Satilla Valen

“COME ON!! WAKE UP!” The witch was still shouting as she dashed for her bags. This was bad... This was really bad! The undead appeared in the worst of time, it seemed like everyone including the orcs weren't prepared for these... pests...bane... Satilla couldn't find a proper negative word good enough for this situation and the existence that the undead represented upon this world.

Without losing any more time, she grabbed her bag by it's strap and put I on, cause she was pretty sure leaving all the potions and other breakable things on the group would surely lead to them getting broken by someone stepping/ falling on them. She also pulled her trusty wooden pole/staff. It was not enchanted or magical in any way. It was and still is just regular wood, while she doubted it's effect on undead it was at the best she had.

As the undead approached closer and closer she could make out more and more, what she realized wasn't something she liked.” Ohh we are so screwed up...” She said to herself and shook her head.” WAKE UP DAMMIT!” She continued to shout as loud as her throat would allow. She was pretty sure she'd lose her voice for a while after this...

---

---

Dreams are fickle things, they can be of nonsense or they can be prophetic. Such was the latter for Sana, dreaming back to the nightmare of the night she was almost sacrificed. A wrongly cast sleep spell put her and the rest of her group to sleep and when they awoke they were bound in cages in a dungeon. Through the door came an undead which ripped Sana from her confines in front of friends, dragging her out by her hair as she kicked and fought for freedom. It didn't matter, the Lich in control made quick work of her before getting her secured to the granite slab. A fight ensued and before the Lich was defeated Sana found herself fighting in pitch black darkness against skeletons.

Who knew life would threaten to repeat itself as Sana was torn from one nightmare right into another. Her pulse already racing in her chest as she rolled over and came to her feet, her bow gripped in her hand as she opened her eyes. Could it still be a dream? No, there were no stone walls surrounding her and the moons light broke through the forest canopy. This was definitely not the past but the present. Satilla was screaming for people to wake up but it seemed that Sana was the first to her feet. She knew it was no time to waste arrows as she watched the skeletons coming in through the flora and fauna. The band on Sana's arm glowing brightly as she muttered under her breath unknown words.

Narrowing her eyes, she let out a whistle as she charged forward, dashing towards the two closest skeletons to her. One just behind the other. Dropping down as Epona woke Sana attempted to kill two birds with one stone as it were. To barrel through on her knees as her bow held out before to cap the front skeleton in the knees, before swinging up in an attempt to decapitate the one behind it. Epona galloping towards the fray as Ash came out of the woods, leaping to the horses back before launching into a crowd of Skeletons with his teeth bared, howling a call that could wake the dead as he used his mass to try to knock part of the group down.

Kyra was quick to rise as the commotion broke out, sitting up rapidly and glancing around. She hadn't come out of her sleep as quickly as Sana but she came forth fast enough as she rose to her feet. "You have got to be kidding me," she said as she watched Sana and their animal companions leap into the fray. Epona charging towards Sana at this point so that Sana could hopefully grab her and take a mounted position. Kyra left her bow laced over her back as she drew her long sword. Stepping forward slowly as her fingers flexed before tightening around the hilt.

Ntaj's watch went by uneventfully though he couldn't help but still be restless. Was he scared or was he excited? It was a bit of both. Truth be told, it has been some time since Ntaj actually had to draw blood. He's been robbed at sword point a few times and he certainly has been hunting a lot, but the former usually ran away the moment he showed himself a competent warrior and the latter was just sport. They weren't true fights. But the undead, they would not be scared off at his swordplay. And unlike animals, they would kill him regardless if they are alone out outnumber him. He was eager to finally get a fight but was scared that he hasn't kept his skills sharp. Either way when his hour was up he went to wake up Satilla (who fortunately did not see his naked body in the darkness, probably) and went to sleep.

