Bronwyn followed Elendil as the elf ranger led the way out of the woods her bow in hand and arrow notched just incase the bowman was still about. It was not far back, to where they had hidden and where Bronwyn had used her fireball for the first time. Her determination to use her last fireball spell against the goblins was still strong however; her mind kept going over the possible ramifications of her intended action. An active mind was a blessing and a curse. Sometimes Bronwyn‘s went around in circles playing through all the possibilities.

Bronwyn had second thoughts and third thoughts, but then the memory of Buttercup’s dead body lying there in the dark replayed in her mind again. IT fueled her determination to go forward and exact payment for her loss. She needed to get closer to see where she could target her fireball to cause the most damage to the goblins and gnolls and other nasty creatures in the keep. Her invisibility would not last forever nor would it last if she cast a spell so she decide to wait until after she through the fireball to use it for protection.

Before breaking cover from the woods to the open ground around the keep she did take out her wand of mage armor used one charge on herself. Keeping a watchful eye out but trusting to Elendil’s elven vision more than her own.

Suddenly form the walls of the keep came the booming voice of the apparition in the sky only this time it was not a huge illusion in the air.

On top of the battlement stood a huge creature holding a small boulder the size of a keg over his head. He hurled it down into the bailey of the keep. Bronwyn shuttered. No one could have lived if that hit him. Bronwyn’s mind suddenly focused on that monstrous figure. He was why the goblins are here. He may not have been the direct cause of Buttercup’s death, he would not use such a small arrow, but he was the one who was the most responsible for this whole mess that Bronwyn had been drawn into. Unbeknownst to him he was now the target of her roiling emotions as he was the one to blame.

Bolikar was clearly outlined against the night sky and while Bronwyn could not see much detail, she did not need to with the area of effect spell. All she had to do was center it on him. With such a clear view, she did not even have to make a touch attack with the spell.

“That one,” she says to Elendil, “That one is my target,” Bronwyn said lowly to Elendil. The early horror of the effect of her first fireball spell had faded. There was no sense of horror now, only a strange sort of satisfaction--no retribution, reparation, or whatever--that she took from this action. This was for Buttercup. This was for her as well. Buttercup was gone, but she could make the perpetrator pay.

Bronwyn targeted the huge figure on the ramparts and spoke the ancient arcane words of the fireball spell with care and deliberation. The tiny bead of fiery energy raced out from her finger directly to where she had wanted it to go. She watched, with total concentration and a fervent desire for it t to engulf that figure in the ravaging explosion of fire.

Once it hits Bronwyn prepares invisibility and cast it on herself before taking up her wand of Magic Missiles and moving towards the open gate. She was not done yet.

Bronwyn followed as Elendil led the way out of the woods her bow in hand and arrow notched just incase the bowman was still about.

Suddenly from the walls of the keep came the booming voice of the apparition in the sky only this time it was not a huge illusion in the air. On top of the battlement stood a huge creature holding a small boulder the size of a keg over his head. He hurled it down into the bailey of the keep. Bolikar was clearly outlined against the night sky. As much as Elendil wanted to loose the arrow, she suddenly realized this was the perfect time for Bronwyn to use her Fireball spell. Shooting with an arrow first might cause him to take cover.

She turned to look at Bronwyn to suggest that she cast her spell on Bolikar when the young mage surprised Elendil.

“That one, that one is my target,” Bronwyn said lowly.

Bronwyn targeted the huge figure on the ramparts and spoke the ancient arcane words of the fireball spell with care and deliberation. The tiny bead of fiery energy raced out from her finger directly to where she had wanted it to go. She watched, with total concentration and a fervent desire for it to engulf that figure in the ravaging explosion of fire. The moment Bronwyn fires off her spell Elendil prepares to add her arrow to the mix.

Elendil fires and draws again for a second shot. If they could seriously injure the great Orc then that might affect the morale of his followers.

Thrown back and forth, the tides of war immediately around Dylan swelled and crested, only to drop away suddenly. His companion, summoned from another realm for the sole purpose of aiding his conquest over the evil goblinoids, tore at repulsive flesh and shredded the opposition. More than a few of the loathsome beasties fell startled when their daggers failed to slay the thick man after so clean a shot had been ridden through his loose jacket. When a kill left him with a second to think, Dylan devoted it to customer satisfaction in his shirt of mithril. Every copper of that purchase was worth it. Not that the goblins never drew blood.

The slight blood loss had the effect of making Dylan a tad giddy in his fight. The odds somehow didn't seem so bad, that the strongest fighters lay on the other side of a wall made of tiny angry dagger-bearer, Bolikar's imminent arrival would mean no good, that there was a pair of drow fighting head-to-head directly over the battlefield. His wits returned to him in a sudden jarring thud. The same motion that crushed the mounted knight also crushed the violinist's confidence. “I am Bolikar! You shall kneel before my might, voluntarily, or after I tear out your kneecaps it makes no difference to me!” Surely they would all die in futility tonight.

