhere instead of some comfortable bed if that were the case.

Gingerly he made his way outside the room down to the dining hall, ordered the best they had on the menu, ate, and paid, adding in a handsome tip. 14 gold. Enough to give him a few days to look for a new job. But as fate would have it, it didn't take him a few days to find a new job. Not even a day, in fact. Not that he found one as well; he reckoned 14 gold was enough to take to the afterlife.

He stood atop the walls of Salor, looking down upon the black mass of moving flesh and steel that was to be his death, and surely the rest of the city. It didn't look like they were there to conquer. More like to destroy and purge. But despite the grim outlook, the Jushorun warrior stood tall, smiling. Truly if a warrior were to die, that was the way to go.

When the fighting started, it seemed their fears were largely unfounded, with the walls doing what they were supposed to do. The Jushorun was almost disappointed, but he cursed himself when for some reason, a golem broke through and all hell broke loose.

He immediately leapt into action, hitting the rock creature with flurry of blows, but to no effect. A small dent here or there, but not much damage to really divert its attention, which seemed to be the gate. With combined tenacity and luck, he was able to locate and damage the black crystal on its forehead, which seemed to disorient the golem. Disoriented, but not stopped. That, however was taken care by some generous application of acidic substance on the golem's arms and legs, provided by his earlier merchant client who stayed to fight.

And yet after all that hard work, he found himself there, standing inside a teleportation circle, inside the Citadel, right behind the throne split in twain a few moments ago by none other than Kolum Salor himself. The city had fallen; apparently there had been more than one of those rock creatures, and not all defenders were able to stop them. A select few were chosen to be teleported out of the city, among them a Dorukan guardsman who was entrusted with a platinum sphere, which was to be protected at all cost. The rest were to be left, they say, to defend the city. He knew they stayed to die.

A pity. To find out firsthand how strong Kolum Salor would have certainly been a high point of my life, he thought to himself as the Senub left the throne roon and the spell took effect, turning everything around him pitchblack. He didn't really know why he had gone with the others, had escaped, had left all those people to die, had left an opportunity to fight to his heart's content, to fight to his death.

Maybe he didn't want to die. Maybe he had something to do still. Maybe there was more at stake than just Salor that moved him beyond his usual self.

Maybe...

As the world swirled back into existence, he staggered to keep himself upright, but after shaking his head clear of all thoughts and aftereffects of the teleportation, a sudden surge of memory occured to him. He looked around at the people who teleported with him, and when he saw who he was looking for, he briskly strode towards him, grabbed him by the shoulder and turned the Doruk to face him.

"By the gods, it cannot be true..." he uttered as he took a closer look at the Doruk's face and confirmed his suspicions, then broke into laughter.

"August Winters? August "Badger" Winters?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

August was just helping up a young Aaran when he was briskly turned about and greeted by name. He eyed the Jushorun uncomprehendingly for a moment, before his memories turned back to the Academy and recognition hit.

"Tharan-Kel! Ha! You old troublemaker! In the name of light and life, what are you doing here?" His greeting was enthusiastic, although he did, almost unconsciously, shift to place himself between Tharan and the bulk the refugees.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

The Doruk's subtle reaction did not go unnoticed, as the Jushorun warrior Tharan-Kel burst into yet another fit of laughter.

"I see you have not changed, my old friend. The Badger is still as resilient and ever the aegis of the weak. That is good to know," he smiled as he patted the Dorukan on the shoulder with his large hand.

"I, on the other hand, have changed. Matured, if you will," he looked at August seriously before adding, "Okay, maybe just a little," and laughing yet again.

"It is certainly nice to meet an old acquaintance, and a fellow Soldier at that. Any other time would have given us room for more appropriate celebrations, but alas, I fear this one does not," he went on as he began to do as August had done, helping the refugees around them. "Tell me, August. What is going on? I have been but a few days in Salor, and now I am here, having fled it, left it to its demise."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Good to know," August said with a grin and a nod. He waited a beat, and then added wryly, "I think."

But when Tharan asked what was going on, the mirth vanished from his face. "Wish I could tell you anything useful. I'm not really all that connected with the politics and war and such. This morning was basically just, 'grab what you need and get to the walls, they're here.'" He shook his head, and gave his belt pouch a little pat.

"Priority now, I'm thinking, is to get everyone up and organized. The Aaran who teleported us seems to know what he's doing, I'm betting he has something of a plan, and probably knows more about what's going on. I was planning to talk to him once we get moving." He hesitated a moment, but everyone here had seen him receive the sphere anyway, so secrecy was, at the moment, not an issue. "Hopefully he'll also be able to tell me what I'm supposed to do with this doodad, other than 'guard it with my life.'"

[RunicLGB]

Hizzelim stared out onto the mountain vista before him, organizing his thoughts. He was having trouble understanding just how he had come to this particular location.

Not that it bothered him, as such an incredible experience had been fully worthwhile even if completely pointless, but he considered the chain of cause and effect that led to this point more for his own personal reference.

It had started on the road. He had reached a crossroads with a sign. He hadn’t bothered to read the sign since it would have no bearing on which way he went. Instead he looked up at the sky. A bird, a sparrow he remembered thinking, flew over the left fork. “As you wish master sparrow.” So he had gone left. If he had gone right he never would have come to this point.

Eventually the left path became a highway and led into a vast and impressive city, very unlike the settlements in Lakar. In Lakar, most dwellings are underground where the unpredictable and often violent weather shifts cannot so easily damage and destroy. Here the buildings stood tall and close and sprawling, making a maze of streets and alleys. The only landmark that the vertically challenged Doruk could make out in the city was the Citadel, to which he moved. If he had chosen a different Landmark, or none at all he would not have come to this point.

For hours Hizzelim walked around the walls of the grand structure, admiring architecture and engineering like none he had ever seen. It was an incredible sight to behold. He wandered the city for days, using what little funds he possessed to survive and find lodging. All around him there were whispers of evacuation or fleeing. Hizzelim didn’t pay them any mind, more fascinated with the strangeness of the city. If he had listened he never would have come to this point.

Everything after that is what seemed to be hard to put together. It all happened so fast. Soldiers panicking. Citizens Crowding. And then those things appeared, those gaudy, rocky, monstrosities. At first they paid Hizzelim no mind, but then they began tearing apart that magnificent Citadel, and that was something Hizzelim just wouldn’t stand for.

Unveiling his psionic powers, he blasted away at the stony monstrosity with blasts of condensed sound, knocking chips from the horrid thing and revealing more and more of its dark interior. Hizzleim placed himself between it and the Citadel, and thus earning the creatures Ire did Hizzelim enter the fight.

His Psionic wards helped defend him, but the Golem battered him through even them. With his Mind Blade Hizzelim attempted to fend it off, but found it much like trying to beat back a river. He would surely have been crushed by the thing if not for the intervention of some of the soldiers, who, inspired by the Doruk, managed to pull its attention and bring it down near the wall.

Then in a moment that was a mixture of fortune and failure, another of the creatures above on the wall wrecked a large cannon, inadvertently knocking the rubble loose, such that it fell and pinned its own brethren below.

Unwilling to stay to see if the thing was truly finished off, the soldiers hefted Hizzelim to his feet and led him inside the Citadel. The dazed Doruk was in no shape to turn down such aid. From there it became a blur in Hizzelim’s Mind. Words were spoken, a circle of chalk, and then that swirling rushing sensation.

Hizzelim Looked out at the Mountain Vista before him and mused quite loudly “Not bad for the flight of a Sparrow!”

Hopping off his rock Hizzelim began wandering, seeking someone to explain this mess to him, finally settling on approaching a pair of competent looking travelers, one of whom was a Doruk like himself.

"Greetings. I am Hizzelim VanThamis, and I hope not to interrupt a matter of immediate import, but I seem to have become quite more lost than I usually engineer for myself, and could use a piece of thus solicited guidance. To make brief what I have already made quite Loquacious; Where am I, and what just happened?"

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"...I see," the Jushorun nodded grimly. He thought about those who were left at the city. The Lord, Kolum Salor, the citizens. If he stayed, maybe he could have done something for them.

The citizens...

He looked around him, at the old human male holding his hand for support, at the few who were staggering and the others who had managed the trip without much effort. Sure they were few, but they were the citizens of Salor. All that was left.

No time for 'What ifs'. This is what is here now. What I can do is help these people.

He then realized something. Perhaps the thought of losing his life had awakened in him some sort of responsibility for these people who could not defend themselves. He smiled inwardly and shook his head.

Had he just began to think like August?

When the Doruk brought the issue of the orb, however, his serious countenance returned. "Yes, there is that. I think it is best to keep that matter to yourself and the Aaran. We do not know what it is, or what it does." Just then, another Doruk approached them, and he stopped his words and turned to him.

"Hizzelim VanThamis," he nodded. "I believe we are somewhere in the mountains of...Blackstone, yes?" he looked at August's direction for confirmation. "As for what happened, your best guess is as good as ours. We believe the one who can shed more light upon our situation is the Aaran who brought us here."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"August Winters," he introduced himself to the other doruk. "And yeah, that's pretty much where things stand at the moment," he said with a nod to Tharan.

[RunicLGB]

Hizzelim takes off speaking at an incredible rate, words blending together as he goes. He gesticulates during his speech, gripping the bare spot of his chin thoughtfully and rubbing the tattoo atop his head when ashamed or bashful.

"Blackstone mountains eh? Fairly straightforward name then, but suitable for recognition of a landmark such as this as I highly doubt the stone is likely to change colors on a regular basis, though given enough time any stone will change in both coloration and shape from erosive forces. Which Aran was that again? Also I would be remiss if I did not elaborate on my prior inquiry into the events which led to our current situation, It was more a general curiosity into the many curious events, not the least of which was the pavement assaulting that beautiful building and that finely dressed chap saying a great deal about failure and orders. However from the look in your eyes I infer that I am either perusing vaults of knowledge to which you are as equally barred as I, or I have once more fallen into my habit of over speaking. Possibly both. Perhaps the situation would be best remedied by a simple gesture indicating the direction I might travel to locate this trans-locative Aran, and ascertain my explanations from they?"

[Conor77]

Many are there, and then, they are not. The numbers on the mountain begin to dwindle almost immediately, everyone disappearing in clots, some actually teleporting away. Some would look out to the city, but Salor is hidden from view by the overshadowing Rou peak.

The old man, the one who helped with the golem, rushes over. He holds out a bag, and says, "This, this was his. The Archmage's. I can't find him, I don't think he came through! And I'm no conjurer, I can't break a Dimensional Lock." His face is twisted with worry.