But as he rested Ntaj's unease made him restless, dipping in and out of sleep. Half the time he opened his eyes and he'd only see the camp, and the other half he would witness bizarre events going on that he was almost certain he was dreaming. Bright colorful images or scenes of horrific tragedies unfolded and vanished from his eyes like dust in the wind. And just as Ntaj thought he was going to finally get taken by sleep, he heard a shrill scream from the darkness.

He didn't even process what the scream said or what it was about when he exploded from his tent. He had grabbed his Choppa, which had always been nearby, and randomly took something else from his tent as he got out. Fortunately he had found his shield, which would give him ample protection against whatever threat had arrived. And once his eyes adjusted to the darkness and looked at the scene, he knew they were under attack. Satilla was screaming that the undead had arrived, and sure enough there were skeletons in the camp. Sana, Kyra, and their animal companions were already fighting back. Activating his primal rage, Ntaj called forth his inner spirit beast to bless him for the coming violence. And before Ntaj would join the fray, he roared loudly, louder then Satilla had, a familiar cry that all orcs should recognize.

Location:Beside the Cave
Interacting with: Himself

Calanon had sunk deep in his reverie, confident the team was safe for the time being and enjoying some truly needed rest. He'd not gotten much rest the past few days, nor food. And now that he had eaten a full meal (seconds, truth be told), he was far gone into his deep stage of slumber. His dreams eluded his thoughts, only flickers of images that would stick to his mind every so often.

Brogach was a different matter however. The Elk had felt a cold chill as the Undead approached, though he was still sleeping at the advance of the abominations. It wasn't until Satilla's initial calls that the Elk's head popped up. The sudden unease taking hold of Brogach sent the Elk onto its feet, neighing and bounding to and fro in near panic!

Calanon felt the nuzzle of Brogach push him and prod him, and he faintly heard the screams of Satilla. "_What?" he said weakly, giving a long stretch. The calls of the others reached his keen ears, and suddenly he felt every little sensory attack that assailed him. "What?" he asked, perking up. He shook his head to wake himself up some more, knowing danger was near but unable to rouse his thoughts.

Enough noise to wake the dead. No that was a rather poor choice of words, or was it most appropriate? What incantations and rites would you need to summon forth that which was dead? What befouling magics divine or arcane or otherworldly could restore the semblance of life back into a body, and twist it so? But was it necromancy? True necromancy? Or did the source fail to entrap the soul? The bind that which fueled the spirit, to create a thinking creature, capable and competent beyond the shambling mass of bones and flesh so many mindless minions had? For changing the state of death was merely the beginning. Any fool or cultist could open a book and perform a dark rite, bargain with forces beyond their control to bring back the dead. Yet a true master could rip through the veil and shroud, breaching the other side to grab forth a strand of consciousness, of being of life. Else it was merely string and bones, puppets who were strung and animated by a puppet master. So do tell, what noise did wake the dead?

Thomas... Wake up. Wake up, Thomas. Wake up... Wake up. Wake up, wake up wake up.
Wake up and hear the screams of the girl you...

"Uh...?" Rubbing his eyes, Thomas awoke, to the sounds of a horse, an manly battlecry, and a girl. Not particularly in that order. Although he's been around horses long enough to know the cry of such an animal, and had seen enough stereotypical meatheads decide to announce their intent to attack with some sort of rallying screaming. What he didn't expect see however was the blur of green that was Ntaj, running towards something guns ablazing. Well not guns per say but weapons ready. Sana and Kyra getting to the fray as well, as the boy blinked a few times and shook his head as he swore he saw much more of Ntaj than usual. And this had to be a dream if it were not for Satilla who was screaming her voice into a mate for Epona (hoarse). Also the shambling group of bones which seemed to be approaching them suggested this was either a deluded fantasy fantasy of Thomas' weirdness,

Or worse, they are being attacked. By the undead. Too close to the orcs. In the middle of the night. How many spells did He have? 2? 3? No more than five maybe, but it was not the time to even begin spellcasting. First Thomas had to get himself oriented and steady, and it was not quite sunrise yet. Thomas really ought to learn how to perform the alarm rituals to prevent things like this from happening.