Then suddenly a clear falsetto voice rang out literally above the hue and cry.

"Love, love is a verb,“
Damn, that woman has a fine voice. Like an elixir, the words revived Dylan's spirit. He chastised himself for despairing, was it not, after all, the job of the bard to make the best of a bad situation?

“Love, love is a verb,
Love is a doing word
Fearless on my breath."
The song began to take shape out of Aelistae's voice, but it needed a boost of spirit. A touch that only a person who has been studying the subtle inflection and expression of music with great dedication could give. Dylan fell back from as many enemies as he could. With adrenaline-addled frustration he knew his retreat would soon be chased after and he would have to play and dodge at the same time. With his left hand he took his instrument case off his back, then with it still in hand, held his sheath to steady it.

"Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter
Fearless on my breath.”
The rapier clicked home and his bow sprung from its case. With movements beaten into his very existence by repetition, his violin cast aside the case that protected it from weather on his many travels and rose to the challenge of performance. Such a hostile audience today.

The song stopped for the space of a gulp and a quick breath. It was not the first song that came to mind when Dylan felt the need to inspire courage and determination. Deep, throaty roars in the language of the Dragons had quite the power for whipping up excitement and alacrity. The poetic victory was too great to resist, though. The hundreds of muse-inspired works about the undying strength of love would take on a beautiful irony in the battlefield.

Admittedly Dylan was the kind of musician who would prefer an audience in a tavern, receiving lodgings and food for his efforts, as well as the odd extra coin. He might have been content with that life too, but for the gnawing desire to seek out and harness the same force that inspired the young Geiling lad to take on this lifestyle. The Primal Music. After he achieve a degree of skill and fame as a musician, Dylan began to know in his heart that entertaining a crowd of smiling peasants in a tavern - taking them away from their daily toil and transporting them to a different world - was not where he would find something so untamable as the Primal Music.

Trusting in Milil's guidance and praying for Tymora's beneficence, Dylan found himself in many a stange place, Bolikar's keep not the least of which. When Aelistae's voice picked up the song where she left off, she was accompanied by a burst of violin, gently sustaining her melody and supporting her tone. By the time the next verse rolled along, Dylan's rich tenor took up a deep melody to complement Aelistae's crystal falsetto.

(Dylan is taking a 5-ft step away from as many enemies as possible, with the underlaying goal of getting over to Linnix. The wolf will fill in Dylan's previous spot with a 5-ft step [unless the DM rules against such direct control over creatures I don't actually have control over (admittedly, I would)] For those who don't know every musical term, falsetto is a higher range of the human voice above soprano, typically reserved for women and young boys. Oh yeah, I'm beginning Inspire Courage, and continuing until something occurs that might force me to reconsider my actions.)

Talus forced his way through the last line in the goblin ring surrounding Artanis, Xaris and Intella, and turned to pull Bart through behind him. The farmer had received a painful blow to the side of the head following Talus' plan and the warlock was going to make sure that he didn't get any more punishment along the way.

Bart was safe, for now, and the group was reunited, so Talus turned his focus back to the snarling throng around them and began to seek out any sources of leadership. His search was cut short by a sharp cry from above. Looking up and saw Aelistae flutter back from the other drow. Something was not right. If it was possible for a flying creature to stumble, that's what he saw the Priestess of Eilistraee doing.

That other drow had done something horrible to Aelistae, and needed to be put down. It was evil just like all the stories and rumors had said...
******
Good and Evil do not truly exist. At a fundamental level, there is no good or evil in the universe; everything just... is. It is perception that frames reality and Good and Evil are based on that perception. Therefore if you perceive something as good, then to *you* it is good. If you perceive something as evil, then to *you* it is evil. We can choose our own frame of reality or we can choose to follow the frame set by another and conform to his potentially flawed perception of good and evil.

To consider something better than or worse than, good or evil, is a judgment. Evil, if it exists, is simply something of inferior quality when compared to something better; a lesser good is considered evil when compared to a greater good. When there is no judgment, there is no consideration of something being better or worse than another thing. Everything is accepted equally, as it is.

Don't judge me, my son. See what I do, what your mother does, simply as it is: we are expanding the power of the Mukesh line and ensuring its longevity. One day you will be able to throw off the frame of reality imposed upon you by the fearful, those who would pretend to be your friends. They call this evil because they do not have the courage to take the power it can lead to for themselves and would deny you the chance to claim it for yourself.