There are now about a handful of people left on the mountain. Everyone takes off in one direction or another, most without a glance at August. There are a few who look more civilian than combatant, who stick around to coordinate traveling down the mountain. You catch something about a monastery nearby.

As you speak, you notice almost everyone is gone, the man holding the bag the only one left besides yourselves, and a Senub a little ways off, who appears to have a little toolkit out, fixing himself up.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Yeah come on, looks like folks are getting moving. He should be right over..." August began, then realizing he didn't see the Aaran. He looked around rapidly, patting his belt pouch. "Over...umm..." the crowd was thinning out rather rapidly, and without any sign of the one person who probably had something resembling a plan. "O...ver..."

"..."

"...Good!" he said with sarcastic exuberance.

With a weary sigh, he turns to the old man. "Alright, well, nothing to be done for it. What is that, now?"

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"...That complicates things a bit," Tharan jumped in on the sarcasm wagon. "Yes, what is it? And how in the hells did you get it in the first place?"

[Conor77]

"His bag, his bag! The one he had all his chalks in, all his notes, all his magical material. The bottle even came through", he says, gesturing to some smashed pieces on the ground. "But the Archmage is gone. His magic, not to mention his wisdom, would have been invaluable. I...I don't know what to do."

A figure, behind the man says "I know what you can do", and as the man turns around, slashes diagonally upwards throwing blood up into the air with a greatsword.

As the man falls, unable to form words, behind him is revealed the Senub, now clearly a Khurt, with a 7-foot stature and a greatsword to match. "You can give me the sphere. For the platinum alone its worth a fortune. I like fortunes. And there is no reason for this to be foisted onto you. Let this responsibility go, it is clearly a fool's errand" You notice that while he was tinkering, he has drawn intricate art onto his framework and plating with grease pencil, culminating in his face, which is a horrific twisted mass of drawn teeth on smooth metal. His eyes, beneath the plating, are dark, his artwork lending them a void-like look.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan's immediate reaction was to moved towards the old man and put himself between him and the Senub, kneeling beside him and putting pressure with his hand on the wound.

"Hey, old man. Stay with me. Hey!" the Jushorun said as he cradled the bloodied old man. Then, looking at August's direction, he asked.

"Oi, August. You were good at this kind of stuff. Do something." He tried to say the words as calmly as he could, but the trembling of his voice could not be denied. Once August stepped in to help, Tharan-Kel stood slowly and faced the Senub.

"You didn't have to do that to the poor man. You could have just asked us instead. Who knows? Maybe we'd have given it to you. Ain't gonna happen now. No. Now the only thing that's going to be foisted 'round here ain't gonna be platinum, but it most certainly as the hells gonna hit as damn hard."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Right after he finished his words, Tharan-Kel closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, gritted his teeth, and clenched his fist around his punching dagger. Like a broken dam, he unleashed all his pent up anger inside of him with a loud shout.

Opening his eyes, the Jushorun immediately closed the distance between himself and the Senub. Concentrating his inner energies into his limbs, Tharan's hands and feet felt heavier. When he reached striking distance, his right hand with the punching dagger plunged diagonally from above. Retracting his blow, he threw another jab, this time coming from the side.

Full Round Action: Charge the Senub with a Flurry.
Swift Action: Use 1 nen to treat unarmed strikes as 2-handed weapons for Power Attack and Strength to damage.
Power Attack -2.
Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Attack 2: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]

If charging is not possible, Tharan will just use a Standard Attack Flurry (-2 to the attack rolls).

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Aye, that I am," August replied, eyes hard. He did not move with haste, methodically advancing, casing about, planning his move. Then he lashed out, his flail glowing with golden light as he struck, channeling positive energy through the weapon. If he hit, the power would radiate out, to coalesce around the old man.

Move action: Advance to threaten the Senub while remaining within 10' of the old man.
Standard Action: Initiate Crusader's Strike, attacking the Senub at [roll0] for [roll1], providing [roll2] healing to the old man on a hit (I'm fluffing the Devoted Spirit healing as actual positive energy since that kinda fits August better, but I'm assuming the Positive Energy Touch can't be channeled through healing maneuvers like it can spells, right?)

Maneuvers Available: 1/2.
Current Stance: Iron Guard's Glare - threatened foes take -4 to hit allies other than August.

[RunicLGB]

"I say chaps, judging by his actions and the items I assume are in your possession which he indicates I'd wager that this fellow is allied with that craven band of citadel vandals. Would you concur on that concept?"

As these words flow from Hizzelim's mouth, he prepares a precautionary defense, mentally condensing a field of kinetic energy to protect from potential attacks.


Manifest Force Sccreen
8 pp - 1 pp = 7pp
+4 Shield bonus to AC. 2 mins.

[Failed Phantasm]

Having watched almost all of the people around him leaving singly or in groups to start their trek down the mountain, Xander took the opportunity to seat himself on a low, flat rock and turned his thoughts to his situation once more. Glancing around, he could see that there were only a few people left standing around, talking amongst themselves about who knows what. From a mixed group of Aaran and humans who passed by him as they were leaving, he couldn't help but overhear some talk about a monastery nearby. Making a mental note of that, he scanned the remaining groups and immediately spotted the Doruk who'd been given the platinum sphere, talking with some others a short distance away, but Xander did not pay them much attention. 'I could always try to make my way home,' he thought wistfully, as he rubbed his chin, 'but I don't really like the idea of making the journey alone.' It was an idle, almost wishful, thinking, and Xander knew it: he wouldn't, in good conscience, be able to leave the Doruk on his own. Too many in Salor had died, or were dying, to ensure the safety of that small platinum sphere and Xander felt like he owed them something for allowing him escape with the others. Of course, if he hadn't been trapped in the city while doing work on behalf of some Balarathan merchant company, there would have been no need for him to escape in the first place. As he was weighing the situation, the strange tingling in his forehead flared up again for a moment, and he rubbed his forehead in frustration. 'Great. I suppose I need to see a healer for this, too.'

Looking up as he tried to coax the strange sensation away, Xander saw an old man rush over to the Doruk and his companions, holding a bag out and babbling about something or other. While they spoke, he also saw a Senub, one of the last stragglers who had yet to leave, approach the same group. It was difficult to judge the construct's intent - he (it?) was certainly walking purposefully - but Xander's instinct told him that something was wrong. He slid his right hand casually down to the hilt of his sword, not sure if he was even being observed at the moment. While the old man continued to rave, clearly agitated, the Senub stopped directly behind him with greatsword in hand; Xander was on his feet almost immediately, drawing his sword and quickly debating whether or not charging in would be a wise idea. Surely they couldn't all still be unaware of him, could they? The debate was resolved when the Senub slashed into the old man, felling him with a single blow.

The two Doruks and the Jushorun quickly sprang into action, and after seeing the Jushorun charge and the armored Doruk advance towards the Senub, Xander decided to wait and observe their tactics before joining the melee. His left hand alight with magical power, Xander directed a blast of energy towards the Senub, eying the positions of the others and readying himself to charge in as soon as he could see an opening.

-----
Actions taken:

Invoke an eldritch blast as a ranged touch attack.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Critical confirmation, if necessary: [roll2]

[Conor77]

The psionicist leaps into action, dredging protective thoughts, emotions, and concepts from his mind. Within seconds the air around him grows slightly opaque and shimmers, as if rising from a heated surface.

But the Senub simply waited.

Tharan-Kel, scarcely thinking, jumps from the man and leaps at the steel-clad man, bringing his knife downwards at the neck. It simply rakes down the side, scraping the iron plating the Khurt often wear. The Senub simply stood. But when the Jushoren went for a gap in the right side of his armor, he shifted his hand and slapped his attackers' wrist. Normally this wouldn't have happened, but Tharan-Kel's grip was just a little too loose, and the knife went spinning off into the grass.

And now the Senub moved, taking up his big sword and slamming it sideways into Tharan-Kel's midsection. You do not see how badly he was hurt, but from the sheer swiftness with which the blade moved, you know it to be bad. The gush of blood as the Jushoren staggers backwards confirms it. <Hit. Tharan-Kel takes 12 damage>

He moves forward to end Tharan-Kel with another swing, but is checked when the end of a flail bashes him in the face. August stands defiant, flail still moving around and around, losing no momentum even after striking hard.

The Senub growls, "Do you know who I was before they copied me over and wiped my memory? If you did, you wou-" He is cut off by a ray of energy that bursts over his left shoulder from behind him. A blast that could have killed a lesser man.

"ALRIGHT, WHO ELSE WANTS TO DIE TODAY?" He roars, turning around to look at this new assailant. It is said that a Senub's eyes were crafted so that you could see the soul of the one inside through them. Right now, you don't need to see his eyes to tell that he's pissed.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"You do, apparently!" August snarled in response, shifting his stance slightly, a soft golden light beginning to spill from his skin. He swung again, his flail once more shedding healing light.

Swift: Change stance to Martial Spirit.
Standard: Crusader's Strike at [roll0] for [roll1]. On a hit, provides [roll2] healing (counting Martial Spirit) to Tharan-kel.

Current Stance: Martial Spirit.
Maneuvers Available: 0/2.

[RunicLGB]

"Well I daresay some explanations are in order form someone in these whereabouts and if violence is the only means to extract that knowledge from the minutia of circumstance then so be it."

Hizzelim takes a fighting stance and charges the Senub. As his stout legs drive him forward, a swirling band of multicolored energy sprouts from his hand, coalescing into the shape of a short sword. With the distance closed, he lunges with the Mind Blade.

Actions:
Draw Mind Blade (Swift).
Charge if able, otherwise move and attack.
Attack Roll: [roll0] +2 if charging.
Damage: [roll1]
Critical Confirmation(Natural 19-20): [roll2] +2 if charging

Edited for text color.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

The sight of his own blood spilt did nothing to deter Tharan-Kel; in fact it only excited the Jushorun more.

Strong, he thought to himself as he clutched his wound.

Heh, definitely not Kolum Salor. But this will do.

With a grin on his face, he concentrated his energies on his limbs again and closed in on the Senub. Making use of the opening created by the Doruk Hizzelim who had charged in as well, Tharan threw a right punch straight to the head followed by a spinning elbow crashing down on the Senub's shoulder.

Swift Action: Spend another point of Nen to treat unarmed strikes as 2-handed weapons for Power Attack and Strength to damage.
Power Attack -2. (2/4 Nen left)
Full Round Action: If possible, Charge and Flurry to where Tharan can gain flanking with Hizzelim. If not, just move to flank and flurry.