"Ugh, I'm up, I'm up..." Or at least trying as his legs unfolded themselves, but the fog of sleep was still low across his eyes. His senses still dulled as he shook his head and massaged his temples. Time to do some spellcasting... In a little while at least...

---

---

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three

Interacting With: Inside of his Eyelids, Shit Happening

---

---

Sleep. Actual sleep. It had been since that night in Salarn, three days prior since he had gotten true sleep. Even before that, he had been on the road for weeks. He got little in the way of eyes-shut, random dreaming sleep, the kind where your eyes dart about and really symbolic happenings occur deep within one's braincase. Or tiny clips of abject terror. Or just naughty things.

It was the point to Shou meditative techniques - allowing oneself to consciously process the lessons and events of the day, focus upon what needed dedicated thought, and let the rest sort out in the periphery. All the while, a skilled practitioner of meditative techniques could use the time to refresh both mentally and physically. Ordinarily, Keystone was indeed a skilled practitioner of this technique. But tonight was unique.

Prior to the screaming and the Orcish battle-cry and (gods forbid) the nefarious laughter off in the woods, the steadfast pugilist was snoring in a manner so absolute as to make lumberjacks, pulling mightily upon wide, toothy saws buried within the densest of trees, jealous beyond imagining at the breadth and depth of the throaty, ripping sounds emanating from behind the hard mask and stiff hood of his coat. Perhaps the garment even served to amplify in the direction it was facing. The reasons at that point were immaterial. Keystone was out, and bringing the man to rapt attention was going to take more than a paltry bloodcurdling scream and bellowing, naked Half-Orc.

His present dream state hovered around the very subject that kept him from entering meditations earlier: Sana. It was very boyish of him to be distracted by a pretty face while there were serious, in-the-now dangers in play. Even if he had prior acquaintance with her. Even if she seemingly followed him a generally insurmountable distance to give him something. Even if she was a resilient, assertive woman with a combative background and extensive, well earned scars like himself. The fact that he was impressed by her performance, both stage and battlefield, shouldn't have been enough to give him distraction and cause his lapse into unconsciousness, nor should it contribute to his inability realize that he needed to spring to life and begin doling out vigorous, twofisted attentions.

It was a good thing that Keystone had that half-mask covering his mouth. It was twisted into a sleepy but broad grin, hinting at dreams of a most ribald nature. "...no no, love. Of course I got feelings for ya. But quick... hide in the barn..."

When the information filtering into his brain from the waking world became way too much to ignore, Keystone's eyes sprang open. They immediately narrowed, and a single hand came up just far enough to shield his eyes from the direct glow of the embered cooking fire, allowing him a better view of what lay beyond. When he figured it out, he really, really wished that he was still dreaming. He knew it. Absolutely knew it. This was the same hassle, all over again.

"Bloody hell." he enunciated, fully but with his distinct accent. "Sodding typical, this is."

Skeletons. And more, no doubt. Back on the clock, Keystone.

---

---

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Night, middle of
Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky
General Ambiance: (still) AAAAAAAHHH!!!
Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave

---

---

Well dear friends, the Dead are upon us. Let us review what can be readily observed:

A group of thirty skeletons advanced out of the thicker wood in front of the Orc Cave, while a strange, glowing red mist hovers among the trees. Somewhere in the background, an oddly amplified yet sourceless voice can be heard laughing at odd intervals, possibly at the carnage unfolding, possibly at some inside joke that’s really only funny to creatures who regularly associate with upright, walking corpses. Either way, it’s quite unsettling.

A total of three have been taken out by Sana and Kyra’s young Dire Wolf, Ash. Now, for reasons unknown, a full third of these undead lackeys are making their way to the non-Orcs gathered around the cave opening (that’d be you guys), leaving lesser numbers attacking the rest of the guards on duty.