Until that day, when you can judge for yourself, do not try to pass another's judgment as your own.
******
... but if she's like the drow in all the stories, then shouldn't she have Bolikar working for her instead of vice versa? She wouldn't have shown herself... she doesn't fit the framework.

Maybe Bolikar has her under some sort of enchantment. If we can destroy him and free her maybe she can become an ally for Aelistae, another example of drow breaking free from the perceptions of their race.
Talus raised a hand toward the giant form standing on the rooftop above them and released a blast of arcane energy, hoping that he could fell the Master before the Servant was forced to bring more harm to his friends.

Xaris cut down the little goblin in front of him with ease. He smiled as he seen his friends come closer, inching their way through the goblin horde. His attention was quickly diverted to the skies though as he watched the drow battle, and could only with Aelistae the best of luck in her battle, but also chuckled to see Linnix's arrow strike home. He was glad that everyone was always watching out for one another.

A loud crashing noise made his head turn quickly around as one of the mounted men was brought to the ground by a giant rock. He looked to the battlements as a hulking figure stood above everyone, his figure a glowing silloutte in the moonlight against the night sky.

“I am Bolikar! You shall kneel before my might, voluntarily, or after I tear out your kneecaps it makes no difference to me!”

The fury within Xaris built to a frightening high as he watched this massive orc proclaim that he was Bolikar.

If this is the Bolikar, killing him would bring these goblins down surely...
Xaris closed his eyes and sighed slowly, his breathes slow and his sword being brough up infront of him in two hands, the hilt in front of his face, the blade straight up in the air. He pointed the blade one handed to Bolikar, and bellowed out a challenge that would hopefully throw the pint sized hero into the most daring fight for his life.

" Bolikar!" Xaris shouted over the raging fights around him.

" I challenge you to a fight! Let us do battle amongst this chaos, and see who will emerge alive from this bloody night!"

Xaris smiled as he issued his challenge, and chuckled a bit. This might finally be what he has been searching for all his life, everything he has put towards his goal could possibly come through all tonight. This final night, Xaris could truely find redemption. He reached into his pack and pulled out the thick muddy potoin. The worn label on it was illegible, but hopefully it held something of great value. He spoke to his nearby friends, letting them hear his plan.

" I'm buying you some time guys. If this brute accepts, then I want you to all do as much as you can without getting yourselves hurt. I'll take most of the fight from this giant, but if you cant do anything to him without getting hit, then don't do it. Conserve your energy."

Xaris stood, waiting for the beast with sword in right hand and potion in left, hoping he comes down for a fight of his life.

( when bolikar comes down ( hopefully) I'll drink the potion, then rage as free action in firts turn combat)

In the quiet suburbs of civilized lands, men women and children lay comfortably in their beds, wrapped in blankets of wool and a sense of safety to ease their slumber. There they dream of all things, from romance and adventure to nightmares of horror which cause them fitful rest. Somewhere, someone was dreaming up armies of the horde bloodthirsty and savage, with brave heroes clashing against the forces of evil. Little did they know that far to the north, what they dream, removed from the dangers of that harsh reality were being lived in the harsh present, and lives hung in the balance.

Hawkrill had been thrown from Charger when Bolikar’s mighty boulder throw, and for how bad the priest of Helm looked, Charger was wholly crushed, the left side of its torso impacted, rib cage splintered as its chest barely rose with painful breath, at least one lung collapsed and blood pooling around the steed. Next to him, Atharam high atop Raykel watched the pair fall, and with a glance to Seleyon, he knew he had to aid the less experienced squire, and trust in the scout’s skill to hold her own a little while longer. Wheeling Raykel off to the right, Atharam trotted the few paces over to his companion, amazed as the squire crawled, through gritted teeth towards Charger. His eyes welled in pain but he would not let them fall as he struggled against the waves of agony that pulsed through his mangled left leg, armor and flesh intermingled, the dented greaves jarring and jutting through his broken skin. He was muttering something indistinguishable over the din of combat, but as Atharam reached him, and called upon his inherent god given gift to heal, sliding off the side of Raykel’s military saddle, one hand holding the pommel while he tilted to reach the priest’s shoulder upon which to lay hands, Hawkrill himself released his prayer, pouring healing energies into Charger via a Cure Moderate Wounds. The steeds breathing became more relaxed ,as much of the internal damage was healed, and while ribs were still cracked and the mare would not be fit to bare the weight of a rider without more aid, at least it was not in dire threat of dying from bleeding out. The surrounding goblin forces however might prove otherwise. (Charger’s Status-Yellow/Green)

Atharam, placing a steel laced hand upon Hawkrill’s shoulder pumped enough healing into his friend to ease his pain. (all 20 points of Lay on hands for the day) (Hawkrill Green Status) His leg’s broken bones set themselves, and his flesh mended forcing the metal from his skin as the invasive material was rejected.
Hawkril turned to Atharam as he helped Charger to his feet, looking at his superior with a look of grim determination upon his visage. “We came here together, and by Helm’s grace we’ll all leave her together… sir.” The squire was evidently doing the best he could to keep from crying before his leader, but he shook his eyes free of their liquid burden as he drew forth his mace in replacement to his lost spear and turned to prepare for the incoming goblins.

