Demon Werewolf Jamboree
GAME: Seldan casts Undetectable Alignment. Caster Level: 8 DC: 20
Above, a steel gray sky offers no warmth to the world it encircles. Clouds hover overhead. Looming with the promise of more rain that has yet to show itself. It's a threat and one that eventually will drain away into a peppering of rainfall but for now remains just a promise of further cold. There's a wind bustling down the streets that only echoes the promise of the clouds. It lingers around the edges of the places where people are in number and everything seems... muted.
People are quiet. Furtive. They glance at one another from the sides of their eyes in an untrusting manner. There's a low murmur of voices, most of them irritable. More than one stall is having an argument ensue. Between customers wanting the same item. Between people accidentally bumping shoulders. Over prices. Yet no yelling is happening. Instead they talk in quite tense voices and storm off with lightning in their eyes. There's a quite tension in the air and it just will not fade.
"Snacks! Snacks!" Pothy calls out from atop Cor'lana's shoulder. The half-sil, however, looks far too concerned with the strange energy that's in the air, her violet eyes darting around to try and see what's got everyone in this odd manner. Her lips purse together as she witnesses the arguments that are not so explosive, but build and build like gas in a balloon that's just waiting to snap.
"Should have stayed at home, Pothy," Cor'lana murmurs to the white raven. She reaches up to look at him and to pet his soft feathers--a little relief from the tension that's so thick in the air it could be cut like a knife.
GAME: Seldan rolls craft/calligraphy: (9)+9: 18
Dirk has his cart set up, his spread of leathers and furs arrayed in the back and his stand of tobacco jars and hand-carved pipes at the side. He's sitting in his folding chair, steadily pulling at his own pipe as he flicks his knife over a block of wood. His gaze flicks back and forth, a worried furrow to his shaggy white brows as he takes note of the tension in the air. But so far, nobody's come to visit his little cart, and honestly? He's probably just fine with that. "Slow day today, innit lad?" he asks his pony, who's happily munching oats in the feed bag strapped to its nose. The animal gives a little whicker and a flick of its tail. If it's bothered by the glowering atmosphere, it gives no sign. It has oats. Mmmm. Oats.
The muting of the sun would normally be pleasant to Aya (and perhaps most mu'niessa). Today, however, the light is ... missed. Perhaps it is the growing tension that abounds and its presence in the muting of daily activities in the market. The looming threat in the sky only adds to the others. Why are there always others? Her own path through the market is direct and precise: an item or two from this vendor, another from this other.
Off to one side, there's a slender, petite young woman watching the brewing storm - physical and social alike - with wide, blue eyes, scraggly blonde hair hanging loosely down her back. Dressed in a colorless tunic and skirt that are entirely too big for her, she'd set up a small easel near some of the larger stalls in the market district, and had begun to sketch some of her fellow vendors with simple strokes of charcoal. The drawings are reasonably good, an amateur's work but with signs of promise - and a style that is familiar to some.
A man approaches Dirk's cart, his brown eyes roaming over the offered goods and he sighs. "The tobacco you offering any good?" He sounds as though he doubts that it can be, but like everyone else, his tone is somewhat muted.
Snack vendors perk up at the sight of the white raven. He's familiar enough in the market now to garner their attention and they - many of them - offer free samples if one is inclined to buy. They don't call out to him like they usually do though, many just silently waving for his attention (far more than Cor'lana's).
The shopkeeper that Aya is talking to is scowling at her. She hasn't done anything to deserve it, but as she turns to leave she might hear the woman mutter under her breath about 'cursed mul' or something like that.
The young lady with her drawings is approached by a group of three men, each elbowing one particular guy into going up to talk to her. Finally the third man gives in and walks up to her coughing to announce his presence and then arching an eyebrow at her. "Hey there pretty lady. Wouldn't you like to draw a handsome man like myself?" He strikes a pose.
Caught off guard, the blonde girl immediately flushes, drops her eyes, and bites her lip, but nods mutely and pulls a fresh piece of pressed paper, setting it up on the easel and beginning to draw with some shy, sidelong glances at the man in question. She seems nervous, but doesn't say a word.
