Vanquish the Vast
Rain and sleet fall from the sky in equal measure from the blackened sky. It is in short, a perfect day for what you intend to do. Which is - go to a desert climate and far away from this terrible weather. The group of you has gathered well outside the city gates and somewhat into the forest to avoid being chased off by the city guards who are still not welcoming people to linger in the area. They are on high alert and everyone passing beneath their gaze gets third and fourth looks.
Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon is, understandably, a bit tense. And even though he's done this dance before, the heightened twitchiness of the guards hasn't made it any better. "Gods damn it," he mutters, a long hooded cloak pulled over his adventuring garments, the gyroparasol in one hand. "I understand the problem, but the gate guards are getting a little pushy for my tastes." He checks his haversack, pulling out a small wand with a petrified rose dangling from it, and spinning it in his hand. "The rain isn't helping either," he admits.
Dirk trundles along, his boots squelching noisily in the muddy forest trail. His breath puffs steam into the air as he lumbers along, water drip-dropping from the brim of his tricorne. "Och, if it gets any colder, I'm likely tae start havin' icicles growin' on me beard," he grumbles. From beneath his cloak, Lulu perks her little head. She's riding inside a special pocket he's sewn for her, to keep her out of the elements. "Hoo!" A single drop of icy rain plops onto her head, making her ruffle and shake furiously, before ducking back inside. A muffled "-Hoo-!" sounds from within. Dirk harrumphs. "Aye, easy fer -you- to say."
Standing next to Telamon, her arm wrapped around his, is Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon, who has a small smile on her face despite the cold and rain. Dressed in her adventuring garments and cloak, she looks every inch like a sorceress rather than the woman who has mostly been performing poetry in the Theatre District and aiding Telamon in his research into dreams. "Oh, but it's been a little while since we've done this sort of thing," she says. "I'm... I'll admit it, I'm excited."
She lets out a little frosted breath into the air, and she murmurs a protective incantation, the magic flowing softly over her and settling into her form. "I know that this is dangerous, but... what can I say, Tel. I'm just glad to adventure with you again."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 13 DC: 18
As concerning as any shooing or fourth looks might by, Verna is contented in many ways by the vigilance of the guards at the gates. Minor inconvenience in the name of heightened security is a small sacrifice to make. The weather is ... far less comforting. At least the trees provide some measure of shelter and her donned hood and long cloak shield her from the majority.
"I prefer excess scrutiny to the reverse, however annoying it may prove, Telamon, Cor'lana. Welcome, Dirk and Lulu. If it is any consolation, we will soon be without the wet and cold. Unfortunately, there will be other, likely far more threatening, concerns."
Telamon smiles at Lana. How could he not? He takes in Dirk and Verna as well, his brow furrowed. "Of course. Still... it's good to be alongside old friends and companions." Cor'lana's spellcasting reminds him, and he curls his fingers in the practiced motions. "Akar irhandi," wrapping a shimmer of starlight around himself in turn. "Verna, do we have a plan, or is it 'wing it'? I don't -mind- wing it, but I'd like to know first if you've got any last-minute insights."
GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 13 DC: 18
For all his usual grumblings and harrumpings, Dirk still has a warm, cheerful smile for his dear friends and battle-mates. "Telamon. Cor'lana. Verna. Heard there might be some action afoot." He tips back his tricorne, spilling a sluice of icy water down behind. At least is cloak is freshly oiled. "Where're we headed, then? Not the Felwood, right? I dinnae think I want tae be anywhere -near- the Felwood with it rainin' like this. There'll be... so much mud." He shudders a bit, despite himself.
"Telamon and I have talked a little about this, but Verna has the information since she's why we're all here to begin with," Cor'lana replies to Dirk's question, although she offers him a little wave in response to his greeting. Lulu, too, although the owl might be disappointed that Pothy's not here with her today. "I believe we're headed to the Vast to fight werewolves. Telamon and I will likely take to the skies and provide support and control from on high. We will be invisible, however, to prevent our opposition from taking us out too early."
"We venture to The Vast," Verna begins to explain, hood bobbing to Cor'lana. "There lies a portal to another realm. From it, the Red Maw's forces spill forth. When I observed, they did not linger, instead carrying off to cause chaos elsewhere. This portal must be closed, lest all of Ea be overrun. That is our primary task. There may well be lycanthropes present, or that arrive. Regrettably, I doubt they will allow us to seal their point of ingress without qualm. As I have witnessed it, I can transport us there, now that we are outside the wards. Be warned, however, that we may well arrive right upon it, and whatever guards it or has otherwise emerged."
