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  1. - Top - End - #241
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    PirateCaptain

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Marion Mordis

    Mordis' eyes switched back and forth between the targets, her heart racing as she had wanted them to get the hell out of here before this had even occured.

    But, they were here now, and they might stand a chance.

    Drawing her hands in to direct her arcane energies against Headshot, Mordis conjured another hailing blast of shadow...


    ooc:

    Casting Shadow and Flame against Headshot to try and finish it off: (1D20+4)[8]
    "Of all the words by tongue and pen, by far the saddest are "I could have been...""

    "The first rule of success is to have a vision. You see if you don’t have a vision of where you are going, if you don’t have a goal for where to go, you’ll drift around and never end up anywhere...can you imagine a majority of people don't know where they are going? I knew where I was going!” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

  2. - Top - End - #242
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    Devil

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    The infernals variously rage and lash out, straining against the constraints of the elements and arcane bombardment; but the soul-chilling howl of the Voidwalker is difficult to ignore, and now Curbstomp and Tablesmasher deviate from their targets to focus their hate on the rogue demon. With his opponent peeling away, Brokenhorn looks briefly at Mor'Lag with superstitious awe... Then wiping the blood from his face with the back of one hand, gives a co-operative nod to them, and charges off after Headshot, presently struggling to climb the palisade and being bombarded by arcane, and fel detonations. As Marion's bolts of shadow rip past and cycle back around for another strike, the old ogre moves into a natural flank approach to set up this one for one of Mor'Lag's attacks, roaring out his competing threat.

    Zachary slowly squeezes out half a breath, tracking the same spot he chipped in Headshot's skull with his last round, and squeezes the trigger between his own heartbeats. It hits the same spot, blasting off a fist sized chunk of stone and leaving the guttering green flame pouting in mad sputters from one now manually expanded eyesocket. The pitiable shriek it releases makes no secret of its decaying state - the animating magics that hold those stones together are fleeing it, even as it rages against that inevitability.

    Curbstomp slogs the short distance to the voidwalker Varghast, and brings a powerful overhead blow down upon it. It's a colossal blow, driving the voidwalker a full two feel in the muddy earth. But a blow that would have killed a human trivially only staggers and dazes the Voidwalker; the distension of its facial un-flesh already reassembling after the hit.

  3. - Top - End - #243
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    NecromancerGirl

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Lag shouts in exultation and Mor shouts in rage! The power they loathed and lusted for had begun to flow in ernest! Together, they bring what focus they can to push the construct back, putting their angry minds and mighty muscles, their hopes and fears, all yoked to the one goal...

    Be no more!

    Spoiler
    Show
    (1d20+3)[10] attack roll at a penalty for power attack.

    I would try to use my attack to make the Infernal more vulnerable to the effect of being banished, but I'm not sure that works under the rules.

    For book-keeping, I had currently invested all but three of my XP and the original points re-spent on a different counter-magic power, which cost 6 points and specifically works against spells as they are cast.
    I hinted that Mor was developing this power in rebellion of the unfair circumstances of her life, but have only used it once in a minor way. I will definitely purchase the banishment power assuming I am given at least 1 XP after this encounter.

    I am willing to rebuild the nullification power or lose it, especially since I only uses it to quench a minor piece of felfire, which is a thing that the new power could probably accomplish.

    (1d20+6)[23] opposed check roll, as requested
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  4. - Top - End - #244
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    Devil

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    The ogress’s fist slams into the back of Tablesmasher’s torso stone as the demon-construct is slogging through mud to assault Varghast at the beckon of its tormenting challenge. Impossibly, amazingly, the ogre’s digits punch through the dark stone like grey chalk, freezing the construct in its goliath tracks. It emits a demon shriek that becomes a moan, felfire flickering and spasming and then guttering out entirely, its demon spirit banished by the strange, instinctive manifestation of fel command. Its constituent stones tumble in a loose pile, leaving its smoking infernal core cooling in Mor’Lag’s grip. A rune in demon fire hangs in the air for a moment, rising and dissipating into the wind.

    Spoiler: Language: Demonic
    Show
    The rune means the number “7”.
    Last edited by MrAbdiel; 2021-12-12 at 06:47 AM.

  5. - Top - End - #245
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    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Jakk'ari sees the broken horn ogre bound after and flank "tablesmasher" to give Mor'Lag a chance defeat the green behemoth.
    The giant flaming hulk being reduced to an ephemeral cloud of ash awes Jakk'ari as he surveys the groups new ally.

    The scorch marks and cuts sustained from defending the ogre children impede the older ogre's movement.
    Running beside the ogre and reaching out Jakk'ari attempts to change that.
    (1d20+4)[16] Attempt to heal

    Spoiler: Mechanics
    Show
    Jakk'ari runs towards "broken horn" and attempts to heal him.
    Seeing as the attempt is successful, I think the result is that "broken horn" loses his worst damage condition while Jakk'ari gains it.
    I think the worst condition "broken horn" has is a degree of damage out of the four needed to incapacitate him
    Last edited by Plaids; 2021-12-12 at 03:17 PM.

  6. - Top - End - #246
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    The water elemental affinity manifests like a soothing mist, curling out from Jakk’ari’s fingertips and brushing gently across the wounded ogre. Immediately, the Farraki can feel his nose sympathetically snap to once side as he takes on the injury he has healed - though naturally, his trollish healing is already at work setting that right.
    Last edited by MrAbdiel; 2021-12-12 at 04:19 PM.

  7. - Top - End - #247
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Though they seemed to be making some progress chipping away at the infernal's structural integrity, it was still nevertheless a threat, and a threat that should not be taken lightly as it was attempting to climb over the palisades to get at them.

