Defending the Spell Cannon G1
Word had quickly spread through Alexandria: Heth, the great threat that lurked in Dragonier, is coming. His undead, previously seen in probing attacks over the years as he spread like a malignant plague through the land, had begun moving en masse. Rumors already speak of battles already being waged on the Dranish border, of scores of undead appearing amongst the people of Rune, and other wilder rumors still.
But one thing is certain: the great dragon itself, flanked by the undead remnants of Dragonier and accompanied by winged shadows thought to be its spawn, is on its way. The butcher of Dragonier would visit slaughter on Alexandria at long last...
... but for one thing. The moment had been long prepared for.
They call it the Spell Cannon. A work of artifice that laid dormant in the mountains east of Alexandria until it was discovered. Today, that great work has served as an ultimate deterrent, an artifact of Kulthian malice so powerful that even the great Charnish Empire has not dared attempt to take the crown jewel of Alexandria in light of its presence, fearing the use of it would ensure the move would simply be too costly...
...but Heth has no such mortal considerations. They fear not the works of man or god, Kulthian or Alexandrian. They seek only destruction and slaughter, so they say, and so now the cannon is being prepared, and it must at all costs be protected.
The Alexandrian military is spread thin, working to secure the lands and the city, quelling an unsettled and frightened population, preventing riots and stampedes as people attempt to flee. While some have faith in the cannon, many do not even such a great weapon can stop the great dragon. Surely, Kulthian magic can succeed where the great dragons had failed. Worse still is the fear that firing the cannon will usher in a disaster all its own, unravelling the boundary between the planes or loosing armies of demons in a renewed act of the Demon Wars.
As such, they have activated the Guild of Explorers rolls and summoned every skilled warrior they could find, spreading them throughout the land, and some too at the Spell Cannon itself. Today, some of those bold souls are patrolling and controlling access to the cool mountain passes that lead to the complex above them in the distance, having been ordered to stop and search all who seek passage to the complex, of which there are a great many caravans bringing badly needed equipment, supplies, and magicite. There are no chances to be taken, and any who attempt to pass without the authorized code phrase of 'tilted axis' are to be detained, and if necessary, killed to protect the cannon.
Everything depends on this.
Everything.
Countless lives not just in Alexandros, but the world over. Should Heth survive here and commit his great atrocity on Alexandria, there will be no stopping them, they say, from ushering in an era of darkness that has long threatened.
And so these brave souls patrol in the cool, summer air of a mountain pass, a short distance from the high steps that lead to the cannon's station, one of the final checkpoint for those who seek access to the cannon. Multiple parties have passed already, and many more are yet to come -- arriving swiftly to the moment of salvation... or ultimate destruction.
Aragos stands at the ready, his massive sword already drawn and at the ready. He stands beside his daugher Gramarye, his purple eyes watching those that pass by with stern eyes. He clearly doesn't know if he should trust everyone going by, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he waits patiently - as patiently as he can - for some sign of an attack from within... or without. "What do you think Gramarye? Are we just here to ensure there's no attack? Do you think anyone will dare show up and try to stop this thing from firing?"
Warrick had seen this coming. From the Tribune, from various sources back in the Watch and in the Alexandrian military. Having been on the front lines against Heth's recon invasion force, he was sparing no expensive for the lives of Alexandros.
And while guard duty is beyond dull. He gladly does it, as this pass is one of the last lines of defense. He could not feel more honored to be in this position with the others around him, the once-guard looking more like machine in a set of shining mithral full plate, half of a phoenix painted crudely on the faceplate as a quarter dozen weapons and fistfuls of bolts stick out of quivers. One hand holds the familiar looking massive crossbow, the other held up to his visor. A receipt to an airship ticket bound for Rune.
A steadying sigh leaves him as he puts it away. "If it were me, I'd have a large aerial assault to bypass the pass," he grunts, looking up.
Gramarye's obsidian eyes blink with light as Aragos asks her a question. Her head finally pivots to face him after a moment. "Analysis conclusion: uncertain. There are no enemies detected at this time. Nonetheless, mission directive has put me in the ideal operational state to initiate the combat module at any time."
A blink in her eyes again.
"Please remain ready to initiate combat as well, Father." Then her head pivots in the direction of Warrick. "You as well, Warrick."