Dirk's expression turns dour at that. "The Vast... so -that's- where all these bloody lycans are comin' from?" he grumbles. He reaches to the bandolier slung across his chest, flicking one of the loops. The gems studding each loop begin to glow a soft silvery white. "Well, I've got plenty o' silver shot fer the likes ' -them-! Not tae fret, Verna, I'll keep the bone-chewers off ye while ye work yer magicks! Then we can all be home tae Alex in time fer supper!"
"Indeed." Telamon's hands continue to move in delicate patterns. "I'm not sure how much we have surveyed is real versus allegory. Regardless, if the werewolves are being spawned there, we need to close it off." He tilts his head to Verna. "We might consider taking to the air, Verna. Do you still have that flying cauldron? For all their danger, the werewolves are not known for their flying abilities." His eyes twinkle. "It'd be a shame if we simply flew overhead and pulverized them at range."
GAME: Telamon casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 13 DC: 22
Cor'lana follows suit as her husband, weaving her own magic around herself as he speaks. The end-result is a pair of blue wings that fade into violet at the edges, wrought purely from magic, but mimic the flapping of wings.
"If there's enough room, perhaps Dirk could hop in with Verna," Cor'lana suggests. "That way, we lead a full-on aerial assault, and we're mobile enough to take to the ground as needed."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 13 DC: 22
Dirk boggles a little bit as Telamon discusses flying. "Er... Lulu can probably join ye up there, but unless I can figure out how tae jump -really- high, I'm probably stuck on the ground..." And then, there's the suggestion that he hop in Verna's flying cauldron. His eyes get wide. "Heek!" Blink blink. "Er... does it... I mean... will we both -fit- in it? Will it even lift me? I'm pretty hefty..."
Verna's hood tilts at Telamon and Cor'lana before one hand gestures behind and to her side at the cauldron 'parked' beside the tree. "I do, if only to have spared the walk here. I must say that, if your suggestions are what the Lupecyll-Atlons consider 'winging it,' I welcome your improvisations at any time." She then looks to Dirk. "There is room enough for us both, Dirk, so that none will be disadvantaged. I would not choose to leave you alone on the ground amidst a potential pack."
Telamon looks at Dirk. "It'll be fine." He gestures to the large cauldron behind Verna. "I admit I prefer my own wings, but if I couldn't cast a spell, I wouldn't mind using something like that." Winglike vanes of shimmering force open up, rotating slightly before folding again along Tel's back. "So, Verna, with that resolved... why don't we get started?"
"Considering the family you're marrying into, Verna, you'd probably just get used to the bird puns now. Grandfather is overly fond of making them, after all." Cor'lana grins. "I'm of the same mind as Telamon. Let's get going."
Dirk eyes the cauldron, giving his beard a thoughtful tug. "Well, it cannae be worse'n an airship, right?" He trundles over, squinting at the thing. He tosses his thunderbelcher over the lip, then reaches up to grip the edge. He gives himself a couple test squats, before he leaps. "Hup!" He vaults up and over, landing in the cauldron with a ringing THUD. He picks up his thunderbelcher and turns. "Right! Let's fly, afore this thing fills up an' makes chilled dwarf soup out o' me!"
Verna nods to her soon-in-laws. "Indeed. Every moment delayed could mean more threats, now or later." After Dirk inserts himself into the cauldron, mounts The Conveyance, uttering a brief incantation. This does not move the cauldron, but instead conjures a field of force about her person. Afterwards, a word and thought causes the conveyance to rise and move towards Cor'lana and Telamon. "I shall transport us once all are ready and in contact."
GAME: Verna casts Teleport. Caster Level: 19 DC: 22 GAME: Verna rolls 1d100: (52): 52
The teleportation goes smoothly, transporting the group of you from the edge of the city of Alexandria into the midst of the desert. In the distance you can make out the faint edge of a storm. It does not affect your status in the air however, being that its so far distance. Those of you who have been here before might well recognize a location where blue and black roses had once grown together. Now however only black ones remain. Even as you watch, a huge black wolf wiggles its way free of the roses and rises. It obviously doesn't notice you and begins to walk off into the desert.
Telamon holds Lana's hand as the group reappears. He shakes his head a bit to get his bearings, taking note of the storm further out. "Let's get moving. I don't like the look of that storm and the -last- thing we need is to be bouncing around in midair in the middle of it." He peers down at the black roses. "Verna," he says quietly, "do you remember exactly -where- the portal is, that the wolves are coming through? Or do we need to try and clear-cut this garbage to find it?"
