Fate shakes his head, unsure if he should have been more clear. "You would set ablaze the only cover you might use to escape unseen?. Truely, I was thinking more along the lines of your scholarly friend here simply blasting them all to the afterlife. Can't you like, fry em with lightning from yer fingers, or make the keep fall down on them? I mean look they're all standing there, gathered in a niiiiiiice biiiiiiiig groooooup..."

"I have enough Forest Lore to create a fire to do what I need without hampering our escape. As for Magical Spells, you will have to ask the Neophyte Mage what she can do."

Bronwyn listened to what Fate and Elendil were talking about. WHen Fate first suggested that she perhaps could help him out she thought that if she had memorized Invisibility that she could have helped him out with that , only she hadn't. Elendil's idea

Elendil then mentioned that she could start a fire butFate mentined something about her. Bronwyn, doing something magical. She had never thought about using her magics in combat so she hadn't even occurred to her that she might be able to help him out. Her mind set did not see the possibility of that spell being use in that way.

She had memorized fireball. She looked at the grouped goblins and saw what he had seen.

"Ahhhhh..... I have fireball memorized. I guess I could use it on those goblins over there if you really wanted me to." Bronwyn offers hesitantly.

Fate turned his head to regard Brownyn, as soon as she reluctantly mentioned she had a fireball memorized. "You mean to tell me that little frame of your's hold's the power to blast all them goblin's from the face of Toril? Hell yeah!... Alright, I think I know the size and range of one of them blasts, seen some other guild-mates toss a few once or twice." With a wink, he prepared to set off. "Well then, If you don't mind counting to ten and letting it go, should I survive this and we cross path's again, I'll be sure to repay your usefulness!"

With that, Fate began pacing his run toward's the keep, counting out softly, "1....2.....3..."

As Fate left and Elendil keep up a whispered count "4..5..6..7..8..9," Bronwyn intoned the words of the spell and executed all its gestures with a flurish. As Elendil sounded "..10." Bronwyn released the spell where it would deal the most damage, right in the middle of the largest group of the goblins and such that she could see.

As Fate ran for the northern gate, weaving in and out of the direct line of sight of the open gate, he nearly cringed when a tiny bead of flickering orange flew just passed his head. as soon as the number 10 left his lips he shielded his eyes as the fiery bead exploded into a large sphere of incendiary death. The goblin's swarming at the gate were certainly not expecting such a blast, and as the bead struck the first victim, perhaps he was the luckiest of them all as he was incinerated instantly, the torrent of flame washing out over all nearby killing every creature outside the protective walls, and severely scorching some who were close enough to the entranceway to be hit by the channeled wave.

Perhaps the only thing saving those mustered inside was the fact that so many poor bastards took the brunt of the blow, the literal wall of greenskins, now reduced to a mound of scorched and burnt corpses, had spared the fireball from entering the heart of the compound.

~*~
As was to be expected however, the fireball's wave spread wide, and crept up the walls, and the sound it made was unmistakable, as was the earthshaking vibrations as it impacted. The mortar crumbled and flaked away under the heat, and even a few small pieces of stone from the wall came loose. Nothing severe structurally as far as the stone wall was concerned, but certainly one hell of a knock at the door.

All around, the attack was noticed by anyone looking towards the keep, as the orange and red hues superceded that of Bolikar's grim visage hovering overhead. In an instant, panic erupted within the stronghold, goblins and other monsters clamoring over each other, trampling those unfortuante enough to be caught underfoot. It was Bolikar though, who saught to regain control, as the floating image barked at the minions below.

"Fools! Close the Gates, Drop the Portcullis, and prepare for inspection! Any caught trying to flee will have the flesh rend from their bones!"

As he spoke, a stranger entered unnoticed thanks to the timely useage of a certain little 'stud', but a chance bumbling goblin managed to trip and find himself knocked right into the previously invisible Fate, whose own balance was thrown off as he crashed into another greenskin, eliciting a shocked yelp as the two went tumbling down. As Fate smacked the poor bugger, out of instinct, for good measure, and to stand his cover was blown, and suddenly he found himself in the midst of countless monstrous beings.