Pothy's big blue eyes are, of course, drawn to the vendors offering free samples, and he looks for a moment like he's about to take flight and wander over to one of them--but Cor'lana spots the young lady working on her art and the group of men that approach her. There's a moment in her violet eyes that looks like she's picturing /them/ becoming the free food samples for Pothy to feast on--but then she turns on the smile and wanders over to the girl. "Hey, is that you? Long time, no see! I can't believe it's /been/ so long!" she says, merrily--and she turns her face away from the men as she mouths the words 'play along' to the young lady.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Bluff: (9)+14: 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20: (3): 3
Dirk looks up as a potential customer comes his way. He sets aside his carving and hops to his feet, reaching up to take his pipe from his mouth. "Aye, some o' the finest ye'll find in the land!" he booms, putting on his warmest, most charming smile (which, as is true for most dwarves, isn't -that- charming, but he does try his best). He taps each jar with his pipe stem in turn. "This here's the cherry blend I enjoy meself," he says. "An' here's vanilla-rum, quite popular. An' here's a plum brandy blend, an' this one here I've blended wi' a couple types o' mint." He puffs up his burly chest with a toothy grin. "Growed it, harvested it, an' cured it all meself! Feel free tae have ye a smell, see which one ye like!" His attention gets drawn briefly to the men closing in on the young artist, and a brief moment of worry passes his features. But there's Cor'lana and Pothy to the rescue! Seeing they have things well in hand, he looks back to his customer. "Take yer time, friend! Nae rush here!"
Aya exhales a sigh, but otherwise mostly ignores the muttering. Yes, they are all cursed, deceiving, untrustworthy, et cetera, et cetera. Always accepted and even used to her advantage previously, now it both stings and sparks something positive; all of those presumptions may be reversed in the future, over time. "Thank you," she offers plainly before moving away from the cart-keep.
Cor'lana's call (or was it Pothy's?) draws her attention to the pair and by proximity to the woman artist. All are something of a brighter spot against the gray and she proceeds in their direction. "A friend of yours?" she asks of half-sil or raven in reference to the blonde artist. The congregation of men is not too difficult to decipher, either. Perhaps that stereotype may still be of some usefulness, yet?
Serene finds herself in the market. Sometimes it's important to return to earlier times, earlier habits. Sometimes it's important to step away from the big picture, from the grand quests, to fill some time with the smaller deeds that are no less important.. in some ways even more immportant.. as a means of rediscovering one's strength. Recent events have left a mark on Serene, fatigue etched into her features as her age and ordeals seem to be catching up with her. And so, in the aftermath of a meeting and a ritual cleansing with the Seers of her temple, she is simply walking the city. On foot. Silver, her dearest companion, is nowhere in sight.
Simpler times, simpler tasks. A day for the paladin to walk and watch and perhaps enjoy doing a few smaller good deeds. This brings her to the market, perhaps at a fortuitous time, as people seem to be coming together around an innocuous looking young woman, a trio of posible bravos, and a few adventurers.
The man at Dirk's stall nods politely enough and picks up a jar to have a good scenting of it. He rumbles once or twice in what might be interest but it's hard to tell. He picks up the mint last and nods in approval. "I'll take this one." He waves the jar slightly. "How much?"
The three men seem somewhat taken aback by Cor'lana's arrival, but they quickly recover, and stay that way even after Aya approaches. In fact they seem to regroup entirely, banding together and smiling at the women. "L-adies!" One of the men says in a lilting tone. "You should come out to dinner with us! We'll show you a real good time."
The third man, the one getting drawn smiles warmly at the blonde woman and puffs his chest out a bit. "Yea, I'd love to get to know you better. Say yes."
The last man eyes Aya a bit warrily, but offers her a somewhat more shy smile and a little wave of his fingers.
The blonde girl has a knapsack wrapped around one of her legs to protect it, but looks up at the greeting, blinks a minute, and brightens visibly at Cor'lana, dropping the charcoal in her hand to the cobblestones to wave cheerfully to her. She looks back at the man when he speaks, and the drawing, and immediately flushes brightly again. Fumbling around for the dropped charcoal and tangling her hand in the loose string of the bonnet she wears, she finally frees it, picks up the charcoal, and turns back to her drawing with a shake of her head at the bravos. Boy, that smile vanished quickly.