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (6)+17: 23
Cor'lana's hand finds Telamon's and squeezes it a little as she stares around the environment that they've appeared in. Her violet eyes squint at the horizon as she peers west. "I think--I think that might be a mountain," she says. "That wolf down below isn't the only one. There's about four wolves I see and they're all headed west to that mountain."
Verna is grateful that the emerging wolf is not taller and/or that they are not at a lower altitude. She watches it pad off before noting, "I believe this -is- the portal, or contains it. That is where they emerged. That or they are simply... created?" Her tone suggests that the former sounds far more palatable than the latter. "I will attempt to discern more of its nature..." To that end, Verna invokes a new utterance and gesture. Her eyes gain a cerulean glow, making them conspicuous within her hood. "If they are congregating elsewhere we could address some of those already gathered, as well."
GAME: Verna casts Arcane Sight. Caster Level: 19 DC: 20
Dirk hops up on tiptoes, looking over the edge of the cauldron with one hand over his tricorne to keep it from flying away in the wind. "Och, that surely is a long ways down, innit?" He looks over to Telamon and Cor'lana. He turns to look in the direction Cor'lana looks. "Mountains? I thought the Vast was a desert!"
GAME: Verna rolls fortitude: (9)+17: 26
The wolf below you stops and it's ears twitch. After a moment it looks up into the sky and... it's eyes narrow. A low howl emits from the massive beast and it is responded to by the other three wolves in kind.
"Deserts are more than just sand, Dirk," Telamon replies with a faint grin. "And not all of them are sand, either." He follows Lana's line of sight, looking towards the mountain. "When I saw this in the dream, I wondered if the roses themselves spawned the wolves. Like an orchard, except instead of fruit you get cranky lycanthropes instead." He furrows his brow. "Maybe check the mountain first..." and then he trails off as the wolves start howling. "Well, shit. I think he saw us." Rapidly, he chants, "Irhandi, paphal kalag." Then he wavers, and fades from sight.
GAME: Telamon casts Greater Invisibility. Caster Level: 13 DC: 22
Cor'lana follows suit with her husband, murmuring an incantation as Telamon disappears. "I don't think they're going to let us get away now that they've spotted us," she says as her whole form slips away into invisibility. Her hand that's locked in Telamon's grasp squeezes his, a reassurance that she is still there.
"Yes, it is-AH!" Verna's assessment of the roses below is interrupted by a yelp. It is promptly followed by her putting hands into her hood. "...Immensely powerful!" she adds in a harsh whisper. "To the west as well." She spends a moment blinking away after-images before she begins to float herself and Dirk towards the mentioned mountain.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Greater Invisibility. Caster Level: 13 DC: 21
Dirk wrinkles his nose at Telamon. "Aye, I know -that-," he says. "But still, ye don't--" He's cut off by that wolf howl though. He ducks back down into the cauldron as the other wolves join in. "Oh, piss up my -arse-, we're spotted!" he growls. He racks the slide on his thunderbelcher, pressing his back against the cauldron wall. "What do we do, everyone? Do we start blastin'?"
GAME: Dirk rolls shoot: aliased to Ranged+1-3: (9)+14+1+-3: 21 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot-5: aliased to Ranged+1-3-5: (8)+14+1+-3+-5: 15
Dirk heaves to his feet with a grunt and swings over to point his thunderbelcher down at the wolf. He draws his bead and fires off two quick rounds in succession. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! Both bullets PYANG and PYOW, kicking up puffs of dry desert dust at the wolf's feet--but the wolf remains unshot. "Arrgh! Damn it, we need tae get closer! Can ye take us down a wee bit, Verna?" he grumbles as he racks the slide.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20
Seeing Dirk engage, Cor'lana nods from her invisible perspective, hand intertwined with Telamon's. "Alright," she says. "I might as well make things easier on ourselves in the meantime. Let's go."
She murmurs her incantation and weaves quickening magic around herself, her beloved, Verna, and Dirk, movements enhanced. Time has less of a grasp on them now. The wolves from further in the distance appear suddenly around the first one that had howled while that one disappears only to reappear in the sky above the group. The appearing-disappearing act is not particularly comforting, and proves (as if their size had not been enough an indication) that these are not natural wolves.