Lanier maintains the highground, massive sword remaining strapped to his back while he holds his bow in his hand, arrow knocked. All of his training at the hands of the Syldanyari has come to this, waiting for someone to not say 'stilted axes' so he can shoot them in the face. Or was it 'jilted exes'? Maybe it's a good thing the Mythwood ranger is not alone out here.
He is accompanied by Spud, the dire wolf, who surely remembers the passphrase exactly. While Lanier looks near, Spud looks far, prepared to alert the ranger should he see anything. The ranger looks over towards Warrick, and then shakes his head, calling out, "We can only do what we can do. We're not equipped for an aeriel assult, but if they aren't either, here we are." He grins a detrimental grin.
How absolutely cool it would be to see the giant spell cannon functional was sadly irrelevant, as preventing the world from being destroyed was likely more important. So Schara was out in the middle of nowhere, waiting to make sure that no one attempted to get by that shouldn't be, even if she was unhappy with the expectation they were to kill anyone who did not comply.
The artificer had her eyes on the pass, waiting to see who else would be coming. "I guess that even if this cannon works, we'll need all of these supplies for whatever's remaining. This cannon will work, right?" They wondered, not sounding entirely certain.
Already, there have been travelers seeking passage with the proper code word carrying supplies destined for the cannon. The share it, their wagons are searched, and they move on.
No chances are to be taken. It would only take on small slip to spell doom for everyone. The air is thick with rising tension, as each moment that passes brings danger closer. It will not belong, in the grand scheme of things. Hours, perhaps, if that. One can not say from out here. More wagons come, more searching, more passphrases. The thing being brought up seems to be just massive quantities of magicite. This is not a surprise to anyone, really. No doubt they keep a voluminous stockpile here at the cannon site, but they plainly wanted more of all hues of it. Great crystals of pinks and blues, glowing light with crystalized magical energy.
Another series of wagons approach, now, their own guards approaching to clear the way.
"Oi," calls a tired looking, middle aged guardsman who looks like he's seen better days, sheer exhaustion written all over his face.
"The axis tilts," he whispers loudly enough to be heard by those who approach him. Password, check. All that's needed now is to search the wagons.
Aragos moves in, motioning to the others that he'll take the risk of checking the wagons. Knowing that Warrick is a more ranged combatant, and that Gramarye is as well if one that is becoming more and more adept with her blade. He checks the wagon. Does his duty, but he does it with one hand on his sword hilt. Ready for a fight.
"It better," Warrick offhandedly replies to Schara while giving a slight thumbs up to Gramarye. Several wagons later, and..- his eyes squint behind the lifted visor. That's not the password verbatim. As Aragos moves in, he steps out and to the side. "Sir, please step aside," he instructs, gesturing to the side of the road.
Gramarye watches the wagons, her obsidian eyes catching light as she stares passively. (Or, at least, by flesh-person standards, it might seem that way.) Her eyes blink with light again as Gramarye remarks, "Analysis concluded. There is a 57% match for the facial composition of Warrick and subject: unknown guardsman."
Then Warrick makes the instruction, and Gramarye follows suit, her heavy steps signaling her approach. "Please follow all instructions," she says. "Failure to comply may result in consequences."
Schara glanced at the cart, at the guards, and at the others. "Is that not the password? I guess it's not exact or anything, or something, I won't say more." The artificer mused. "Sorry, but we do need to take this carefully. please reply with Warrick's request, it shouldn't take long to make sure everything is alright, I think?"
GAME: Warrick rolls perception: (9)+9: 18 GAME: Aragos rolls Perception: (14)+2: 16
At the advent of the password being inexact, Lanier's ice blue eyes narrow, and he growls. This seems to be a subtle indication to his partner to be alert. The ranger slips into Sildanyari as he talks to the wolf, "Go see, Spud."
While Lanier covers high, Spud trots forward towards the wagon, stopping within sprinting distance and leaning in to watch and wait.
GAME: Lanier rolls Perception: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Schara rolls perception: (20)+13: 33 GAME: Gramarye rolls Perception: (12)+12: 24
The inexactness of the password could have merely been the guard's fatigue showing. It's his eyes widening a little at the varied responses and there's some understandable fear written into his features that give that away. Still, the search must proceed, even if they go no further.