    Nervously, Isaera watched as it crept forward. For now it was slowed down by frost, but who knew how long that would last? She quickly glanced about at her allies. It's not like she planned to outright abandon them, but... needless to say, if that thing got too close to her, she was a goner.

    And so, the elf retreated a ways, and she once again began to gather some arcane energies in her hands...

    Spoiler: ooc
    Show
    arcane missiles for 4 damage
    attack: (1d20+3)[19]

    I think I would mention with the fight going on longer, maybe low mana would start becoming an issue, but she just did mana tap that defaced runestone, so... mana probably isn't an issue yet.
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  8. - Top - End - #248
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    With a ripple of arcane detonations, Headshot staggers back a step from the palisade with stone and ice chips flying, and the mournful demon howl of the monstrosities once more in the air. Felix, seeing that Jakk’ari is heading back into the fray, lets out a whoop and charges at the ankles of the construct once more; this strike no more effective than the last, even if none can fault his courage.

    Spoiler: OOC
    Show
    Arcane Missiles hits, and knocks Headshot to a -5 on its toughness! The cascade of injury is plain for all those who target it!

  9. - Top - End - #249
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Marion Mordis

    Watching as her shards of soulless fel energy weave about to crash into Headshots body, Marion stepped away, leaving the other Infernal to Vargheist to handle while she wanted to finish off the original.

    Drawing near cover, Marion drew her hands up and send a third blast of shadow energy towards Headshot, seeking to finish the beast off.


    ooc:

    - Shadow and Fire roll in OOC and already covered.

    [i]Shadow and Fire:[/b] (1D20+4)[7]
    "Of all the words by tongue and pen, by far the saddest are "I could have been...""

    "The first rule of success is to have a vision. You see if you don’t have a vision of where you are going, if you don’t have a goal for where to go, you’ll drift around and never end up anywhere...can you imagine a majority of people don't know where they are going? I knew where I was going!” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

  10. - Top - End - #250
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Marion's following blast wheels wide, to spiral in for another destructive pass. Zachary bangs off another shot that strikes home, extinguishing the fel-eye he is targeting entirely to the bellowing dismay of the Infernal as it clambers over the palisade only to fall to its hands and knees on the other side.

    "We got it, now; pour it on!" He commends, hands mechanically and swiftly going about the loading of his rifled musket.

    Meanwhile, Curbstomp brings down a crushing heelstomp on the Voidwalker an eight of its size, consuming its space entirely and snuffing out its summoned life. Or seeming to - a moment later, a blow that ought to have executed the defending demon is revealed to not have done so; it crawls out of the crater with its shadowy features regenerated already from its mangled state to one more promising.

    Spoiler: OOC Actions!
    Show
    Zachary hits (because I spent his VP for him), reducing Headshot to -7, completely zeroing his toughness. Brokenhorn forstalls his action, to maintain his feint for Mor'Lag's next strike. Varghast regenerates away his Staggered condition, and actively dodges (unimpressively). Curbstomp boots him, but only reinforces his daze and ads a second -1 to Varghast's profile - the opportunity to kill him outright passes with that regeneration tick.

    It's Mor'Lag's go! After which it'll be Jakk'aris, and Isaera's, and Marions! So feel free to queue up your actions, everyone. You've almost got him! And once you're down to one enemy you can easily kite around with all your slows and freezes, we'll round the battle off to its presumable conclusion without requiring those rolls.

  11. - Top - End - #251
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    NecromancerGirl

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Mor and Lag scream as one and charge Curbstomp

    "Be no more!"
    "Back where you came from!"

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show

    Applying extra effort for increased effect and a circumstance bonus to negate the power attack penalty, as per my additional effort advantage

    (1d20+5)[10]

    I know the GM suggested I concentrate on the Infernal that is actually hurt, but Lag wants to be a hero, Mor wants to fight, and they both are astounded by suddenly having magic powers and want to test them.

    Neither are thinking clearly, but convincing the Stonemaul they are awesome will lead to being acknowledged as a legitimate Ogre, so they should go all out is the closet thing to a rational thought in either of her heads.
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  12. - Top - End - #252
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    With an opportunity presenting itself, Isaera stays in place (she had already retreated a bit prior anyway) and now flames are conjured up in her hands: flames which might expand cracked and frozen stone and shatter them entirely.

    Spoiler: ooc
    Show
    Fire bolt! And I will probably use a VP or some extra effort.

    attack: (1d20+1)[8] for 6 damage

    Yeah, use the last VP to make that +18. That should work.
    Last edited by WindStruck; 2021-12-14 at 10:30 AM.
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  13. - Top - End - #253
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Marion Mordis

    Throwing a glance over at the Felwalker and seeing that he's doing just fine, Marion turns her attention back to Headshot and aligns her mind...


    ooc:

    Homing 1 - Fire and Shadow: (1D20+4)[10]
    This round: Using Aim this time, so next round +9 instead of just +4.
    "Of all the words by tongue and pen, by far the saddest are "I could have been...""

    "The first rule of success is to have a vision. You see if you don’t have a vision of where you are going, if you don’t have a goal for where to go, you’ll drift around and never end up anywhere...can you imagine a majority of people don't know where they are going? I knew where I was going!” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

  14. - Top - End - #254
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    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    With group rallying to vanquish the two remaining constructs Jakk'ari joins the onslaught.
    Ignoring about the burns on his arms and torso he runs forwards summoning another savage lightning bolt aimed at "headshot".
    (1d20+8)[20]
    Spoiler: Mechanics
    Show
    Jakk'ari gets walks into close range of "headshot" and attacks while spending a victory point to augment the attack.