It should be noted now that Sana, Kyra, Ash and Epona are out among the enemy now

The Orcs are mounting a bracing defense. So far, the skeletons only seem interested in attacking the people out front, not swarming into the cave. They appear to be making excellent progress, snapping the skeletons like kindling. So far, they aren’t moving to help our plucky group of protagonists. Maybe they want to see if we can handle ourselves first…

Location:Beside the Cave
Interacting with: Skeletons

Once he was fully roused, he let out a small gasp of surprise at the hellish scene before him. The red haze and the walking dead were not apart of his dreams, he knew. Unfortunately, Calanon had seen plenty of hellish things in his life, many of them due to Orcs. Ironic that he fought alongside them now. After that brief instant of hesitation due to the slight clinging of the reverie on his mind, he broke free and gathered his shield and sword with deadly calm and swift efficiency. Brogach let out huffs and snorts, stamping his hoofed feet into the earth. "Stay back, friend." Calanon said to his steed.

His equipment strapped on, he pushed off and charged into the fray with no reservations. He was used to ambush tactics and mounted combat when he could help it, but when those were not an option, a lightning attack to overwhelm the enemy was his next best bet. He decided to attack the center, sword trailing behind him with his shield at the fore. He sped forward with leaps and bounds from his powerful legs, and prepared himself for a quick maneuver. He gave a final leap, small but powerful in order to shield bash the skeleton left of the center.

If that was successful, he would use the sudden impact to halt his momentum and spin counter clockwise with his sword leading to hack at the center of the right skeleton in a lighting assault. He could only pray to his Gods that it would work. Worse comes to worse, he figured he could leap away, or perhaps Brogach would charge forward to help.

After his roar Ntaj could feel his animal spirit within him (Or maybe it's all just in his head). He saw the others quickly rouse themselves to battle and he smiled. Finally, he'd get to be of some use. While others may consider him a liability for fighting in the nude, they may be surprised if he fails to react to any blows against his bare chest. Daggers and axes could sink into his body, but where they would kill a normal man, Ntaj was not normal. Whilst blessed with rage, such wounds mean little to the half-orc. So he threw caution to the wind in his attacks, intentionally opening himself up to retaliation so that the skeletons would try and harm him, instead of going after his more careful allies.

"Caela ie'lle!"

Raising his shield Ntaj's deflected some bone chunks as Ash and Sana defeated two of the skeletons, leaving roughly six or so more. It was hard for Ntaj to get an accurate count as he was vaguely keeping track of those and more skeletons in his sight, so he estimated that there were at least six of them here, and possibly more later. Point was that there were plenty of foes to fight. Ntaj was right there next to Calanon as they charged the skeletons. Just like the elvish warrior, Ntaj too entered his charge with a shield bash, intending to crash into the first skeleton he could get to. Regardless if he had managed to harm the monster or not Ntaj spied another skeleton within arms reach and slashed his sword downwards, aiming to cut the undead monster from shoulder to hip. He knew that such weapons like his choppa weren't as effective against skeletons as flesh-and-blood zombies where, so to make up for the lack of blunt force Ntaj simply swung harder.

And while Ntaj may be fueled by rage, he was not so short-sighted as to not notice more enemies around him. After his attack Ntaj stood at Calanon's side so that none of the skeletons could try to flank the either of them from the side, keeping a shield wall between the undead and their allies. His shield was low to protect his legs, leaving his upper body exposed, but his sword was posed to parry or slash, whichever Ntaj needed to do. "I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor."

Cyneburg

Location: Orc Camp
Interacting with: Not a relevant section atm

Cyneburg was not an avid dreamer. Most nights sleep were brief trips down into the depths of a bottomless abyss of nothingness. An experience in cessation only interrupted by opening her eyes and realizing she was awake once again. In that respect, tonight wasn't any different on her end. Unfortunately, her body decided it would have an extra difficult time reacting to any outside stimuli. Generally such a behavior led to the organism in question being removed from the gene pool, and considering the circumstances, that could very well be the case this time.

