Leave no man. Either we all return or none. This is one of the precepts that guided the Altressians in their everyday lives. Arthass regretted that he would not be able to give those that had fallen of the side of the cliff a proper burial. The burden did not lay so lightly upon his shoulders, but it was his as their commander. Death by the executioner would have been so much easier. But then again, when did he enjoy taking the easy route?

Arthass heard Garbad, his old friend, cry out, "“We need to help him, he’ll die out there alone.”

“So leave him he’s not one of us” Came the reply from more than one Altressian. “Yeah just leave him, he’ll last long enough we can start climbing outta here.”

"He is one of us now. He has stood and fought alongside us and we leave nobody to die alone. For strength and honor!" This was his cry upon this field of battle as Garbad broke free and attempted to draw the attention away from Alexander.

The shield wall surged forward to surround the beast that stood in front of them and the shortblades pierced into the hide of the monster. Protect the man beside you, from thigh to shoulder. This is how our phalanx works. One weak point, and it is little more than nothing. Oh how these lessons had been drilled into his head.

His patience was tested as he did not want to leave the warrior that had so patiently guided them to die alone. Yet he needed more warriors to do more than we was doing now. Arthass knew he needed to think quickly if he was to get as many out of this situation alive as he possibly could.

(OOC: Hopefully, you mad Garbad either favored soul or cleric with the phalanx fighting feat as I asked. If you did, then I am going to try and move what men I can to accompany Garbad and get Alexander some needed healing. If the Altressians leave threatened areas, they are gonna make withdraw actions so as not to provoke Attacks of Oppurtunity. Also, let us make full use of our flanking benefits.)

Winter wandered along the snow covered trail with Róstfï Itébú, also known as frostbite in common, romping along beside her. It had been nearly an hour since she set out to hunt for food with her little dragon friend. Though she couldn’t always go with him, Winter tried as often as she could to accompany Frost when he hunted. He was only a pup in dragon years and more often than not found himself gnawing on the wrong bones. It wasn’t an easy task having charge of a young dragon, not in the least, but all the same she loved the pup. Frost was her Child, companion, and only friend. Nothing could replace that.

“What are you after?” Winter giggled, chasing after the dragon pup as Frost let out a bark and galloped off towards an opening in the side of the mountain.
“Frost” She called his name as she entered the cave.
“There you are!” she said as she kneeled down to hug her pup.

Winter Jumped as she heard a loud roar behind her. She turned around to find a large creature standing tall above her. Winter slashed out at it with her dagger as it came towards her only to miss her target.
Another being entered the cave. It seemed to distract the creature. Suddenly the new arrival seemed to grow larger, or maybe the room smaller. Winter didn’t know, all she knew was the creature seemed angry and she had to think of something quickly.

With Frost huddled behind her, winter begins to mumble the words to a spell……..


(I’m casting Baleful polymorph in attempt to turn Yeti onto a Bunny rabbit.)

The Yeti had roared, Temper had roared, and Frostbite had let out its not quite so intimidating growl much like a lion cubs when learning to stalk the plains for the first time. As Temper grew larger with the help of his spell, the Yeti took the time to swing at the orcish intruder. Fierce claws came terribly close to grabbing Temper, but in his growing the Yeti’s grasp faltered. Temper was physically and mentally psyched to wrestle with this creature of savage power, a true test of his skill. Temper reared back ready to bite and claw and tear the life from the yeti, staining its white pelt red; that was until the beast transformed, before his very eyes into a simple snow hare. The creature so small and so simple still bore that murderous look in its beady little eyes. Nipping at Temper’s boot it scurried away, only to be crushed under the hairy padded foot of another Yeti with a sickening crunch, this time with a partner in tow. The two Yetis did not stop their charge into the chamber from the right corridor for a simple rabbit no, they continued right on into Temper with a ferocious force; both of them tackling the enlarged warrior to the ground, where they began pounding upon his chest with heavy handed fists. (-11hp) Temper took the opportunity to do all he could against the beasts atop his already massive frame. First he bit deep into the lead Yeti’s shoulder, (-13hp) tearing flesh and fur from the beast, then followed up by clawing at its sides, leaving bloody lines marring it’s once blanched pelt in blood. . (-15hp)
The battle is in full force, with Temper under the weight of two heavy Yeti’s thirsting for blood. Frostbite looked eager to enter the fray, though she looks at Winter for support in the matter. The druid would have to decide whether to help the large stranger or not, and to make matters worse, the low growl of something else was approaching from the tunnel leading to the surface entrance. This room would become very crowded, very fast if something wasn’t done. The cave meant to shelter travelers from harm was fast becoming an icy prison.

