The rodent swarm seemed never ending. It crashed over the defenders like an insufferable wave of fur claw and tooth. Linnix scrambled for higher ground, while Aelistae hacked without abandon at the infestation attacking her and her companions. Talus let loose another brimstone blast, scorching a cluster of vermin once more setting multiple critters alight, the scurrying death throes tossing the burning rats into their kin. The transfer of flame spread, but not into some great consuming blaze that Talus had hoped for. Dylan broke into song, a strange thing given the dire situation, but there was something rousing in his tone, motivating in his words. His song was directed towards the rodent swarms, hoping to distract, perhaps fascinate them long enough to implant a subtle suggestion or two, something along the lines of “stop clawing my face off” perhaps.

The music stirred the swarm, but the efforts for survival from their companions prevented any solid distraction. The music did however have an unexpected effect however. The swarm began to squeaking in time with Dylan’s song. As one, the dozens aupon dozens of rodents began squeaking, until their combined wail was overwhelming to the companions of Starspire. The shriek of tiny rodent cries was disorienting, the octave raising till the shriek was replaced by a ringing in the parties ears. By the time the change in inner ear resonance was verified, the rat swarm had begun retreating, pulling back from the heroes. In the momentary confusion of their withdrawal, Linnix found her foothold upon the table and stood clear while the rats pulled back farther into the center of the room. It was then that Aelistae first noticed that the rat swarms weren’t withdrawing down the opposite tunnel, or scurrying for the walls, instead they had turned upon each other, the numerous miniature swarms melding, merging into one massive form. Rats blended and merged with one another, till individual forms were lost in the blurring of flesh and fur. The mass then began to take form, nearly filling the height of the chamber, the width of five men standing abreast. The giant rodent creature stood larger than any anyone had seen, or even heard of in legend or tale.

The creature’s body was massive in proportion to it’s twin rat shaped heads protruding from the mass, each the size of a full grown man in size. Each lined with a hundred jagged teeth dripping with vile liquid which seemed to hiss as it struck the cold earth beneath it. Its heads barked in unison, a high pitched wail that disoriented Linnix who was closest to the creature, even as she presumably scrambled back towards her friends. (-1 attack rolls and dex based skill checks) Glowing eyes of deep red filled the hollows of the twin heads, And a deep voice, trembling as though a hundred spoke in unision reverberated within the minds of all present.

“We have claimed these halls as our den. You will feed our young for days to come, and when the last of the flesh has been stripped from your bones, perhaps your foolish kin will send more in search of you, and we shall feed anew”

Xaris barked in anger and disgust at the disobedient Rook, commanding his return to formation and training. “…And I swear, if you continue walking in that direction I'll have to put you in your place. This is no time for people to act like children!"

The sheer authority in the white gnome’s voice shook Rook to the core, a trembling as though he has been drenched in a late autumn storm, took him and he shuddered under the intimidation of Xaris. He started to say something but one look at Xaris’s cold stare silenced him, and he picked up his weapon and fell back in line, to the judgmental stares of his peers.

Lord Bartholomew looked over Sir Roderick with a stern nod and a smile. “Kind warrior, know that Starspire Bastion readily welcomes any who serve to rid the northern borderlands of evil or strife. Know also, that aside from food in your belly and a place to lay your head to rest, there is little to be offered at this time in way of compensation aside from the gratitude of myself and all who reside here. There is much to be done around here, from repairs, to guard duty, to perhaps lending your knowledge of Helm in prayer to those willing to listen. These are times of uncertainty, and though many hope to carve a niche for themselves here, there is much to fear out here so far from aide, and so close to winter’s chill. Please, walk about the grounds, see where you may help out, and thank you for joining our little band of would be world changers out here in these once forsaken lands. The woman, Lady Brownyn, is a helpful sort, perhaps she can better fill you in on the everyday affairs around here if you require a guide. Thank you again.”

Bronwyn descended into the mess hall and took her seat. She mused over her future in these strange lands, in this keep claimed from the goblin horde and growing more into a place of permanent residence with each passing day. Would this place hold a home for her? Or would she continue south to the civilized lands with cities, and academies where she could research amongst dozens of her kind, eager to unravel the mysteries of the weave and ply their trade. Tonight’s meal consisted of a simple salad of harvested greens imported by caravan, a chuck wagon stew, with a hearty brother and thick chunks of meat slow cooked since the early morning. Loaves of tack were stacked high upon the table, with apple butter and honey to help mask the texture of the hard bread. A wheel of cheese lay open as well, a wedge carved from the wax coated morsel. It wasn’t a meal fit for a king, but it was hearty and comforting as the scent filled the room, a tea of mixed herbs bubbling over the hearth.

