Stradia: The 4th War - Book 1 Thread 3 "The North Falls"

[Azisien]

Temple of Avelia - Ritual Chamber

The ironwood staff made a loud 'whoosh' noise as it swung through the air where Zoreg had been a moment earlier. In a proper state of mind, Bentis would have realized this was no ordinary sluggish troll. But the boy was far from a proper state of mind. Another power swing, and another, and a third. Each time Bentis swung he seemed to get a little more off target. Zoreg moved backward and sideways, still gripping his weapon but eager, and amused, to observe the angry midget before him.

An arrow whizzed by, missing Zoreg's head by only a few inches. The lieutenant glanced up and immediately recognized the Kenshurian with the bow. He had chased him personally to no avail. Today, he had every intention of getting what he had wanted back on that battlefield. Still, the arrow distracted him long enough for Bentis to close the gap and finally land a hit. There were no quick jabs anymore in the boy's fighting style. He was going for long-reaching, powerful blows, often with both hands. Though the staff was aimed for Zoreg's neck, he shrugged his shoulder to block the blow and growled as he felt his enormous arm come close to the breaking point. The rage he felt earlier started to return.

Two more warriors moved to attack. One was a fat child, Zoreg thought. One of the Kenshurian races. Recognition clicked. He had also been present on the battlefield. Were these the Kenshurian elite? The other warrior carried a longsword. Zoreg grinned. Short-reach weapons.

Bentis was still attacking furiously, with no regard for the allies trying to enter the fray. He cut Graeme off, his eyes were focused on Zoreg's own, his staff an extension of his body, mind, and rage. Zoreg had no intention of getting surrounded. As Bentis made yet another attack, he was finally denied. Gripping the chain widely with both hands, Zoreg hooked the staff out of its trajectory and forced the weapon down. Bentis wasn't tiring at all yet, and he was using all of his strength to resist the movement, to retract the weapon.

The boy was strong, but not Zoreg strong. The Venurian pulled Bentis in and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying back into the low stone wall that formed the inner circle of the chamber. Graeme moved in to strike immediately, sure Bentis would no longer get in the way. Loki moved in as well, but slower than usual. Zoreg whipped out one of the maces defensively. It smashed Able right out of Loki's hand; the hammer made a loud clanking noise as it landed near the statue of Avelia. Graeme stopped as the mace came around, and for a brief moment his vision went completely dark as the weapon whipped directly in front of his face.

Zoreg reduced the length of the chain slightly, pulling it back with one hand. With his right hand, he poured more strength into the spinning motion. Grinning stupidly as per usual, the lieutenant waited for the Kenshurians to enter the deadly whirlwind.

***

Jahvid smiled at the two Kenshurians that had spotted him approaching the ritual chambers. As Penn focused his healing magic into a deadly poison arrow, the Venurian druid spoke. "You must be used to battle, for you are lost in it. I merely walk down a hall and you move to strike me down!"

The twang of Penn's bowstring triggered a metamorphosis in Jahvid. His skin turned dark grey immediately, and by the time the arrow had traversed the short distance separating the two opponents, he had become a stone, living statue of his former self. The arrow deflected off his new skin harmlessly. Statue Jahvid smiled at the ranger. "No more of that." General Lazarith's apprentice began walking forward again, brandishing his quarterstaff menacingly at Penn.

***

Temple of Avelia - Courtyard and Treeline Area

Oak crashed into the treeline, ripping up trees half its own size with momentum alone. Aieris and Celeste were like ants in a giant field of moss to the vacant eyes of the animated tree. It rampaged through the forest, due east, but soon its progress slowed. Oak was enormous, the largest tree in Gole Forest while it stood upon its roots, but there were still other ancient trees of similar size. It could not pursue the ants well in the forest.

Celeste ran for her life. All other sounds in the forest were replaced by the horrible wooden crashing, snapping, and tearing sounds behind her.

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OOC: Are you ready?