  15. - Top - End - #255
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    Devil

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    As the Sandfury calls on the elements, whose sacred voltage has so far been frustrated by the demon hulks, there is a grumbling crack of thunder in the sky. From the shaman’s hands, a white jagged arc snaps out to strike the flame, frost and flechette flecked fiend - and in the same moment, the cloudy, raining sky disgorges a huge spear of its own sympathetic rage in twin with the troll’s. The pair meet in the infernal’s core, and with a diminishing, hollow wail it bursts to pieces sending blacked stone shard tumbling about it in a desecrated nova.

    At moment later, behind the palisade, Mor’Lag’s stereo roar is heard and the third creatures has its fel essence hammered from its corpus, leaving a muddy ogre echo and a rising, fading fel fire rune in its wake.

    [spoiler=Language: Demonic]It is the demonic rune for the number eight, this time.[/spoilerl]

    Three of the infernal rose here, and now three are disposed of; and the heroes of the moment earn a reprieve to catch their breath.

    Across the village, it seems the scenario is playing out in a broadly positive if painful manner; only a few of the demon constructs remaining in sight, and the supernatural downpour having quenched the arsonist ambitions on many of the structures. On top of the largest ogre mound, the silhouette of an enormous, powerful ogre patriarch is laying into his toppling opponent with an ace the size of a smaller ogre; and most eyes are on this demonstration of victory. But more than a dozen near this end of the palisade are keeping astonished watch on this group of travellers, or as many as are close enough to see; the ogre with the broken horn foremost among them, feeling his healed face in astonishment.

    “Yeah!”

    Felix imprints the lull with his exuberance. He waves in celebration at the mage, warlock and ranger, as if to signal the immediate danger has past and they should approach and bask in the glory together.

    EDIT: (Oh no, I ruined my spoiler tag! My mystery! It's penetrated!)
    Last edited by MrAbdiel; 2021-12-15 at 03:34 AM.

  16. - Top - End - #256
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Isaera is relieved that it's all over. Only, it's not over. With the three infernals vanquished, there was another issue at hand: their "debut". Their activities, whether heroic or not, had drawn the attention of the ogres. And while, perhaps, they seemed appreciative of the aid, they were still ogres...

    Wouldn't it seem suspicious that these demonic beings appeared right as these strangers did? Maybe it would take a little while for some of them to catch on, but once they latched onto that idea, the same stupidity which made them oblivious to that possibility would ensure that no amount of reasoning or evidence would persuade them otherwise, when it was a perfectly valid excuse to be cruel.

    "Marion, get rid of that thing!" Isaera hisses at the warlock, a demonic egg (or more accurately, fel core) in their possession would certainly be incriminating.
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  17. - Top - End - #257
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    "Hail! I am[we are] Mor'Lag Voidfist! Witness me! I [we] have come from nowhere and nothing and brought with me [us] proof of my [our] worth! I [we] would accept annointment as my [our] due, would you have me [us]!?"

    They intone the ritual petition in archaic Ogrish, not used in sincerity since before the fall of the Gronn, when the clans were formalized and the first Horde changed the nature of Ogre society.

    This was the rite to be accepted as a merit adoptive into a Clan, something the new laws did not make room for. Clans were something you were born into until you died or were shunned. Only now, years later, was there any clanless population worth mentioning, and one earning a place was the stuff of legend. But so was killing a daemon with a single punch.

    Dropping into Orcish, so at least Jakkari could understand, "the Other Folk would Parley with the Clan. We have intelligence regarding this attack."
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  18. - Top - End - #258
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Marion Mordis

    Marion felt her heat still aflutter from the violent mayhem that had gone by so quickly, yet in reality had been quite a long time.

    With the infernals now simple rocks scattered about the town and the rain gently kissing them from the sky, the Warlock looked over at her Voidwalker minion and nodded once in his direction - then snapped her fingers, his image dematerializing on the spot.

    Rolling her shoulders against the straps of her backpack, Marion approached cautiously with the others.

    "I think we should leave..." she says quietly.

    "Tell them of Theramore's goodwill in our assistance here, and simply leave.."
    "Of all the words by tongue and pen, by far the saddest are "I could have been...""

    "The first rule of success is to have a vision. You see if you don’t have a vision of where you are going, if you don’t have a goal for where to go, you’ll drift around and never end up anywhere...can you imagine a majority of people don't know where they are going? I knew where I was going!” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

  19. - Top - End - #259
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    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Seeing the demonic fiends defeated and banished Jakk'ari joins in the exultations alongside Felix and Mor'Lag. Releasing a guttural howl long denied to his people he allows himself to be released from the anxiety and terror that had nearly swallowed him.
    The victorious howling ends once he hears Mor'Lag's proposal. He considers the risks as well as Marion's disapproval at being in the village. The situation could be seen as incriminating. The group had saved lives, but the group's assistance was conveniently timed and Jakk'ari had seen villages go either way when help arrived on travels.

    The large ogre felling a construct as a normal human would fall a young tree intrigues Jakk'ari. Tempted by maybe another chance to ingratiate himself with another community and perhaps find allies for his people back home he quietly addresses the group in common.

    Perhaps we should explain our situation. We our mission may be almost complete, but we are also representatives of Theramore now aren't we. You have observed them the longest what do you think Zachary?

    Spoiler: Jakk'ari thoughts
    Show
    He thinks diplomacy with the village could go either way but is intrigued by the prospects of developing a working relationship with these ogres. So votes to stay at least for at least a little bit.

    Also Jakk'ari does not know anything about the connection between the infernals, their dying runes, and the infernal core. Jakk'ari's knowledge of demons is limited to stories and artwork akin to an adult human in the real world only recognizing animals from having seen neolithic cave paintings of animals. Kind of accurate but abstracted and not useful for a veterinarian.