GAME: Telamon casts Enemy Hammer. Caster Level: 13 DC: 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+18: (14)+18: 32
Telamon's eyes widen at the wolves suddenly popping in. "Verna, -move-!" Where is not as important as it is to get out of the way of the free-falling wolf. Swiftly, Telamon incants, "Dimma sa, irhandi gesla neru!" A spell crackles out, but it doesn't seem to take hold of the wolf -- yet. "I can do this all day, furface," he growls, gliding away invisibly.
GAME: Verna rolls knowledge/the planes: (4)+12: 16 GAME: Verna casts Lunar Veil. Caster Level: 19 DC: 24 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (10)+14+1+-3+1: 23 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (6)+14+1+-3+1: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1-5: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1-5: (15)+14+1+-3+1+-5: 23
Verna is asked, and then told to move. "Moving!" The conveyance drops ten feet and moves twice as many away from the nearest wolf on the ground. It is perhaps not as close as Dirk would like, but this is not an automated lupine buffet. She reaches to the scales at her neck. "Harpist, turn your all-seeing eyes and judgment upon the servants of the Red Maw and turn their obsessions against them..." The area around herself, the roses, and many of the wolves darkens further as any hint of moonlight vanishes.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/The Planes+2: (8)+8+2: 18
Dirk grunts, planting his feet firmly on the bottom of the cauldron as it dives. He hops back up and takes aim over the top. Aided by Cor'lana's magic, he cracks off three rounds, one after the next. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! "Graaaagh! Not close enough!" he growls, racking the slide once again.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Fireball/Persistent. Caster Level: 13 DC: 22 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (2)+6: 8 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 10d6: (33): 33
These are unnatural beasts born surely of Caracoroth's influence and domain. Of course they can take flight. Not that anyone can see it, but Cor'lana purses her lips as she studies the creature--and comes up with very little for it.
So instead, she does the next best thing. Action. The incantation leaves her lips and the roiling energy of her spell leaves her hands, launching through the air and making direct contact with the wolf that flies. The smell of singed fur is unpleasant, causing Cor'lana to wrinkle her nose as she zips across the sky to rejoin her husband's side.
GAME: Telamon rolls Will+6: (6)+12+6: 24 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+20: (4)+20: 24 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+20: (1)+20: 21 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+10: (2)+10: 12
The wolves on the ground chase down Verna's conveyance, one of the managing to jump up and grab the edge of her cauldron with its teeth. There's a low grinding noise, and the conveyance begins to sink... That wolf is HEAVY. The other wolf doesn't manage to do more than run his own nose into the flowers on the ground and makes a squeaking noise when a thorn goes in a nostril.
The remaining wolf on the ground stares intently at Telamon and gets a self-satisfied look in it's eyes. The one in the sky vanishes entirely. Gone without a trace, but surely is up to _something_.
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/the planes: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+11: (16)+11: 27
Telamon shudders, feeling a spell rake across his own personal wards before it falls back. He draws his teeth back in a snarl, and swoops past, before gesturing, pointing at the wolf clinging to the cauldron and snapping his fingers. And... nothing happens. "Gods -damn- it!" he bursts out reflexively in frustration, his fists clenching. "Alright. No more art, no more fancy shit. I'm just going to incinerate the lot of you."
GAME: Verna casts Horrid Wilting. Caster Level: 19 DC: 26 GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20+4: (11)+20+4: 35 GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20+4: (16)+20+4: 40 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+18: (17)+18: 35 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20: (9): 9 GAME: Verna rolls 20d6: (65): 65 GAME: Verna rolls 20d8: (89): 89 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (19)+14+1+-3+1: 32 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (10)+14+1+-3+1: 23 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1-5: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1-5: (17)+14+1+-3+1+-5: 25 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (16)+14+1+-3+1: 29
Verna does not have any room to maneuver herself within the cauldron, yet she reflexively leans back when large snapping jaws clamp onto the rim. It holds, but remaining aloft is another matter. "I do not collect strays this night." Her comment is followed by a plucking of a bit of sponge from her robes as she intones in low timbre, gloved hands gesturing to collect both desert heat and coagulate it with negative energy. She then releases the arcane desiccation into the (very near) wolves and the black roses directly below. Perhaps due to their nature, it is the flowers that wilt and disintegrate foremost. Verna's black thumbs were not merely euphemistic. In this case, they may be useful.
GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (8)+1+6: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (2)+1+6: 9 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (5)+1+6: 12 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (4)+1+6: 11 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (11)+1+6: 18 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (5)+1+6: 12 GAME: Dirk rolls 6d6: (26): 26
Dirk yelps as the wolf latches onto the cauldron. "HEEK!" He snarls, lifting his thunderbelcher. "Ye hungry, Fido? EAT SILVER!" CHK-BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! This time, all three bullets fly true, slamming into the wolf's shaggy hide. The final shot takes out one of the lupine beast's eyes, leaving the socket dripping with gore. And yet... it still clings to life. And the cauldron. Dirk's jaw drops when he sees his shots were not, in fact, kill shots. "Oh, piss up my -arse-."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Feeblemind. Caster Level: 13 DC: 24 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+11: (9)+11: 20 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (11)+23: 34
Cor'lana's violet eyes flash with violent intent, an expression that's a rather close match for her Grandfather's countenance when he intends to inflict grievous harm. The wolf on the ground dared to harm Telamon? Her Telamon?
"You, not me," she mutters, and she weaves a horrible spell. A spell she hates, a spell that's she's felt before, a spell that is one of the cruelest things that you can do to someone else--to reduce them from themselves to a husk. But she does it anyway, dark magic flickering in her fingertips, and she lets it go.
The wolf below... becomes less than itself. The violet eyes on the half-elf woman below bore down on her victim in judgment.
"You, not us," the child of the Feathered One says again.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (2)+17: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+20: (8)+20: 28 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+20: (9)+20: 29 GAME: Verna rolls reflex: (2)+13: 15 GAME: Verna rolls perception: (12)+29: 41 GAME: Dirk rolls Perception: (4)+16: 20 GAME: Dirk rolls Reflex+1: (17)+11+1: 29 GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (19)+12: 31 GAME: Verna rolls will+2: (14)+24+2: 40
The two remaining wolves work in concert to finally bring the conveyance down and down it comes. Throwing the two within free while the wolves gnaw angrily on the cauldron.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Telamon casts Glitterdust/Quicken. Caster Level: 13 DC: 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+11: (9)+11: 20 GAME: Telamon casts Fireball. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20 GAME: Telamon rolls 10d6: (34): 34
Telamon shudders at the howl that evidently only he can hear. But he focuses, bringing his fingertips together, and pointing at the werewolves attacking the cauldron. "Mulan ukum," he chants, voice quivering, and a rain of silver-blue dust washes over the pair of aberrant beasts. With that, he reaches out, gathers up a tiny fistful of Time, and chants quick and fast. "Ganzer lipisbala gaz!" A fiery streak shoots from his hand as he flies toward where Verna and Dirk were dumped out, and there's a dull BOOM as flame savages the roses, setting them alight.
GAME: Verna takes ten on knowledge/arcana+4: (10)+36+4: 50
Verna often has pillows in the Conveyance, for comfort. They were not present this night lest the rain ruin their lovely designs. In hindsight, this prevents them from becoming chew toys. Their absence also means nothing to make Verna's tumble and faceplant from said conveyance appear any less graceless. The contact with the ground spreads the vibrations of ... something deep into her bones and she rises on somewhat shaking legs. "Something comes. Something worse!" Then she notices the portal amidst the now lack of flowers. Peers at it.
"It is a link to the Red Maw's realm, itself! It is held open by something of great power! We may not be able to close it from this side!"
Which implies it might be possible from the other side.
'Worse' becomes ever more subjective.
GAME: Dirk rolls shoot: aliased to Ranged+1-3: (20)+14+1+-3: 32 (THREAT) GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (16)+14+1+-3+1: 29 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1: (14)+14+1+-3+1: 27 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1-5: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1-5: (20)+14+1+-3+1+-5: 28 (THREAT) GAME: Dirk rolls shoot+1-5: aliased to Ranged+1-3+1-5: (8)+14+1+-3+1+-5: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (12)+1+6: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (12)+1+6: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (11)+1+6: 18 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (9)+1+6: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls 2d6: (6): 6 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (4)+1+6: 11 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (1)+1+6: 8 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (5)+1+6: 12 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (12)+1+6: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+1+6: (5)+1+6: 12 GAME: Dirk rolls 4d6: (17): 17 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (14)+23: 37
"VERNA, LOOK OU--!" Dirk's warning gets cut off as the cauldron gets torn to the ground by the wolves. He goes flying free with a flailing of stumpy limbs. "GWAAAAGH!" Fortunately, Lulu flits free of her cloak-pocket just as he lands hard, skipping like a rock a couple times across the dusty ground before coming to a halt. But although his ears are ringing and his head spinning, the impact has just made the old snowbeard -mad-. He scrabbles to his feet and snaps up his thunderbelcher. His beard bristles as he bares his teeth. "Right, that's yer fuckin' lot! GILEAD AN' DANA, GUIDE MY HAND!"