Income they did and Atharam and Hawkrill did the best they could to fend off the goblins around them incoming with their crude weaponry. In saving Hawkrill and Charger they had forfeited any momentum or ground, and were separated from any of the other possible allies currently engaged. Hawkrill dodged and parried a pair of swings but took one across the back as he did so, while Atharam took a hit to the back of his leg, Raykel stomping the nearest goblin beneath his powerful hooves. (Hawkril Yellow/Green Status) (Atharam 38/55HP)

Seleyon, fighting three on one cut down another goblin, but her attention was distracted by Hawkrill’s fall, and her distraction cost her a pair of small strikes from the goblins. This only served to anger the already ill-tempered woman into a heightened state of battle awareness.

~*~*~*~

Xaris, little sweet albino super gnome, had checked his typical kind nature at the door, as his training and instinctive nature took over. Cutting down goblins and their captains around him was nothing to the skilled warrior, but as the mounted knight and his steed were toppled by the hurled boulder of the presence proclaiming himself as Bolikar, the gnome’s lips curled into a smile almost involuntarily. This was the challenge he had been waiting for, this for the time being at least was the purpose of his struggle, and the force upon which his pain and frustration could be unleashed upon. The little one yelled a challenge to the ogrillion leader, calling him down from his perch to a duel with the barbarian. Finishing the issue, Xaris quaffed the muddy brown potion, which slid from the glass like molasses, and the gnome had to chew it as lumps caught in his mouth leaving a disgusting taste in its wake. As soon as the potion’s contents were forced down his throat, Xaris’ feet sank a few inches into the earth beneath his feet. As he felt the effects wash over him. Suddenly, he had an acute attuning to the earth and stone beneath and around him. His vision heightened was able to show him the most diminutive cracks and weak points of the stone walls around him, and with a little concentration, he was able to ‘hear’ the spirit of the stone around him. He could hear their ancient voices cry against the ravages of time and lack of repair. He could hear their wail against the scorching flames of the fireball that had exploded earlier, and he could hear them speak of the travesties Bolikar and his ilk had planned for the lands to the south.

Perhaps it the clamour of combat, or just common sense on behalf of the half-orc that caused him to ignore Xaris’ challenge. Instead, he watched as the forces of light and good struggled onward against his minions and his drow consort. He picked up another large section of stone high above his head, and readied it to throw at those in the bailey below, but Talus, and a pair of unseen players upon this chessboard of battle had other plans.

The warlock, seeking to cut the head from the serpent as it were, turned and invoking the eldritch power which coursed through his veins, sent a blast in the form of a black ray towards Bolikar. The ray struck the powerful foe square in the chest, jolting him with surprised pain as he fought to keep a grip on his projectile. Enraged by such a reaction he was about to crush Talus like the insect he was… until another fireball exploded into his back, followed by an arrow propelling him forward off the rooftop to land without his boulder and in pain in the bailey courtyard. (Bolikar Yellow Status)

“Rrrrrrrawwwwwwwr! Insolent troglodtye dung eaters! I will savour peeling the flesh from your bones!” Bolikar stood albeit slowly, and drew in the same action a massive two headed axe capped with the skull of a great crocodile, yellowed fangs lining the double blades of the menacing weapon.

Elendil and Bronwyn could only look on with a sense of satisfaction as the towering figure fell out of sight to land below. Hopefully their contribution would help turn the tide of this battle; but was that enough to satiate Brownyn’s newfound lust for action?

The goblin ring closed on everyone then, with Intella, Artanis and Dylan’s wolf left to try and protect all the less proficient combatants while they did their best to resist the overwhelming odds. Dylan swapped his rapier for violin, and to the sound of Aelistae’s voice above began a performance to bolster the courage of his comrades. Bart, still wounded thrust his pitchfork forward, but his head wound disoriented him enough that his strike missed the intended target, and soon everyone found themselves surrounded. The wolf successfully bit a goblin, (goblin Red Status) and Artanis exchanged blows with a gnoll that struck out at Xaris, clipping the gnome’s shoulder. (Xaris 39/61hp) her well timed strikes almost felling it in a single strike. (Gnoll Red Status) Intella felled another Orc with a critical placement Linnix, for all the conflict around her however was focused purely on the battle above, as Aelistae ‘fell back’ to quaff a potion, something obviously wrong with her friend and sister.