GAME: Seldan rolls bluff: (11)+13: 24
Cor'lana smiles sweetly in the way that one might dump an awful lot of sugar into a cup of tea to help the poison that's been slipped in go down. "Oh, gentlemen, I'm afraid I can't--I am, after all, spoken for," she says, and she holds up her left hand to reveal her engagement ring. That is a bit of truth to anchor the bluff--things /are/ more believable when there's a modicum of truth put into the mixture, after all. "And I'm terribly sorry, but you must understand... It's been ten years since I've bumped into her! If you met one of your childhood friends out of the blue, would you want total strangers at your dinner, too?"
Pothy looks at Cor'lana with a bit of skepticism in those blue eyes, but he keeps quiet. He's not about to blow the cover.
Dirk tucks his pipe in the side of his mouth, smiling happily. A sale on such a day is always a blessing! He picks up a leather pouch from the stack on the table he has just for this purpose, filling it full of the rich mint tobacco blend. He tugs the strings taut and loops a quick square knot, offering the fat pouch up to the man with a smile. "That's one silver coin, if ye'd be so good!" he says. "An' may the Green Lady give ye the joy of it!" Even as he closes out the sale, he's keeping a side-eye on the situation brewing around Cor'lana and her new artist friend. He's a canny old bear. With the tension on the rise in the city, it'd be all too easy for a pack of mischief-minded hooligans distracted by a pretty face to do something stupid. He can't help but admire the way Cor'lana handles the menfolk, though.
GAME: Serene rolls perception: (3)+25: 28
Aya arches a brow at the ...ambitious men, looking between them. "I suppose you might," she notes, returning wary, shy smile and finger waving with a polite smile of her own. Her head tilts to Cor'lana after her display of status. "I must decline, as well, given that I am also spoken for. By the Lord of Shadows and Darkness, no less. I would not want to cause any unfortunate misunderstandings, of course." "I think the women here have made their desires, or lack of, plain, sirs," Serene says in way of announcing her arrival, the jingle of her various metal tools of her trade, the creak of the leathers of her baldric, belt, joints under her armor. The heels of her boots upon the cobblestones. Her expression adopts its more common visage; unyielding sternness, judgment. That if there is a facade taking place, she sees through it. Never mind that the young woman is in the middle of drawing one of the fellows' picture.
GAME: {*} Serene rolls intimidate: (19)+35: 54
The gentleman at Dirk's stall glowers a little bit but produces a silver coin and takes his purchase in return. He too turns toward the commotion of the ladies standing up to the threesome of men and he shakes his head.
The threesome of men blink at Cor'lana's announcement that she's engaged and the one trying to court her steps back. The other two don't back down so easily however. The one talking to the blonde woman frowns at her quiet but insistant refusal and goes to grab her arm and pull her to her feet. "Come on now! No need to be a ****."
The last one scoffs at Aya, snorting and shaking his head. "There's no such thing as a 'lord of shadows and darkness'. You made that up. Just come out with us. We'll show you a good time. Promise!"
At least... that's the tune until Serene shows up and all three men take a step back in surprise. Including the one holding onto the blonde woman. "Oh my gods! It's the Great Paladin!" One of the men - the one who had been talking to Cor'lana breaks for it and runs.
GAME: Seldan rolls will: (13)+32: 45
For a shy little girl, the little artist is _quick_, and seems to be more capable of defending herself than the innocent exterior would suggest. Before the man can touch her, she jerks her arm away and rolls to her feet, reaching for the knapsack in a move that is more appropriate to a skilled and experienced warrior than a little artist barely more than a child. She still doesn't speak, but she directs a stare at the men that means business.
Aya's other brow lifts at the man's denial. "No, but thank you," she counters politely enough, lifting her bag of purchases. "I must return these to my lord." Then Serene is on the scene, seeming to garner hearts and minds as perhaps only Serene can. "Besides, you seem to now have other ...concerns." She flashes Serene a brief smirk as she turns to step away into the tense and relatively quiet crowd.
Cor'lana's less distracted by Serene's arrival--in fact, she seizes the opportunity presented. She weaves her spell onto the man who tried to grab for the artist, and she continues to smile sweetly as she says, "Oh no, sir, I think you'd better /move/ along. You're a busy man, and there are plenty of other ladies in the city."
There's a nervous shuffling of talons on Cor'lana's shoulder from Pothy's feet. That look in his blue eyes practically screams: "It's about to go down, isn't it?"