Attack 1: [roll0] +2 flanking, +2 charge (if possible)
Damage: [roll1]

Attack 1: [roll2] +2 flanking, +2 charge (if possible)
Damage: [roll3]

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander was curiously unmoved by the Senub's furious gaze. Of course, he had already faced death more than once today, and the first construct that tried to kill him was much more worrying than this one. For starters, his powers actually worked on a Senub. 'Still,' he mused, as he watched the reckless Jushorun reel from the deep gash he'd been dealt, 'with those two...' The second Doruk leapt into the fray, a very curious blade of energy coalescing in his hand. '...correction: three fighting in close-quarters, flanking him now shouldn't be a problem. If he turns around again, I might be able to charge him from behind.'

Keeping his eyes on the fight, Xander started circling around the Senub carefully, trying to position himself directly opposite the other three. 'I doubt this one's an idiot, but if he wants to charge at me and leave himself open to three other people, so much the better.' Gripping the hilt of his blade more tightly, to ready himself against the Senub if it did charge, he lifted his left hand and another burst of eldritch power arced out from his fingertips.

-----
Actions taken:

Move action: attempt to move behind the Senub, using as much of his 30' move this round as necessary.
Standard action: invoke an eldritch blast as a ranged touch attack.

Attack: [roll0]
Critical Confirmation: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

[Conor77]

Hizzelim shoots forward on small legs and plunges his soul-blade directly forward... but he isn't focused enough, and it clashes with the Senub's armor as if it were made of mundane metal. It's hard to focus though, when your opponent is skipping to and fro while wearing gigantic steel plate. Even now, he brings the big sword up and under, catching Hizzelim just below the shoulder.

The Doruk is not quite as sturdy as Tharan-Kel, and when he falls over, it is clear that he is wounded grievously. You notice large, frighteningly large, amounts of blood dripping from the greatsword, and growing in the pool below the Psion. <takes 28 damage>

Tharan-Kel barely even notices, engrossed in combat and nearly landing one hit, followed by another that connects more solidly. The armor he wears seems to be denting more and more, and soon it will be unusable.

This is compounded by August, who actually hits him hard enough to tear his helm-plating off... but not to do any damage to the construct inside. After that, and an eldritch blast hits him from behind, the Senub appears more afraid than inflamed, and peers down at the slowly draining body of Hizzelim, before dropping his sword. He stumbles backwards, and then to the side (to avoid Xander), eventually stretching into a full-out sprint down the trail. He says nothing, simply pumping his arms and legs furiously as he thumps away from you.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August growled and took a swing at his retreating foe, but finishing him off was the lesser priority at the moment, and August didn't expect he'd be able to catch him in any case. He moved to the injured doruk, setting a hand on his injury and beginning to channel positive energy into him, carefully guiding the energy to mend the warrior's injury. Still, the wound was bad; it would take time for August to fully heal.

If he provokes an attack of opportunity: [roll0] for [roll1] damage. If it does hit, I'll also channel three points of my Lay on Hands into Martial Spirit to heal Tharan-kel for five (top him off in case he wants to give chase). If he doesn't provoke, the swing is just fluff.

Either way, on my turn, Move action adjacent to Hizzelim, standard action to heal him with Positive Energy Touch for [roll2] healing. My minimum Heal check result is equal to the maximum healing I can provide at this level.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan threw another punch at the retreating Senub, and it was then that he saw the other Doruk Hizzelim lying on the ground, bloodied. For a second, he thought about giving chase and helping the fallen Hizzelim, but then he saw August, and he knew what he had to do. With an explosion of his powerful leg muscles, he took after their enemy.

"Rargh!" he roared as he aimed to tackle the Senub to prevent it from fleeing.

If the Senub provokes AoO:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

This turn,
Charge and Trip
Attack (touch): [roll2]
Strength check: [roll3] +4 from Jushorun racial ability.

[Failed Phantasm]

As the second Doruk hit the ground in a pool of his own blood, Xander started to shrug the backpack off his shoulders, reaching over with his left hand to grab something out of it. 'Not good. Where is that wand?' The *clank* of the Senub's greatsword hitting the ground made him look back towards the battle to see the construct stumbling away from the group and sprinting off down the trail. The one Doruk had moved over to the other and it looked as though he was treating that frightening gash, and the Jushorun uttered a roar and charged off after the Senub. Rolling his shoulders to get his backpack on properly again, Xander also decided to give chase. 'He hasn't got his weapon and he's got his back turned... might as well do this thing now,' he thought to himself as he took a few steps back, holding his sword at his right side and pointed backwards so he could add his momentum to the forward swing.

With a sudden burst of motion, Xander launched himself after their fleeing enemy. As he closed to within a few feet of the Senub, he placed his left hand on the hilt of his blade for the added power, aiming his swing low so he could sweep the construct's legs out from underneath him. 'You're not getting away that easily!' he exclaimed mentally - telepathically, in fact. Xander could somehow feel his thoughts as they reached out beyond his own mind, the strange sensation in his mind flaring up again for a moment before beginning to fade away entirely until he felt like he did before leaving Salor. In spite of what he was doing at the moment, he couldn't help but ask himself, 'What did I just do?'

-----
Actions taken:

Full-round action: make a trip attempt as a melee touch attack as part of a charge.
Attack: [roll0]
Opposed Strength check: [roll1]
-2 AC until start of next turn.

[Conor77]

Underneath August's careful ministrations, Hizzelim coughs once, twice, and looks up. He is pale, he is still wounded grievously, but he is alive. The healing spell kicks back a small log of generally what it did, telepathically. It appears that it has mended 3 ribs, and unpunctured the Doruk's left lung. These fixes are still tentative, and strenuous action may cause further damage <only fluff. He has 1 hit point now>

Meanwhile, Tharan-kel is a raging bull, charging forwards to tackle the retreating foe. Unfortunately, he is a little bit overzealous, and ends up getting his face clocked by the elbow of the Senub as he comes onward, shocking him out of his senses for a brief moment.

From the side though, comes Xander. He rushes forwards and swings his sword as hard as he can across from the front, but only succeeds in smacking the Senub's shins. From the vicious oaths uttered, you guess it hurt quite a bit. Unfortunately, it did not check his progress as he continues to sprint away. He makes it partly down the path, and is now 80 feet away from the closest of the party, which is Xander.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August had never been much of an archer, but considering the senub's speed, it didn't look like they'd have much luck catching up. He could continue the healing as needed, but this was looking like his last chance to get a shot in. He dropped his flail and shield, drew his bow, and loosed.

Free action: Drop flail and shield.
Move action: Draw bow.
Standard action: Attack at [roll0], minus whatever penalty for range (range increment 50', so I'm figuring -4, maybe -6?). Here's hoping for a 20, so if that comes up, crit confirm is [roll1] at the same penalty. [roll2] damage on a hit, X3 on a crit.

EDIT: ...Or...or I can go for a natural 2. That's...surely a valuable contribution to our cause in its own, special way. :smallsigh:

Interestingly, August's luck seems to be dependent on his action providing healing. Huh.

[RunicLGB]

Hizzelim bolts to his feet after his brush with death, looking at his body to make sure he is in fact still alive. He coughs up some blood, but feels no more of the iron taste welling up. After being assured of his survival, he looks around for the one responsible, and sees the Senub fleeing.

"Oh ho, cheeky fellow. You won't escape from this encounter so plainly I assure you."

Hizzelim holds out his hand, condensing his mental energies into small ball on the tip of his finger, and with a forceful point launches the miniscule sphere of violet energy out towards the Senub.

Actions:
Move action stand from prone.
Swift Action: Draw Soul arrow.
Standard Action: Fire Mind Arrow:
[roll0] Range incrment is 80ft so at least -1 but possibly -2.
Crit Conirmation Roll: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

Here's to hopin.

[Failed Phantasm]

Xander watched the Senub sprint away, deciding that trying to chase it down would be a waste of effort at this point; after all, he had no idea where he was or which way to go, and he had no particular desire to become even more lost than he already was. He was still recovering his balance from the swing he'd taken, and - while it wasn't easy to precisely judge the distance - it seemed as though the Senub had managed to get out of range of his magic. Breathing a quiet sigh, partly from the exertion and partly out of frustration, Xander grabbed the scabbard at his left side and held it steady while he sheathed his blade. 'That could have gone...' he began to think, as an arrow whizzed past him, followed by a bolt of magical energy. It was difficult to tell, but it looked like both were going to fly wide. '...better.'

Turning back, he saw both Doruk on their feet, though the wounded one still looked like he was in bad shape. There was still blood on the ground, spilled by the Jushorun not five feet away from Xander, the Doruk, and... "The old man!" he exclaimed, quietly but with an unmistakable note of alarm in his voice. The old man who had been the Senub's first victim was still lying on the ground, though Xander couldn't whether he was dead or not. He sprinted back towards where the old man lay, skidding to a halt as he came up alongside the poor soul, dropping to one knee as he looked for the rise and fall of the chest that would indicate breathing. 'Please don't be dead,' he said to the man telepathically, still unaware that he was doing so, as he gently picked up the man's wrist and checked for a pulse.

[Conor77]

The pulse is gone. August's healing magic sealed up the wounds, so no more blood spatters the scrubby dust, but enough has already been spilled. The man stares into the sky forever. You realize, now, that you never caught his name.

The only thing to be heard besides the whistling of the wind is the steadily dwindling tump-tump of a machine, a craven.

A murderer.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Cursing under his breath for his ineptitude, Tharan started to walk back towards the others, though his eyes still trained on the construct making his escape, looking forward only when he was gone beyond the bend of the road below.

"How is he?" he asked August of the man's condition.

[RunicLGB]

"Well I guess he does get away so easily.

Lowering his hand and then his whole body with a thud to the ground, Hizzelim looks to the other Doruk and the Jushorun, and noted the elderly man they were discussing. Hizzelim then looked down at his own wounds, noting the marked similarity, sans one difference.

"Given the miraculous regenerative abilities provided by my fellow Doruk here this old chap should be back on his feet within a minimum time-frame. Unless, Wok forbid, he is to far gone to save of course. In..."

Hizzelim cuts himself off, and forcefully holds his tongue back. It finally occurs to him that he has no idea who these people are, and what their relations are to one another. The old man certainly doesn't look to be in any form of good condition, and he could have been a dear friend to one or all of them.

In silent respect, Hizzelim bows his head, distracting himself with considering what he could do next.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August just frowned and shook his head. The old man was healed, and was not awake. He'd seen that before, too often. He gave his belt pouch a little pat, and without a word turned back to Hizzelim, slowly channeling positive energy into him, guiding it through healing the rest of his injury. Once he was fully healed, he'd turn his powers back on Tharan, then retrieve and stow his gear.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan fell silent at the implications of what Hizzelim said and what August did not. Silently, he looked around, trying to find his weapon in an effort to take his mind off of the reality. When he did find his dagger, he slowly walked towards it, and as he bent down to pick it up, punched the ground beside it, aggravating his wound on the chest, which he had forgotten. Clutching his chest, he looked at the blood on his hand, then dismissed it as he picked up his dagger and walked back to the others.