    Being a political advisor Jakk'ari will absolutely defer to a large majority with everyone getting a vote. But Zachary gets two votes since Jakk'ari considers him his closest friend in the party. So convincing Zachary will sway Jakk'ari. Just to let the GM know in advance.
    Last edited by Plaids; 2021-12-16 at 12:09 AM.

  20. - Top - End - #260
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Zachary puffs, and scratches the back of his neck as he considers their situation. He is out of breath, even though his feet have not moved from their locked upright firing stance for the entire combat; the sheer jackhammer relentlessness of the mortal threat has robbed him of his now slowly recovering cool. He looks over their party - miraculously, they have taken no injuries except the one transposed upon Jakk'ari as a mercy to the broken horned ogre; and even that seems to have come right by dint of the troll healing factor, now. Ultimately, his eyes rest on Felix, whose back is straight and shoulders back with the thrill of genuine battle for the right reasons. Before the combat broke out, he was a shattered crater of boy; and as they make their way home with the corpses of his friends in tow, he is likely to descend into that darkness again. But now, for this short aftermath, the cadet gets to rise above the butcher's bill and experience at least a partial vindication of his valorous instincts. He had gone into the swamp with his friends to do battle with the demons - the enemies of life, and peace. The cost was high, but he had run toward that battle instead of away from it, when the moment arose. He had struck at the demons with allies at his back, and the demons were scattered and broken, and he was standing; and perhaps when the face of his departed friends visit him in dreams with questions about what, exactly, their death had bought, he would have an answer that partially satisfied.

    It's clear the veteran does not want to truncate the experience of the boy's victory. As a soldier, Felix is destined to lose a great deal - there is a sacred value to the countervailing celebration of victory. Zachary tempers his gut response, with this judgement.

    "...We shouldn't linger, I think. Many of these ogres are still drunk, if they're not wounded or grieving. They're not in the best frame of mind to judge fairly why we tampered with their holy place, and shortly after showed up to join the battle. Something for diplomats to do, I think - and skilled as you are, Jakk'ari, our mission is to get Felix - and these others - back to Theramore. Mor'Lag is having a ... meaningful moment over there, I think. We should let them have that moment, and they've put in a good word for us to parlay with their leadership, since we still don't know exactly how all this happened - but after that I think we should get moving. The ogres need some time to recover. This could have been much worse."

    Felix, who is invincible, hops neatly back through the palisade to stand near enough to overhear Mor'Lag and their conversation with the ogres. Zachary remains furtive and vigilant, but stays back with the party outside of the wall.

    In the distance, the towering ogre clan leader has dispatched his opponent, and is now making his way toward the edge of the village from which the mystical blasts had emitted, and to which now a certain amount of ogrish commotion - Brokenhorn and six or seven others (depending on if you count heads or bodies) regarding Mor'Lag with interest, and fascination, and a slowly dissolving mistrust of the outsider.

    "I am Oro Manflinger," intones the broken horned ogre in response; the citing of this name in the ogre tongue immediately conjouring images of projectilized footmen, presumably in the second war. "And I witness you, Mor'Lag Voidfist. I have seen your strength, and will speak to its truth. The other elders will certainly wish to know what happened here - and I dare to suspect they will recognise your bid. What a horror, to befall us in such an hour - and what fortune, that you and your small companions might have been here. I, and others, would be dead, if you had not. As for the others, and the parlay - well. Call them forth, if you will. I have seen the troll, and the child of man; but the others, my eyes are too old to make out."

    Spoiler: Perception, DC:10
    Show
    A ripple of concern seems to be rolling through the ogres; some of them are growing alarmed at something...
    Spoiler: Perception, DC:15
    Show
    ...Something in the sky. They're hard to see, against the now diminishing storm cloud and the smoke from the infernal's arson, but dark shapes, huge and small, are flitting across the sky. You are struck with the gut-freezing instinct that the danger has not passed after all - and you have seconds to prepare for whatever is about to happen.
    Last edited by MrAbdiel; 2021-12-16 at 08:42 AM.

  21. - Top - End - #261
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Isaera was, perhaps reluctantly inching her way forwards, towards the rising voices, along with the others. She couldn't understand what Jakk'ari and Mor'Lag were saying, perhaps an explanation or introduction of their companions, she assumed. But still, she wholeheartedly agreed with Zachary. They shouldn't linger.

    Just then, something seemed to catch her eyes. If you happened to be looking at the ogres, many of them were beginning to look to the sky with dread.

    Isaera quickly taps a hand on both Marion and Zachary and points up at the new happenings. (Think you could at least open all the spoilers now)
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  22. - Top - End - #262
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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Marion Mordis

    The Warlock was apprehensive about approaching the ogre town any closer than she already was. Violent brutes as they were, their intelligence was negatively correlated with their size and strength, and that made them dangerously unpredictable in situations like this. But then something else caught Marions eye.

    Tilting her head back and drawing her eyes to the sky above, Marion narrowed her lids as she spotted the trailing, jagged shadows that seemed to be deliberately sailing in planned directions.

    Now, call Marion skeptical, but unless those were a bunch of Wilderhammer dwarves atop their gryphons who just got lost on their way to Theramore...that wasn't a good sign.

    Why didn't I stay in Azeroth, marry some artisan and have some babies instead...the Warlock pondered gingerly to herself as her lips pursed and her shoulders heaved in a sigh.

    Marion clicked the fingers on her right hand, as a green-and-purple encasemnt seemed to surround her torso before dematerialising into her body.

    ooc:

    Casting: Demon Armour.
    Rolling: Expertise (Magic) to try and identify what those things are: (1D20+10)[16]
    "Of all the words by tongue and pen, by far the saddest are "I could have been...""