Taklinn found himself traveling down the icy slide with increasing velocity. The lack of friction let his considerable weight plummet down the chute like dead weight. When he did finally come to a halt it was far from pleasant as he landed with a thud upon the cold icy ground, his shoulder throbbing as it bore the brunt of his crash. (-12hp) As Taklinn’s weapons and gear clattered down around him, he looked up to find himself in an ice lined cavern, thick stalagmites of ice growing all around him. The Cavern was roughly 20’ in diameter, with an exit to the north. The passageway carried on roughly 20’ before veering off to the left. Perhaps the most crucial part of the décor was the numerous bones scattered about the floor, some partially covered with ice, some completely encased in it. The very walls seemed to have grown around the remnants of past victims, and in the eastern wall there’s a complete skeleton preserved in the icy wall. From the exit passageway Taklinn could hear the exchanging of growls and howls of pain. It sounded like multiple beasts were fighting, perhaps over the scraps of their last meal? Whatever the case, the Arctic dwarf found himself in the proverbial frying pan of frost as it were, with only one visible way out, and time against him.

Atharam’s guided blade ripped across the Herald, causing the hell-creature to stumble beneath the weight of his assault, despite the fact it was many times larger than himself, and he lacked the room to prepare a proper charge. However, he’d done more than just wound it; he had shown the others that they, flesh-and-blood mortals, could inflict injury upon it. He knew that this would do much to boost their morale in a time where they’d desperately need it.

Rounding Raykel about to face the fiend, Atharam ground his teeth and felt his body numb when he saw Tai-Laan take a brutal series of blows from the creature. Her blood lashed the frozen ground, and the knight felt her pain swell in his spirit. The woman’s ribs were visible!

“Tai-Laan!” He cried out, and kicked his heels into Raykel’s flanks to drive the mount forwards, his mind whirring. She needed his assistance, for he could bestow the power of the divine upon those bearing injury, but so could Paorn. Indeed, the dwarf had healed Atharam’s injuries countless times in their journeys together. The Templar was, inversely, a much mightier warrior than Paorn was. He’d have to put his faith in Paorn, and trust the priest to tend to Tai-Laan, though in his heart, he desperately desired to fetch her and get her to safety.

He watched the pirate, one whom Atharam had found hard to trust in their short time together, dash forwards, rapier flashing and striking deep into the demon. While the force of the blow paled compared to his own, it still showed effect. It also revealed the demon’s tail, the spikes of which seemed to ooze a liquid of some sort. Likely, something that would prove especially deadly, were it able to mix into the bloodstream.

The knight had to act, and set himself in action to redeploy. He made to cut across the front, and was forced to lean back in the saddle as a heavy spear of ice sailed before him, pounding into the breast of their foe, earning in response a tremendous roar of fury. A dark haze began to fall, but it seemed merely for show, for it did nothing to the knight, nor did his companions seem affected by its magic. While the Herald conjured it, though, it gave him the time he needed to move.

Sitting high in the saddle, his battered armour and shredded cape shrouding him, Atharam, even in his fatigue and bearing his emotional pain of seeing Tai-Laan hurt so badly, struck a gallant pose. Though it was almost torn apart, the ruffling sword compass of Corean upon his back was visible to his friends, and it had inspired them before to push to incredible ends. With hope, it would work to that goal this day.

