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Post by Mairi Ciarach on Dec 25, 2016 6:46:03 GMT
It paid to know your enemies. To understand how they thought, how they worked, and the myriad of little things they did. It was funny, she thought, that such short lived things led such complex lives. Everything was connected to everyone and yet, somehow, not connected at all. It was an organized bout of chaos with a subtle structure that quietly amazed her. She couldn't help but to compare the bustle of this little town - or was it a village? - to an ant hill. Everything working in tandem, all together, for some unseen purpose of great magnitude. It would have been charming if it wasn't so drearily pathetic.
She remembered a turn of phrase she'd once heard on another expedition just like this. 'When the cat is away, the mice will play' and as much as she tried she couldn't find any other way to describe such a scene. Thankfully, even this little safe haven of a backwater would succumb to the ways of the world. At least, in time. The cats were coming back and they were... hungry.
She hadn't bothered with elaborate schemes to hide what she was. A small amount of exotic fur, a little white here and there and the pale skin made her look more like a visitor from the far north rather than a predator among sheep. She'd caught more than a few eyes as she moved about, the lingering gazes of prying eyes as she passed. Young men, boys really, finding themselves drawn in by her fair features. Children to her, but a meal for later nonetheless and something to partake in later on. She wasn't dreadfully famished, but on such a mission one never knew where or even when the next meal would come.
Someone nearby was ringing a bell or, more accurately, perhaps banging metal on metal. An alarm of sorts, or maybe someone let the village idiot loose in the blacksmith's shop again, though for some odd reason it sounded urgent rather than random. She kept a hand on the dirk sheathed to her belt and meandered forward. If she was lucky, it might just be something to relieve the boredom. If she was very lucky, it might just wind up to be a free meal. Or valuable information to take back to the clan. Either way, it bore investigating, though she silently hoped it would keep her entertained for a bit longer than the last event the scenic cesspool offered up to the Deamhan Fhole noble.
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Post by Aldacer on Dec 26, 2016 1:05:16 GMT
Light still blazed, a bright glow suffusing the space around him as Aldacer stood a handful of feet in front of his shield. Forms and spirits pulsed on the edge of his powers, and for a handful of moments the avatar of wrath and paragon of Irodil stood glaring. Step by careful step he walked back to his shield, the light retreating with him. Carefully his arm slid into the grips and he hefted the shield up from the ground.
Pulsing, the light around him seemed to solidify, and a single bead of sweat trickled down his brow. Skills like this he hadn't used in a while, and it was taxing. With a quick jerk of his left hand, he tied the reliquary from around his neck to the guard of the sword. And with that, his position feel backward as the light coalesced around him, before he stopped entirely. A shockwave of it pulsed from him, and a flickering pillar of it raised into the sky.
And with that, the Paladin turned and ran towards the town, breathing heavily.
He would need more than just himself for this most likely, if not several more people. If he could reach the centaur, he could do something to buy them time.
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 26, 2016 2:24:30 GMT
Velaeri Aldacer Skrak Gulat Mairi CiarachThe wagons, the archers, and Stormwall ground to a dusty halt as a massive shape loomed out of the dusk. The figure, the creature, dominated the road. Shouts rose, and arrows on bows. With another shout, Stormwall spurred himself forward and planted himself between the beast -- easily three times his size -- and the caravan, one hand outstretched in either direction. "Don't shoot!" he snapped. Back behind the wagons, he glimpsed a pulse of light from the dwarf, who was holding back the spirits alone. Stormwall's head whipped around, and he focused on the gryphon. Their kind could be intelligent, he knew, and if one that size had been on the prowl, it could have picked up any of them with a swooping dive; the trees were thin enough. It could even have picked up him, and that wasn't a risk he ran often. This gryphon was larger than most, larger than anything airborne but a roc or a dragon, far as he knew. "Don't shoot," he said, breathing hard, and mercifully, no arrows slashed past him at the gryphon. He lowered his hands, noting only now that he'd lost his short sword in the retreat. "We're making for the town," he said to the gryphon. "A peaceful convoy, pursued by shades. Let us past or help us -- please, and quickly."
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Post by Velaeri on Dec 26, 2016 3:00:35 GMT
A moment stretched between them, gryphon locking sight with centaur, before the beast moved again. It was not something of violence, but of quiet consideration. The gryphon straightened from her protective stance and gave a careful survey of the caravan and its many frightened people, before pale blue occules honed in on the flash of light farther down the road.