A serving girl approached Brownyn, placing a tray with stew and salad before her, as well as basic utensils. “May I fetch you something to drink m’lady”

Elendil slept soundly in her elvish reverie. Her meditation invigorated both her body and her mind. The hours passed, the evening quiet and still. While she slept, her owl plucked a field mouse from the forest floor, a midnight snack during it’s watchful vigilance.. (Still waiting for timelines to catch up a bit first, sorry Dragon Mistress)

“We have claimed these halls as our den. You will feed our young for days to come, and when the last of the flesh has been stripped from your bones, perhaps your foolish kin will send more in search of you, and we shall feed anew”

"I really don't I'd settle too well, might cause some indigestion," Talus tried his hand at responding with some clever retort, but what he came up with seemed rather bland to his own ears. He finished the line anyway and punctuated it with another brimstone blast, vowing to himself to leave the witty repartee to Dylan from now on. "...especially since I'd be doing this as often as I could."

Once the warlock had released the destructive energies at the Rat, he sidestepped over toward Linnix and helped her back toward Dylan and Aelistae. He'll be damned if he lets the group be separated again if those rats swarm like they did before.

Dylan fought to make himself be heard over the chanting that the rats had taken to. It wasn’t quite enough to have his voice drowned in the noise of the beasts, but to be upstaged by a swarm of vermin, too. He herded a stray lock of hair out of his face as he continued to bellow his chant.

The rats grew to deafening volume as they heaped together into a growing mass. Dylan continued to mouth the words to his chant, being entirely unsure anymore whether or not he was actually still putting voice to the shapes his mouth was making.

The squeaks steadily died away as individual voices melded into a fearsome, two-headed whole. Dylan discovered that he was indeed still singing when the monstrous noise fell away, though one would be hard pressed to call his voice courageous or inspiring as the mental threat rattled through their minds. “We have claimed these halls as our den. You will feed our young for days to come, and when the last of the flesh has been stripped from your bones, perhaps your foolish kin will send more in search of you, and we shall feed anew.”

So much for this being a simple task. Dylan thought. I wonder what Xaris is doing now? Probably enjoying a lovely nap in the sun, trying to put some colour into that ghost’s body of his.
“Anyone else thinking what I’m thinking?” Dylan asked aloud, pausing but not breaking the chant’s flow through his body. He looked into one of the head’s eyes “Weren’t there more goblins than this back at the keep?” With this taunt he launched into the chorus with renewed vigour, pouring from his lips the magic of courage and tenacity.

(That is to say, continuing to inspire courage, as well as moving back a step or two if Dylan happens to be in the way of any of our warriors)

Bronwyn sat quietly in the dining hall, hands folded into her lap as she listened carefully while others did the talking. It was something Magda, her mentor, had taught her along with the magic. “When you are in a new situation, you can learn much more by listening attentively and observing closely.” Well this might not be a new position, oe it might be, but Bronwyn thought it a good idea to follow Magda’s advice for the time being. So she did just that.

Lord Bartholomew, newly raised in his position, was an easy man to deal with. He was still very much the same man he had been as a prosperous farmer. Bronwyn treated him with the respect of his new position, especially as she was his guest at this tine. He had asked her to remain here as h had no magic user, but she was undecided as of yet. However, she had some time to consider since her elven guide had ridden off to deliver some message to her people as a result of the battle they had gotten mixed up with. Until she returned, Bronwyn had no other alternative than to remain as Lord Bartholomew's guest. Being who she was, she felt a bit guilty about accepting his hospitality without doing something in return for him.

Bronwyn decided she would continue to make such scrolls and potions as she could and present a useful one or two as a departing guest gift-for his hospitality.

Elendil's dreams flitted for one thing to another, strange dreams of an elven prince, of a gold dragon, of flying high in the air and then being carried in the lap of the Prince as his moonsteed galloped through the forest. Nothing seemed connected and yet, in her dreams they both made love to her.