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Charm Person/Persistent. Caster Level: 8 DC: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (4)+4+2: 10 GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (3)+25: 28 GAME: Dirk rolls Perception: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Serene rolls perception: (15)+25: 40 GAME: Serene rolls fortitude: (6)+34: 40
The man who was so neatly evaded by the blonde woman stands stock-still for a moment, and then relaxes. "Yes. Plenty of ladies in the city." He turns and starts away, listening to Cor'lana's voice in his mind while his companion glares at Cor'lana. Still, he's smart enough not to start anything further, and quickly makes his way after his friend. A rude gesture thrown at the women in general as he goes.
Suddenly there's a woman behind Serene, but Serene is the only one that notices her. Mostly because as Serene turns to look at the mul'niessa woman - she's punched hard in the chest even as the woman begins to blend away again into the crowd.
Dirk tips his tricorne to his customer as the man accepts his purchase. "Have a good rest o' yer day, friend!" he says. He plunks the coin into his lockbox, giving the lid a little pat. Now that business is seen to, he's able to turn his attention to the unfolding situation nearby. The way the men act as they're rebuffed has the burly old snowbeard's good humor turning to a stern scowl. He reaches over for his thunderbelcher, leaned up against the side of his cart. Taking it up, he runs his hand over the brand new finely-tooled bandolier slung over his burly chest. "Ohh, I don't want tae be puttin' this to the test -here-," he grumbles. His attention is so focused, he entirely misses the attack on Serene. But it would seem that his worry is entirely founded, and he -will- be breaking in his new equipment today.
Cor'lana looks rather satisfied as the men disperse. "Hmph, good riddance," she says, before she looks back to the artist girl. "You alright? People can be... really awful sometimes, especially when all you want to do is to be left alone." She doesn't even stop to look at what the artist girl was working on--more concerned with how she's feeling.
The figure blends into the crowd seamlessly. Gone like a dream or a nightmare. No one sees what she does next, but the effect of it is clear throughout the area. People start to fall to their knees. Some of them cry out. Some of them go rigid with pain. Others are completely fine, but a good solid fifty percent of the people in the marketplace are leaning, falling, or otherwise gasping in agony.
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d100: (92): 92
Still wide-eyed, the girl just nods quickly at Cor'lana - and then people start dropping like flies. She's one of the ones unaffected, but her eyes get round as saucers, and she starts to reach for something around her neck that isn't there. She blinks, clutches her fist to her chest, and looks around just a little too quickly and a little too cannily. Bare seconds, and she raises her finger to point to the - middle of the crowd? Her expression is no longer innocent or wide-eyed, nor does it show a hint of fear. Instead, it is thunderous and black.
GAME: Serene rolls perception: (5)+25: 30 GAME: Serene rolls perception: (2)+25: 27 GAME: Serene rolls sense motive: (2)+28: 30
Serene grunts as a fist slams into her breastplate; the enchanted armor doesn't buckle under the blow, but it does little to absorb the kinetic power expressed with the strike and Serene is forced to stagger back a step, and then another half-step. All the while, Things are Happening.
Serene allows herself a moment to take stock. People falling, clutching at things, groaning, yelling. The glimpse she had of her assailant gone as the Mul slips into the ground. The harmless seeming artist's demeanor change and direction given, the certainty. There are connections here to be made, but no time to puzzle them out yet. So she says a word, the enchantment in her boots activates, and then like a hound on a scent she pushes into the crowd towards what she hopes is the cause of this sudden chaos.
Dirk gapes as he sees people starting to reel as though they've been struck. He flicks his gaze through the crowd, trying to spy who could possibly be doing such a thing. Motivating his tubby ass, he trots over to Cor'lana and her friend. "Oy, lasses! What is it? What's doin' this? I cannae shoot what I cannae -see-!" he says, gripping his rifle in a white-knuckled grip.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 8 DC: 19 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (6)+4+2: 12 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (8)+27: 35
"The Great Paladin just went into the crowd! She looked like she had a bead on what's causing all of this!" Cor'lana responds to Dirk right before she weaves her magic onto herself and her newfound allies--artist included. They are now moving much faster compared to the world around them. "Go! I'll provide support from here."
People are changing. A woman darts out of the crowd and punches the blond girl in the chest, but the blow reflects off her... somehow. It's magic. Not as magic as the crowd however. Most of them are werewolves now. People are starting to run to get away before the werewolves get the bright idea to have an early dinner.