Putting his expert riding skills to the test, bearing his shield protectively, Atharam spurred Raykel to plow into the gap between the fiend and Tai-Laan’s broken body. It took his all not to look at her, for it would have distracted him too heavily. She wore none of her own, so Atharam needed to be her armour and shield, her shining sword in this darkened hour. Encased in his metal plating, he and Raykel formed a steel and bone wall, separating the two.

The flames lapped around his sword, the shining light for he and his companions. The dark lightning crackled around the fiend’s weapon, her own force. It seemed the two would clash very soon.

“Return to from where you once came, demon!” Atharam bellowed right back at the creature, looking up to meet its baleful gaze with his own iron grey eyes. “Be gone, or this blade shall rend you so deeply that you’ll take me to hell with you!”

Summoning Corean’s holy might into his sword arm once again, Atharam hauled back, clenched his teeth, and, standing up in the saddle for extra height and power, struck with his whole heart behind the blade. He must protect Tai-Laan. No matter the cost.

(OOC: Atharam is relocating himself within the threatened area to get between Tai-Laan and the Herald, if possible, to serve as a buffer with no regard to his hit points. He’ll then smite it, and if he is still allowed his full slew of attacks in one round, he’ll hit strike again. That will be two of his three smite attempts per day, unless he gets more from 3.5 paladin class. I don’t know how many the class grants in 3.5…)

Her foot had deflected off solid bone, inches too high to be effective against the enormous demon and as she had stumbled, her foot slipping on the treacherous icy ground it had taken advantage, raking a vicious wound between her shoulderblades.

Despite the blow Tai-laan recovered her footing quickly but even as she spun back towards the mighty Herald she could feel the return stroke of the blade coming..

Desperately she twisted aside but the Herald was too swift and for all her skill and experience Tai-laan could do nothing but accept the impact and try to flow with it to lessen the damage...

Agony..

The Fellblade struck below her raised right arm and bit deep, hacking flesh and muscle from her side before raking cruelly down her ribs. A second seemed to stretch into eternity as the unholy purple lightning of the weapon crackled through the horrific wound and into her body, searing nerves and flaying at her very soul.

The world blurred, the edges of her vision dimming as blessed blackness beckoned and Tai-laan wavered on the edge of unconsciousness, the Demon's horrible aura of fear washing over her unnoticed as she faltered and began to fall...

Focus. Awareness. Balance. Defiance.

At the last instant she caught herself, sheer willpower and stubbornness beating back the descending blackness as she regained her footing and her eyes snapped up to track the path of the evil blade.

Color returned to Tai-laan's world, falling pieces of Donia's shattered Ice-lance glittering in the light of Atharam's burning blade as he charged Raykel into the path of the Herald, the sight of him bringing both a surge of awe and a twinge of guilt that he would risk himself to protect her yet again.

Drake too had lunged into the fray, his rapier thrusting and stabbing at the thighs of the beast and for a moment Tai-laan wanted to rejoin the fight before common sense took over. Her wounds were serious and she didn't even need to glance at her side to know that without immediate attention they could prove fatal.

Straightening, Tai-laan watched the battle unfolding and then choosing her spot as best she could she scampered out of the reach of her attacker, her mind already reaching for the flow of energy deep within that would allow her to heal herself if she could just focus it correctly...

OOC: Tai-laan wants to back out of reach and apply wholeness of body to heal herself as much as she can before re-entering the fray (20hp I believe). Whether this requires a tumble or not I'm not sure, but if it does lets do that. I'm also not sure if Tai-laan can move and heal herself in the same round - but it would be handy if she can!

'What manner of sorcery was this!?'Temper had thought to himself, watching the yeti shrink into a little ball of fluff. He had been robbed of his glory. His conquest of this lesser whelp! He turned to the elven girl in the corner of the cavern, eyes blood shot with a combination of adrenaline and fury. The remnants of her whispered cants echoed through both the cavern and his mind. The barbarian exhaled a great sigh, raising a gnarled claw to point at the girl. "You," he began, with a threatening growl, "Stay out of this wench!"