Each of the three wagons is opened and their contents searched. More magicite, it seems. No surprise there. The various workers in the wagons also look like they're dressed for the weather here appropriately and are no doubt crew for handling the magicite. They hang back. All of them also look a bit tired. Again, no surprise.
But then...
... there is that one. That looks a little excited. A little too fresh faced. A little too tense. It's the kind of thing that draws practiced eyes from everyone, but particularly from Schara and Lanier who can sense the palpable tension underlying that excitement.
Readied. Waiting.
... just in case. His eyes catch Lanier. They know, immediately, that they have been spotted. The uniform on them, a standard one belonging to those working on the spell cannon, sits slightly off on his frame, a button undone. Sloppy, but not just that. Ill fitting, but not beyond the bands of reason. As Lanier's gaze intensifies on the way they stand out, it draws the gaze of the others to it in turn.
His fingers curl against something in his palm.
He whispers.
"...let fates be unwritten and the axis dissolve, OUR MASTER COMMANDS IT SO"
... and then all of them hear a pop-hiss coming from one of the crates of magicite. Oh no.
GAME: Gramarye rolls Reflex: (12)+7: 19 GAME: Warrick rolls reflex: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Schara rolls reflex: (13)+9: 22 GAME: Aragos rolls Reflex: (20)+10: 30 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Lanier rolls Reflex: (2)+11: 13 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 10d6: (28): 28
That pop-hiss gives one only a moment to brace, and then: light. One of the wagons, and everyone on it, erupts in a pillar of black flame that consumes everything, spreading and spiralling outwards in a deafening explosion. Those who survived on the outskirts of that wagon seem to be writhing as black fire eats them alive from inside out. They're ... changing within it.
The young engineer in the Spell Cannon station uniform smiles.
"LET IT ALL BURN DOWN," he yells, even if one can barely hear him over the ringing of their ears.
Those not consumed by the terrible black energy are scattering, running off to the sides. Many of them are horribly burnt or injured by the force of the explosion, while others seem to be limited to just scratches or bleeding form their ears. They stagger, fall, and simply try to confusedly put some space between themselves and the horror.
Several of those consumed with the flame lift into the air as they are consumed by pillars of black fire. It seems to suffuse in them, fill them. They erupt into particularly tentacled horrors of eyes and mouths, like their bodies no longer have rules to hold them together. That's not good.
GAME: Gramarye casts Haste. Caster Level: 8 DC: 20
Gramarye's eyes go red, which, if the tentacled horrors weren't a firm enough indication that things have kicked off... This certainly is. "Initiating combat module. Designated Commander: Father. Initiating spellcasting." Her voice has dropped an octave, sounding all the more artificial now.
She lifts up a hand. "Quickening magic deploying," she intones, followed by a string of eldritch words. Magic then emanates from her hands and washes over her allies. Time is a looser arrangement for Gramarye and her allies now.
Aragos draws his sword as Gramarye's magic washes over him and he prays to Vardama that the spirit of his sword should awaken. Immediately the dark blue blade starts to glow from within as if consumed by witch-fire. The paladin grins grimly. "Come get a piece of this!" He growls at the void monsters.
GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+1+1: (10)+12+-3+1+1: 21 GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+1+1: (20)+12+-3+1+1: 31 (THREAT) GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+1+1: (15)+12+-3+1+1: 26 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+4+6: (7)+4+6: 17 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+4+6: (3)+4+6: 13 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+11: (18)+11: 29 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+13: (5)+13: 18
In the distance, they can hear howls. Sounds that can only be described as 'unearthly'.
And on either side, they can see distant figures picking up and racing towards the fray -- allies to the cultist in question, no doubt, whose eyes are wide with frenzied delight.
"Yes! Yes! We will burn it all away," shouts the cultist.
When all hell breaks loose, even the usually stalwart ranger is taken completely by surprise and caught squarely in the blast. It takes a moment for him to recover, and by sheer instinct, he does so by moving forward towards the wagon as he calls out, "Spud! Now!" He cheeks the arrow, bringing his bow up, and finds his target through the haze. He looses two arrows, clearly stunned, and liquifies one of the abominations.
Spud jumps clear of the blast and then immediately turns back. He is well trained, and waits until he receives his signal to jump in. He sinks his teeth without hesitation into the first abomination he sees, attempting to wrench it to the ground, but failing at this point.