"Dung" was all he said in response, as he mentally commanded his gloves to produce their hidden spoils. Two longsword sized staff pieces, each with a curved blade in the form of a swallow's tail sprung into his hands, and the hilts snapped together, locking into place with a twist. The blades were transparent like glass, though certainly the weapon's crystalline blades were honed like tempered steel. Placing his back to the northern wall he prepared for one hell of a night.

From within the compound shouting began to circulate, in goblin, orcish, common, and undercommon as people took notice, screaming such pleasantries as "Kill the interloper!, and Death to the human!"

Those looking through the northern and Eastern Gates can easily see the swarming masses turn their attention to Fate's general direction, though there are those slowly going about trying to close the tall wooden gates.

(It'll take only a minute (10 rounds) for the gates to be closed fully, at which point entry becomes a bit more difficult.Congrats to Brownyn for an almost perfect damage fireball as well)

Hawkrill, ever the faithful squire, provided Atharam with his assessment of the keep while Seleyon was off scouting. He’d declared that the ramparts seemed empty, and that the top of the wall had no posted guards. In truth, and attack from above was what had concerned the knight the most, but not for himself; his heavy armour could repel arrows and hurled stones. It was more for his lesser-armoured companions. The lack of crenellations further made an effective defense difficult, which brought a light smile to his lips.

A long stream of minions had fled into the keep, but since then, there was no more movement. He’d lost sight of Seleyon, and had turned back to keep his eyes on the keep. If something came at them from the direction of the camp she scouted, the least she’d do would be to alert him of an approach, if not dispatch it herself. While he surveyed the activity going on within the fort itself, the elf approached in his blind spot silently, speaking in low tones that would have caused an ordinary man to startle. He, however, was used to her espionage.

Her report told him that there was no longer activity at the camp, or not that she could see, anyway. Which meant one of two things; they’d already fled, or they had yet to arrive. This presented a precarious situation, as if they had yet to appear, he could be caught in a pincer if he opted to move. On the other hand…during the flight of all the camps at once, now would be the ideal time to bust the bridge and shut off an exit path. Seleyon continued, to tell her leader that there were no traces of recent movement coming from the camp to the keep. Though Atharam took another moment to consider, he determined that goblins were cowardly creatures, and that was how greater creatures took advantage of them; through excessive bullying. The sight of Bolikar’s visage above the keep would likely have sent them rushing for cover within its walls, and he used that logic to rule out being flanked.

“Here we go…” He said to his companions, and they hurried forth to the crossing.

Atharam found the bridge to be made of heavy logs, cut and arranged for maximum stability, and bound up with thick ropes. From the looks of the aged wood and the weather-worn ropes, it had been there a long time, and the design of it, altogether, suggested that it was engineered for bearing heavy loads, like horses, wagons, and soldiers.

Guiding Raykel closer to one of the load-bearing posts, Atharam drew his sword and slammed the enchanted blade into the rope. He frayed it badly, but the hefty braid held on tight. He looked at the movement in the keep, then sheathed his sword. It would take too long to break this down with what they had on hand. They’d have to change their plans.

“What is on your mind, Milord?” Hawkrill moved Charger over towards Atharam, and sat tall in the saddle to look around, watching for something approaching them. Atharam merely kept his eyes on the opened gates.

“Right now, they’ve got the gates open. It is typical for a gatehouse to bear a portcullis, too, though I cannot see one if they do have it.” He spoke, his mind trying to think out the most ideal scenario for this situation. “Now would be ideal to hit, but it would be easy to become enveloped once we get inside. But then…if they close the gates, we lack siege engines of any sort. Even if we could effect a ram out of something, we do not have enough men here to batter the gate open.” He threw a quick glance at Seleyon to indicate he meant ‘men’ as in total bodies present.