Visibly bristled, taloned forelimbs raked the ground as she quite suddenly surged forward, broad wings thrown open. One, two, three ground-covering strides later the gryphon leapt for the centaur ... and sailed over him, lash of her tail whipping past his face. The trees at either side of the road prevented easy flight and so she glided above the caravan, spooking man and horse alike, before landing at the back and taking off down the road. Quickly enough she came upon the form of a retreating Aldacer, the gleam of the arcane still silvering his figure. Another great leap cleared him as well, though he was save the affront of a wayward tail. She was heading with determination towards the presence of the shades.
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Post by Skrak Gulat on Dec 26, 2016 6:13:23 GMT
With nary a word the gryphon sprung into action, leaping over the centaur and heading into the woods, following a pillar of light that seemed quite unnatural. Magic of some sort, and where there was magic there was often trouble. Skrak himself had a slight inkling of magic in him, a tattoo that let him see a great distance away. When concentrating his vision was perhaps as good as the gryphon's herself, save the peripherals of course. Using the skill the tattoo let out a feint red glow a he looked ahead, spotting the rest of the caravan, a bright armored dwarf or especially stout halfing running back, and an array of spirits trailing behind. Wisps, shades, shadows, whatever they were they were undead, of the incorporeal variety. Skrak considered pulling out his bronze dagger, but against such a foe it was like swinging at the wind. No follow through. The goblin cursed his uselessness in his native tongue.
Eyes darted around the outskirts of the town, looking for something, anything that could help. Skrak was no seasoned warrior, but neither was he a defenseless peasant like the innocents around him. Rushing towards a house he made a small leap and pulled a torch from the wall. Fire and holy magic were typical undead slayers, but could they hurt a spirit? Skrak didn't know, but figured it better than a bronze dagger of goblinmake. Hustling towards the outskirts of town he ran towards the trouble, aiming to be a distraction while the gryphon or the travelers found a way to silence the threat. If the Centaur, Dwarf, or their human and halfing were observant they'd notice a sliver of green skin on his form here and there expose through his layers of clothing. Skrak usually tried to hide his species, but it was difficult to do so on the move, and for the moment he had larger concerns.
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 28, 2016 2:29:51 GMT
Skrak Gulat VelaeriStormwall's jaw dropped. He hadn't even known that figure of speech was related to an actual thing, but now his mouth hung loose. He closed it with a clack as he watched the massive gryphon bound over anything that got in the way. It moved with intense grace and casual violence, and the dead -- the angry, powerful dead -- scattered. Maybe not permanently, but still. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen something corporeal scare a crew of shades. Then again, gryphons had unusual, inherent magic of their own, poorly understood by most people and certainly by Stormwall. Perhaps her claws and beak could rend spirits if she caught hold of them. The wagons thundered on again, making for the town around a heavily forested outcropping. This whole region was steepness and crevices; it offered low visibility even without the fog. Ideally, though, the convoy proper would reach town in a handful of minutes. That resolved Stormwall's responsibility in their direction. He could run as well, and he was useless against the spirits, but now that he'd called in the gryphon on their behalf he was loathe to leave. It would be a coward's act. With a snort, he spurred himself back toward the gryphon and the dead. He'd lost his short sword; instead, he unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. Sometimes spirits recoiled from a shot that you really meant.
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Post by Skrak Gulat on Dec 28, 2016 16:52:02 GMT
The Centaur was hoofing it to get to town, but after he was effectively hurdled he did a swift turnaround and did a quick survey of his crew. He then pulled up his bow and knocked an arrow, aiming at the scattering spirits. The goblin himself kept scurrying towards the outskirts of town, fur traders passing him as he went. The bulk of the problems were upfront by the gryphon, traveling at far better a pace than Skrak could ever match, but a spine-curdling scream indicated something had slipped past her. A look to the right showed a former bandit perhaps the creature was 'clothed' in torn rags and a tight rope necklace.
It swiped with the semi corporeal swipe that singed through his clothes. The goblin shrieked in surprise before swinging the torch at it. The texture of the wisp changed slightly, the fire-kissed area of his chest gaining a bit of color. With his offhand Skrak made a punch at it to find something a bit more solid than he expected. With a grin he pulled his fist back and pulled out his bronze dagger. Perhaps he'd get out of this bind yet.