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1: (16)+14+-2+1: 29 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1: (13)+14+-2+1: 26 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1: (14)+14+-2+1: 27 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1-5: (2)+14+-2+1+-5: 10 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage: aliased to 1d10+4: (10)+4: 14 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage: aliased to 1d10+4: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage: aliased to 1d10+4: (6)+4: 10
Warrick cries out in pain as he's thrown against the wall of the pass. The magic washes over his form, making him peel off the wall and drop to a brisk knee. "Alarm!" he shouts up the road before grabbing a fistful of bolts. With terrifying alacrity, four bolts thunk into the sapper's torso, the last hitting the once-cackling-corpse.
"Shit, hold the line! For the Phoenix!" he barks out, armor partially smoking from the blast as he looks up to the oncoming hoard of cultists. "Serriel bless us, ready yourselves! They're rushing!"
GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+11: (8)+11: 19 GAME: Schara rolls 4d6+4+1: (14)+4+1: 19
In the distance, all of them see pillars of light erupt into the blue sky, as if other detonations elsewhere have been triggered. No doubt it is creating more of those ... things.
In the distance, drawing short blades, other cultists are clearly closing in on their position having been laying in wait for the moment to get as close as they could to the complex -- and that's their target. They're going to have to get by the adventurers first.
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (5)+11: 16 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (19)+11: 30 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (19)+11: 30 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (12)+11: 23 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (5)+11: 16 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (7)+3: 10 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (7)+3: 10 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (2)+3: 5 GAME: Gramarye rolls Fortitude: (7)+13: 20 GAME: Schara rolls fortitude: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d6: (4): 4
The survivors try to drag themselves away -- but those who aren't quick enough are snatched up by those ... caterwauling -things-, which seem to be melded into their being by their touch, allowing them to swell and grow in horrific ways. You can hear their screaming, and then the abrupt cessation of it.
Other abominations still descend on those still standing to fight, striking with grasping tentacles at Gramarye, Warrick and Shara to start while others are finishing ... consuming their meals.
Schara was left reeling from the explosion much like the others, left with a ringing beneath her helmet that took time to power through. The artificer hit one switch on her armor, causing it to shift on their limbs, one of which was extended into coils of wiring that glowed white hot, blasting one of the abominations with a gout of flames.
GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (2)+12+1+-2: 13 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2-5: (1)+12+1+-2+-5: 7 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (4)+12+1+-2: 15 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (11)+12+1+-2: 22 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2-5: (5)+12+1+-2+-5: 11 GAME: Gramarye rolls damage7+1+6: aliased to 2d6+6+1+6: (8)+6+1+6: 21
Aided by quickening magic, Gramarye trains her crimson gaze onto the abomination that had attacked her. "Engaging melee tactics. Enhancing with arcane energy," she announces in that dread lower-octave of hers. The greatsword launches out as she brings it down to bear in three successive strikes. The first is the only one that manages to make contact, lashing out with a lick of arcane sparks around the blade as it scores a vicious bite into the abomination.
"Commander-Father. Join me in melee," Gramarye intones. "Rout the enemy."
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2+1: (2)+13+1+2+1: 19 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2+1: (5)+13+1+2+1: 22 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+8+1+2+1: (18)+8+1+2+1: 30 GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+6+1+2: (8)+6+1+2: 17 GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+6+1+2: (8)+6+1+2: 17
GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+2: (14)+12+-3+2: 25 GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+2: (12)+12+-3+2: 23 GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+2-5: (7)+12+-3+2+-5: 13 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+11: (5)+11: 16
"At your six!" Aragos calls out to Gramarye. He's taught her that this means that he's got her back. They've practiced fighting before. Now, on this day, that comes to fruition. He swings his sword and attacks the enemy viciously, but it's still standing at the end of his attack. "Tougher than they look!"
GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10: (3)+10: 13 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10: (2)+10: 12
Laying on the ground, gurgling, the fallen cultist twitches, a smile on his face as he bleeds to death, at last.
He looks ... happy.