All of a sudden, a low roar snapped the attention of all three to the keep, and the sight of a few flying limbs entered his line of sight. Something was going on in there. The creatures within the keep began rushing around at a mad pace, like ants in a disturbed hill. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, but the sight of the horde mobilizing caused Atharam to give the signal to prepare for war. He clapped his helmet onto his head reflexively, and lifted his shield from the saddle. While Hawkrill and Seleyon similarly got ready for what lay ahead, the gates began slowly shutting. Somebody else was attacking the keep! They were not alone, it seemed.

It was now or never. If those gates closed, they’d have to wait for somebody to come out before the fighting could begin. The disorder inside would work to their advantage if they could hit hard and fast enough. Now was the time to make up for his failure earlier.

That thought still haunted him… In his head, he had visualized his lance ramming straight through the orc, slaying it outright in one mighty shot. His aim had been off, though, and without even a shield to deflect his assault! He ground his teeth, and shook his head slightly. Perhaps in another world, another lifetime…he’d have made that killing shot.

Digging his heels into Raykel’s muscled flanks, he drove the horse across the bridge, horseshoes clopping loudly on the logs as he unlimbered his lance, and held it aloft. Alongside him his companions moved swiftly, Seleyon with her bow strung and arrow notched, and Hawkrill, a beaming smile upon his face as he held the standard of Helm high into the air. Atharam’s cape flared wildly behind him, a crimson banner that bore the raised fist for all who looked upon him to see.

Although the addition of a keep was something they hadn’t done before, this formation was familiar to his friends, and they knew what to do. Atharam would hit the center, Seleyon would shoot from the right as they approached, and Hawkrill would guard the left flank. The first objective would be to clear the gates, and ensure they were kept open. If they were allowed to close, then they’d be in with their backs to the wall; something they could not allow…

The aperture closed in rapidly, and the sight of the creatures within began to clarify. Three sets of hooves struck thunder in their wake, and Atharam lowered his lance, Hawkrill copying him like a mirrored image.

“This is it!” Atharam shouted. It was do or die.

Seleyon screamed a primal war cry, something neither of the men ever understood nor got used to. She had told them that it was common for fighting within the woodlands, but to them, it sounded something like a dying bird. Hawkrill drew deep breath and bellowed a cry from the depth of his lungs. Impressive, for such a young lad.

“Tonight, we wipe this stain from the land!” Atharam shouted over the stampede of hooves. “Tonight, we liberate the free peoples from this plague!”

They were only a few feet away, the terrified eyes of goblins wide at the approach. Iron-shod hooves cast damp earth into the air. Cloaks and cape split the air as arrow, spear, and lance led the way for the three riders atop three magnificent steeds of war.

“By Helm's Holy name! DIE!”

(OOC: I’ve confirmed it with Kaelyn, I can reach the gates at a fast move. Its time! Charges from Atharam and Hawkrill. Shooting from Seleyon. Typical battle scenario. Discard lance and fight with sword and shield. Atharam is guiding with his knees in the charge. Their main goal is to protect the gates and prevent them from closing. Atharam will try to isolate the most threatening target at any given time (Orc, Gnoll, Bolikar…. ) and engage it in an attempt to take the heat off his friends.)

Aelistae had only turned her back for a moment, to tie Daisy’s reins to a low-lying branch. But in that short time all nine hells, it seemed, had broken loose. A burning conflagration swept over the keep, searing through compacted mortar and goblin flesh alike. The remaining goblins scurried as if to repel an invader. And in the distance her drow ears could hear a warcry that no goblin or orc would ever utter.

“We have no more time,” Aelistae whispered with a hint of sadness in her voice as she took one last look at her companions. They had been through so much together, had lost so much, that it pained her to think that some might never live to see a new day.

“We have to go now if we are to make what we have been through mean something. May the Lady watch over you all this night, usst’abbilen*.”

Her sword slipped from its sheath with a feint metallic ring. With a few graceful strides her pace was set, and she found herself hurtling towards the keep and an uncertain future.


[*‘My friends.’

Since the northern gate is 100’ away, Aelistae can sprint the distance in one round – which is exactly what she’s doing. She is also drawing her sword as a free action. She isn’t going to move so far that she draws attacks of opportunity (well hopefully not). She’ll be stopping as soon as she manages to get past the gates.]