Cyne didn't know what caused her to finally surface from the depths of the nocturnal void. It wasn't the shouting from any of the party members, nor the mysterious laughter coming from the woods, it might not even have been from the sounds of battle. Maybe it was merely the rattling of bones finally stirring her subconscious. Whatever the case, she somehow did not feel the least bit of surprise when she looked up from the ground to find most everyone else in some state of readiness going forward to attack a bunch of skeletons.

Well, it was a good thing she decided to conserve one of her wild shapes, she had an option that could do well against an enemy such as this. The druid pressed her palms flat against the ground on either side of her chest, as if to push herself up off from a laying position. This was what occurred, but it was a relatively minor action compared to what was occurring with the rest of her form. The limbs shortened while her torso stretched and added stones worth of bulk. Nails lengthened into claws and skin hardened to scales. When the druid's body lifted off the mud, it had completed its transformation into a fierce reptile, one that could be called a distant relative of dragons by more uneducated folks, but was more accurately known as a crocodile.

Looking around, the crocodile spotted Satilla and dashed towards her. Sure smashing skeletons was a powerful urge the reptile brain had, but the higher reasoning of the druid knew that if something bad went down, it would pay to make sure the healer had protection. Her wellbeing was the wellbeing of the whole party. Hopefully the witch would catch on who the big reptile was and not freak out more than she already was about the skeletons.

Necromancers fight dirty. Summoners had to pull their allies from another plane, spellshapers had to create their allies from naught, and Evokers had to pray to the powers that may be to call forth their friends. But the necromancer has no friends, well maybe a few friends, but certainly not more than a handful. Though what they lacked in friendship they made up for in minions. And unlike the minions of those other there, it was rather hard to kill what was already dead for depending on what spell drives their march, the bones may just pick themselves back up and reform within moments. See? Necromancers fight dirty.

Still a bit groggy, though shaking his head a bit to gaze out at the dim light of the battlefield they found themselves in, three women and a naked orc, a wolf, a horse, and a moose. Oh and now evidently a repitiliod. Count the undead heifer and you almost have a petting zoo. Hard to believe that hours ago Thomas was with another group, a smaller one and perhaps a bit less eccentric. Surely Ntaj realizes that his bits are bouncing around? There were women out there after all, although Thomas doubted Kyra or Sana would find it too vulgar nor would put up with any silliness. Ntaj's nudity aside, the starlight and moonlight had done well to recharge Thomas for the few hours of meditation and he had also taken some time to charge in the sun afternoon, so he ought to have a few spells at the ready, but with fighters on the front line, it may be difficult to exercise fine spell control. Anything within a radius of 3 feet away from the center would be bathed in light should he start spellslinging.

So for now, maybe he could try to identify the spell and effects animating these things, who knows it might prove to be beneficial to know either who or how they were being controlled. After all, cut the strings, and watch the puppets fall. Unless of course these were infused with their own spirit.

Spellbook flipping to a blank page, quill at the ready, Thomas looked like he was more keen on studying these undead than directly fighting them. Although he kept his distance for now, prepared to drop his spells as needed. Both Star and Moon were available, but sadly Thomas was out of phase. Sun phase however may help with these undead, as would it not be impressive to call forth sunlight in the middle of the night? Or more so, use the power of fire to seal them back?

---

---

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three

Interacting With: Undead Melee

---

---

The entire concept around camping as a group, sharing watches as a group, and fighting as a group was, in Keystone's mind, the very reason that they should have stayed together - as a group. Perhaps this is why he found the concept of Kyra and Sana rushing forward to meet their enemy, away from the group, a little unsettling. Of course, he found himself giving more concern to Sana, for some reason. She was an archer, with some ability as a spellcaster (from what he had personally witnessed previously). In his experience, archers and mages did not do extraordinarily well when engaging their opponents up close and personal.

Not that Sana couldn't handle herself. But for some reason, his protective instincts were screaming alarms in his head. The two women had placed themselves between a wall of six skeletons and the rest of the group. An entire, intact skelly cow, horns and all, stood on the other side of them, looking to attack. Perhaps the women plus Kyra's young Dire Wolf had this under control. It seemed very plausible. After all, Keystone had fought skeletons before. They weren't particularly tough opponents, forming the bread-and-butter of an undead army's troops, generally. Those, and slower moving zombies.