Ignoring the threats all around her, Linnix took aim for the woman above her and fired, suffering a couple of opportunistic strikes from nearby goblins. (Linnix 17/37hp) Thankfully however her shot got off, but it did little to bypass the enchantments the Lolthite priestess had erected. Aelistae, for all her troubles, would not relent in her struggle against the enemy of her faith, the darkened shadow of how her life could have been. She gripped her court blade resigned to wait until an opportunity presented itself, but wasn’t exactly hoping for much.

The Lolthite, however was not done with her Elistraeen toy in her cat and mouse scheme. Taking a 5’ step back herself, she incanted spell to undo and unweave current binding magics, focusing the Dispel Magic on Aelistae, robbing her of her enchanted wings, and the priestess found herself falling quickly to the earth below. Perhaps the blindness was a boon rather than a burden as she didn’t see the ground, or the poor gnoll beneath her rush up towards her and break her fall with it’s now dead body. (Aelistae (5/38hp -2STR blinded) The fall nearly stole consciousness from the priestess as it had stolen the life from the gnoll she had fallen upon. One down, dozens to go, the priestess was now next to her friends, but also prone, in pain, and still diseased.

(Only doing one round currently because so many plans may have changed. Will likely do a quick update mid week if posts are in to account for round two, Brownyn and Elendil‘s new actions and other stuff.)

It was a strange feeling. One moment Aelistae had been floating high above the world, sword in her hands, melancholic song upon her lips, as she prepared to meet her end. In the other she was falling. She felt the touch of the Lolthite upon her breast, the blind inertia caused by her wings disappearing, and her breath slip from her lips as she crashed to earth.

But she lived.

Something soft had unexpectedly broken her fall, and, though she could feel her life’s blood slip away, it was not the end.

“…Not the end,” Aelistae repeated in a quivering whisper, unsure whether she should laugh or cry. Tears flooded her eyes as she forced a trembling, half-crushed hand to reach for the simple black leather belt she wore, and flood her body with its curative magic. And, as bones and flesh re-knit themselves, she could not stop a smile from tugging at the corner of her lips.

The drow priestess struggled to gain her bearings, her ears picking up the bestial snarls of goblin and orc nearby, and something else – a gentle harmony and the soft, baritone voice of Dylan.

“Dylan?” she shouted, spinning her sword above her to ward off potential blows. “Dylan, I can’t see. The Lolthite cursed me with a disease and took my eyes.”


[Aelistae will use all the charges on her healing belt to cure 4d8 hp. I figure Aelistae has enough knowledge of clerical spells and healing lore to know that she has been diseased rather than cursed.

Since Kaelyn informed me just how many critters are around Aelistae, standing up from prone will provoke a flurry of aoos. So in order to avoid that, Aelistae is going to attack while prone in subsequent rounds. Since she’s hasted that’ll mean 2 attacks a round, albeit with the penalties of being blind.]

"Hurry, use you spell to become invisible," Elendil whispers to Bronwyn. "Once you change stay behind me and keep in touch with me.

Elendil, while waiting for Bronwyn to go invisible, sizes up the best way to get inside the keep. She watches the movement of the goblins to search out the best path to take, and if there are some clear shots, then she is going to take out a few more of her favorite enemy.

This would be a far different type of fight than she had ever been in, having fought off orc and goblin raiders with other elves, Rangers, Warriors, Mages, and Clerics. Thought hshe had the strongest feeling that there were others inside those high walls who fought the goblins, she had now idea who and where they were. On top of that there was the Drow, probably in league with that Bolikar and she was either a cleric of Lolth, or a mage, given the illusion of the great head that floated over the keep and spoke in a booming voice.

Formost in her mind now was keep Bronwyn safe. If she could get the Mage to a defensible position, the Bronwyn could use her wand and Elendil could use her bow bother to defend her and kill as many of the enemy as she could.

The violin gave an angry protest as Dylan's arm jerked, his breath caught in his throat. He did not release it until Aelistae's wing-clipped form fell upon and crushed to death one of the yapping monsters. The evening's entertainment would have to be cut short - he extended a finger from his violin hand to secure the bow. He dove his hand into the pouch at his side, seeking it's sole content in the healing wand. The sight of Aelistae's form wreathed in the gentle glow of healing energy slew his fear that she had died from the fall. He turned the wand to Linnix and quickly whispered the command word. "Coia." The elven word for life, according to the merchant. Whether that was true or not was of little concern in the face of the effect.