Zoreg: Melee VII
Jahvid: Melee V, Elementalism X, Shapeshifting V, Conjuration X.

[Lumenskir]

Ishva hissed at the approaching troll and his staff, her tongue vibrating along with the sound. As the arrows bounced off the troll's magical new hide, the elven monk decided it was her time. Sprinting forwards, her arms spread and torso low in the Hunting Drake form, Ishva's eyes focused on her enemy's weapon. When she was a little less than ten feet away, she clasped her hands towards the ground, a concussive bubble of air expelling her body airward. Shifting her stance as she sailed over her foe, Ishva readied her claws to slash across the troll's head and back.

[TheBlindMime]

Loki's arm barely even twitched from the contact made by the mace, his eyes marveled at the spin of the hammer but he never swayed his head from Zoreg. As if he held only had a passing fancy for the sight. Loki heard the clang of the hammer, then something else caught his attention other then the stench of burned flesh and arse that was Zoreg, someone was singing. It was a hymn, a hymn for Avelia.

"Vulni lurved that song..." he mumbled to no one in particular, moving in rhythm with the song Loki danced back and forth. He stayed just out of range waiting for any sudden movement, anything that might present a threat. He waved his hammer threateningly as he began singing along with the song, his free hand dangled just above the dagger lodged into his stomach. Suddenly without any warning, and in the middle of a verse he dove down beneath the swing of a hammer and rolled between Zoreg's legs.

Raising his hammer to defend against, the mace swing he knew was coming as he drove his only remaining weapon; the dagger, toward Zoreg's hamstring. He sang wistfully as he did, "blessed be the light..."

[Barahad]

Graeme's eyes snapped instinctively shut as the mace whistled past, dangerously close to his face. Bentis was lost in rage; Loki in a haze of pain and injury. Graeme took an insinctive step forward after the near-miss. The next blow hammered on his shield and threatened to push him off his stance. He dug in his heels and struck; from behind, he heard Penn's bow sing, and the mocking voice of...Graeme did not know, and he could not spare the moment it would take to look.

The troll before him had begun laughing, swinging his long mace around and around, a mighty whirlwind which offered little opening for the attacking Kenshurians. Graeme frowned. The creature's strength was greater than any single one of them. Graeme would not be able to reach with his blade without opening himself to a horrendous battering from the creature. So he took a step back and sheathed his sword, and devoted his entire strength to breaking the troll's swings with his shields. Steeling it with both arms and his body, Graeme stepped into the howling tornado of steel, a silent prayer to Avelia racing through his mind.

There was a crunching blow on the shield, hard enough that Graeme felt steel bend, and his stance slip. Pain flared up his arms and through his shoulders as he moved with the force of the blow, using the momentum to deflect it away from himself, interrupting the whirlwind, even if only momentarily. Another blow, another crunch, more pain, more interruption. Graeme's muscles burned with the strain of resisting the repeated blows, but he knew his allies would strike at the opponent, and remove at least some of the pressure from him. Then, in the midst of that long, painful defence, he felt something new, but familiar: energy; light; warmth...

Then he heard the Father's singing, and the warmth enveloped him: wounds were soothed; hurts forgotten, tired muscles refreshed. Graeme's stance, faltering a moment before, firmed; his deflections became quicker, better, more accurate in their redirection. Nearby, Loki dove under the troll's deadly swings, his dagger seeking the creature's leg. Graeme saw the opening in the dwarf's daring attack, and could only hope Bentis saw the same opportunity. Graeme shifted his weight again, and brought himself more firmly in line with the troll's screaming mace-head. He only hoped he could hold long enough.