GAME: Seldan rolls weapon1+se+1: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1: (18)+24+8+1: 51
GAME: Seldan rolls weapon1+se+1-5: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1-5: (4)+24+8+1+-5: 32
GAME: Seldan rolls weapon1+se+1-10: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1-10: (10)+24+8+1+-10: 33
GAME: Seldan rolls weapon1+se+1: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1: (4)+24+8+1: 37
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d8+10+sedmg: aliased to 1d8+10+8: (6)+10+8: 24
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d8+10+sedmg: aliased to 1d8+10+8: (4)+10+8: 22
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (12)+25: 37
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (16)+27: 43
GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (16)+7: 23
GAME: {*} Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+12+1: (4)+20+5+12+1: 42
The punch just - bounces off, and if the girl's expression could get angrier, it would. "Wrong move, demon." The girl speaks for the first time, and it's no woman's voice! In fact, it's a light male tone that several here know. The nondescript tunic and skirt melt away into a very unusual set of full plate armor, imbued somehow with a moonlit sheen that is quiescent under the cloudy shadows, and from the knapsack, an ornate-looking and anciently-styled sword flashes out. Impossibly fast, the sword flashes multiple times, leaving deep and bleeding wounds in the woman.
The long blonde hair remains, but did it just take on a ginger cast? "You have my thanks," (s)he calls to Cor'lana.
Serene is going to have to have a few words with a few people about this Great Paladin nonsense. But now is not the time. Not that there's ever time. She also realizes she's been deceived, or at least successfully feinted... as she hears Seldan's voice behind her, she turns. No time to question the girl now in Seldan's armor, she retraces her steps, magically sped. No weapons out, though the sharp edges of her gauntlets look like they could do damage enough.. instead she tries to get in close to grapple with the fake mul, nostrils flaring.. only to be rewarded with another solid blow to her chest plate. Seems the demon has much, if not all, of another mul's skill.
GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+1: (13)+5+1: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+1: (5)+5+1: 11 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust/Persistent. Caster Level: 8 DC: 20
Dirk boggles only for a moment as Seldan's face is revealed. Still looking remarkably like the artist from mere moments ago, but... there's other more pressing matters to be attending to. Dirk turns his attention to the 'demon' that Serene has engaged. He swings up his rifle and draws his bead. As he does, tiny gems planted upon each bullet-loop on his bandolier wink with bright amber light. CHK-BOOM! He swiftly racks and lifts the rifle to fire again. CHK-BOOM! Neither shot hits his quarry--but the fluid speed with which he was able to fire--without even having to manually load a round--boggles the old snowbeard. "-Woah-," he says, blinking wide-eyed at his rifle.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (8)+27: 35 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (6)+27: 33 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (1)+27: 28 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (10)+27: 37 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+22: (17)+22: 39 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+22: (2)+22: 24
There's a moment where Cor'lana seems like she's about to call out back to Seldan in surprise--if that truly /is/ him, although 'if it looks like a Pothy, and it sounds like a Pothy, then it's probably a Pothy' applies to certain worshippers of Eluna, too--but she bites back her surprise. There's work to be done here, too, and people need to be protected.
She focuses her attention on the werewolves that are attacking people. Serene and Seldan have the demoness that throttled her Tel under control, but there's other things to be handled. Cor'lana murmurs an incantation, and sparkles of 'fairy dust' flitter onto a pack of werewolves--blinding them quite successfully.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+17: (9)+17: 26 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (15)+7: 22 GAME: Serene spends ONE use of SMITE EVIL. GAME: Seldan spends ONE use of SMITE EVIL.
The woman before Seldan becomes a flurry of blows. Attacking the paladin again and again until she manages to land a few square hits. "What are you doing Seldan? Aren't you supposed to kill me?" She mocks him her eyes bright. "I didn't know you were here, but I'm glad you are. Glad I get a chance to pummel you like I've always wanted to!"
She viciously punches him in the face and continues. "Knowing all the while that even if you do kill me you doom all these innocents to Caracoroth's hands!" She flashes a grin at him.
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/religion: (19)+15: 34 GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se: aliased to weapon1+charisma: (1)+24+8: 33 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1-5: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1-5: (7)+24+8+1+-5: 35 GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1-10: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1-10: (2)+24+8+1+-10: 25 GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1: (3)+24+8+1: 36
There's a nasty crunch, and blood sprays as the armored girl's nose breaks, leaving blood spattered across her face and tangled in her hair. Her vision swims, and her strikes go awry as her vision struggles to readjust. She reverses back to a defensive position, shouting, "Lady Cor'lana, get the statue, we'll keep her busy! Move quickly!" That's an order, but she doesn't look back now, all attention consumed by the fight she's now in. "That is what controls the wolves! I am certain of it!"