With skeletons, one decent hit and he could disarticulate the lifeless bastards. It was one of the reasons his unarmed skill set was trained along the paths of Iron Fist and Chi'i Attacks. This is pretty much what he did now, whether he liked it or not. Also whether he liked it or not, Keystone was much more of a Monk than a Brawler, at least anymore. With that in mind, he looked over his situation, instantly getting a read of it.

Six skeletons, and including himself three competent warriors. One of them was naked, but they'd discuss that later. A healer who he really hoped would stay to the back, a spellcaster who looked to be... Ok, he had no idea, but Keystone wasn't usually brought along because of his intricate knowledge of the Arcane Arts. And somewhat surprisingly, Miss Sleepyhead had gone and altered her form into a crocodile. A crocodile. Really. Keystone had seen them before, in his travels. Smart advice had him giving them a wide berth, particularly because of that tail. Lots of ouch involved. But he was digressing. Three competent warriors and a crocodile against six skeletons. Even if it was just him vs. the Bone Brigade here, the smart money was on him.

Time to go to work.

Keystone didn't have much in the way of time to ready anything. Against this kind of opponent, he didn't need much. Hands curled into fists as his legs kicked his body into a low, crouching position, and training took over immediately. His first flurry of attacks was led off with a rising uppercut, pressing his weight and power into a devastating initial blow. The goal was to divvy out as much blunt trauma in the form of bone-crunching knuckle and palm heel strikes, taking down as many as possible in the shortest time. He had to get to Sana. But he had to eliminate the present threat first.

Damned kiss. It was starting to cloud his judgement.

---

---

Ash had managed to open a small space for Kyra to the left of where Sana had cut her way through with the skeletons into the middle of the pack. What in the hell was the gypsy thinking to go full blaze into the center of the group and her horse galloping in along side her? Kyra wished she had time to think on just what Sana was trying to do but she doubted even Sana knew. She was one to react first and ask question later. Kyra figured even once this was all over if she asked Sana the reply would have been along the lines of 'huh?'

She couldn't fault her though as one skeleton lost his lower half and another lost his head in the move. Though she was less than pleased to hear Ash bark out from the minor cut into his flesh. Ash turning sharply on his heels and charging his head right towards the ribs of the very skeleton that had laid into him. Kyra kept her calm though. No fancy swing or movement, just simple steps as she came up to the first Skeleton she came across. Her blade coming up from right to left as she drew it upwards in an attempt to slice through the bone; ribs to shoulder. The red mist off in the distance making her feel as if more was coming their way cause things were never this simple. A few skeletons against a number of Orcs and another group in the middle of the night? It couldn't be that easy.

Satilla Valen

Alright…everything was going to be alright! The party was up, she managed to get them up in time. The chaos was spreading around she could hear it, the orcs appeared to be taking some initiative on the fight also, so hopefully they were going to live through this night. With the undead upon them already, Satilla took a fighting stance with her staff. She wasn’t really a front line fighter. The whole reason she had this staff was so she can hit things from distance, but with her physical strength, it just wasn’t going to work on the bony undead. Her staff was pointed forward, hoping to keep any skeleton that tries to advance on her at bay.’ Hey if I manage to stab into the eye socket, I could cause them to basically be unable to advance… maybe?’ She was thinking in her mind as the realization she was going to have to fight took her completely now.

Then something unexpected happened! A CROCODILE APPEARED!!! Satilla nearly jumped when she saw it, but then her brain started working, realizing that first crocodiles weren’t native to these parts and more importantly than all there was no a water body a few feet away from it to leave from. This must be their druid, but the witch realized she never really had heard of druids turn into crocodiles.