"Be careful," he told the woman who had been so inclined to allow him to ride with her, and barreled his way to Aelistae's fallen form. She was calling out to him - she had lost her eyesight to some disease. Dylan remembered not so long ago purchasing a potion that would save himself from the misfortune of loosing his voice. That potion had come and gone to a better use, but he found himself wishing he had extras already. He replaced the wand in his pouch and laid a hand on the drow's back. "It's me," he assured her when she stiffened. With whatever little muscle strength he possessed, tried to help her stand up quickly without injuring her. He didn't wait to think, instead he just dragged Aelistae out of the way of any fighting, drawing his rapier again. "Fearless on my-," he panted, and instead of singing he breathed the last word; "breath."

(I suspect that picking up our injured drow and dragging her away will be a part of the second round. Dylan is not trying to restart his song again, merely keeping it's conviction in mind. Lookit that, I get to try to save two party members at once, I wonder how many hundreds of AoO I'm provoking while at it?)

Xaris gritted his teeth as the giant of a baest rejected his challenge, and spat on the ground as he looked up to this Bolikar again. He watched him begin to hurl something, the wall underneath him creaking and almost screaming in Xaris' ear, his massive weight making the stone cry out in agony. As soon as the boulder was above Bolikars head, a familiar looking bolt of energy came screaming through the sky to hit Bolikar, stunning him for a moment. Xaris smiled as he knew Bolikar was out for blood now. But one thing surprised him greatly, this being the small orange bead floating behind Bolikar. Xaris did not know what this was until it expanded rapidly and exploded behind Bolikar, sending him tumbling off of the wall which almost sighed in relief as the heavy creature fell off onto the hard ground.

Xaris could see burn marks and charred flesh on Bolikar, and quickly spoke a few words and running to the creature, sword drawn.

" You should of accepted my challenge! The gods want us to fight, and we shall entertain them!"

Xaris charges into Bolikar, his small feet pounding on the blood stained ground below him. What specks of blood that have sprayed him accented greatly against his albino white skin, and so did the blood laced spittle that flew from Xaris's mouth as he let out a bellowing war cry. He charged head first into a barbaric rage, sword high above him ready to dismember the ugly orc beast and kill him before any more harm could befall onto his precious friends. The greatest battle so far in Xaris' long life has just begun, and quite literally soon there will be no way out.

When Aelistae fell, Linnix feared the worst. That distance could have easily killed her... but it didn't. That in itself held much relief for Linnix, but the battle was far from over.

She's alright.
Taking her gaze away from Aelistae, Linnix looked back to the drow in the sky. Linnix could feel the hatred, the enmity welling inside of her. It had been a while since she felt that way, with her life's new direction, but it was still there. At least now perhaps Linnix would not let it blind her. Perhaps.

"Thank you." Linnix absently says to Dylan next to her as she feels the stinging in her body lessen as some of her wounds heal.

Gritting her teeth, and willing her body to endure more punishment, Linnix prepares to commit to her next act. The ugly, squabbling goblins around her wait patiently, knowing she'll give them the opportunity to hit. Well, in revenge, one has to make sacrifices.

"Why don't you just die?" Linnix mutters spitefully, raising the bow once more and firing at the dark priestess above.

The first salvo, with the help of a fireball launched from an unknown third party, was more of a success than Talus had thought it would be. Not only had they visibly injured Bolikar, but know the giant was down from his rooftop where he could bolster his troops.

Spewing curses, the huge man slowly lifted himself back to his feet and drew the largest axe Talus had ever laid eyes on. It was a massive double-headed monstrosity and Bolikar was waving it back and forth with relative ease.

Talus didn't want to let their offensive momentum slow so quickly but he also didn't want to single himself out to Bolikar any more than he already had, especially now that that axe had entered the picture. Taking another approach, the warlock forced his vision to attune to the subtle emanations produced whenever the Weave was called on or manipulated. He focused his ability to Detect Magic on Bolikar, looking for anything the enormous brute was wearing that did not show signs of being magical. He knew, even before invoking the power, that the axe mostly likely had been enchanted, but he started his sweep there anyway before moving on to more likely objects.

Bronwyn takes out her wand of Mage Armor to renew the spell she threw earlier. The wand it quivers as her hand shakes with tension Bitting her lips she quiets her mind to her trembling.

After she cast her fireball some of the heat went out of her and cold reality set in. It made her decision to go forward much harder. None-the-less she said she would help and she wouldn't back out now even if she had second or third thoughts about what was going on. .

Bronwyn remembered her granny saying to her, "If the good people don't do something to stop the bad ones then evil wins. Fate and some unknown others had gone into that place and if she could help them, it was worth her efforts despite her fears. She wasn't courageous, nor foolhardy either. She was just intending to go in there and do what she could with what she had to use and hopefully get out with her life.

"I am ready. I will cast invisibility to help me but once I attack anything I will be revealed. So I may try hiding behind the gate door and hurl Magic Missiles from there."