As he walked, his mind wandered back to Salor, and how the people were unceremoniously cut down like that old man in front of him; it would have been better if all that were left were old men. Children, with their lives not even beggining for them, would all be cut down without any way to defend themselves.

Stronger. I must get stronger...

Tharan closed his fist so tight his knuckles began to become white.

"We should bury him. The least we could do..." he said to no one in particular.

[Conor77]

August takes his time knitting the other together, weaving white strands of glowing magic into blood and bone and flesh, carefully sealing up skin and binding tendons back together. Hizzelim takes some time, as many internal organs have been damaged, and the chance for infection is very, very high. At the end of it all, it takes around 10 minutes, and soon the injured are stretching, stiff but alright.

The same can not be said for the man. You find his effects, such as they were, and such things! The first was his spellbook, full of incomprehensible sigils and almost random-looking runes and drawings. You aren't sure what it is worth, but you are sure that it will be worth something, to someone. Inside the cover there is written, "Property of Jerome Iln Tally". You have no idea if that is the man's name or not, but that is what the book says.

The second piece of property you find is an ornate twisted bracelet with emeralds set into it. It would fetch a fair price, if anything would. The third is a page, that falls out of his spellbook. It almost touches the ground, but Hizzelim catches it. It is an illuminated page, from what book or what document you have no idea. The wispy-thin piece of parchment is one of the most intricate and beautiful things you've ever seen. You decide that for now it would be best to keep it in the spellbook, as it is a very fragile thing.

The last you do not find until you are lowering the man into a ditch dug by Tharan-Kel, and a thin rod drops out of his sleeve. It is a magical wand.

You bury him, and a small heap of earth is all there is to mark the grave of this man, Jerome or otherwise. All else is scrub-grass and blood, and the sweet scent of the archmage's magic on the breeze.

That, and the sword dropped on the ground by the Senub are all that remains on this dusty piece of land. The mountains rise behind you, blocking your view of Salor. Before you is the land of Lakar, where natural magic abounds. The question, is what you want to do now.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August remained basically silent throughout the process of healing and the burial, working stoically. Once it was all finished, he spoke up again. He had rarely been outside of Salor, and was still disoriented from the teleportation. "So...do any of us have an idea where we actually are?" he asked somewhat sheepishly, patting his belt pouch and gazing out over the terrain, looking for any sign of a community.

[RunicLGB]

Hizzelim continues to bite his tongue during the entire burial proceedings.

When it finishes though he considers what august says. "Geography was never among my strong suits. It doesn't help that I was purposefully and hopelessly lost before being teleported to some singularly-descriptive locale such as this. As a point of course though, if our machinated adversary is indeed returning to whatever unit destroyed that city, and also seeks the strange item in your possession, a course in a direction opposite of his own might be advisable. Seeing as I have nowhere else to go and at least some debt of mended ribs to pay back I wouldn't be opposed to following a course concurrent with your own, and least until we find a settlement."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"I have no idea where we are as well. I have never been to these parts," Tharan cut in on the two Doruks. "But there were murmurs of some monastery some distance from here, where most of the people seemed to have went to. Maybe we could start there."

[Failed Phantasm]

As he held the slender wand very gingerly in his left hand, holding it up to the light and turning it over so he could look for carvings or markings, Xander gave the item a cursory inspection while listening to the others talk. 'Now what is it you do, I wonder?' he asked the wand wordlessly, rubbing his chin with his other hand, though it obviously could not respond. 'What kind of magic are you hiding?' Finding out would have to wait, he decided, preferably until he could find someplace that was both secluded and had a healer somewhere nearby. Magic items could be downright testy, after all, and he'd learned from experience that it was best to assume the magic contained within strange staves, wands, or potions was of the sort that could backfire painfully, perhaps even explosively.

"'Nowhere near Treth,' is the only thing I can say about where we are," Xander commented dryly, his gaze still fixed on the wand, "since I'm not usually one for traveling." Lowering the wand to his side and snapping his head up to look at the group, he continued, "I heard the same thing from a group that walked past me, about a monastery nearby," he said with a nod towards the Jushorun, "but I didn't notice which way they were going." As he said this, he realized he didn't even know the Jushorun's name. Or the name of the especially verbose Doruk. He thought back to the throne room in Salor, trying to remember the name of the last Doruk, the one who had been given the platinum sphere by the Lord of Salor himself. 'Hm... what was your name again? I know he said it once. "Salor is gone now, a dream of the past. They will wreck it and turn everything in it to ash. But they must not have this. Do you hear me..."'

"I'm not sure I caught it earlier," Xander began, shifting his weight as he addressed the heavily-armored Doruk, "but your name's August... right?" He continued without pausing. "I don't think I know any of your names, and I know I didn't introduce myself to you earlier." Xander reached over his shoulder and, carefully handling the wand that was still in his left hand, stowed it in his backpack. "My name's Xander. Xander Hawke. Arcanist, swordsman, solicitor-at-law," he said, sketching a quick bow with a slight flourish of his right arm, "and as much as I want nothing more than go home and give my employer the worst harangue of his life for getting me into this mess, I owe Salor my life and I intend to repay that debt by seeing this task of yours through. I know I'd be dead by now if I'd been left behind in the city."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

The Jushorun stepped forward and breathed the air, trying to sniff out any trail of scent from the people who were here a few minutes ago. But with all those trails leading to almost any and all direction, there was nothing much to work with. On the corner of his eyes, the glint from the sword caught his attention, and he went to pick it up.

After picking up the large sword left by the Senub, he spoke. "Tharan-Kel. That is the name my father gave me. I as well do feel a debt to Kolum Salor and the rest who were left back there, and as such I will accompany August and protect what has been entrusted to him by the Lord."

"For now, the only way is down. We shall see where the road takes us."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"August Winters, aye," he replied. He gathered up the old man's book and the mage's bag. It could contain information about the sphere.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed with Tharan.

[RunicLGB]

"Nice to meet you as well, and I am Hizzelim VanThamis, merely a curious and directionless wanderer. I know not of these debts though I must assume I carry them as well, and have been amassing quite the debt within the last few hours such that I would not normally be inclined to repay in full save for the ills that have befallen being the type for which I have a deciding lack of tolerance, and ergo would be willing to merit out some directed entropic destruction on those responsible as a means of balancing this account. If this parties path then aligns with those that this vigilante justice has been earned by you can rest assured that I will follow it, at least for the time."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Well, suppose we should be about it, then," August said, heading down the path.

[Conor77]

The others follow. It is midday when you start down the path, and you all realize with some trepidation that you do not know how far it is to the nearest piece of civilized land that may offer hospitality. The switchbacks of the dirt path carry you downwards though, and the air gets warmer, until it seems quite reasonable, even balmy at times. The day is sunny, though masses of cumulonimbus clouds tower into the sky far away.

Eventually, the slope turns gentler, and the switchbacks are replace by a curved trail. It appears to be leading to the right, somewhat rounding the mountain. You follow it for a while, until you come to a crossroads. One fork breaks abruptly left, the other continuing along to the right. There is no sign.

As you take it in, (and rest for a bit, as you've been walking quite a distance), Xander gets a kind of funny feeling. No one else notices, but he feels as though he's being watched. He sort of, turns to the right, and looks at a few rock formations. Nothing really there... until he looks right down to the road, and sees two pairs of eyes peeking up at him, widening as they see him seeing them.

It is somewhat akin to the picture of two faces and a vase, where it is both, and your eyes adjust to seeing one or the other at a time. Except in this case, Xander takes in the fact that the rock by the side of the road is actually a cleverly disguised blanket, with two people lying under it. Then they snap it off of them and rise to their feet.

They are two, a boy and a girl. The boy has his hair shaved close to the scalp, the girl wears hers in a ponytail. Though the boy looks older than the girl, neither could be older than 17. Both look human.

"Hail. State your business in these parts", says the boy, in a voice that attempts to be authoritarian.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August looks between the two paths with some annoyance, although he figures one's as good as another at this stage. Roads will get them to civilization, and they don't exactly have a set destination in mind. He was turning to the party to see which they wanted to take when the kids jumped out at them.

He was surprised at first, hand going instinctively to his flail, before he analyzed the situation. Instead, he faced them and stood at respectful attention, figuring they'd respond better being treated like soldiers than children. "We're some refugees from Salor, and rather lost, actually. Where precisely are 'these parts'?"

[Conor77]

"You are from Salor. We have had a number of people coming down who say they have teleported from Salor. You will not make it far if all you have on you is in your packs. Come to our temple and we will give you food and water, and make sure you can make it to someplace safe" You realize as he says this that the voice he speaks with is oddly...clinical. You mistook it for attempted authority on his part but now it seems as though this is just how he speaks.

The girl answers your question, "These are the Fairy-Hills, the foothills of the Blackstone mountains on the west side. We've been waiting here for more of you to come down the mountain, since the others said there were stragglers. Then some big cog bastard decided to try and make us take him to the monastery, so we ran him off". She rubs her forehead under her hairline, and briefly reveals a large bruise there. "You know him? I owe him a couple of arrows now, catching my meaning". She gestures to the side of the path, where a couple of sticks are on the ground. Then you recognize them as a broken bow.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Oh, yes, we do. And he owes us more than just a couple arrows," Tharan's voice was seething with anger but his face was trying to be calm.

"Which way did he go?"

[Conor77]

"It is never wise to go off into the wilderness around here without a guide. Let us guide you to our temple, where you can be fed and watered. One of our acolytes will take you to the nearest town on the morrow, where you can hail passage to, wherever you need to go." As she says this, she rubs her forehead absentmindedly and stares out past you towards the treeline, by all measures an ordinary forest from your point of view.

Anyone raised in Lakar would have known that "ordinary" is anything but there.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August gives a slow nod, looking to the others. He didn't see any reason not to follow them. "Here lass, let me see that," he offered, reaching out towards her bruise, his hand starting to glow with a soft gold light.

[Conor77]

She denies gracefully, stating, "I'd rather wear it, and not get too used to magical healing. I've heard some people build up resistances to that sort of thing. Best not to chance it, I think"

The boy turns around and begins walking down the right path, and the girl follows. As they walk, both kids are alert to their surroundings, but the girl keeps running around and around, looking at trees. Neither of them say a word to you as they walk. It takes a good solid 30 minutes of walking to get to a bend in the road. After the bend, you see a a few miles ahead of you is a godamn castle, nestled between a cliffside and a steep hill that turns into a mountain peak further away. It is obvious that this is your destination, but somewhat less obvious is why and how someone built a castle in a place filled with zero tactical importance and not very much stone and located far away from anything of note. Huh.