Just as he had finished spitting out the last word, Temper saw, far too late, two more yeti charging full force at him, and as such they were able to tackle him to the ground with an ease he could ill afford. Fists as hard as rock and heavy as lead smashed down upon his chest, and though Temper was wearing armour, it did very little to protect him from the massive blows of the abominable giants. Temper delighted in this furious struggle for life! It was as though his ancestors were calling out his name, and he could imagine exactly what they would say, "This is Jacob of the Fell tribe. Let him be tested. To be the eldest son of the Chieftan is an honour above all others. He must prove his strength. Measure him, let us see the weight of his power!"

Temper would not argue with the requests of his envisioned ancients. The savage blood within him boiled. He possessed an empowered lineage. Blood from both Orc and Dragon, fighting over the tattered remnants of inferior human heritage. He reveled in the thought of leaving the weakness behind. The mortality of his human frailty. He would reforge himself as his aspect self. A creature who bowed down to nothing. There would be no superior. He would not kneel. His father would see...

There was no fear in the heart of the Dragon Disciple. He cared not about the lethality of these two accursed mammoths. He would rip them in half. His fury would resound in the caves for all eternity, for fear of his return. All of the channels of his body opened to the flow of blazing hot fury. Fueled by an uncontrollable rage, Temper lashed out once again at the yeti he had already grazed upon, aiming this time for the neck of the creature... with his teeth at least. His claws he attempted to wrap around the back of the yeti's head, so as to rip the scalp off of it's head. Perhaps this would make for a good hat in the future...

One by one... Temper would maim and kill these beasts, until the floor was a frozen lake of crimson. He would prove his strength. He would plunge his will into the search for his quintessential form, and would emerge... A Chieftan.

(Temper is going to become enraged... I believe I listed his enlarge/enraged bonuses on his sheet. Also, I am attacking With the full force of my natural weapons once more. If I have to stand up, I suppose this will take two rounds.)

He knew that had been a bad idea when he had done it but it had given them the time they needed. He had only managed to scratch the land shark but he had made it mad that much was true. Now he was hurting. There wasn’t much he could do that would have an effect really.

He had bought them the time then needed though he could tell by the talk of leaving him behind that he had been successful. The fact that Galbad had come to help hadn’t been counted on but had been a welcome surprise. Alexander had always thought of him as the misfit of them all and a little out of place in the group but now he had to be glad he was there.

He had choices to make now. He could stand there and let the other people die and do all the work. He could help Galbad with the one shark since he was all by himself. He could go back into his tent and hope the sharks left him alone. Who wants to live forever he asked himself as he regained his balance and decided to return to the fight. He would have been bored standing around anyway and letting everyone else fight.

(He is going to power attack the land shark taking 6 from his attack and adding 12 to his dmg. If my calculations are correct that should leave me with 12 for my first attk. and 7 for my second. Hoping for good rolls on your part though.)

Paorn winced in reflex as the darkened Fellblade rent into flesh and skittered off of bone. The dwarven cleric tightened his grip upon the wooden symbol hanging upon his chest. Denev would be needed longer tonight than many nights before.

“Tai-laan!”

Paorn’s gaze was fixed generally upon the melee before him before he heard Atharam’s cry. Pain rippled beneath the steel, or perhaps mithril, exterior borne by the knight in the face of such danger. The lad’s gaze, too, dropped to that of the young woman as the Herald stared intently upon its prey.

His flaming sword had bit into the otherworldly flesh of the Herald, leaving a seared wound that shone slightly compared to the dark that seemed to collect about Vangal’s Herald. A slight sheen appeared around the holy symbol, filtering through the dwarf’s fingers. The same sheen appeared about the demon as Paorn called out against its presence, threatening to bind the demon in agony, but it wasn’t about to become that easy. With a growl audible across the campsite, the sheen broke, but the damage would be done.

Donia, too, used enough magical temptation to coax a lance of ice that slammed into the demon’s hide, shattering into thousands of pieces. Then came the despair.