She exchanged wands for a moment and held on the the back of Elendil's cloak as they moved forward. The sounds of battle becomes clearer and more daunting with every step.

Bronwyn prays, "Goddess, Protect me......and the other good folk in need here. I commend my soul into your keeping, if I do not survive this. I have tried to be good."

In her thoughts she adds. "Goddess I am scared." Bronwyn follows Elendil staying close so as not to hinder her.

It was not the need to hold out against overwhelming odds, but Hawkrill’s show of grit and determination that pushed Atharam’s resolve to its limits. The battered squire, having been toppled by a boulder hurled from Bolikar, refused to call it quits as he dragged himself across the ruined ground to heal his beloved horse. And it was this sight that filled Atharam with pride, not for himself, but for the young lad who had dedicated himself to serving the paladin.

Swooping down in the stirrups, Atharam extended a hand to his broken companion, calling upon his gift of healing hands, and focused it into Hawkrill, watching as the bones knit back together, the skin sewing itself back to whole. Clambering back to his feet, the squire drew forth his mace, and faced off against the crowd once again.

But now, any forward push they’d had going for them was lost, and they’d been stopped in their tracks. And still, Seleyon had not been reached. This battle was going worse than anticipated for the trio, but it wasn’t the end of the day yet. Atharam’s body and determination were still strong. It wasn’t their end. Not yet.

His eyes glanced up just in time to see a sudden eruption of fire, toppling the mighty figure that was Bolikar from the top of the keep and into the yard below. He was vulnerable! But Atharam could not leave him companions here, not while they were hurt. An inner struggle seized him for just a moment as he thought back upon the tenet he perhaps held most dear.

Accept all challenges. No matter the odds.
By striking at them, Bolikar had clearly announced his desire for combat, and it was Atharam’s right to accept it. But he no longer had room to ram through the group separating them from the leader of this damnable army, and he had exhausted his spiritual force for the time. Searching inside for the light of healing, he found his reserves empty, lacking. His faith did not waver, but his power was drawn just as much from strength of arm as it did from strength of spirit. He couldn’t risk leaving his friends behind, not for a matter of honour.

Clenching his teeth, Atharam raised his sword high, keeping his shield low on the flank to protect both himself and Raykel. “The end is near, minions of the dark! Face me! Give me everything you’ve got!” It would take far too long to fight them all individually, but maybe, just maybe… If the duo could slay enough goblins to open a gap, they could reach Seleyon, and, reunited, they could take the battle to Bolikar. It would require a decisive countercharge, though. Risky as it may be, it was their best chance for victory. He dug in his heels to push for a slight forward movement, sitting tall in the saddle. “One shall stand. One shall fall. And by the glory of Helm, my feet shall remain firm!”

(OOC: Atharam is taking one step forwards, and is ready to attack any goblins who come within sword reach. He’s readying his action to, if possible, kick Raykel into a sudden leap-rush in response to a closing-in, using the weight of the horse to break the ranks. The goal is to draw the goblins in, then blast through with a sudden counterattack to reach Seleyon. If - IF - they do, they will then attempt a similar movement towards Bolikar.)

The battle had raged long enough, with the addition of unexpected foes and allies alike. The time had come for one side to break through the apparent stalemate and shift the tide of this war.

Aelistae for all her faith, determination and guidance had been proclaimed the unofficial leader of the troup of heroes, and it was she who now lay at the most vulnerable. Weakened, stricken with blindness, and surrounded on more sides by enemies than allies, the drow priestess was in dire need of assistance. It was all she could do to activate her healing belt, allowing its restorative properties to flow through her, mending much of what internal damage could not be seen to the naked eye. (Aelistae 28/38hp)

Around her though, her companions, her family of the road would not be so hasty to abandon her to her misfortune. Dylan, enchanted wand in hand tapped Linnix as he passed, making his way to Aelistae. His wand did little but ease a bit of the throbbing sensation that lay at the back of her skull, but could do little for the same sensation at the back of her mind. (Linnix 21/37hp) Dylan moved closer to Aelistae, but it was the goblins, orcs and gnolls around her that sought to strike their fallen enemy while she was at a disadvantage. The enemy weapons fell, the blind Aelistae doing all that she could to block what she could not see coming, but as blow after blow struck the priestess, she could do little more than grit her teeth under the barrage…(Aelistae 19/38hp)… that was until a familiar voice clamored over the din of combat.