"You are no Aya." This, she says with absolute confidence. "You serve the Hound, now that I have destroyed your master? How far you have fallen."
GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6: (18)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6: 53 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6: (19)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6: 54 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-5: (10)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-5: 40 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-10: (3)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-10: 28 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-15: (17)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-15: 37 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6: (14)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6: 49 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-5: (18)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-5: 48 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-10: (3)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-10: 28 GAME: Serene spends TWO uses of LAY ON HANDS. GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12+12d6: (3)+5+20+12+(37): 77 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12: (1)+5+20+12: 38 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12: (3)+5+20+12: 40 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12: (1)+5+20+12: 38 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+2+20+6: (1)+2+20+6: 29 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+2+20+6: (3)+2+20+6: 31
Serene's eyes flash to the statue as Seldan points it out.. between his shouted words to Ravenstongue and his continued assault upon what is certainly a demon, she switches tacks. No longer attempting to restrain the demon masquerading as an elf, she puts the bladed edges of her gauntlets to good use. Power is channeled through the first of her blows, and the ones that follow suit are brutal and unrefined.. the kind that might have a tavern brawler step back and applaud. "First we shall deal with you, creature.. and then clean up your mess." As she pulls back from her last punch, she raises her voice, "Control the beasts if you can, and GET THAT STATUE!"
GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+1-4: (20)+5+1+-4: 22 (THREAT) GAME: Dirk rolls 1d100: (78): 78 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (10)+27: 37 GAME: Serene casts Paladin's Sacrifice. Caster Level: 20 DC: 24 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls Will+2: (10)+2+2: 14 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
Dirk hears those words. 'Get that statue'. Without a thought, he racks his rifle and lifts it, sighting down the barrel. His eyes narrow, his finger hovers over the trigger as he cocks back the hammer with his thumb. Every shred of focus collapses to that statue on the demon-woman's belt. "Gilead, guide me," he whispers before pulling back on the trigger. CHK-BOOM! PYANG! The bullet flies true, snapping the statue off the belt and sending it tumbling. The old snowbeard wastes no time. With footsteps enhanced by Cor'lana's magic, he leaps forward, sprinting for all he's worth. He catches the statue before it hits, turning and holding it up and away from the enemy, as though playing a savage game of 'keep-away'. "Ye -want- this, ye dozy bint? Eh? DO YE!?" he snarls. Unnatural rage is twisting his features, making his whiskers bristle. "Try an' take it from me! I -dare- ye! Ye won't!"
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+24: (19)+24: 43
With Seldan's call for her to grab the statue intercepted by Dirk going for it, Cor'lana maintains a careful eye on the werewolves around them in the crowd. Another incantation and another blast of glittery 'fairy dust' gets into furry eyes.
"I really wish Tel was here with his stardust right about now," she says with a little frown, the thought born of feytouched whimsy.
Pothy's head snaps to look at Cor'lana. "Is this really the time?" he asks, mimicking her own voice. This earns him a glare.
The werewolves are... well being blinded left and right. They can't see to attack the populace and the people are using that opportunity to get the heck away. They don't hesitate and lives are saved.
The woman grabs the totem neatly from Dirk's hand and grins at him. His anger. His self-righteousness. And SCREAMS. Smoke rises from her hand where she touches the statue and she _drops_ it. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE HELLS?" She glares at Dirk. "Curse you!"
GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1: (17)+24+8+1: 50 GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1-5: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1-5: (3)+24+8+1+-5: 31 GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1-10: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1-10: (1)+24+8+1+-10: 24 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Seldan rolls reunion+se+1: aliased to weapon1+charisma+1: (2)+24+8+1: 35 GAME: Seldan rolls reuniondmg+sedmg: aliased to 1d8+9+8: (6)+9+8: 23 GAME: Serene rolls heal: (16)+13: 29 GAME: Seldan rolls heal: (2)+13: 15
This is not the first time that Seldan has had to fight with a broken nose, nor with vision obscured, and memories of the last time he had to do so flood him. He ruthlessly pushes them aside, though, and steps on the fallen statue, renewing and pressing the attack. One lands solidly, and that he can feel, but the others go wide as his vision shifts and becomes uncertain. "Eluna, guide my blade as I send this Hound's servant where it belongs!" His voice has taken on a strong Myrrish accent, and is distinctly off in sound.