It was a real toss up who was most surprised when the fireblal went off incinerating goblins and a fiery blast, Bronwyn or the goblins. Her eyes opened as wide as an elf’s, as she stared mesmerized by the erupting ball of flame. It worked spectacularly. Bronwyn suddenly began to feel sick to her stomack and the carnage that resulted from her spell. She bit her lips to save herself from the ignominy of throwing up all over herself.. She tool several great gulps of air and held her hand over her mouth. It seemed to help her a bit and the queasiness subsided.

Bronwyn hoped that Fate got in there but she watched with consternation as the goblins began shutting the gates. That was not good she thought to herself. He will be stuck in there with no way out. Not that she was ready to follow him in or anything like that but perhaps they could slow the goblins down a bit and give him a chance to make it out.

“We have to do something to stop that gate from closing. Shoot the goblins..” The neophyte mage called out to the Elendil. And she prepared another spell this time her Magic Missile spell and she moves to target one of the bigger orcs if she can, if not goblins, her spell will give her three missiles. If it is an orc she uses all three in him or a gnoll, if goblins then one for each one.

The Arcane words of the spell come easily to her lips and she focused on her targets. Her hands weave in the well-practiced gestures and then she releases the spell sending it on it way. Three sparks of energy raced forth from her fingers into the night towards those trying to close the gate.

Then Bronwyn moves her position she knew that someone’s sharp eyes might catch where she has loosed the missiles from and she didn’t want to stay in that area.

Elendil is almost surprised by Bronwyn's sudden about face. From somewhere the small Human had gotten some backbone, she no longer cried out for Eledil to lead her away, but to attack.

Elendils bow was already out and she targeted the enemy about the door. If she could drop enough of them then those inside would haver to try to clear them away before closing the gates.

"Stay behind me," she yells over the screams of the dying and frightened.

She moves up as far as she can in cover, dropping anything that enters, leaves or crosses the gate.

Far Backpost: Her stealth had netted her a firt target, but as she rose to put that target down, her foot caught a root and twisted her attack off-balance, causing one of her weapons to miss. The other did not strike a vital point, as planned, and her quarry let out a shriek of pain and fear at the surprise attack.

The result was that Intella found herself in dire straights. As had happened earlier in the night, her avoidance of the goblins' attacks left her vulnerable to that of their leader. The ax was so well-timed that Intella could not avoid, or even minimize the contact. As such, the blow opened her skull, her breast, shoulder, and upper arm. Intella could naught but scream from the intense pain! She almost dropped, but could not, in all good conscience, leave this one for someone else to defeat for her.

Evan as she turned to take on this new threat, she saw Artanis cleave the head of one of the goblins clear of it's body in a single blow, making it seem almost easy -- and almost enjoyable, from the look on her faice.

Focusing, cross-stepping inside the reach of the gnoll, surprising it, she lashed up and up into the throat of the creature with a Stunning Decisive Strike, intended to stop the creature dead,-- or at least long enough for her to finish it off. Her forcible contortion to make the reach to the taller creature'e throat caused so much more pain that she felt sure she would black out from the effort. She didn't, and when she looked, the gnoll was in it's death throes, clutching it's throat with a look of surprised horror on it's face. Her glance showed that Artanis had already finished off the other goblin and was looking for more targets. The new silence indicated there were none in the vicinity, so Intella limped back to get to Mossan.

Her attention was drawn, along with that of the others, to the sky above the keep. Fureworks? A celebration? But no, the sparks and lignts from the red explosions congealed into an orcish-ogrish face that called its "minions" to retreat and re-group. Bolikar's name was mentioned, and someone named Gruumsh. It spoke of the end of the time for humans, of six clans, and of pouring out of the keep to eliminate anyone in their way like insects.

---

Near Backpost: Intella just happened to stagger out into the path next to Aelistae. The look the drow-femme gave Intella as she stumbled into view told Intella that her wound was worse than she wanted to imagine. The priestess sheathed her sword and called forth a healing power to use on Intella, causing the warmth and a relieving lessening of the pain the halfling felt. So effective was the healing that the wounds completely closed, leaving only fresh scar tissue, a dull ache, and stiffness in it's wake. The scars would remain, but the ache and stiffness could be "worked out" with the correct amount and type of exercise, Intella knew.