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1+1-2: (15)+14+1+1+-2: 29 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1+1-2: (3)+14+1+1+-2: 17 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (3)+4+1: 8 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1+1-2: (3)+14+1+1+-2: 17 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1+1-2-5: (4)+14+1+1+-2+-5: 13 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1+1-2: (9)+14+1+1+-2: 23 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (6)+4+1: 11
He senses them before he sees them, which causes Lanier to look over his shoulder to see the oncoming group of cultists. The ranger's eyes widen and he turns quickly, his cloak swinging behind him at the magic-enhanced speed in which he moves. He trots back a few steps, bringing his bow up again. He finds his next target, and unleashes a volley of arrows upon them. His arrows fly true and he brings one of the would-be attacks down, who dies happy, but still dies. The third arrow impacts another of the cultists, severely wounding him.
Spud continues his attack on the abomination before him, viciously attempting to rip grotesque flesh away like its his job. Unfortunately, he cannot quite sink teeth into flesh, which will appear on his performance review at a later date. If there is a later date.
GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+11: (11)+11: 22 GAME: Schara rolls 4d6+4+1: (21)+4+1: 26
Warrick gasps in pain as the abomination latches on to him, the arbalest buckling in the weight. He only just barely gets a hold of himself, ramming him helmet into the creature as he jams his crossbow into center mass. "You fucks will NOT take the last of Third Company!" he growls, letting the bolt lose point blank, before pistol whipping them with the weapon and running a line of hits and missing along a tentacle. "Silver and cold iron do nothing!" he shouts over his shoulder, stepping back to get some space.
The cultists are racing towards them. Some have fallen, picked off by Lanier's arrows, but they ... don't seem to care. Like they're welcoming it, embracing annihilation.
They're closing in now on the survivors that have scattered away, knives out, ready to murder them with their long, curved, and wicked blades.
The survivors, aware of their peril now, turn and try to race away, those that can. Try to escape. Many are simply too injured for it -- while the abominations are now increasingly drawn from the easy prey to the prey that have actually harmed them....
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (17)+11: 28 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (5)+11: 16 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (16)+11: 27 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (17)+11: 28
Schara took aim at another one of the abominations, even as some of them clawed at her, even through the armor with some means of draining magics. The artificer turned to another one of the abominations, this one being incinerated in another blast of flame until little remained. "Fire seems to work fairly well, but there are a lot of them, and a lot of injured."
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (8)+3: 11 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (6)+3: 9 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Warrick rolls fortitude+2: (12)+8+2: 22 GAME: Gramarye rolls Fortitude: (5)+13: 18 GAME: Aragos rolls Fortitude: (6)+14: 20 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d6: (5): 5
One descends on Lanair, but is unable to strike him. The others descend alike on, Aragos, Warrick and Gramarye, each being struck, lashed, grabbed at. Like it wants to pull them into it ...
... but so far, they're able to resist its call. They can feel the gibbering madness of it winding its way into their consciousness, however. Those that have already consumed their prey flit up into the air and then dive towards the complex in the distance.
GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (6)+12+1+-2: 17 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2-5: (8)+12+1+-2+-5: 14 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (16)+12+1+-2: 27 GAME: Gramarye rolls damage7+1+6: aliased to 2d6+6+1+6: (11)+6+1+6: 24
The red in Gramarye's eyes briefly flickers, but the lights are still on upstairs. "I will eradicate the enemy," she simply states.
Three swings of the greatsword again, but the two go errant. Only the last strikes true, skewering the abomination and making it squeal sickly around the blade before she pulls it back. "Rout the enemy. Failure is not an option. We proceed." Is this... a war golem's attempt to rally her allies?
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+3: (14)+3: 17 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+3: (4)+3: 7 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+3: (2)+3: 5 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+3: (8)+3: 11
Aragos steps forward then, his purple eyes darkening with determination. He slams his fist against his chest. "HEAR ME! I AM A PALADIN OF VARDAMA! COME AT *ME*!" He hopes by making a spectacle of himself that he can convince the enemy to come at him rather than the innocent people in the street. "ASSHOLES!"
GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+2+4: (17)+12+-3+2+4: 32 GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+2+4: (11)+12+-3+2+4: 26 GAME: Lanier rolls Ranged-3+2+4-5: (5)+12+-3+2+4+-5: 15 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+11: (19)+11: 30 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10+4: (3)+10+4: 17 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10+4: (3)+10+4: 17 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10: (4)+10: 14
The first wave of cultists crashes into the area. The abominations are ignoring them, that's for sure, perhaps aware on some level that they're on the same side...