Serene's eyes harden, and she hesitates, briefly, yelling at Dirk. "Go! Get clear! NOW" The kind of tone that brooks no argument, carrying much of the same weight as earlier with the Bravos.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust/Persistent. Caster Level: 8 DC: 20 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6: (12)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6: 47 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6: (3)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6: 38 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-5: (3)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-5: 33 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-10: (13)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-10: 38 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-15: (10)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-15: 30 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6: (12)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6: 47 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-5: (3)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-5: 33 GAME: Serene rolls 1d20+20+5+1+1+12+2-6-10: (4)+20+5+1+1+12+2+-6+-10: 29
Dirk snarls as the statue gets snatched out of his grasp. The tallfolk -always- manage to get one over on the short folk! "YEARRGH! OH, DRINK MY -PISS- YE DOSS CUNT!" he roars in fury. But he's snapped out of his rage by Seldan stepping up at his side. Seeing the more accomplished paladin engage the demon gives the dwarf the opening he needs to get out of harm's way. He nimbly skips back from the enemy and hightails it away, moving instead to somewhere he -can- be useful. Which is to say, one of the lycans who's been missed by Cor'lana's glittery shower. He trundles up at the beast menacing a fearful washerwoman and her child. With a smooth motion, he tosses up his rifle and catches it by the barrel, swinging it like a club with all his strength. It meets the wolf's haunches with a mighty KRAKK! "OY! LEAVE OFF, FLEABAG!" he snarls. He gestures hurriedly for the woman and her child to make good their escape, which they do posthaste.
GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12: (1)+5+20+12: 38 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12: (4)+5+20+12: 41 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+5+20+12: (4)+5+20+12: 41 GAME: Serene rolls 1d4+2+20+6: (2)+2+20+6: 30
Get clear? Now? Go? No need to say it twice. Cor'lana moves quickly and lobs another glitter bomb of a spell, clearing a respectable distance between herself and the melee of the demon woman and the two holy warriors.
"This might be better than that showing of Phantasm of the Choir that you got us tickets to, Pothy," Cor'lana quips.
Pothy looks offended--and then he sings a little aria, as though to prove a point that his choice in musicals is great, thank you.
Moments. There are times when so many things can happen in mere moments. Enough time for Dirk to get clear... a bit of tension drains from her shoulders. Enough time for Ravenstongue to put more distance between the demon's impending retribution. A bit more tension leaves her shoulders. "Be ready!" she tells Seldan, then closes in on the disguised demon once again. So unlike the more disciplined swordplay of Seldan's.. and in many ways, very reminiscient of her own use of the sword. Brutal. Efficient.
She is very close to the false Mul when the world (at least, the world immediately around Serene and Seldan) becomes Fire.
As Serene finishes her last blow, there's a massive explosion. Not just of fire, but of something black and flame-like. Something hotter than the flames and yet cold enough to chill your bones. Even at a distance everyone feels it. Yet thankfully most are far enough away to be unharmed by it. Not so Seldan and Serene. They stand in the epicenter of the explosion and when it fades... They are much the worse for wear. Hair singed, skin turned pink or outright reddened. Bloody wounds cover them and only their armor prevents the true extent of their wounds from being seen.
Yet they still stand, and the demon... is gone.
The force of the blackened blast throws both Seldan and the item on which he stands clear, along with the easel and his knapsack, into the stone storefront of a nearby store, its windows shuttered against the fight raging outside. He hits first, Reunion clattering to the cobblestones several feet away. The statue hits right behind him, slamming into the stone not far over his head and dropping down onto his armored shoulder, then rolling across one or two cobblestones before coming to a stop.
The ginger blonde hair is singed, his skin reddened and bleeding from deep wounds, and his nose is nastily and obviously broken, but he's alive. Mostly functional, even. Groaning, he passes a hand over his eyes, touching gingerly at a broken nose and cheekbone, then reaches blindly around him. His bloodied fingers come to rest on the twisted statue -
It morphs, becoming a cool ivory-ish thing, a sculpted statue of a long-haired girl.