“Don’t be afraid to come to me if you’re hurt like that again. I don’t know what you’re reasons are for being here, but you’re one of us now,” the priestess whispered.

"I am learning this. All too suddenly, it seems." Intella says with a disarming smile. " I am also wondering when my own turn will come to aid one of your -- our! -- number."

To Aelistae: I agree with your assessment of battle with the army of Bolikar. I also agree that we should find the source of the horn but, if I remember correctly, it's source would be on the opposite side of the keep from us. Which direction should we go? Around the north or the south side of the keep?"

To Talus: "Unfortunately, Talus, I know nothing at all of these lands. Yondally has been guiding me to new places for some time now. I have visited many places, but none like any other before it. So I do not have even a bit of knowledge of similar terrain, much less this area. I am sorry."

---

Catching up ... : Intella remained mounted on Mossan as Aelistae spoke of attacking the keep through the breach in its wall. she made it sound simple enough, but getting in without alerting the goblins inside? She wondered at that ...

Linnix nodded in response to Aelistae's statement, "I agree. There's really no alternative, at least that I can think of. Does anyone else have any ideas?"
Intella didn't hesitate. "As a matter of fact, I do. Aelistae mentioned that we can't fight this Bolikar's army alone, and I concur with that statement. Why not ride to the east and come south on that side to see what has them all riled up -- beesides us. A horn sounded that was not the crude horn of the orcs. We may have more allies there that could aid us, as we could aid them. After all, Yondalla led me to you, and you to me. Is this step toward forming our own army so farfetched?"

Then she saw the fireball, as did the others, and the damage in the aftermath of it was terrible, After that there was a flury of activity and the gates began to close. The thought that they would be shut out and have to scale the walls to end this startled her into motion, even as she heard Aelistae speak.

“We have no more time, we have to go now if we are to make what we have been through mean something. May the Lady watch over you all this night, usst’abbilen*.” The tone of the dark priestess was as dour as her visage, a resigned look of sadness, for some reason. She drew her sword and began to run toward the keep's norther gate.

Intella slid off Mossan and sighed as she bent to draw her siangham from their sheaths -- again. Without a word she also began to sprint toward the closing gates, trying to judge her speed so that she would not be winded when she arrived, but would still arrive at the gate soon enough to be able to enter well before it closed -- if she would be allowed to enter at all ...

In time to her footsteps, she had time to muse that to wish for no harm from battle was frivolous. So the rhythm of her footfalls became the timing for a silent chanting prayer to Yondalla to protect her and her hew friends from death.

"This doesn't look good." Linnix murmurs under her breath as she quickly grabs her bow and arrows. If that explosion didn't alert the whole keep, she didn't know what would.

"Dylan, we have to move now!" She calls behind, just in case in the cart Dylan didn't see, although chances were good he still did.

Taking a leap off the cart, Linnix quickly runs after Aelistae and Intella. There is no more time for planning; Linnix only hopes that after infiltrating the keep there might be somewhere to stop momentarily to perhaps refine their plans more...

The keep's northern gate erupted in a fiery explosion and chaos broke loose inside the fort. Goblins and orcs scattered and the glowing visage of Bolikar shouted down orders to his panicked troops. For some of the startled greenskins, fear of their warlord-deity overrode the fear of the attack and they began closing the gates, preparing for further attack.

A similar kind of panicked rush seemed to sweep through Bartholomew's group. Talus was just climbing down from Moon Dancer's saddle when the gate burst into flames and he paused, one foot still in a stirrup, to look in the direction of the explosion. By the time he returned enough of his attention back to the horse to rest his foot free, Aelistae, Intella, and Linnix were all running for the gate.

The warlock took a moment to tie his horse to a tree and jogged after them, keeping an eye on the tops of the walls in case enemy archers decided to make an appearance.