As you walk, you notice farms and plots of land to the sides of the road. People are out working these, dressed in the same sashes and cotton-cloth that your two guides are wearing. One of them calls out to the girl, "Alia, where's your bow?" She shakes her head and gestures at your group, and he lowers his head and resumes feeding his pigs. You keep walking. As you arrive at the castle, everything becomes clearer. Quite literally so, as you encounter a wall of snow some 20 feet high, with stairs cut into it. You walk up the wall, and find yourself on a plain of snow and ice, stretching out in a perfect half-mile circle, surrounding the castle. The wind is suddenly bitter cold, and there isn't a single tree or piece of grass up on top of the disc of compressed snow.

So even more protection for this extremely unimportant castle.

You get to the castle gates, where a man gestures you inside. He wears remarkably different clothes from the others, a heavy wool robe that covers him head to toe. He gestures you inside silently, an eerie mirror of your two kids most of the trip. If your guides felt any discomfort walking barefoot across the snow, they do not show it as they walk away towards a different part of the building.

The man brings you to a long table in some kind of dining hall where you see many of the others from the mountaintop, some of whom cheer as you walk in, and others of whom blush as they recognize the small former-guardsman. It looks like the three mages are here, along with a very large hairy man with an axe, a sorcerer with a nervous twitch, and 4 mercenaries. Two people dressed like the other man, in heavy robes, wait upon your table. They have cheese, bread, meat, vegetables, soup, all kinds of different food, even some things that are out of season. These two waiters apparently are not afflicted with whatever silence infects the others, and they happily tell you that their larders are so cold, no rot or flies can touch them. It is certainly cold inside the castle, to the point that the waiters bring wool coats for you to wear, and the others down the table as well.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August gave a little chuckle at the girl's refusal, but didn't challenge it.

August began to grow more wary when he saw the castle. Normally, he'd have probably called a halt and demanded more information at the obviously magical ice field, but he was too surprised and unsure of what he was seeing. However, once they were inside, he looked hard at their guides. "What is this place?" he demanded.

He didn't take the coat, cold though he was. He wasn't willing to trust this place until he got some answers.

[RunicLGB]

Hizzelim follows the group absentmindedly, pondering to himself. Though he keeps in lockstep his look is anything but focused, the implication being that his inner monologue is as loquacious as his external speech.

When he sees the snow field, perfectly circular and geometric, he gasps. "Lakar! Fetid bones of a thousand rats have I traveled so far to go nowhere at all?"

Seeing the group continue on to the stone castle, Hizzelim relents, pulls out his winter blanket and wraps it around himself, holding it tight by his hands.


Inside the castle he remains anxious, always eying the exits. He denies the robes of the castle, noting that he carries his own. But while the servant is handy he asks. "If you could provide me with anything I would request only the name of this establishment, and if your knowledge could stretch so far to tell as to how proximal this point would be to a small...On second thought ne'er you mind such trivialities and instead bequeath me only what was initially sought." At the dumbfounded look he receives, Hizzelim stares blankly back, until finally saying "What is the name of this castle and it's lord?"

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Bah, what are these kids, constructs or something?" he asked to no one in particular. "Nay, that blasted Senub was even more coherent than these two," shrugging as he started after them.

Tharan made the whole trip silently, grunting only when something caught his fancy. When they arrived at the castle and were shown into some dining room full with some of the people they had teleported with, his eyebrows raised. And when they were presented with the food, he did not hold back.

"Oh, for us? Don't mind if I do," he grinned as he sat down and began stuffing down the food down his stomach.

[Conor77]

The one waiter speaks, very quickly. You have some trouble making out the words, "Why, this is the castle of High-Reach, good sir! The last lord of the place found religion and declared his lands the property of all native to them. So now we run our own little government here and no one minds very much. We all follow the Path, so we almost have a complete monastery here. We have tried to rally for secession but the Lakarans just won't have it. Now, I suppose we might call Kalka the lord of the castle, or lady rather, but she doesn't-" he is cut off by his friend, refilling ale-horns and wineglasses, who bops him on the back of the head with an empty pitcher and shoves a full one into his hands.

"Ah- ah- ah-, I speak too much and serve too little. Suffice it to say Kalka is the lord, we are his subjects, and that this is the castle of High-Reach". He moves to fill glasses and take away empty plates. Everything goes onwards, as before.

One of the mercenaries, a tall Aaran with spiky hair (from the style, she is trying to convey that she is female), walks over and sits next to Tharan-Kel. "So, whats up with you, you get caught up in the whole 'duty to the world' crap that king was spewing? Or you just along for the ride?"

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Thanks," he said as he gulped down the content of the newly-refilled wineglass. He wasn't really paying attention much to the waiter's words than his service.

"Who? Me? Don't know bout duty to the world or whatnot, but I do owe them my life. 'Sides, I know this brave Doruk right here. Took care of me back at the Academy, so I owe him too. Wherever he goes, I go," Tharan managed in between bites and chews, careful not to talk anything about the platinum.

Yeah, the last incident involving it didn't end so good.

"Meat?" he offered the Aaran. "Or are you one of those greens-only type?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

August gave a slow nod, patting his belt pouch absently, before finally taking the coat and accepting some food, going to take a seat. He murmured a brief blessing over the meal before he began eating.

Casting Purify Food and Drink...just in case :smallamused:

"So what's with the whole 'Circle of Winter' or whatever it is around this place?" he asked the chattier waiter.

[Conor77]

"Oh, I eat meat", she says, grinning. "only I just ate with those morons. If I'd known some interesting people were coming in I'd have waited to eat with them. So, uh, hey, when you're finished there, there's some interesting stuff around here to see, you wanna come exploring with me later? I'll be in my room, over by the east wall" She then gets up and walks away.

[Conor77]

"Wwweeellll sir!" the waiter says as he comes around again. "Its one of those oddities of Lakar that no one really knows about. The place is filled with them. Some say there were people long ago who knew how to make them, and others say they are simply part of the landscape. There are even religions that claim they are the god's chosen places, and that Lakar is holy for being filled with them. Oh, and you know the great desert Barenor? I heard tell the whole thing is actually a giant Eco-disk. That's, uh, what these circles of weather are called." He saunters briskly away.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Huh," August said, then looking to Hizzelim. "So you're from around here?" he asked, going by his previous comment about going nowhere.

[RunicLGB]

"My region of origin is indeed Lakar, though I can't day I've ever been to this particular palace, nor heard much anything about it. I spent quite some time on roads wandering about aimlessly before I came to the city with that lovely citadel. My old home is likely far from here."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan looked at the Aaran for a second, the laughed. "Sure thing. Exploring, yeah," was all he said as he looked at her back as she walked away with a sly smile on his face, then resumed eating. He was about to ask for another glass of wine when he remembered what happened the last time he indulged in too much alcohol, so he put the glass down and contented himself to the sumptuous food.

"Nice place they have here, eh August? But we can't stay here. What are we gonna do now?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Wish I knew," he replied, but that line of thinking wasn't going to get them anywhere. He took another bite of food to give him time to get a thought or two together, then suggesting, "I'm thinking we should see what the rest of the refugees are planning. The mages, in particular. They might also be able to accomplish something with the archmage's things. Or at least give us an inkling as to the plan."

[Quellian-dyrae]

With no dissent appearing incoming, August finished his meal and headed over to the mages. "Well met."

[Conor77]

"Aye, an' you as well", says the nearest of the three, a short, bearded man in fine cotton robes underneath the heavy wool one provided. His accent carries the timbre of one from Kilaas. Or perhaps Te'ara?

He looks up and down, taking August in.

"Why, ah, why don't you come with me a bit, lad? I've got something I'd like to show you; something I think might help you on your journey."

He looks to his companions, who both nod, and he gets up from the table. He offers his hand. All of this happened quite quickly.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August hesitates a moment before nodding, giving the mage's hand a firm shake. "Some direction would be welcome," he agreed with a chuckle. "Lead on."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Hey, where you going? You're not leaving without me!" he roared across the tables and hurriedly made his way towards August.

"So, what's going on?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Mage has something to show us," August replied with a shrug.

[Conor77]

August and Tharan only:
He gets up, and takes you up to the gate, where he asks the gatesman to let you outside for a "bit of fresh air". The man simply shakes his head, and motions snarling and makes claws with his hands. The mage furrows his brows but it seems clear enough that the man implies danger outside of some kind. So you walk to the walls of the castle instead, which are quite unlike the walls of Salor. When one walks upon Salor's walls, they are protected from straight-on arrow shots except in 2-foot gaps between 8-foot stretches of blank wall. Here the wall curves down in a smooth bevel, no railing and no guard to the fighting men standing on top of it.

"These walls are built not to protect against men but against the kind of thing that crawls up stone", the bearded man says after staring out into the oddly low forest that lay past the ice dais. "The edge doesn't provide a handhold, and the wall has been smoothed the whole way down. All a man needs to do to defend it is kick. Against arrows, I believe they used to have a system of wicker shields to hide behind, long ago". You notice that his accent is curiously absent, replaced by that of someone who is meticulous in pronunciation, almost like he is reading words carefully from a book.

He stares quite hard at the forest, and suddenly a black dot shoots up out of it and comes darting towards him, with the shrill call of a hawk. And it is a hawk. It comes forward and seems to land by grabbing the man as it flies past, halting only by dragging half his wool cloak off him. It gives another cry, right in his ear. The man spits curses in a strange language that isn't one you know of as he draws his cloak tight again against the wind. But now he turns to you, for perhaps the first time since he got up from the table.

"Do you see my poor hawk tremble? He has seen what lies in that forest, a forest cursed by those who live around it. And I have seen it, through his eyes. Though I wear their robes, I am not a true magus, and neither are any of my companions. We are in great danger here, I do not feign otherwise. I do not know quite what creatures are these, but human they are not. They smell wrong, move wrong, speak wrong. Its convincing enough, for someone with the senses common to man. But for one with the eyes of a hawk, the nose of a hound, and a little bit of insight, it is clear as day. Whatever our disparate groups come from, we must band together to escape this place. Already, I have heard the tale of the rats that live in the larders. Whatever these creatures are-"

He is cut off by the sound of a pained whimper, feet scrabbling over stone. You peer around him and see Alia, mouth a grim line and a knife drawn across the throat of the female mercenary.