Oh, and there's a red velvet hat with silver arcane stitching along the brim lying a dozen feet away.
There's the explosion that turns the whole world into chaos for a moment in her head--and then Cor'lana finds she's alive, and she can move, because she was a safe distance away. Violet eyes are wide with shock as she looks around--and then catches onto Serene and Seldan's forms. She sees how bloodied they are, and her feet carry her, still clinging to her spell of quickened speed, to the holy warriors.
And her eyes drop to the ground where the demon had been and is no more.
She looks up in disbelief at Seldan and Serene--and then her face splits into a grin. "You two--gods, the stuff of story books, the both of you."
She looks to Seldan in particular and asks, "This may seem obvious to ask, but... Are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to the Soldier's Defense or to a temple? It's the least I could do. Really and truly. You've lifted a burden off my shoulders, so..."
Her violet eyes fill with tears, which make her visibly double-take. "Oh, gods, sorry--shit, I didn't mean to start crying, it's just... It's been so much lately..."
Cor'lana dries her eyes and she takes Seldan's free hand, if he'll let her. "Thank you," she says. More tears fall down her cheeks, but she's smiling so widely. Occasionally, those who follow the moon can make a smile dawn on a person's face with the warmth of Daeus's touch.
Dirk turns back to the melee once the washerwoman and her child are safely away, looking out for any others in need of getting away from the lycans. His gaze falls upon Serene as she goes full Cuisinart on the demon. "Beards o' me fath--" But the oath is cut short by that mighty explosion. "HEEK!" His rifle goes clattering to the cobbles as he drops where he stands, curling up into a defensive ball. The blast tears around him, ruffling his cloak and making him yelp in a panic. When he lifts his head, his face is soot-blackened and his beard a frizzy brush poofed out from his slab of a face. The whites of his eyes are starkly contrasted as they blink owlishly. Blink blink. "Is it -dead-?" he squeaks, shakily getting back to his feet.
"Getting... too old..." Serene mutters to herself as she elects to delay getting up for just a few seconds. Just a few. Unfortunately, as they say.. no rest of the wicked, no peace for the good. Every piece of her creaks and groans, at least to her ears, as she pushes herself up. She pulls one of her gauntlets off, then starts carefully probing her exposed skin, her unarmoured parts.. a few deep breaths to check on her lungs and her ribs. She coughs... must have gotten a breath of that superheated air. Only once the hurts have been cataloged does she call upon her link to the divine, Eluna's power flooding her.. refreshing and stealing away much of the sting of her wounds.
Then she climbs to her feet. Another examination, this time her equipment.. finding it not too badly the worse for wear, aside, perhaps, from her gauntlets, she looks to the others. "No." That's her answer for Dirk. "It has been shown the way home. Not so easy a thing, to slay one of those." If her voice is a bit scratchy, well.. so be it.
Dirk gapes at Serene for a moment, then back to the black smudge where the demon once stood. "Well. Good riddance tae bad rubbish, says I!" He picks up his rifle, looking back to the others. "Thank the gods you two were here, blessed warriors. We'd have had nae chance against the likes o' her. We owe ye our lives." He gestures back to his cart. "Suppose neither o' ye care fer tobacco, but... if ye ever have need o' furs or leathers, my wee shop's open to ye. Anything ye need, just say the word!" He bows low, sweeping his tricorne off his head. "I'll just... be over here. I've nae want tae be a bother." He turns and lumbers over to his cart, eyeballing his pony. Throughout all of the ruckus, the beast has remained blissfully serene, munching happily at its feedbag. "Oh no, no, please, don't get up on -my- account!" he grumbles. The pony turns to nose fondly at his owner, before munching another mouthful. Mmm. Oats.
Seldan, too, begins to pull himself to a sitting position. "My lady, fear not, although my sister-in-arms has the right of it. It is not so easy to truly destroy such as they. But, I must ask you -" While he talks, he, too, is gingerly probing his own face, shoulders, arms, hands, but is doing so by feel, and presses his lips tightly together. It is clear that he cannot see those around him clearly, and after a moment, he places his gauntleted hands on his shoulders in turn, murmuring prayers. His wounds, however, do not heal as swiftly or as thoroughly as Serene's.
He looks up, letting his hands drop and leaning against the cool of the stone. "How did that thing come to be here at all? With the wards on the city ... perhaps something operates within and without the city, both."
-End