[Jtab]

Bentis hit the stone wall with a dull but powerful thud. Under ordinary circumstances, the young Kenshurian warrior would have noticed the near immediate bruising from the collision. However, the shock of slamming into the wall brought some sense back to the enraged Bentis. At this point, though, nothing short of a crippling injury would break the focus or wound the resolve flowing through the militiaman. Bouncing back to his feet, the boy bound back towards his target. The troll had become a tornado of metal as he swung his weapon wildly about him. He noticed the knight Graeme had engaged the monstrous troll as he closed to striking distance. Bravely, the knight angled his shield to modify the path of the Venurian’s spinning chain wall. Through this opening, Bentis launched an attack. He put all the force of his momentum behind the staff as he thrust forward, aiming for the area just below the troll’s ribcage.

[Azisien]

Temple of Avelia - Ritual Room

Loki's attack was slow, but that turned out to be advantageous. He came out striking in unison with Graeme's move, shortly followed by the ever-determined Bentis. A little bit of clarity, spurred on by survival reflex, brought Zoreg out of his anger. He watched on, essentially defenseless against all three maneuvers. He wouldn't be able to block them all.

The mace head, larger than Graeme's own, collided with the knight's steel kite shield. Zoreg would make some of them pay, at the very least. Though Graeme braced himself with his entire body, it wasn't enough to keep his footing. Pain reeled up his hands, arms, and torso as he felt many of his bones near the breaking point. He thought he felt a rib fracture, but he couldn't be sure once the full force of the weapon struck him. Metal screeched on metal and everything went black for a moment. When the disoriented knight opened his eyes again, he was on the floor. Five feet away from his last position, he was pinned down by his kite shield, now a mangled, metal blanket folded around Zoreg's mace.

Loki watched on with the interest of a rather distant spectator as his own hand drove the dagger deep into Zoreg's hamstring. The ferocious roar the Venurian emitted also seemed distant. A lot of blood was pouring out of the dwarf's wound now. His closing consciousness seemed visible on the edges of his vision, even with the healing power of Vincent's song. He withdrew the dagger and stabbed again, and again, and again. There were six equally deep puncture wounds in the troll's leg before the beast freed up one hand, twisted his body around, and shoved Loki back hard.

It was almost perfectly in line with Bentis' attack. Zoreg turned around in time to see the little human close in and thrust, but there was no time to react. All of the air in the Venurian's massive lungs exploded outward in a primal heave and, coupled with his wounded leg, caused him to stumble backward. Zoreg was thinking clearly again: this was the end. That was the nature of battle, but he would battle to the grave. He was a warrior to the bone.

Dropping his weapon, partly consciously, partly out of growing fatigue, Zoreg grabbed Bentis' staff and yanked the militiaman forward. Bentis figured another kick was coming and prepared to evade it, but one didn't come. Instead, Zoreg yanked the staff again, bringing the boy closer. Neither were willing to relinquish their grip, until the big troll yanked a third time, and tackled Bentis at the same time. Bentis yelped involuntarily as the four-hundred-pound beast sat on him. Zoreg started wailing on the boy furiously.

***

Out in the hall, Jahvid moved to counter Ishva's attack. "Interesting style! In another world, we could have exchanged knowledge!" Despite his strange behaviour though, Jahvid couldn't physically dodge the monk's speedy strike. Instead, he mimicked her own maneuver. As Ishva took a swipe with her augmented claws, Jahvid generated his own concussive shock to push Ishva back. Tiny stone chips burst into the air between the two combatants as Ishva grazed Jahvid's neck. The Kenshurian monk caught the tiniest glimpse of red as she fell to the ground rather unceremoniously behind the Venurian druid.

Penn's bowstring made another happy twang as he loosed an arrow. This time there was no magical poison enchanting the tip, but he had aimed it perfectly straight and at maximum draw. Jahvid resumed his journey down the hall, only a few feet away from the doorway and Penn. The arrow traversed the distance between them in a split second. With a low grunt, Jahvid whipped his head back in discomfort as the arrow dug itself into his neck. He turned back to face Penn, raising an arm. "So many weak opponents in this country. I nearly forgot what pain felt like. I find the sensation enlightening." An enormous, concentrated blast of air exploded out of Jahvid's hands, knocking Penn off his feet and back several feet. In the aftermath of the attack, the Venurian entered the ritual room.