[Failed Phantasm]

From the moment they had met the boy and girl, with their strange demeanor, odd behavior, and stilted means of speaking, Xander had been on his guard, his instincts telling him that there was something inexplicably wrong about the entire situation. His hunches alone, however, had never been enough to spur him into action, as the practice of his chosen profession left little room for one to act upon one's suspicions, and so Xander followed the group in silence, though he privately would have preferred to have gone on the other way and left the boy and girl to their bizarre inanity. But he was still willing to allow them the benefit of the doubt, since he knew from his encounters with Lakarans who came to Treth that they were notoriously flightly and their behavior could be downright inscrutable to foreigners. 'They're certainly jumpy enough,' he thought as they followed the pair down the path, surreptitiously keeping watch of the girl as she darted around and inspected the foliage. Neither did their encounter with the pig farmer further down the road inspire confidence or trust, and Xander's feelings shifted towards something more than mild suspicion but not quite outright distrust. 'What are you not telling us, I wonder?' he thought as he assessed the back of Alia's head with a pensive stare, 'What can't you say in front of outsiders?'

Xander continued to spend the rest of the trip in silence, since their guides did not seem as though they wanted to do so much as chat idly, never mind answer direct questions. His quiet, outward stoicism did not falter even at the sight of the second castle he'd seen in one day: his face was impassive and expressionless as he took in the details of its façade. It was possessed of a certain awe-inspiring quality, to be sure, and the massive snowfield that surrounded the structure induced in him the peculiar, yet familiar, tingling sensation that indicated a trace of magic about the phenomenon — though perhaps even that was simply a peculiarity of Lakar itself. He followed the others as together they were ushered in wordlessly, declining to take a wool coat from one of the attendants and sitting at the table near the others in his group, allowing them to speak with the refugees who had been admitted into the dining hall. Every few moments, Xander would appear to take a bite of food or take a drink from his glass without actually doing so; instead, as he leaned back in his chair, he would scan the faces of the people who were seated and eating, as well as paying careful attention to the waiters and other occupants of the castle. The guests were certainly in a good mood, perhaps even relieved to be where they were. His attention only returned to his companions when August stood up and went to speak to one of the other refugees: August and one of the mages conversed briefly before standing up to leave, but Tharan leapt up to join them which left Xander and Hizzelim in the dining room for the moment.

'Where are you two off to?' he wondered silently. He glanced to both his left and his right, looking to see who else was staying. Xander could see that Hizzelim was seated not far from him, and he turned his gaze straight ahead and casually brought his glass up to his lips, pretending to take another sip. 'Ugh. The smell of this wine alone is enough to nauseate me.' Directing his next thought towards his companion, Xander prodded at him telepathically, 'Hizzelim, can you hear me?' This telepathy business was still quite new, but he was starting to feel a bit more comfortable with his newfound power. After all, it certainly did have its practical uses, even if he couldn't manage to project his thoughts very far and even though it required a very conscious effort to do so. 'I don't know about you, but I've got a bad feeling about this place. Do you think we should follow after August and Tharan?'

-----
Actions taken:

Improvised/ad hoc bluff check to act as though eating and drinking without actually doing so: [roll0]
Take 20: Sense Motive check to get a feel for the general atmosphere and get a sense of the refugees and castle occupants in the dining hall: (1d20+5)[25]

[Quellian-dyrae]

DM and Tharan:
August was nodding at the mage's words. His initial assessment, it seemed, had not been too far from the mark. Before he could respond verbally, however, they were interrupted by Alia.

August just sighed.

"Seriously?" he asked, drawing his flail and readying his shield. "Do yourself a favor and let her go, lass!" he commanded, and he sounded more tired and annoyed than desperate.

[Conor77]

Tharan + August:
As all three of you turn and look, you notice first that Alia's eyes are...gone, replaced by twin voids, perfectly black and reflecting no light.The second thing you notice is that the Aaran mercenaries' feet do not touch the ground. She is dangling, clutched in some unseen grip while Alia is free to hold the knife to her throat. the second thing you notice is that something about Alia...changed. She seems taller, and skinnier, but she also has some odd aspect to her, as if she was a piece of taffy that was stretched upwards rather than a person grown slightly. The longer you stare at her, the stranger she looks, until your eyes dart somewhere else and back to her, at which point she looks almost normal again. Everything about her screams anathema to the primal part of your brain, which is probably why the nature's-friend man next to you looks almost as if he has his hackles up. The hawk gives a longer scream this time, and flies away from you, off into the icy void.

And then she opens her mouth. What spills out is the most horrifying voice you have ever heard, a mixture of howling wind and deepest rumblings, "No. You will come with me or she will die. If you attempt to save her, you will only force me to kill her, after which I will kill you as well. Come with me instead, and do not try to fight. We also have your allies in the dining hall."

Xander + Hizzelim
Many of the guests express a desire for rest, and as the light dims outside, fires are lit as some or others depart to their lodgings. One of the waiters offers to you both to your rooms.

Xander only
This was the talkative waiter. Now he seems oddly morose. That's lie-detecting 101 stuff, whether someone changes their demeanor is how you can spirit out shifty behavior.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

DM + August:
"Huh. That ain't no lass, bud. Not one I'm accustomed to seeing anyway," he mentioned to August as he took a guarded stance.

"Guess you were right, mister Not-A-Magus. Any idea what they are?" he asked the man while his attention to Alia and her hostage.

[Quellian-dyrae]

DM + Tharan:

Yeah, following the hideous monster thing...not sounding like a great idea. "Think it through, ya beasty. There's relatively few places on the human body you can hit with that knife to kill someone instantly. Throat isn't one of them, will just make you bleed out fast. Now yeah, normally, that means you're pretty much done, but you have to account for the situation. Say you make that move. She instantly starts bleeding out. I instantly run over there and heal her. She instantly stops bleeding out. My buddy here instantly charges you. And you instantly learn the difference between a mortal wound and a fatal wound!"

"Play it smart. Let her go."

Intimidate: [roll0].

[RunicLGB]

The sudden telepathic intrusion into Hizzelim's mind is quite unexpected, but not unwelcome. "Whoever would be so Uncouth/Direct/Invasive as to Invade/Disgrace the Personal/Private Sanctum/Sanctuary/Temple of my thoughts/mind I would require/Request/Inquire to your identity lest/or else I would be inspired/inclined/want to abjure/defend against/ward off this unsoliscited/unwaranted/unwanted/undesireable intrusion/penetration of the aforementioned/previously mentioned Sanctum/Sanctuary/Temple.

Upon receiving confirmation that Xander is the Telepath in question, Hizzelim responds to the initial inquiry. Ah then it is (in fact) you/Xander, then I suppose/Guess/assume I have nothing/little to worry about in regards to this interesting/fantastic/unusual communication method/manner. As to our wayward companions/partners/allies I assumed/guessed/presumed that they knew what they were doing/where they were going and that if assistance/aid/help were required/necessary they would not wait/hesitate to summon/call for our aid/assistance/presence. Perhaps to better understand the situation/circumstances you would be better served by using/utilizing your currently/concurrently displayed/used ability/power/trick to contact/communicate/commune with they of which you ask/query? Meanwhile I will continue to enjoy/delight in devouring/eating/consuming the succulent/delicious/wondrous/filling feats to which we have been presented/invited.

[Conor77]

Tharan + August:
At the words "kill someone instantly", the beast gives some kind of keening screech, which you think may be a laugh. It waits for August to finish his sentence though, before it casually moves its knife up, where the jaw meets the skull, and pulls her hair back so you can see it. Then it moves the knife down until it is facing directly up, underneath the chin, before moving it back to the skull. At which point the mercenary dives right and down, rolling towards you. She seemingly broke free of whatever force held her, invisible though it was. As she slides in between Tharan and the strange man, she whispers thanks to August and asks if anyone has a spare weapon.

The monster drops the knife, and simply reaches out its arms, and Tharan, you feel a tugging from your insides that wants to pull you over the edge of the wall. Make a Fortitude save.

[Conor77]

Tharan + August:
Tharan, you feel the force grip you more fiercely, from the inside out. It feels somewhat horrifying, like there is something inside you, You feel yourself being tugged, sideways, towards the edge, and you realize what is about to happen a split second before it does, and you are hurled bodily off the wall and into the ice below, by unseen force. A telekinetic, then.

The Alia-thing turns towards August, then, and raises its hand once more.

[ROLL INITIATIVE FOR BATTLE START]

Hizzelim + Xander:
The waiter grips Xander's shoulder and his shoulder starts to hurt. The waiter is applying more force than it looks like he is. He speaks calmly but forcefully, "Sir, I am going to need to get you to your room now, if you please. We have a lot of cleaning up to be getting along with."

Hizzelim, make a Fortitude save.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Gonna assume at this point we should just take our turns.

"Tharan!" August called as his companion was knocked from the edge. His first thought was to go check if he was hurt and tend him, but that wouldn't get them far at this point. He needed to neutralize the threat first.

Terms accepted.

He advanced quickly, hoping to close the distance before the telekinetic had a chance to act, and swung hard, getting right up close so that even if it stepped back it would still be within his reach.

Move Action: Move adjacent to the telekinetic. I have 10' threatening reach, not sure if its TK provokes or not, but it'll still be in reach if it 5' steps.
Standard Action: Attack at [roll0] for [roll1]

Current Stance: Iron Guard's Glare. Threatened foes take -4 on attacks against anyone but August.

[Conor77]

Hizzelim + Xander:
Suddenly, the waiter has apparently had enough. He brings his other hand up and over his head, curling into a fist along the way that batters Xander with more force than seems possible for a human to exert, but failing to do damage through your armor. Hizzelim feels unwell and unsteady. No one else is present in the room, stools discarded next to the long, high table.

August:
Your flail comes around clean and clear and bashes the creature in the face. You are joined by the other man, now snarling and using his jaws to fight the creature, which seems visibly disturbed by the ferocity of the attack. The mercenary is just sort of screaming at you to kill it, not having a weapon herself and all.

Tharan:
You land with a whump in the snow, taking only 2 damage, nonlethal. No doubt that would have seriously injured a normal man. Hah. Still though, the wind is blowing at this side of the fortress and it is bitter cold. And you don't even have one of those devil-alien-things down here to fight for warmth. Shucks.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Slapping the snow beneath him, Tharan got up and looked up. He wondered how he fell that high without being hurt more than he had been, but more importantly he looked to see if there was any way back up.

None.

Cursing under his breath, he looked around to see where he could get back inside.

Spot: [roll0] if needed to see where he can go back in.