“Not on my watch!” Came Artanis’ powerful feminine voice as she burst over Aelistae’s body into the enemy. Her shield and sword clashed as they connected with their foes. The quartzes embedded into the finely crafted shield began to light up (3/8charges) as blows were exchanged, and her sword flashed, felling the first gnoll it encountered. Artanis eyes glowed with the battle lust she craved, like every enemy was the one who took her child, her family, her life. As she took the blows of the weapons of those around her, the feeling of pain, the sounds of weapons striking her armor, they only served to fuel her bloodlust as she fought to protect her new family. Certainly the bonds formed by those who traverse the same road for long enough are strong like those of blood. And though many different races were now joined by these bonds, the force between them sought little more than to tear them asunder.

Talus focused his efforts on a more subtle matter, his Detect Magic trying to determine the presence of enchanted items upon Bolikar. With all the people moving in front of him it was hard to keep his concentration on the target, but he was able to detect the magical emanations from the area within his conical field. (1st round of concentration as per phb description)

Xaris’ approach was much more direct. Shrugging off the blows of those around him he broke for Bolikar, using his small size to squeeze through the enemy ranks, (Xaris 31/61HP) Headlong he charged, letting his rage empower each stride, until he came face to face with the towering Bolikar (Rage 8 rounds Xaris 41/71HP) Xaris’s blade was held high above his head as he charged, never slowing using his momentum to add weight to his swing. The blade came down heavily across Bolikar’s shoulder and chest and his Roar and spittle would have shaken a lesser man. But despite his size of frame, Xaris was no ordinary man, and he roared back in defiance, bolstered by the sight of his enemy’s blood upon his blade. (Bolikar Yellow Status)

Bolikar rose in his anger, and hefted his mighty axe, threatening the diminutive foe before him. “Skull cleaver shall remove your head from your puny body with one swing.” With a heavy he brought the mighty weapon around, and Xaris for all his training barely managed to dodge the enormous blade, but incredibly Bolikar brought it around in a reversed backhand with relative ease, catching Xaris off guard, and as the Axe blade caught the gnomish barbarian across the back of his shoulder, the Sonic power imbued into the weapon came forth, the concussive percussion emitted from the axe carrying Xaris higher in the swing, lifting him off the ground before the axe tore free and left the warrior standing there bleeding heavily and in need of assistance. (Xaris 19/71HP)

High above, The Lolthite priestess looked down upon the battlefield from her position of advantage, and pulled forth a small hand crossbow. She took aim at Aelistae, seeking to finish her off, but when an arrow came from below, catching her off guard completely, her crossbow was lost from her grip as she dealt with the stinging pain of a projectile protrusion from her left leg. (Lolthite Status Yellow) The Lolthite looked down to see Bolikar’s minions attack the female bowman, her form battered greatly beneath their opportunistic blows. (Linnix 9/37HP) Intella, seeing Linnix in dire straights had to put off the challenge of a fight with Bolikar, and veered to attack those around the human. Quick jabs felled another goblin, and the monk placed her back to Linnix’s trying to cover her as much as possible. Bartholomew too was quick to act, his pitchfork finding no resistance in the feeble armor of the lesser horde, skewering one and taking his place around Linnix as well.

Outside, Elendil and Bronwyn neared, Bronwyn recasting her Mage Armor while Elendil took aim at the clearest target she could find. The flying menace above the keep. Goblins and other green skins were mixed and mottled with other combatants, a clear shot could not be made, but there, watching like some omnipotent figurehead was an enemy of her kind. Drawing her bow, and taking the shot her arrow sailed like a streak of death across the expanse, striking the priestess in the chest, the fletching of the high elven arrow a bright contrast to the dark spidersilk of her gown. The priestess could only blink in abject disbelief as her dark blood ran down the shaft and her control over the forces keeping her elevated as pain overwhelmed her. Like a comet she fell from the sky, landing in a broken and unmoving heap upon the battlefield amidst comrades and enemies alike. There was a sickening crunch as her skull caved upon impact, and the greenskin forces around her were taken aback by the powerful ‘witch’ crashing amongst them.

“Khalil has fallen!” An Orc cried out in his gutteral native tongue at the sight of the felled spell caster. And all around him there was a visible shudder through the enemy troops. Outside the wall, Elendil looked on with pride, as her single arrow felled what had been heralded amongst her people as a most dangerous foe. (Elendil max damaged and criticalled on her Shot)

There, that moment of indecisiveness, that was what Atharam was waiting for, spurring Raykel into a standstill charge, the mount leapt, separating the goblins around him like a burst damn, for behind him Hawkrill and Charger followed, the squire using the horse as a buffer to cast Sound Burst from between its legs, scattering and bowling over a handful of the goblins beneath its sonic force. Free from the ‘ring’, or enemies which now lay broken and scattered in many places, the Knights found themselves face to face with Seleyon, a quartet of fallen foes at her feet, and her retrieval of her preferred weapon, the massive bone bow at her back.

(Round two being posted now, this is just to keep y'all entertained and know we're still in this)