He yanked the arrow out of his neck, pulling most of the stone off of his face in the process. Steam hissed out of the wound, while blood dipped down onto his stone-covered chest. Vincent was just a few feet ahead, continuing his song of holy power. Jahvid glanced at him, but otherwise paid him no attention and continued down the steps to the inner circle of the room. Zoreg was on top of a little boy, punching him sluggishly. The boy was somehow alive and fighting back with hand, nail, and even teeth. A midget and a Kenshurian man both moved in with blades in hand.

Graeme reached Zoreg first. He angled his blade sideways and drove it up between the lieutenant's ribcage, then thrust harder, assuredly piercing vital organs and inflicting a fatal wound. Loki dove onto Zoreg's back and, gripping the dagger hilt with both hands, slammed the weapon down into the Venurian's neck. Bentis' vision went red as Zoreg's blood dripped into his eyes.

In one final move, Zoreg wrapped his fat hands around Bentis' neck and started to squeeze with all of his might. But his might was faded now, a fraction of what it was two minutes earlier. The militiaman choked, gasped, and grabbed at the troll's hands to defend himself. He heard one of Zoreg's fingers snap twice as he hyperextended it, but the beast made no sounds. Finally, Graeme squatted, gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, and gave a final, heaving thrust. The entire blade disappeared within the innards of the mighty Venurian lieutenant. Zoreg's grip relinquished.

Jahvid watched the scene intently. The stone around his left leg was falling away, revealing second-degree burns.

******

Temple of Avelia - Eastern Treeline Area

The Oak came to a stop. It had lost sight and scent of its prey, the two ants. Then, suddenly, a huge gash burst beneath its 'mouth,' sending bark and wood falling one hundred feet to the forest floor below. Without a clearly defined target, the Oak started to move its larger branches toward the multiple little fires now burning within its huge bulk. Hundreds of leaves padded away at the fires, but only some were smothered. It could not seem to extinguish the fire within its roots.

A few hundred feet away, Aieris was running out of breath. She hadn't run terribly far, and on any other day she could have run for a few more miles, but the fatigue of maintaining the fires within the giant tree of bloody death from this far away was bearing down on her.

One mile further east, Xivven stood with thirteen gargoyles. Several survivors from Mithik's contingent had found her hit-and-run squads and joined them fleeing the Oak. Unfortunately, one of the gargoyles from her original party had been slaughtered by the animated montrosity. Xivven's gargoyle mount, and burgeoning second-in-command officer, saluted her, even though he towered over her by a full two feet.

[TheBlindMime]

Loki twist and bent the dagger into Zoreg's neck with the same compassion a sociopath would offer a lady of the evening in her final moments. Loki taunted him. "How's that taste ye damn-ned and bloodeh sodden troll?" Loki's weariness began to break the transformation, emotions were sweeping in. He dove to the left as Graeme put a boot into the troll and began pulling his blade free, along with whatever aid the still struggling Bentis could offer the three managed to pull Zoreg to the ground.

However Graeme's blade came dangerously close to Loki's chest, spilling bile over his shirt. As Loki stood upon his shaky feet, he looked down at his shirt and declared angrily, "Damn ye knight, ye nearly cut me in twain ye did." He rose his sights from the shirt, the scorched, torn, bloodied, ripped and half sleeveless shirt and directed his gaze to the Knight. Loki's emerald eyes burned into the jade eyes of the young knight.

"And ye ruined me favorite shirt as well!" Loki only held the stern look for a second longer before exploding with laughter. Joy. How long had it been since he'd laughed, each laugh rolled from his mouth easier then the first as tears fell from his eyes. Mirth had always soothed Loki, it had always been his catharsis and it felt damned good to feel it once again.