[Conor77]

Tharan:
To get to the gate you need to go around to the left side, you are fairly certain. The cold is bitter, but bearable if you are about to go inside. You don't want to think about what a night alone out here is like. Looking back at the wall, you see it is not quite as flush as it seems

August:
The thing raises its hand once more, and you feel a tugging sensation, dragging you towards the edge of the wall. Make a Fortitude save

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

DM
Tharan looked up at the wall once again, and looking closely, it seemed it would have been possible to go up if he tried. But in his snap judgement he thought it would take too much time, time that was crucial at that point. He decided it would be faster to go back inside and climb up normally.

He turned to the left side of the wall and began to run.

[Failed Phantasm]

Catching him off guard, if only for a moment, Xander found himself overwhelmed by the flood of telepathic garbage that was assaulting his thoughts, able to make out only a handful of words and phrases among the stream of consciousness that was, apparently, Hizzelim's mind. He slid his face into his right palm, using his hand in order to hide the fact that his eyes were shut tight as he tried to concentrate on shutting out the Doruk's mental reply. 'Note to self: never again with Hizzelim, he told himself over the noise. 'Gods, but I thought his talking was hard enough to understand. At least he has to catch his breath when he's using his mouth.' After a moment, Xander finally noticed that Hizzelim was silent, so he took the opportunity to fire back irritatedly, 'NO. No, I cannot use my telepathy to contact August or Tharan, otherwise I would have done it already. I can barely reach people who are sitting on the other side of this table! You can keep stuffing your face, then. As soon as I get over this headache, ('that you just gave me,' he thought to himself) 'I'm going after them.' Not caring what Hizzelim might mentally vomit at him next, Xander retreated inside his own mind again and focused on blocking out any reply the Doruk had. Without shifting position, Xander started to use his fingers and thumb to massage his forehead, as he did indeed have a headache after his telepathic exchange. He was so distracted by the entire affair that he didn't notice one of the waiters approach or speak until he felt pressure on one of his pauldrons, which startled him enough to look up for the cause.

“Sir, I am going to need to get you to your room now, if you please. We have a lot of cleaning up to do.” The waiter's grip was stronger than it appeared, and he was pressing down with enough force to make him uncomfortable beneath his armor. With a quick jerking motion, Xander freed himself of the waiter's grasp and then rolled his shoulder. 'Oh, this is just what I need right now.' Despite the sense that his suspicions were welling up again at the waiter's odd behavior, he buried his irritation at the situation and affected his most indifferent expression and polite tone of voice before replying, “Would you be so kind as to give me a few moments before we go to the rooms? I have a bit of a headache that I'm trying to nurse,” As he turned away from the waiter, he propped his elbows on the table and dropped his face into his palms, his instincts telling him that things were about to go wrong, which was truthfully to be expected as nothing had gone right since he made the journey to Salor. 'Why can I not for once – just once – meet normal people in a normal town? Why do adventures have to be so gods-damned insane?'

Xander had been expecting an assault of some kind, given the waiter's odd change in demeanor, but the force with which he had been punched was startling. His armor had absorbed most of the blow, but he had to move with the momentum of the blow and staggered awkwardly out of his chair. “All right,” he said as he straightened up and faced his attacker, “if that's the way you want it, fine.” With a swift, fluid motion, Xander took a few steps around the chair to position himself at the waiter's side, drawing his sword as he did so. 'I wish I knew what exactly is going on, though, Xander thought grimly as he started to swing his weapon towards the waiter. 'I don't want to kill you, but it looks like I'll have to rough you up before trying to knock you unconscious instead.'

-----
Actions taken:

Free action: draw bastard sword as part of movement.
Move action: move however many feet (10?) to maneuver to the waiter's side.
Standard action: make a melee attack against the waiter.

Attack: [roll0]
Critical confirmation: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2] +3 = [14]
Brutal property: reroll 1s for damage ([roll3])

[Conor77]

Tharan-Kel:
You come across...Alia. She is at the gate, apparently trying to break it with her fists. You would laugh at the spectacle, but the gate appears half-broken by her efforts already. All the same, you see her feet are freezing and she is shivering visibly in the cold. Her chest is heaving with the effort of punching the heavy wooden doors over and over again, and her breath comes in wheezes and gasps. She doesn't notice you, but stops to lean on the door for a bit.

August
You slide backwards, towards the edge, but set your boots against the imperfections of the top of the wall and cease movement. the creature tries to resume its attack but is interrupted by the wolf-type man, who jumps around its backside and clamps jaws on the thing's "leg" In fact, he is directly on the opposite side from you, leaving the thing open for a flank...

Xander
Your sword comes up, quick as a whip, but somehow, the man in front of you slides and...oozes away from the blade, so that it misses him by a hair. You actually felt the current of wind the sword made deflect off of him. Hizzelim tries to help you, but staggers slightly, gets a confused look on his face, and tumbles over onto the floor. The waiter smiles, but only with his mouth. His eyes are open wide, suddenly transforming into twin orbs of darkness, not reflecting light of any kind or looking like spheres. Other than the wide eyes and the lips-only smile, his face is expressionless, which makes the whole thing more creepy. He jumps, onto the table, onto his hands, and starts trying to kick you by, well, by bringing his feet down on your head. You have no clue how he's doing this, even less knowledge of why he's doing it, and are utterly mystified as to the thought process behind it. Nevertheless, you do your best to dodge the flailing feet. You don't really find it hard. It seems like the thing is trying to do something in particular but it can't.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August cast the...mage? Druid? Wolfy-guy a grin across their opponent, executing a deft series of maneuvers with his flail, aiming to both injure his opponent and drive him back into his ally's jaws. "See if you can get that knife from him!" he called, aiming to get the unarmed mercenary into the mix, keeping up a steady assault in hopes of providing an opening.

Standard Action: Vanguard Strike at [roll0] for [roll1]. On a hit, allies gain a +4 bonus on attack rolls against the telekinetic for one round. Attack roll includes +2 from flanking.

Since a disarm is an opposed attack roll, a light weapon would give a -4 penalty to resist, and my Iron Guard's Glare will impose -4 on the AoO, it gives him a good shot to disarm if he wants to try it, especially if I hit, since with flank, vanguard, and light weapon, he'd have an effective +10 advantage.

Maneuvers Available: 1/2.

EDIT: And naturally I roll a mighty 4.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"You!!" Tharan shouted at Alia, immediately taking a fighting stance.

"...you?!"

He looked puzzled, and reflexively looked up. He certainly didn't see her - or it -falling after him. And if she/it did, how did she/it reach here before him?

No matter.

"Heh. I owe you a pounding, and it looks like I'll be repaying my debt a little earlier. Come on!"

[Conor77]

August:
The thing between you two carefully swivels its head, while trying to beat at the man. Apparently whatever makes him able to bite the creature with such force also gives him a little beefyness, because the brutal battering doesn't even look like it injured the guy. He heeds your words though, and unclenches his jaws, attempting to grab the dagger (that it didn't even use for its attack, you notice).

He wrestles for the dagger, but the thing seems to have a death-grip on it. However, it glances back at you, trying not to open itself to attack, and the wolf-man seizes the opportunity to wrench two of its fingers (it only has three on each hand) away from the blade and with the other hand pop the dagger through the remaining thumb and forefinger. The dagger skitters across the icy stone, and the mercenary darts forwards to grab it. She then steps up, waving the knife back and forth, and the odd creature is now beset on three sides.

Tharan
Her eyes widen, and she takes another step backwards in the snow. It looks like she's trying to say something, but she's disoriented either by the cold or the extreme effort she took to break the doors. The only thing you can make out is a slight shaking of the head.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Ah well played!" August called, keeping up his assault, still maintaining a steady, focused assault to occupy his foe's defenses.

Standard Action: Vanguard Strike at [roll0] (flanking) for [roll1]. On a hit, allies get +4 against the target for one round.

Maneuvers Available: 0/2.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-kel

This girl seemed to be different from the other creature they just fought above. Scared, battered, and overall different feel. It seemed odd to the Jushorun that even as eager to fight as he was, he decided not to immediately jump into combat.

Maybe this is the real one?

He did not drop his guard though, and slowly inched his way closer. He had been fooled enough for one day. If there's ever a way to find out the difference, it was using his nose. He could tell the difference then, but the cold and the wind made it impossible at that distance.

A little more closer, then.

"What? Are you afraid? Where was the bloodlust earlier? Did August give you quite a beating?" he said, trying to distract her as he moved closer.

[Conor77]

Tharan:
"W-wmm", she stumbles to try to form words, frost coating her lips and her teeth chattering as she at last completes, "What?"

You get closer, close enough to smell her cold flesh, which is bog-standard human tissue. Fear, too. You've tasted it before in the air, but now it is conspicuous because you didn't ever smell it on the thing up there. If there was any doubt before, it isn't there now. She is either real, or you might as well chop your own damn nose off.

August:
You see an opening.

For the first time, the weird-form is trying to shuffle backwards, away from the fight. It takes its eyes off of you for just long enough...

Three things happen. You swirl your flail around and make sure it enters the thing, mid thigh. on a man, the blow would have broken his leg. On this thing, the leg rips entirely off, forcing it into a partial kneel. It would have fallen entirely on the floor, except that the beast-man lunged at its face at the exact same time, hoping to draw its attention from you as well as deal damage. As it turned out, you had set up him to do damage. And so he does, teeth tearing viciously at the now-mockery of human facial features.

The mercenary though, lands the finishing blow, stabbing her knife deftly into the stomach of what is stuck between teeth and steel, and pulling upwards, ripping the entire body in half upwards.

By the time it is finished and laying on the cold stone, it hasn't even screamed.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Go team, August thinks, giving a fierce grin to the pair. But nothing more; he immediately turns, peering over the edge of the wall to see what his comrade is dealing with. "Tharan! You alright?"

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan looked confused. So it really was different. But this girl meant there are actual persons here whom that thing copied. Not only that, it said it wasn't alone. Hopefully she wasn't the only one who's still alive.

Tharan dropped his guard. "Nothing. Apologies, kid. I mistook you for something else."

August's voice then cut in on the two.

"Oi, August. Yeah, I'm good! Go check on the others at the hall! Meet you there!"

Turning back to the girl, "Come with me." He then moves past her and pushed on the door to open it.

Strength: [roll0]

[Quellian-dyrae]

"On it!" August responded, managing to choke back a relieved sigh. Before starting for the hall, he took a moment to look to the wolf-man and mercenary woman. "You both okay?"

[Conor77]

Tharan-Kel:
The door splinters open under your hand. The young woman looks shocked to see that happen, regarding Tharan with a bit of wariness as she steps inside.

Blissful warmth doesn't coat you as you step in the door, and you don't sigh at the sudden change. Its almost as cold in the entrance hall as it is inside. But at least the wind chill doesn't come into play as you step past another door, an approximation of warmth and comfort surrounding you. Alia runs over to a closet and starts pulling out blankets and sheets rapidly, throwing many over herself and offering you a large saddle blanket as well.