    "The first rule of success is to have a vision. You see if you don’t have a vision of where you are going, if you don’t have a goal for where to go, you’ll drift around and never end up anywhere...can you imagine a majority of people don't know where they are going? I knew where I was going!” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

  23. - Top - End - #263
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    DruidGuy

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    Eager to make a good first impression Jakk'ari busies himself with his appearance. Trying to show enough of his injuries to hopefully garner some mutual respect but not too much as to appear weak and pathetic.
    With Oro already impressed by the group Jakk'ari prepares to oblige the request and wave his companions over.

    But the changing mood of the crowd from fascination to worry and anxiety sends him back on the defensive.
    With instincts seizing control Jakk'ari salvages a large piece of the palisade large enough to easily shield his head and shoulders. Grabbing a gnarl on the wood to wield it as a makeshift shield he soon raps Felix's armor signaling him to get behind him and Mor'Lag.

    Stay on guard. We may not be safe yet.
    Last edited by Plaids; 2021-12-16 at 11:41 PM.

  24. - Top - End - #264
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    Devil

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    It is early afternoon, after the time travelling to this place, waiting for Zachary to show, and the protraction of the disaster and combat. But the sun is hidden behind stormclouds and smoke. In those places where the clouds are thinnest, yielding a medium grey canvas for the day sky, the dark flying shapes arrow through the air in northward flight, and begin to swoop and curve with the beating of great, powerful wings.

    "Dara'Goni!"

    The first ogre to voice that alarm is far toward the centre of the village, but it's quickly picked up and repeated. Dara'Goni! Dara'Goni! It takes no linguist to unravel the term: An ogrish loan-word from the orcish Dar'Harkon, nativised from the word tormented out of human captives during the first war. Dara'Goni, Dar'Harkon, Dragon.

    They are young dragons, mostly; as they swoop low, with mouths full of surging flame, you see can make out dozens of drakes with night-black scales, thirty feet long from thorned-club tail to snub-beaked tip. Each of these has between three and eight hatchlings in tow, gliding in the slipstream of the greater beasts and adding their higher, chirping calls to a chorus of emerging growls. It's a full grown dragon that swoops into full view first - atleast sixty feet long, horns huge and curled, powerful, ripping limbs held loosely close to its scaled body as it dives. The gout of yellow-white flame that rushes from its mouth might have easily vaporized anyone it fell upon; but it targets no individual. Instead, it splashes down over the top of the palisade wall and ignites it in a great blazing line, as elsewhere its kindred do the same to complete the roaring inferno ring around the entire settlement. Isaera, Marion, and Zachary are still on the outside of the wall, when this fire falls; Mor'Lag and Jakk'ari close to it on the inside, and Felix has to hurl himself desperately away from the gap he has been taking for granted to not to be turned to ash. The flame is so hot, and so high, that approaching the palisade at all becomes painful within a dozen strides, and risks searing flesh from bone for anyone foolish enough to throw themselves closer unprotected.

    The infernals did not rain from the sky, today; but death seems madly determined to find the Stonemaul from any vector, and the village is once again thrown into abject chaos.

    From outside the village, beyond the worst of the smoke and blinding flashes of dragonfire, it's easier to observe the entire obscene picture - a sky full of dragons seemingly attacking out of nowhere, first turning the villages wooden defensive wall into burning picket keeping the ogres in, and then raining fire down upon the structures, and lives within.

    From within, the scene is blinding, and choking, and as awful as the emergence of the demons had been. Drakes and whelps fly above the reach of the ogres who might well pose combative threats to them, and pour the conflagration upon them. Hooded, robed figures emerge to stalk the streets; occasionally doing battle with the beleaguered natives, but mostly busying themselves with picking up the infernal cores left by the defeated monstrosities.

    Spoiler: {Fluff} Expertise: Magic 15
    Show
    The fact that these are dragons, particularly black dragons, requires only eyeballs. With a little knowledge on such creatures, you can tell that the supporting creatures with them are dragonkin; strange, dragonlike mortal servants of the dragonflights. The two principle varieties are dragonspawn and drakonid. A dragonspawn is a centauresque assembly of a draco-reptilian humanoid torso that terminates at the waist into what might be thought of as the neck of a four-legged, draconic lower body; some even with semi-functional wings. A drakonid is a bipedal, muscular hulk; tall, horned, and ideal soldiers for their dragon masters.





    The prime among these creatures is visible to all. It stands on the bluff, near the drained and forsaken stone idol; a figure in a robe almost completely conceals the short tail, but wearing a hood with holes cut to accommodate a pair of tall, ribbed horns. Atop the stone, just to its side, a fel-flaming imp hops and capers impatiently. Its master pays it little mind. It must be twelve feet all, judging against the size of the stone; in one hand holding a tall, straight polearm of black metal, as the digits of the other hand smoothly stroke down the side of the idol as if interrogating it with some sense that was as close a kin to touch as any other mortal capacity to reckon. Its head slowly cranes to look in the direction of the party. Felix, from the ground as he coughs on fresh smoke, is gazing up at that silhouette in mute terror.

    All of this is many times too much horror and destruction for the moment; but a single, additional event punctuates the holocaust of Stonemaul village with deeper dread. Toward the back of the village, large enough to be in clear enough sight, the cheiftain of this village had done battle with a large infernal and won. Now, those unfortunate enough to have their attention drawn to that same site of defiance witness a new and terrible conflict - a massive dragon form descending, wreathed in smoke, that with one landing blow smashes the ogre down through the roof of its mound without contest, then breathes flame through the hole it has made with such volume and intensity that fire jets out the half-dozen or so large exits to the mound, and the entire stone structure begins melting into magma-slag. The flash of terrible brilliance lights up this creature of desolation like a lightning bolt in the night.