Still the fact the druid was coming to her aid quickly made the witch figure out Cyneburg’s thinking. The healer had to be protected least anything bad went down. Satilla nodded and jumped to move behind the druid, still keeping her staff, ready to hit any skeleton that tries to come close.’ I want to live!’ Was the thought consuming her mind. She was going to survive this and hopefully help everyone else in the party do so too!

---

---

Sana slipped through between the legs of the Skeleton before her as she slide down on her knees, her bow effectively capping it at the knees and sending it spilling out to the ground behind her. Tilting the bow she brought it up, swinging its end at the next skeleton in the line up and sending its skull out into the woods as if she had just hit a home run. It worked as well as one could hope and she followed the momentum of the swing as she brought the bow over in an arc until its end drove into the ground next to her. Her legs springing out from under her as she attempted to use the momentum to cartwheel up, trying to halt the process at the apex. An odd looking balancing act as her toes would point to eh sky and her vision at the stop focused on a cow...

A skeleton cow looking right at her? Oh great, Bessy apparently was non too thrilled about years of being milked by farmer John before her death and must have thought that Sana was the local milk maid she wanted to take revenge on from the look of things. Of course it couldn't be a newly dead cow, where the meat would still be good enough for her to carve off what she wanted and ride the rest home but fuck it. Ride it she would try.

A quick whistle from her lips if everything played out in the split second of moves. One hand coming out to the side as her opposite leg bent out to keep her balance as Epona charged by her. Sana grabbing the mane of her mare and swinging up to saddle herself bareback on her steed. Bow still in hand as it came out of the ground Sana jumped p to stand on Epona's back as the horse continued to charge towards Bessy. Another whistle and Epona broke hard right as Sana leapt up, attempting to tumble through the air and bring her bows edge down through the base of the skull of the bovine and mount the damn thing at the same time.

(Granted if at any point Sana's dex doesn't check out, she is going to tuck and roll for her life bitches!)

---

---

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Night, middle of
Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky
General Ambiance: AAAAAAAHHH?
Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave

---

---

Three more down, but with the one additional coming in from the right, four more left to go back with the group near the fire. They are spreading out, possibly for the purpose of getting the defenders out of that close knot of Ouch within which they are bunched. There is still a particularly nasty looking bovine skeleton in mooing distance of Sana and Kyra. Not that it can actually moo. Vocal cord thing, you see.

While sourceless, echoing laughter seemed to be omnipresent throughout the first moments of this little skirmish, it is suddenly absent. There is a sense of foreboding quiet in the deeper wood.

The groups of Orcs around you all are making excellent sport of the bony attackers, suffering only minor wounds in the process. One looking to the far right could see one Orc grabbing the skeletal forelegs of another of the cattle skeletons while another knocks it over. The rest of their group take turns bashing it into its component parts. The general attitude around the cave is one of impending victory, with some sneers at an enemy that was easier to defeat than ever before. They are still intentionally staying away from the ones attacking your position, whether out of respect or malice is anyone's guess.

Specific Resolutions:

Calanon: Shield bash shoves the skeleton away, and your dexterous leap is successful in getting you into the fray. The spin is effective enough to get the other skeleton off of you, but it's still very interested in tickling your innards with something sharp. The follow-up sword atack finishes it off. One down. Unfortunately, the one that you shield bashed makes a dazzling comeback and attacks at your rear flank with something sharp. It manages to breach your chainmail and inflict light damage on Calanon's left shoulder.

Njat: Comes in next to Calanon. Shield bash is effective, scattering the skeleton. The nearest one up to attack is the skelly that just attacked Calanon; your swing hits its mark but does hot destroy it. Good news - it drops its weapon. Bad news - the skeleton is now stuck on your choppa, and it looks like it's there to stay.

Cyneburg: No problem shifting and getting to Satilla. Go Team Croc.

Thomas: Something strange about the glowy, red mist - it appears to be semi or non-corporeal. Nothing about the skeletons whatsoever. While taking rapt note of their aggressors, one skeleton managed to wriggle past the larger defenders and takes a swipe at you. It misses, but manages to knock your book from your hands.