For about six seconds until they start targeting and eating them too. They don't seem to care.
Those that make it to the rest of the party fall on Aragos in particular, his call having drawn their attention. They mob him with their knives.
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (14)+6: 20 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (6)+6: 12 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (3)+6: 9 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (5)+6: 11
As the cultists continue to advance, Lanier falls back just a little further. He continues shooting arrows as quickly as he can draw them from the quiver at his waist. Only, now, he seems a little more sure of himself now he understands that the cultists that are attacking are humanoid. He knows how to deal with them.
Spud does some soul searching and makes some positive long--term career choices, altering his strategy along key verticles to create a value added experiencing when biting the hell out of the abominations. Synergy!
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-4-2+1+1: (20)+14+-4+-2+1+1: 30 (THREAT) GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-4-2+1+1: (6)+14+-4+-2+1+1: 16 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-4-2+1+1: (19)+14+-4+-2+1+1: 29 (THREAT) GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-4-2+1+1+2: (9)+14+-4+-2+1+1+2: 21 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-4-2+1+1-5: (13)+14+-4+-2+1+1+-5: 18 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-4-2+1+1: (11)+14+-4+-2+1+1: 21 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+4+xbowDamage+4: aliased to 1d10+4+4+1d10+4+4: (9)+4+4+(5)+4+4: 30 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (10)+4+1: 15 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (4)+4+1: 9 GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+11: (18)+11: 29 GAME: Schara rolls 4d6+4+1: (18)+4+1: 23
Warrick is all but consumed as the abomination engulfs him. Metallic scraping and clanging coming from underneath the mass as the horde of cultists swarm the paladin. Another metallic click. A beat of stillness in the chaos.
A bolt violently explodes out from the backside of the tentacled creature as they get lifted and tossed aside. "SERRIEL GUIDES ME! ALEXANDRIA NURTURES ME!" he scream hysterically, the creature having scrambled his mind a bit in the right direction. A fistful of bolts slam into the crossbow as the winch is yanked back again. "FOR THE-" Double. "-RED-" Triple tap, and the horrifying thing ceases. "-AND GOLD!"
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (10)+11: 21 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (12)+11: 23 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (9)+3: 12 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+3: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Aragos rolls Fortitude: (6)+14: 20 GAME: Aragos rolls Fortitude: (20)+14: 34 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
Schara had her arm burning further, the metal burning bright and erupting in more flames, enveloping one of the abominations in heavy flames that died just as quickly, leaving a incinerated pile of tentacles in their wake.
GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (2)+12+1+-2: 13 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2-5: (7)+12+1+-2+-5: 13 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (4)+12+1+-2: 15 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (15)+12+1+-2: 26 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2-5: (12)+12+1+-2+-5: 18 GAME: Gramarye rolls weapon7+1-2: (6)+12+1+-2: 17 GAME: Gramarye rolls damage7+1+6: aliased to 2d6+6+1+6: (4)+6+1+6: 17
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2+1: (20)+13+1+2+1: 37 <OOC> Aragos rolls to confirm GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2+1: (2)+13+1+2+1: 19 <OOC> Aragos rpp reroll >.> GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2+1: (10)+13+1+2+1: 27 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2+1: (14)+13+1+2+1: 31
They fall on Aragos.
The abominations absorb the cultists between him and them, pulling them into their shifting, twisting mass. They don't care. No one cares. Annihilation is the only point, isn't it? Distant explosions rock the mountains.
Still, Aragos is slashed by tentacles that seem to grasp at him but don't manage to really pull him into it.
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+8+1+2+1: (1)+8+1+2+1: 13 (EPIC FAIL)
There are abominations swarming her father. Gramarye's red eyes are bright as she steps to close in on an enemy that is on her commander, her Father. "Reinforcements. Got your six." She's learning. How sweet--
Maybe less sweet is the brutal and efficient way she plunges her blade into the abomination, which squeals and dies another death as it writhes on her greatsword. "For the red and gold," Gramarye intones. "For Commander-Father."
GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+6+1+2d6+1+2+2: (7)+6+1+(6)+1+2+2: 25 GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+6+1+2: (3)+6+1+2: 12 GAME: Aragos rolls 4d6: (16): 16
Aragos hears Gramarye coming in and swings all the harder to protect her. His daughter, however strange that might seem to others who do not know or understand their relationship. He can feel his life ebbing away, but the warmth of Vardama's touch is rising too. "The dead are calling! I hear you begging for death. I'm running out of magic. Time to scream. Scream for me!" It seems like nonsense but it's a death dirge. For the fallen, and for himself.
GAME: Lanier rolls Melee+2-3+1+4: (17)+13+2+-3+1+4: 34 GAME: Lanier rolls Melee+2-3+1+4: (3)+13+2+-3+1+4: 20 GAME: Lanier rolls Melee+2-3+1+4-5: (14)+13+2+-3+1+4+-5: 26 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+11-2: (12)+11+-2: 21 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d20+6-2: (7)+6+-2: 11 GAME: Lanier rolls 2d6+7+2+9+4: (4)+7+2+9+4: 26 GAME: Lanier rolls 2d6+7+2+9+4: (3)+7+2+9+4: 25 GAME: Lanier rolls 2d6+7+2+9+4: (6)+7+2+9+4: 28 GAME: Lanier rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1+1: (2)+14+-2+1+1: 16 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1+1: (9)+14+-2+1+1: 23 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1+1: (7)+14+-2+1+1: 21 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2+1+1-5: (2)+14+-2+1+1+-5: 11 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (4)+4+1: 9 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (4)+4+1: 9
Taking another step back, Lanier watches the cultists ascending upon him. He presents an easy target, one with a bow that would be ineffective at the short ranges they are fighting at. At the perfect time, Lanier casts the bow aside and unshoulders his greatsword. With a mighty swing over his head, the Gilead Ranger generates the momentum that carries the greatsword into the first oncoming cultist. The ranger continues swinging the sword, placing it exactly where it needs to be to cut down cultists and continue his work to halt their advance.
Spud for his part remains a highly motivated cog in the Puncture & Rend division of Bit Flanks, LLC. Spud is a team player who continues to bite abominations that stray to close to it, both biting and rending to the satisfaction of management. Still no raise, this year. They don't have the budget.
The arbalest is fully in the moment, the bolts shot into the abomination are ripped free and slammed messily into the crossbow. Explosions are happening in the distance, things are flying around, the team dishing out so much pain while taking much in return. The entire thing is absolute chaos, that battle fever is running so high. "LOOSE!" Warrick barks to the team as a bead of suppressive fire pelts into the onslaught of cultists. "HOLD THE LINE, COMRADES!"
GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+11: (7)+11: 18 GAME: Schara rolls 4d6+4+1: (18)+4+1: 23
Their numbers are thinned, but this is not the end of the problems that they face, no. It's just the beginning.
The cultists and their followers arrive en masse, still more of them. How many? Dozens more, all lured to the Spell Cannon by the siren call of nothing short of the Void.
... or perhaps nothing short of Heth. The battle drags on, leaving each warrior exhausted, drained, embattled and wounded. Aragos, in particularly, receives several grave wounds that send him down to the ground in time, exhausted and unable to continue.
Backup arrives in the form of airships, blazing their mana guns towards t he rising tide of swarming abominations, dispatching elite units from the Alexandrian military to relieve you as the assault continues, and to get the injured survivors to the help they so desperately need. Hours.
... And there each of you stand, on the edge of the airship, when you see ...
Him.
The great shadow of the dragon spans the horizon, great wings outstretched as if they could blot out the sun itself. So great in size and scale, this monstrosity that its visible in detail even from this far away from it. A flock of others accompany it, smaller, but no less fearsome. Dragons so black as to be living shadows.
Each of them are stricken. Voices in their minds, calling out.
"ALL FOR HETH! ALL FOR HETH! THE FIRST BORN! HAIL THE FIRST BORN"
Thousands of voices. The fallen of Dragonier, forced to worship their murderer's divine birth right.
And then a great thrumming. The hair on the back of the neck stands up. Energy. Building up. The great complex of the Spell Cannon opens wide and the barrel of the gun itself arises from the mountain, glowing with brilliant white light that seems to distort everything around it.
... and then it fires.
-End