@stormwall @vaeleri
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Post by Aldacer on Dec 28, 2016 19:34:34 GMT
The gryphon galloped and leaped over head just as the light around Aldacer flickered and died. He went to one knee, sweat pouring from him. The abilities of his Order had decayed over the last few centuries. His mission to relearn and rediscover them, his Oath, was taxing. There was no one to show him an easier path or way, and so his own intuition and hope decoded ritual and prayer to make ancient ways live again. But it was like any new exercise, the muscle wasn't developed yet. Largely, the Venators had become advisors and mere bodyguards. Aldacer looked to bring a resurgence of their Lord and ways. Moments later the dwarf stood. His chest still heaved, plate clanking and chain clinking as he assumed a readied, if wobbly stance. The centaur thundered next to him, and tired eyes glimpsed a normal bow being drawn. Courage. There it was, personified in demi-human form. The guide knew not what he faced. Knew not whether he could even harm it. But he tried because it was the right thing to do. A few wobbly steps, and Aldacer wiped the corner of his mouth where blood trickled from exertion of power. A hasty glyph was traced on the bow, and he trod forward, flickering light now gathering around his weapon. And a mirrored, but stronger glow joining the centaurs bow. Courage was it's own reward in right action. Stormwall | Skrak Gulat | Velaeri
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Post by Velaeri on Dec 30, 2016 4:21:17 GMT
An ear-piercing screech cut through the din of panic and raised alarm. Upon the road, surrounded by the shadows of trees, the gryphon furled her massive wings through the air. An illumination encompassed her, faint at first but growing brighter as her wings beat against the space between the living and the dead. Blue, but not like the sky. Blue like the glowing waters of Erudanae - the fabled city of the lost Vale. It formed a shield, a glowing ward upon which the shades found themselves dispelled, and she flung it upon them with another great sweep of her wings.
Effective, but it would not get them all. Not in one fell swoop, after all.
She crouched, wings and body coiled - no longer gleaming with the arcane - and froze as two arrows sailed past, piercing the writhing mass of shades as they recollected. There weren't many left but the gryphon would need time to regain her energy. Perhaps now with the distraction of a centaur and a paladin it would be enough for one last effort.
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 30, 2016 15:35:15 GMT
Velaeri Aldacer Skrak GulatAs the dwarf's blessing settled on the bow, a faint blue sheen limned the weapon, mainly around the head of the arrow Stormwall had just nocked. He blinked as realization settled in, then drew the flights to his cheek and sighted on a shade who had minimal lateral motion. The arrow punched through the spirit and embedded itself in a tree. The ghost vanished. Stormwall grinned. The grin vanished as the gryphon cocooned itself in magic beyond anything he'd seen at a range this close. The shell burst outward, shoving the dead, as the gryphon's immense wings flapped. With a wordless exclamation, Stormwall kept on firing, arrow after arrow. Visibility wasn't great, and he missed as often as he hit, but he felt he could at least contribute. And then there was the...goblin? A corporeal shade, undead of some kind, got past. Before Stormwall could fire off a shot, the undead bandit ran straight into a goblin with what looked like a dagger. Stormwall tossed the goblin a nod of acknowledgement and went back to shooting things.
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Post by Aldacer on Jan 4, 2017 4:10:18 GMT
It was not, by most assessments, going well for the hodge-podge force that had assembled. Gripping his sword, he ran forward with a yell, shouting a benediction in dwarven-tongue. His sword began to glow again, the light suffusing through the blade and turning it to crystal, and then spread down and through him. He turned almost transparent as his legs churned in the effort at movement. Past the centaur shooting blessed arrows. Far past the Goblin. Past the griffin and into the dead middle of the crowd of spirits, which turned on him as he stopped.
Eyes alight, he lifted his sword up and slammed it down into the earth. The ground trembled for a moment as his God answered his summons in a fantastic bolt of lightning and flame from the heavens. The air charged, hairs lifting and buzzing filling the air along with the scent of ozone or burnt hair. Finally, a blinding flash as the bolt hit the sword, and a deafening peal of thunder. Slowly the light began to fade and leech away, leaving everyone's vision fading and bleeding purple and green and yellow.
Aldacer kneeled on the ground panting, trembling, and there were no spirits to be seen, but the sword glowed hot.
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 8, 2017 2:44:22 GMT
Feathers properly ruffled, the gryphon stared out into the darkness beyond as the dwarf's magic subsided. All was silent, all was still. The sound of a frightened caravan and town echoed gently up behind them. Fletched nares pinning, the behemoth's chest gave a slow heave beneath folded wings as she curled her head around to eye the two warriors. Haaawwwww, crooned the gryphon, shaking the frill from her neck. ~~~~ "Shades have been plaguing the road since a month now. Hardly anyone come pass through since they first appeared," a man of weathered appearance had met the group at the town limits. In his right hand he held an equally aged looking shortsword, in his left he held the fraying tether of fear that had kept him from joining them. "We're just simple folk here, the only magic we have is what the gryphon gives us. They don't come close when she's around, but she won't be here for long. What you did down that road, I've never seen anything like it." The man's eyes were on Aldacer and they looked to be on the verge of desperation, "Are they...gone? For good?" As they walked the road back into town the gryphon having taken up the rear, she paused at the glint of steel in the leaves. Great talons reached forward to rake a dropped shortsword out from the debris to be plucked from the ground by her massive beak. A casual stride carried her after the group into town to join the caravan.