The light of Atharam’s sword seemed to dim along with the silvery sheen of moon and stars above. Hopelessness crept across what seemed to be Paorn’s very being, filling him with dread. He could see his broken body, cast about and toyed with before those terrible eyes, burning yet cold, alive yet not, his very soul undone by the cruelty of the abyss.

The strength in his knees nearly left him then, almost bringing him down to the ground in prayer for the sanctity of his soul regardless the danger his companions, and indeed, likely, the future of the Free Nations. But he felt a surge of his own, independent thought rush through his being. Refocused, his eyes caught the red glow of the Herald’s own fiery orbs.

“Denev grant us strength,” said the dwarf, again gripping the holy symbol of Denev tightly. He could feel the earth beneath his feet, smell the damp morning dew before it completely fell upon the thin leaves of the brush, trees and grasses. A single small piece of parchment was produced from one of his pockets. The writing was scripture and he whispered the simple words aloud. As he did, a dull green enveloped first the lettering then spreading through the paper itself. Soon the entire parchement was consumed in the dull nutty green. A pale light once again shone through his rough hand and similar lights, all in the symbol of Denev, shone upon the breasts of Donia, Tai-lann, Atharam and Drake. With the protection of Denev, hopefully they would survive this encounter.

Looking down at the paper, it was once again a simple piece of parchment, unadorned with script or ink and even then a bit flimsy. As if it had aged hundreds of years in a dry tomb only now seeing the sky and moisture again. A subtle gust of wind picked it up and it fell to dust, the magic of Denev taken all its strength to protect Paorn’s companions.

Paorn watched as Atharam spun Raykel, moving as quickly as the tired horse could to move between the Herald and Tai-lann.

Foolish lad, thought the dwarf. Letting love cloud yer better judgement.

Again.
“Get back ye durned fool!” yelled Paorn. “That ain’t fine wine coming from those spikes, ye water-walking buffoon!”

Edging closer to where Tai-lann now crawled, Paorn scrambled to find another prayer. All he could think of was the Nimbus spell that was usually useful in most encounters. Calling for a third time, Paorn saw his surroundings become illuminated as a nimbus of light surrounded him.

((Paorn will cast Mass Shield of Faith then move to Tai-lann but will use two turns of full movement to go the long way around. Not sure what he can do though because of the magic. He casts Nimbus of Light in the third round of combat. Yea sorry the chronology of the post is a bit out, just wanted to get something in.))

“Stay out of this wench!” These words angered Winter. Was she supposed to sit and not defend herself, while these beats gnawed on her living flesh!? Ignorant Barbarian. How dare he! Did he not know who he was messing with? That in insulting her he came dangerously close to having nature’s full vengeance cast upon him? She’d be lying if she claimed the thought of turning him into another simple animal hadn’t crossed her mind. Somehow though, watching him get pummeled by a pair of yetis seemed to quell the need for direct confrontation… for now.


Fine. He wanted to be a hero so be it. She would leave him to his fate….


Walking down the tunnel to her east, Winter turned round and motioned for her faithful companion to follow. “Here Frost, let us leave the ill mannered beasts to their frolicking.” With a quirk of her brow and a curl in her lip, she motioned and brought forth a powerful Sleet Storm into the room she previously occupied. The room was filled with blinding sleet and snow, the ground grew treacherously icy, and a layer of frost began to cover the trio of beasts wrestling around upon the cavern floor. Laughing quietly to herself Winter couldn’t help but let the clichéd “And do chill out,” pass her pale lips as she walked the other way down the corridor.

Taklinn looked about in his ice prison, and closed his eyes in a moment of silence for the frozen dead around him that had suffered the same fate. But it was hard to concentrate, the fall doing more damage than he though. As he quited down he could hear the roars and screams of pain and battle, and he quickly drew his axe, and then brought his shield out. He slowly made his way down the only exit out of hear, down the dark path of who knows what. Atleast this will give him something to keep his mind off of, and vent his anger of these damned orcs. So in he went, deeper into his supposed grave.