His hastily thought up plan was to get to the gate and see about sabotaging it so that it could not be easily closed and locked, allowing his new friends to have some way of escaping the death trap they most likely running into. "This is going to end badly." he mumbled to himself as he neared the gate.


((Double moving instead of running. I should get to the gate two rounds after Aelistae, assuming four moves to get to the gate and a standard to tie up the horse.))

Xaris was staring at the gate when the fireball hit the goblin wave. He had to turn his head away for it happened so quickly his eyes could not adjust in time , and his retinas were over flowed with bright fiery light. Quickly all around goblins started to panic, and the earth seemed to tremble from this mighty spell. Surely a powerful wizard was behind this, and he was glad that they were attacking the goblins just as hastily as they were about too.

He watched Aelistae about to run off, when he grabbed for his sword in one hand and reached into his pack for a thunder stone. Bolting off after Aelistae he shouted, hoping she could hear him over the commotion in the fort.

" Do not get to close to the entrance, if it is swarming with goblins like it sounds, then I will throw this thunder stone and try to make them disoriented!"

Xaris focused his eyes on the gate they were running to, his eyes finally unwinding from the glaring fire that produced so much light. If in fact it was swarmed with goblins trying to get in, he will hurl the thunder stone before they get into combat, hoping to stun the puny goblins and easily find their way in.

The cart jostled to and fro over the uneven terrain to the southern bridge of the keep. The keep drew into view, with the countenance setting the land ablaze with red light. For himself, Dylan was wondering what force was preventing him from declining this latest endeavour, or at the very least, asking the others what they thought of lying low for a day. Perhaps it was the growing sense that it was far too late to suggest hit and run tactics. They were in a state of being too deep to go back. The only choice was to go deeper. What analogy could be used to describe this situation? That they had gone too far, so their only chance of getting out was to go deeper.

Dylan, skilled virtuoso with the violin, wrestled with the search for an appropriate analogy, until an unforseen dip in the terrain cause the cart to reel further than normal. The bard threw his arms into the air and tumbled over backwards in the cart. He went down with a thud and a procclaimation of his surprise, having abandoned the train of thought he previously pursued. When he freed himself from his circumstance, he twisted his head around to check their progress on the keep. Almost there.... Seeing no use in watching the inevitable draw closer, Dylan set about ensuring his things were packed for the forthcoming picnic. Not that he spread himself out much in the back of Linnix's cart. He took up his violin, returned to its case after his interrupted performance, and slung it back over his shoulder.

Scant moments later the troupe came to a halt, sensibly wishing to leave the horses a good distance away from the magnificant piece of property before them. Dylan started to rouse himself to get up and off the cart. There was no real visible change in his posture, getting up required first a mental shift, afterall, besides maybe a slight change in the position of one arm. No sense in rushing into this, afterall. Not anymore than was already apparant anyway.

Perhaps the mistress of luck wasn't yet finished toying with the bard, oh her capricious mood tonight, or maybe it was a sign of a different sort. A thunderous sound rippled and rocked through the plain. It could have been thunder but for the percussive start and finish to it, where thunder would have rolled. The opinion stands, Dylan thought to whatever entity had invaded his mind, his physical reaction was to stiffen in his seat. Bolikar cursed his minions for the fools they were and Linnix encouraged Dylan to take initiative as she ran.

Without as much apparant haste as the sprinting members of this adventuring group, Dylan dropped from the back of the cart. In the adrenaline surge, few remembered the horses. Aelistae's was bound to a branch already, and Talus was quickly securing his horse, Moon Dancer. Most of the others were already in full flight to the keep however. The distance was not that far, a surefooted sprint would cover the distance in a few seconds, but they were on a deadline. Dylan took the reigns of as many a forgotten equine as he allowed himself time for, securing them to whatever he could. If there wasn't enough time for each of them (allowing about three rounds for horse-binding) he gave the untied horses a stern look and bid that they not move. Already far behind the others, he sprinted across the field, hoping to make it to the gates before the portcullis finished its descent. He was the last across the plain, then bridge, to the keep, an open target as he couldn't help but think of himself as.