    Spoiler: A Beast Of Fire And Ruin
    Show
    ^Mood Music.


    The adrenaline floods back into your bloodstream, chasing away tiredness with the blazing clarity of shock.

    Spoiler: {Fluff}Isaera
    Show
    The dragonfire on the infernal core - this brood of black dragons are weaponizing the remnants of the demons from the third war, somehow using their own flame to partially infuse the constructs and setting this elaborate plan in motion to fill in the remainder, to activate the old magic tied to those accursed rocks and summon them back from the Nether. And the one on the bluff - the one with the imp - you are certain he is looking directly at you; as if he knows that you specifically are responsible for the draining of that idol's magical reservoir that left so many of the infernal cores unactivated. You weren't sure you could beat the infernals, and it's a testimony to your group's resourcefulness and vigour that you did... But there's no beating a force like this! These creatures are destruction incarnate.

    This, you are sure, is a battle you cannot win.

    Spoiler: {Fluff}Mor'Lag
    Show
    In the moment of triumph, when so much of your misery was set to be replaced by glory, your three eyes bear witness to this scene of abject desolation. You knew it was unlikely the ogres were behind the demons - but this revelation has only presented a new mystery. These dragons are weaponizing demon-relics of the third war, against this village. But why? Why, when they are obviously so equipped to cause this destruction themselves? You have seen dragons in action before - burning alliance ships while your grandmother sailed you away from the massacre at Hillsbrad. Those were reds, but these blacks seem to have much the same power. It is painful to see such calamity fall on these ogres - ogres whom you have dared to imagine might adopt you as one of their own - and your blood is burning with the need to flex your new power and attack... but you are not idiots. The only Stonemaul who will survive today are those who are able to get out of the village in the next few minutes.

    This, you are sure, is a battle you cannot win.

    Spoiler: {Fluff}Jakk'ari
    Show
    You reel back, your ears filled with screams.
    Screams of the ogres being put to the flame, yes, but also the screams of the elements. Fire is here, as before - spirits of blaze, and raze, and immolate all running delirious and riot as their elemental supremacy does what it is meant to do, in the grand wheeling cycles of nature. You hear their shrieks in Kalimag, Reth! Reth! Reth!, as they exult in the burning happening on the material flipside of their existence. But the screams are not from the fire - the screams are from the earth. The earth spirits are hysterical, now; befuddled and dazed by the arcane shadow of the black dragons - the fallen guardians of stone, and mountain, and deep places - and that confusion is turned into bewilderment and fear by the sudden rush of fire spirit into the scene.
    This, then - the power of agents of the Black Dragonflight - is what struck the earth spirits dumb, and covered the tracks of the attackers back at the campfire of the cadets. You're sure of it. But you're also sure that for all the risk and valor you and your companions have taken on to fight the demons besetting this place, there is nothing you can do to save it from the dragons - only, perhaps, to save some fraction of the inhabitants.

    This, you are sure, is a battle you cannot win.

    Spoiler: {Fluff}Marion
    Show
    The feeling of vindication about your instinct to leave vanishes into dismay at the power on display here. It was the right decision to dismiss Varghast before the ogres made judgements about it, and you - but now, as the dragons descend in terrible fury on the village of ogres you helped to save, you immediately miss his cold, laconic, expendable companionship. The drakonid on the bluff seems to be the only warlock among them - and that's definitely the imp you've been tracking, hanging in his orbit. It seems likely that this is the architect of this whole farce - but that doesn't explain why the demonic runes at the offering pit of the idol were so... sloppy, and ineffective. Such a splash of demonic text could only serve to give the impression of a ritual, and not actually serve as one. Therefore the cadets in the pit couldn't actually have been part of an effective sacrifice. Was it a botched one? Was this warlock so bad? Or are you missing something? But you can afford to ask those questions when you're safe. Right now, the sudden appearance of this force of black dragons is accomplishing with alacrity what the infernal ambush had failed to do. And half of your party - including one of the cadets you came all this way to rescue - is on the other side of the palisade-turned-firewall.

    This, you are sure, is a battle you cannot win.
    Last edited by MrAbdiel; 2021-12-18 at 05:54 AM.

  25. - Top - End - #265
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    Mor and Lag are exhausted. Their shared body is exhausted. But, they know, even at their best they wouldn't be able to stand against... this! They fear they will be viewed as a coward again, but there is only one sane response.

    "RUN!!" shouts Lag

    "SCATTER!!" Interrupts Mor, out of sequence.

    "AWAY!!"

    "FIND COVER!!"


    Not caring that it separates her from the elf and humans, she runs away from the fire.
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  26. - Top - End - #266
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    The sheer terror and danger of the situation needed no explanation. And of course, Isaera was terrified...

    Spoiler: Isaera
    Show
    She seems to feel the robed figure at the top is looking right at her.

    He's looking right at me!


    There was no question about this. We needed to go. And NOW! Isaera may have just bolted into the swamps like the young cadets did so many nights ago, but she did know there was safety in numbers and her 'charge', Felix, was on the other side of those flames. So was Mor'Lag as well, and she held the bodies of the other two cadets!

    "We need to put out the fire in this gap!" is all she says, with much urgency and rising panic.

    Both from a sense of some duty and the feeling that she might be marginally safer if she could rescue her allies, Isaera stays in place for a bit and tries to put out the fires where the hole in the palisades once were.