Then he felt the eyes upon him, likely his companions felt them first but Loki had not the time to check. Jahvid was an intimidating sight, an arrow through his throat, a burn across his leg and he eyed the three fighters as if they only had a passing fancy in his world. The rubble around him continued to fall from his imposing form, it was too smooth to be anything but armor he'd cast aside. "Well shit." Loki burst into laughter once more, he wasn't quite sure why but he did little to fight it. It died much quicker then his first bout.

His mind was fully awakened now, they were in grave danger if not already in graves. Their attack would need to be quick and decisive, there could be no surrender to a creature such as this. Loki with only dagger in hand, took only a single step forward. His body now began to stir. Pain. It had not been nearly long enough since Loki felt it. Pain was everywhere at once and magnified itself ten-fold with every passing second. The pain became so intense Loki couldn't even manage to breathe. It was one thing to experience pain from its beginning, it was quite another to turn it on while it was at full intensity.

He fell to his knees, to the left of Zoreg's corpse and wretched, it looked to be more blood then bile. Loki managed to hold onto his consciousness a moment longer to gaze up at the bemused blood-druid. "I'll gash your ankles, I wil..." His mangled and worn body fell just beside his vomit, ironically enough, if he'd had a beard, it would have soaked in it.

[Rhiya Ravenwing]

Xivven rubbed her eyes. For all cases, the Venurian lieutenant was exhausted, but she did not show that in her physical stature. The new gargoyles that joined her was restless, some of them cut and bruised. She didn't know what to do with them, except to let them follow.

"Lieutenant Xivven," the gargoyle beside her - now assuming second in command - announced to everybody in general. Xivven looked up.

"There were a hundred things that could've gone wrong, and they did. I have made a tactical error in this most recent spout of battle," Xivven spoke softly, but her hunters and the others heard well enough. She straightened up a bit, a gleam in her eyes.

"I doubt that whatever is happening in the temple now will matter to us. What does matter, however, is that we make speed towards the outskirts of Gole's stronghold, and continue the mission we were originally set to do. While the idiots of Kenshuria try and futilely save this temple - " here, Xivven spat out the kenshurian word, " - we will try to cut off all further communications between the stronghold and its supplies. I want us to make good distance between now and when we set up camp for the night. No more delays, no more fun. We have already seen what a bit of detour and enjoyment could do," Xivven's face clouded over thunderously, electricity literally jumping sparks in her eyes with every harsh inflection in her voice, and a few of the hunters under her command gave nervous coughs or looked away.

Xivven looked at the sky, noting the time of day, before nodding to the gargoyle beside her.
"What is your name, Hunter?" Xivven's voice was softer now, a bit gentler than the harsh tones she'd used before. The hunter saluted again.

"Embrize, Lieutenant."

"Embrize, set the course. We move out."

[Loki, The Fallen]

Vincent stared at the man who entered the room. The imposing form walked toward the center for the room, ignoring Vincent's companions. It worried Vincent, but his heart was steadied by The Light. He felt reassurance, a courage that shouldn't be there. He continued the song, praying within himself that the others would regain the strength to escape.

He entered the chorus, letting the music melt away his fear. He kept his eye on the man in the middle, and circled around the room, trying to find any of the priests who may be alive. He looked to the shorter member of his fellowship, he looked too close to the new threat for Vincent to chance. He channeled more power into the song. He started seeing signs of life in the priests. Praise The Light! Avelia, help me save your children!

He approached the closest one, a priestess. His eyes did not leave Jahvid, his voice did not leave the song, his heart did not leave his mission.

[Lumenskir]

Ishva rose from her crumpled heap, surveying her hands. "You can bleed...you can die!" Dusting herself off, the elf surged towards the downed Penn, helping the Ranger back to the fight. Looking back into the carnage of the ritual room, Ishva concentrated her eyes on the back of the troll that had cast her aside. She saw their prime opportunity.

"Penn, we can beat him, he's not too much for us. He bleeds!" She held her claws up, a few of the tips dotted with red, in an attempt to make her ramblings seem more sensical. "The leg, you can see it right? That's our chance!"