The Herald of Vangal had proven that the forces of apocalypse were not to be trifled with or taken lightly. No-one knew that more clearly than Tai-laan, who had felt but a fraction of the beast’s full might and already tread dangerously close to unconsciousness. Tai-laan stumbled backwards as the Herald moved to finish her, but once again her knight in not-so-shining armor had arrived, placing himself and Raykel in harms way allowing her the time needed to focus inward and mend some of her wounds. (+20hp)

Paorn too had been on the move to protect Tai-laan, his short leg’s spurning him onwards as he recanted from a scroll; the eldritch writings enveloping all the companions in a Mass Shield of Faith. leaving the parchment brittle and easily destroyed by the slightest of breezes.

Atharam however would not bend in the wind, nor would he break in the face of adversity; not when so much lay on the line. Rearing Raykel Atharam called upon Corean’s might in an attempt to lay low the wicked Herald of Vangal in a single holy smite. His Flametongue came down sheathed in fiery wrath only to be cast aside by the last minute bringing to bare of her Fellblade. Light and darkness once again clashed in a display of pyrotechnics, embers and crackles’ dancing along the lengths of the pair’s crossed blades. Not satisfied with the apparent deflection, Atharam turned his blade off kilter and swept upwards, using the Herald’s own weapon as a guide straight back along its length to drive deep into her chest. (-25hp) The Herald screamed a demonic wail and stumbled backwards, slouching to one knee.

Drake his own rallying cry echoing across the battlefield took the Herald’s moment of weakness as a time to strike. With his opponent distracted, Drake thrust his rapier forward in rapid succession, but found it almost impossible to pierce the creature’s tough hide.

Donia for her part had hoped to simply finish off the beast with a series of Magic Missles but for all her power, the Herald’s natural resistances to mortal magic protected her from all the bolts of force.

Staggered, and bleeding profusely, The Herald had hoped to take at least that damnable paladin with her should her escape from hell prove short lived. With a final howl filled with all the rage of the abyss, the Herald attacked Atharam with reckless abandon. Her Fellblade hissed and dripped pitch, it flared in a horrid purplish light and was swept across the ground cutting a deep rend through earth and snow as it swept in a high, diagonal arc at Atharam, catching him under his shield arm and driving deep into his chest, splitting his plate mail like it were paper, and were his feet not looped through the stirrups he would have been thrown from his steed. -38hp(critical) Working with her momentum the Herald swung clear around and arced her blade once more at the wounded knight of Corean, catching him still aback from her first swing and driving deep into his sword arm and upper torso. -20hp
Atharam had to fight to keep the blackness from overtaking him as the pain encroached on his vision and his wounds seeped with brackish blood. Seeing his wounded state the Herald made one final lunge with her tail, hoping to finish the mortal who had so defied her, and as her barbed tail spike came thrusting forward Atharam, too weak to move, knew there was no way to avoid the devastating blow.

It is said there lies a mystical bond between man and beast, and that bond was no better exemplified than between Atharam and his warhorse Raykel. Sensing the danger his companion was in, Raykel thrust high on strong rear legs, his front hooves rotating menacingly as the Herald’s poisonous tail struck the noble steed square in the chest. -8hp[Raykel] The magnificent steed let out a whinny as it came down hard, stomping atop the Herald in anger and crushing the last breath from its infernal lungs. -20hp(critical)
The Herald dissolved into a blackish puddle, melting into the ground burning an 8ft tunnel straight down farther than anyone could see, perhaps to the depths of hell itself. Raykel stood there panting, his wounded underside causing him discomfort while Atharam sat limply in the saddle. At least everyone was alive. From the campground came the Trician survivors and once more they held nothing but praise and high regard for the heroes, but words alone would not heal the many wounds suffered in the early morning.

It was time to reflect, and regroup before proceeding…

NOMACHRON IS OFFICIALLY OVER... will delete in 1 weeks time.

Sorry to see it go. Warcraft ate my time and I was just about to come back and post something.

Do you, by chance, have previous back ups?

Well... I definitely hate to see this one go. I was looking forward to dying a horrible death! The game started out so well too.