The sharp-eyed may have taken note of the delicate golden filigree that's recently been worked into the polished wooden stock on Dirk's thunderbelcher. Those golden traceries blaze with light, while patterns of dwarven runes race down the barrel, blazing with pure, clean light. He draws his bead on the lycan he half-blinded and fires. BOOM! The weapon kicks in his hands, the muzzle flashing like sunlight. The beast's head explodes like an overripe melon. Without skipping a beat, he swings and aims at the other lycan. BOOM! BOOM! The first bullet spins the lycan around like a child's top, while the second shears its leg off its hip, sending it flailing to the ground.
Dirk chuffs a breath through his nose as he racks. "WHO ELSE WANTS SOME?!" he roars with pure dwarven fury.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (8)+12: 20 GAME: Dirk rolls Will: (13)+6: 19
"If we can't close the portal--" Cor'lana begins first, but then there's a flash of realization in her eyes. "There's something keeping it open! Could be a totem. I'll look for it!"
She casts a spell to detect magic--but her eyes stray to the mountain in the distance, and she cries out in pain, her vision overloaded for the moment. "Too much! That mountain--don't look at it with magic sight!"
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d10: (7): 7 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d6: (4): 4 GAME: Verna rolls will+2: (18)+24+2: 44 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (17)+14: 31 GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (16)+12: 28 GAME: Verna rolls will+2: (2)+24+2: 28 GAME: Dirk rolls will: (20)+6: 26 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
The mountain? Everyone looks toward the mountain at the same moment, but... there's no mountain there? For a moment. It's not there. Not in the distance where it should be. Or maybe it is? To the side of where it had been before? Looking different and. No. That's not right.
Then all of the sudden there's a mountain _right in front of you_ a mountain of flesh and blood and bone. A wolf the size of a mountain towering. His drool... His breath is atrocious and you feel fear unlike anything you've felt in your life. Primordial fear. This thing is... It breathes fear. It feeds off fear. You can feel it scenting your fear and growing more powerful in the face of it. You want to flee. You NEED to flee.
Worse than the fear though, is the raw evil that pours off the creature. It's mere presence makes you weak. Makes you tremble with the darkness that is its presence. Nothing like this should exist. It's wrongness is a stain upon Ea.
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/arcana: (5)+13: 18
Telamon may be invisible. He may be powerful. But this... this is simply out of his league. He's frozen, his limbs trembling, strength draining out of him. He can't move. He can't even speak. All he can do is stare at what may just be death coming for him. In his mind he screams in fear and rage for Lana to flee, a silent howl.
GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Religion: (18)+3: 21
Dirk boggles as that mountain just up and vanished. "What? How the hell's that even -work-?! Mountains don't--" But this mountain does. The colossal wolf looms before him. His eyes get wider and wider as they travel ever farther upward. His jaw drops, and his face turns as white as his beard. Terror makes him tremble, and his breath hitches in his chest. He's completely frozen, unable to even twitch a whisker. 'Gilead... Dana... save me,' he pleas wordlessly.
It is worse. It is so much worse. She could attempt to ascertain more on the mountain of a creature, but ... is that even relevant at this juncture? There is a task at hand, but it is now, for her, different than the one they arrived with.
"To me!" She yells towards the shimmering forms in the sky as she steps near to Dirk and puts a hand upon him. "Now! Nothing else!"
Cor'lana's only comfort is that her hand is in Telamon's. Death is on their doorstep, it seems. But at least it is a mountain of a wolf that would kill her. At least she could say it was better than her unraveling herself, like her mother did before. At least she is not alone.
At least she's going to die with her soulmate's hand in hers.
There is a strange peace in that thought, at least, as she holds Telamon's hand and begins to fall with him.
The wolf takes a great breath, miasma expelling from its lungs. The smoke you know instinctively is deadly, but Dirk's prayer... It does SOMETHING. The totem in his care begins to glow brightly, and a shield takes form around him, around _all_ of you. It protects you and you feel the fear begin to retreat. Not all of it, but the edge, enough to THINK. Then Cor'lana's outstretched hand touches Verna's and the woman casts as fast as she's ever cast in her life.
Taking you back to Alexandria, and... safety.
-End