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 8, 2017 23:24:12 GMT
Aldacer @skralk VelaeriIn the aftermath of battle, Stormwall felt the jolt of his heart slowing, the heat of his muscles relaxing, and half a dozen other sensations. He knew them all, except for the new one: the back-of-the-mind frisson of spiritual influence. Of ghosts. He caught himself looking down at the bow that the dwarf had blessed. Was it his imagination or did the bow iridesce? Glow, even? As the local spoke, privileging or at least prioritizing his fellow two-legs, Stormwall glanced back at the gryphon. The massive creature had picked up his fallen sword in its beak and was ambling after them. What such a creature could be thinking or feeling was beyond his ability to guess. It had understood him, and it seemed to have a bargain with the town. As the townsman spoke with Aldaecer and the caravan moved safely into the town's refuge, Stormwall turned away from the conversation. He unstrung his bow and slipped it into a tube of leather appended to his saddlebags. All the while he kept his eyes on the gryphon. He approached it, but not too close. "My thanks," he said, unsure whether the gryphon was verbal. "The caravan was in my charge, and I was lost. I owe you."
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 10, 2017 3:07:56 GMT
She had taken a seat in the middle of the main road, comfortably blocking passage to any but those traveling by foot. With the square crowded by the caravan there was little room left for a creature such as she, but this seemed to matter very little. She watched and listened; wings folded and tail curled, ears alert and twitching to the sounds of people and their excited banter.
A gentle knocking of hooves against cobble and stone did catch the great gryphon's attention - not that a centaur would be anything less than striking to see. Hooded blue eyes gazed upon him calmly, looking down upon the creature without judgement. He a brave and curiously humble sort to admit such a shortcoming as to being lost. Were not centaurs people of the wood? The gryphon made an imperceptible noise, pinning him with an amused yet kindly sort of expression.
Even gryphons could get blown off-course given the worst sort of circumstances against them.
In return to his thanks she bowed her regal skull and gently deposited his sword upon the ground. A short gesture was made with the nose of her beak to push it towards him, enabling Stormwall to retrieve it without having to come much closer. Whether this was for his benefit or her own was anyone's guess.
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Post by Aldacer on Jan 10, 2017 3:37:56 GMT
Looking at the Elder, the weary Paladin shook his head. It was an expression of regret, for sure. Such magic as destroying a spirit was beyond him. Banishing for a time he could do, for sure. But to permanently destroy... Such things were hinted at, sure. But they were beyond his ability and understanding. Unless of course, some sort of miracle were granted to him. But a thought occurred to him and he bowed his head as he spoke to the Elder with a thinner voice than before, fatigue writ large on brooding features. "It is beyond me at current to destroy a spirit. However, if you do not mind my presence for a few days or a week or so, I can work on a warding. A sort of holy shield over the town and a bit of the road. It will grow in time if the citizens here make proper offerings to it, which are simple and easy to perform... I have the materials, but it is up to you. I can instruct anyone you'd like in it's maintenance, it would only take one person to maintain typically. And they'd still be free most of the days time to work what else the village needed of them"Standing, Aldacer drew a plain bearded axe from his pack. A backup weapon, plain crafted but of obvious dwarven make. A sturdy piece, and before he moved he took and offered it, still sheathed, to the Elder. This could be a weapon of war, or a woodsman tool. And with dwarven smiths to make it, it would outlast many generations of humans. "Regardless of the wardings, it would be my pleasure for you to take this blade. Think on the offer of the warding, and know that if any one of you travels to Idmidium with this blade after I am gone, they will send Venators here to aid you in whatever you need, or train the one who comes to our halls in the ways of Irodil. A symbol of friendship, if you will, if you will allow me a few days rest after that ordeal."Suspicion might be rampant know, as holy magic or magic of any kind could cause panic in such a place. Hopefully this offer and gesture would help prove his intent and worth, and show he meant only aid and not any sort of harm to any of those dwelling in the town. A banishment like the one he had performed had drained him, and very soon he would be asleep whether he willed it such or not. Swaying a bit, he waited for the Elder's response. Velaeri | Stormwall
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