    Spoiler: ooc
    Show
    Well, Isaera does know the frost bolt spell and can channel frost. So this is a matter of trying to channel that energy in a more utilitarian way, perhaps as a stream, to slowly try to cool and put out bits of the fire at a time, and hopefully it's safer to cross..

    To erect some kind of ritual, if necessary, like a magic circle: (1d20+14)[15]

    Otherwise, I guess the equivalent of spamming frost bolts will have to suffice.
    Last edited by WindStruck; 2021-12-18 at 03:54 PM.
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  27. - Top - End - #267
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    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Jakk'ari was unprepared for the full assault. He is glad to have positioned Felix between himself and Mor'Lag. But the shield was more valuable in how it obscured the carnage unfolding in front of him than the protection it offered errant embers. He knew if the dragons had targeted him his shield would have no better than a comforting wicker doll made from the desert sage of his homeland.

    Seeing Mor'Lag lumber towards the village and Isaera blasting the wall with frost to abate the flames a quick plan is formed.
    Turning to his companions he attempts to inform each of them.
    Mor'Lag! We need to regroup. Follow me.

    Felix we must get to cover of the forest. Follow my lead and push the wall with me.


    Jakk'ari grips his makeshift shield preparing to charge the wall hoping Isaera's frost blast and the insulation from his shield will allow him to push through the wall unscathed.

    Addressing anyone still near him Jakk'ari attempts to rally anyone within earshot to safety.
    This way! Follow me if you want to live! (1d20+3)[12] To convince anyone else to follow Jakk'ari and maybe break down the wall.

    (1d20)[14] To break down or push aside some wooden trunks composing the wall with a shield used as a battering ram. Hopefully with Felix's help.

    Spoiler: Mechanics
    Show
    Jakk'ari will attempt to rally some other ogres to follow him in an attempt to leave the village. This seems like more of an intimidation than persuasion scenario since everyone is terrified and instinct is in charge at the moment.

    Jakk'ari will also attempt to smash the frost blasted section of the wall with the use of a shield with a charge attack that is hopefully assisted by Felix.
    The shield, the wall already being likely successfully attacked, Felix's possible assistance, and the negative modifier from charging makes the cumulative modifier hard to figure out so I'm just rolling without a modifier.
    Last edited by Plaids; 2021-12-18 at 02:15 PM.

  28. - Top - End - #268
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    Devil

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    Default Re: World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

    Much of Marion's combat repertoire is fire-based - but not all of it. Expelling a leveling breath, the Alteraci noblewoman flicks out both hands flat facing up, and mutters a quiet fel invocation with the clenching of her fingers. A great wicked rune, thirty feet across, flashes briefly into life beneath the palisade section suffering Isaera's bombardment, and then vanishes as the corrupting death and decay influence begins unravelling the matter in the area. Most of the rune overhangs the external side of the palisade - meaning a smaller part of the wall is effected, but none of the allies on the other side is caught in the awful spell - and four of the great upright logs begin not only to burn, and freeze, but also to rot.

    Isaera's barrage taxes her mana reserve severely. Altering the manifestation of the frostbolts on the fly to burst their icy chill instead of penetrate deeply with it helps with the process, but the slim elf must apply the spell over and over to gain the desired effect. Wheeling bolt after both with left and right hands, she feels pleasant swell of mana refreshment bleed away, then hollow out, and then soon it's the soul-dry, headache-in-the-temples feeling of overdraw making it harder and harder to assemble the spells without fingers trembling out of the correct articulation. Yet ultimately, this persistence wins through - the barrage does not destroy the wall, but it does bleed off its hideous, stone-melting heat to make that section of the palisade at all approachable for attack.

    And attack is what Jakk'ari does, moving in to thump his shield against the now brittle, rotted out and half-burned wall. Flames still lick at him, scorching his hair in places and blistering his skin; and for a moment it seems like it will be all for nought as the fire's heat begins to overpower the diminishingly rapid arrival of the frostbolts. Then Felix is there too, flames curling and nipping at his tabard and eyebrows, coughing as he puts his shoulder to the wall and the trunks begun a quiet cric-cric-crack...

    And then, looming over both of them, Mor and Lag's respective fists at their power to the effort once they've regrouped, and with an audible snap, that section of wall falls flat outward like a drawbridge hinged at its rotten, frostscoured base. And not at all too soon - Marion drops her spell, and then the way is clear; the broken horned Oro out first, coughing up giant lungfuls of smoke, before hustling back into to shout and direct survivors to the escape from the hellfire trap. Jakk'ari, Felix and Mor'Lag are all clear to escape; and so too is a long, almost contiguous stream of ogres fleeing the flames beyond.

    What follows is grim extraction. Many of the survivors are reluctant to flee far beyond the burning walls, either in the rapidly vanishing hope someone precious to them will also escape, or simply for bewildered fear of having nowhere else to go. But Oro and the party from Theramore are each wise enough to know that the window to wait in the open before the dragons feel the destruction of the city is complete enough to look for such escapees is narrow indeed, and the survivors are encouraged, led, and in some places literally kicked and dragged into the tree-cover of the swamp, set on the path north in a loose caravan of huge, desperate brutes in shellshocked orbit of each other. Most have some amount of burns on them. Some are carrying smaller children, or bundles of possessions. One, a biclopic single headed ogre, is carrying a large wooden chair, for some reason - likely the thing his hands grabbed when he commanded them to grab what he could, the piece of furniture now clutched to the big humanoid's gut like a talisman of hope and fortune. Some are still drunk, staggering and confused, even crying as they process a backlog of demonic and draconic traumas with the wheezing power of a pickled brain. Ogres are not accustomed to being overpowered by their enemies; outflanked by more cunning opponents, certainly; but there are no dragons in Outland. The great tyrant beasts of that world, the Gronn and Ogron giants, they broke and overthrew long ago. This is a novel apocalytic event, for them; and their physical power offers no particular protection from the world-crumbling reality of how vulnerable people really can be, against enemies they have not known.