August:
The beast man is doing something that looks like licking his hands, but you realize that he is trying to clean his tongue and mouth from the bits of fleshy sludge that got in there during the fight. The same stuff coats your mace and the merc's dagger, though she drops that almost immediately, wiping her hand all over the front of her under-armor padding to get rid of any residue left by the creature's hand.

You look down at the body, rapidly deflated and now looking very unlike any kind of human figure at all. It is all pinkish-peach flesh, like the fatty part of the subcutaneous skin. Looking at the human-shaped piece of meat makes you uncomfortable, even nauseous. Once he decides his mouth is clean enough, the man reaches down, grabs the remains, and pitches them over the side of the castle. That done, and listening to you, he says in quite a different voice than he used earlier, more gruff and with a rumble to it "Yes, I appear to be just fine, probably thanks to you, come to think of it. Sorry if there weren't introductions before, my name is Gaobhair (pronounced like Geh-eer, and your character wouldn't necessarily know how its spelled). The others I travel with actually are mages, allowing me into their company in disguise in exchange for me owing them a favor. and when someone from the Woods owes you a favor, well..." He cracks a wry grin, before sobering up, "I can't forget though, they might be dying even now. We need to find our allies and compatriots, and make sure they are safe. Then we need to cleanse this ancient castle of this scourge" He begins to quickly hurry off, loping almost like a wolf

The mercenary calls after him, "Oy, and I'm fine too, ya bitey git!" She turns to August. "I really am, and grateful to you for saving me, but I think he's right. I need to go lay my hands on my gear, so I can be somethin' other than the not-so-fair maiden in distress. If you see one of them things, make sure you whack it good for me, awright?" with that, she turns to the stairs to descend off the wall.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Aye," August replied, to both of them, really. Smacking his flail on the floor a couple times to dislodge the gunk, and giving his belt pouch a light pat, he followed after Gaobhair.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Thanks," Tharan said as he grabbed the blanket offered by the girl without breaking step. Then as he went in further inside, he stopped and turned to face Alia.

"By chance you know where the mess hall is?"

[Conor77]

August:

Gaobhair moves with an easy lope down the wall further, until he comes to one of the towering bastions that extend the altitude of the wall in three places along its length. He opens it and peeks inside, apparently seeing nothing inside, he continues.

He whispers, then "You go down te flight of stairs and take te first door ya see leading ta de gate, tat'll let you out ta see yer friend. I'm goin' over tis way, gonna get to ta dining hall and see tat tey haven't killed em all. Meet me dere after you get whassisface." His actual accent appears to be coming through more and more now in the way he speaks. He then prowls off through the opposite door, out back onto the wall.

You are in a 20 ft diameter room that has some nice carpet in it. It is cold. There are some textile supplies up against the wall, as well as a few battered wooden cases. One door leads back the way you came. One door goes onward, both leading to the top of the wall. There is a staircase descending on the outside edge of the room.

What do you do?

Tharan-Kel:

She seems to only take a moment to recover her composure from the cold. "Mess-Hall? Yeah we could just walk across the courtyard, but we need to take this to Theodore, our Luminary. He can help, I'm sure of it. He's the best warrior we have, as well as the wisest.

...and I could use a bow, too. We can swing by the rooms at the same time we move towards him. We just need to go out to the hall and hang a right, it'll curve the way we want to go". She seems to look to you for direction though.

You are in a stark side-room to the entry, with a ransacked closet and 2 doors. One leads to the entry room, the other to a hallway that curves around the fortress interior wall in a circle, broken up by doors.

What do you do?

[Quellian-dyrae]

August wonders if perhaps he should stick with Gaobhair, but figures the druid (he had pretty much decided to consider the man a druid until further notice) would probably be better able to avoid attention without a plate-clad Doruk stomping along beside him.

He followed the man's directions, heading down the stairs, and if nothing was there, heading through the first door to the gate. He didn't bother trying to be stealthy, his flail and shield at the ready.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan considered storming in at once, but opted to utilize additional numbers in the off chance this Theodore was still who he was.

"Fine. Let us see this Luminary. However, I wouldn't be surprised if he's been compromised already. Lead the way."

[Conor77]

August:
You move down the stairs, clumping in boots without even trying for stealth, until you get to the bottom. There is just one door, so you push it open. Inside, you find yourself in kind of a rounded hallway (the hallway runs all the way around the castle in the very center, broken up by doors. You stepped out from a side-door). Directly across from you is another door, the doorknob of which turns, the door starting to open. Though you ready yourself, who should stick her head out but the same "girl" you just fought up on top of the wall. Except she looks human again. Alia squeezes into the room before noticing you, and she looks shocked to see you. Behind her steps out Tharan, apparently unharmed.

Tharan:
Alia sticks her head through the door and gives a little gasp. You push open the door fully to see August standing in a curved hallway, in full armor and looking ready for a fight.

Both:
You blink once or twice. Alia looks between the two of you.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August just stared a moment, then gripped his flail, started forward, remembered that Tharan had seen the thing in the girl's shape too. Which meant either there was a logical explanation for this (likely something weird and supernatural), or Tharan was under some sort of mental influence. He thought a moment, then suddenly demanded of Tharan, "The name of the kid you were beating up on when we first met. Go!"

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan stepped forward to greet August, but the Doruk had a guarded stance, and it didn't take long for him to get why. When he asked the question though, he was lost for a bit, before getting what he meant.

"Oh, that guy. Forgot his name. He was a weak fellow. I don't remember weaklings. I do, however, remember the one guy they called the Badger, that small fellow who stepped in and handed my behind to me and set me straight. Ha ha ha!"

He stepped forward.

"It's fine, August. She is not the same one up top. My nose says so. Anyway, what happened up there? I assumed you took care of that problem?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

August gave a low chuckle, relaxing his stance. Fair enough. "Aye, that one's done. The merc, the druid, and I wailed on it until it stopped moving," he said with a shrug. "Druid's heading to the mess hall. He didn't have time to explain everything, but it seems like there are more of those shapeshifty things about. Suggested we head there. What happened to you? You hurt at all from that fall you took?"

He kinda just...didn't say anything to Alia, or even really look at her. Weirded him out. Stinkin' shapeshifters.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Hah! Not even a scratch. Lucky there was a lot of snow. Hah hah hah!" the Jushorun gave another hearty laugh. When August mentioned about more shapeshifters though, his countenance slowly shifted to a serious one.

"Yeah, I thought so to. That creature did mention something about "us". This girl spoke of a Luminary. Perhaps the one in charge here. I opted to see this man first before charging into the mess hall, see if we could have more numbers. Or maybe this man might have been the prime target to be switched. Better to take out one of them while there is a chance," he shrugged.

"You can go on ahead. We'll catch up soon. But it'd be better if you and your trusty flail were with us," Tharan said with a grin.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August considered for a moment. Their companions were still in that hall, best he knew, as well as several other Salor refugees. His instinct as a guard told him to go defend his people with all haste.

His tactical knowledge as a Sublime Soldier told him that he alone would make scant difference. He, Tharan, Alia, the Luminary, and any other fighters they could pick up along the way? That could matter.

He couldn't spare more than a few seconds to think about it, and the internal debate was written clearly on his face.

Tactics won. "Let's be swift, then. Lead the way, lass," he said, falling in beside Tharan, still not looking at Alia directly.

[Conor77]

Alia nods, and hurries to a door set into the great dividers that make each part of the circular hallway a different part. She tugs it open, and August notices an an unfamiliar part of the fortress behind it. She creeps down the hallway, slightly ahead of your huge footsteps, and comes to another door (in a curved hallway just like the one you passed through, each one maybe a sixth of the total circumference of the fortress)

She listens carefully, as do you. Make listen checks.

[Conor77]

August, you hear scuffling and muted voices, like someone is trying to move furniture around. Alia looks puzzled, and whispers "Ready your weapons, those voices don't sound human".


Then, she readies herself against the door...

...and SLAMS it open, rolling into the room and coming upright 5 feet from the door, fists held in front of her.

Beyond her, you see a couple of monks dragging the lifeless body of another monk across the floor, apparently planning to drag it through another doorway. You notice that the face of the body is also the face of one of the guys dragging it. Which could only mean one thing.

[[ROLL INITIATIVE]]

[Quellian-dyrae]

August steeled his gaze and advanced. How quickly it came back to him, his time in the Academy, drilling not only the combat skills and advanced techniques, but also the unit tactics. He closed with the "monks" lashing out at one with a series of strikes aimed to open up his defenses. He knew a Berserker like Tharan had tricks to close in and let loose a rapid assault far faster than most; with luck, his attack would leave the target open to a devastating finisher. He kept the other shapeshifter within the reach of his flail; if he tried to get around August and go for his allies, he was ready to strike back.

Move: Advance, threatening both monks. They can come at me with 5' steps, but I think (depending on actual positions) they'll have to move outright to get to Tharan or Alia, provoking AoOs if they do, barring Tumble etc.

Standard: Vanguard Strike at [roll0] for [roll1].

Current Stance: Iron Guard's Glare.
Maneuvers Available: 1/2.

[Conor77]

August may be short, but his flail swings far. The doppelganger, completely unprepared, get mashed by the full force of the flail. It feels like hitting jelly, and it looks like it too. Instead of mimicking the body and wearing clothes, it looks like these creatures mimic the clothes too, and it is disorienting to have the clothes that look like they naturally fall away from the body ripped away as part of the same semi-solid mass. The thing gives a howl and steps backwards. [Five foot step backwards, their initiative]

The doppelgangers drop the body and draw swords [Move + free actions], but don't have time to do anything else. Alia tucks and rolls in-between the legs of the first one, coming up to the second in time to loose a series of kicks. Bewildered as it is, the Doppelganger still has its head on straight enough that it manages to dodge her, oozing this way and that, refusing to be pinned down.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan sniffed up the air in the room, making his face twitch.

"This stench. Pay back for last time!"

He growled, loosened his stance, more feral, more aggressive, then leapt into action, setting his sights upon the one August had attacked. With a few steps he had closed in the gap, drawing his punching dagger, then delivered two quick stabs at the creature.

Free Action: Rage
Swift Action: Shift stance to Blood in the Water
Move Action: Move to the doppleganger attacked by August.
Standard Action: Flurry of blows.

Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Attack 2: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]

[Quellian-dyrae]

August would step up and press the attack against the shapeshifting creatures.

On the off chance the original target is still up, normal attack on it. Otherwise, 5' step in, Vanguard Strike on the remaining doppelganger.

Either way, attacking at [roll0] for [roll1]