    At some point, the even the party's most desperately compassionate members know they must head north through the swamp and escape before the dragons turn in pursuit; and full of bone-deep wearyness and the emotionally numbing awareness of how quickly things went from bad, to good, to worse, they head north the way they came, their mission accomplished.

    Between Jakk'ari's elemental influence prompting the earth spirits to harden the swamp where they can be persuaded to, and Zachary's knowledge and guidance back through the Quagmire's least bad paths, the trip is less difficult than it might have been; and the tromping of all the ogre refugees through the swamp completely negates the fear of attack by wildlife or any malefactors who would dwell in such a place. That night's camping is safer, but not more restful than camping on the way in; the swamp is littered with small campfires of the refugees, the ambient muttering of their deep voices whispering, complaining, weeping, comforting. The worst is the singing. The ogres are not fine singers, though that isn't the problem; that number of voices blurring together into a choral crowd can access a quality that exists in crowds just like it alone. It's a mourning song - and the resonance of so many deep voices striking their deepest notes is one part uncanny to most mortal ears, and two parts unbearably tragic, for anyone who can muster sympathy for them at all. Which is not difficult - it is the kind of song that was sung by elves as they fled the smoke of Silvermoon; humans, the smoke of Lordaeron and Alterac; trolls, in ancient antiquity, the great empire of Zul, and a thousand small kingdoms that reached for the sky and never matched that ancient glory.

    At the end of the second day's travel, the refugee caravan encounters a party coming the other way - village chief Targ, along with a party of twenty grunts, and a dozen kodos laden down with supply. It doesn't stretch very far - there are ninety four ogres in loose tow now, all hungry; and a cold decision is made to send the kodos back ahead of them so they are not seized upon for food themselves. Ninety four, when their might have been seven hundred or more in the village to begin with. T'Zinga, the troll mage, walks through the crowd conjouring up bland, but sufficiently nourishing magebread until she is sweating and spent, and the refugees have a moment of relief here.

    Targ, naturally, engages Jakk'ari in Zandali, though he is appropriately less jocular than during their previous encounters. "The smoke could be seen from all over the Marsh. I imagine when you get back to Theramore, they'll have questions about it for you. Hell. Stonemaul wasn't the only ogre settlement in the marsh, but it's the major centre for a number of smaller, satellite mounds that - I hope - are evacuating now, too. Unless the dragons targeted them. And black dragons, you say - that whole flight was supposed to be next to wiped out. Where the hell did this brood come from? And why?" The orc sighs, and rubs his temple with the heel of his palm. "We'll take them in at Brackenwall, of course. Though the sudden addition of this many ogres will.. change the landscape some. Change some our priorities. But they're Horde, or near enough. And you - you have your mission. I hope it went better than you'd hoped."

    Another familiar figure has linked up with the Horde delegation - Balandar Brightstar, on his fair (if now tired from double-timing it) hawkstrider, whose fine riding boots need never even tough the swamp. He is not so crass as to be so flamboyant and flashy in such a scene; but he is not without graces to extend to the other elf. "You've been through quite an ordeal, I think. Here - you oughtn't slog through the swamp while the alternative exists. I'll keep pace with your friends - atleast back to the road, where it's not so insufferable."

    Felix has become very quiet. The adventure is over, and the sweet thrill of victory has turned to ash after such carnage. Zachary, standing between Mor'Lag and Marion, scratches his beard. "When it was two friends he had lost, I thought... well, that's something he's going to have to get used to. But all that back there wasn't the kind of thing some folks get over seeing. Maybe we ought to.. make sure he's not left alone, on the way back."

  29. - Top - End - #269
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    To Isaera's relief, it didn't seem like these ogres were being pursued... even though there was nearly a hundred of them, and that's what was apparently the whole point of this massacre.

    With all the mana she once had exhausted, she trudges on listlessly, and as the hours pass, she is both physically and mentally exhausted. The sad ogre songs were distracting and unpleasant to say the least, but in her impaired state, they may as well have been muffled and blocked out.

    Isaera was adamant about not stopping - or would have been, anyway - but she wasn't in any state to be arguing. And there were just too many other ogres that wanted to hunker down as well. At least she got a little, albeit deficient, rest.

    The next day was more of the same. Thankfully they were not ambushed in the night, and they all met up with the village chief and others! Balandar is a sight for sore eyes, and when he graciously offers Isaera a ride on his hawkstrider, she doesn't think twice to accept.

    "Thank you... I think the word ordeal may even fall short. Such destruction, power, and death I have witnessed.. I feel Theramore would not even be safe, but I have nowhere else to go."

    And in truth, she wouldn't just abandon Theramore. Unless, you know.. there was literally nothing but smoldering ash left. It was just about the only place she could remotely consider home now.. and what few kin she had left were there.

    As Isaera rode upon the hawkstrider, her eyes drooped and she nodded off, clinging to the beautiful, if not colorful, oversized bird. Perhaps these events would scar her. Perhaps not. They would certainly not be forgotten, however. Facts, ideas, motives, hypotheses, plans, reasoning, attempted to shuffle around the elf's mind, trying to make sense of it all. But in the end, the subconsciousness of dreams took over.
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  30. - Top - End - #270
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    Mor'Lag is exhausted, physically and mentally. Everything that happened had amounted to one saved cadet and witness to a perplexing atrocity. They could barely think through the haze, but, if they had a purpose, it was to return to Theramore... there was nowhere else to go.
    GNU Terry Pratchett
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