Keystone: Bad luck, bad timing. The attempted "flurry of attacks" turns into a less pretty but still respectable disarticulation of one skeleton in front of him. He's no closer to Sana and Kyra, but now has the attention of another skeleton. Coming from the right, it broke off from the group attacking the Orcs one campfire over. It attacks Keystone and manages to land a light wound on his right bicep.

Kyra: Uncoordinated attack turns into more of a shove than anything else, but somehow makes it look really good as Ash uses the opportunity to finish it off. Ash may want to floss after this, but it's skull is in pieces and the wolf returns to the Ranger's side.

Satilla: Is behind Cyneburg, staff at the ready. Two skeletons have their eyesockets on you, one charging from your present rear flank, and one coming straight on, apparently not noticing the giant reptile on bodyguard duty.

Sana: Success with the handstand and and vault onto Epona. Further success standing on the back of the horse, but barely. The mount's training kicks in and prevents a fall. The leap is successful, but the strike with the bow is not; is gets lodged between its first and second rib, and is entangled with the former creature. Sana's on the beast, but it's still kicking and trying to toss her.

Crocodile

Location: Orc Camp
Interacting with: Crunchy, crunchy skeletons

The crocodile hissed at the incoming skeleton as it ran towards Satilla. The Druid-mind piloting the creature knew that such tactics did not work on mindless undead, but the instinct of the aggressive crocodilian brain drove her to do so anyway. It did not seem to notice her, despite the massive amount of space she occupied, but it probably wouldn't matter too much if it did. As the animated support structure came within the striking distance of the beast, she sprang forward, jaw flying open to clamp down on one of its legs.

The human skull is one of the most durable bones in the body, able to withstand over 500 pounds per square inch (psi) of force before breaking. The human jaw can produce maybe 150 to 200 psi at most. The jaguar, a large cat notable for killing its prey by crushing the skull with its jaws can bite with a force of 700 psi. In her current form, Cyne's jaws would be able to easily exceed 2000 pounds of force per square inch. Provided anything actually ended up between her reptilian maw at the moment of truth.

There were quite a few of them. Fortunately zero multiplied by ten thousand is still zero. And any number between zero and one really did help the odds, given that the Necromancer or whatever it was that controlled these undead ones could not summon an infinite number of undead. At which would violate several laws of arithmetomomancy regarding the use of indeterminate forms such as dividing an adjunction by nothing. Such a function could not be done in the world of arithmetomomancy, perhaps in the more dubious realm of Arithmancy, but definitely not in the art of using numerical spell studies. Violating such a law would cause a tear in the fabric of reality, or so it was hypothesized as no mere mortal was capable of producing such magic of that level. Expect when they hypothetically could do so by violating other laws of magic under certain hypothetical circumstances which were nothing less than the most ideal of ideal scenarios. Such as not having to deal with random skeletons swiping at your face when you're trying to jot down a few notes on the nature of the beast.

Someone clearly never told you to never part a wizard from his spellbooks. But I'm not a wizard. I'm a Sorcerer. Had Thomas not known better than to talk to an obvious puppetry, or at least that is what he guess given the nature of his observations, the boy might have attempted some ham-fisted witty banter. Every bit of heroism requires some amount of clever retort or catchphrase before or while doing an event changing action. At least those were the standards Master Wolfgang mentioned, never forget the catchphrase, and it's never too early to start thinking of one before your friends give you one that you'll despise for all your life. That said, what was that old man's catchphrase anyways? Right, back to the problems at hand. A skeleton is within melee range, swiping at Thomas in a sad attempt to kill or seriously injure him. Such attempts were clunky to say the least, given that Thomas was caught off guard and merely had his spellbook knocked of out his hands suggested either they thought he was a wizard who needed a spellbook to cast, or the finer controls of the puppeteer were lacking at this range.

Regardless, Thomas was in no way a melee combatant. His Sunlit spells at this range would strike them both, and Thomas was not particularly a masochist. As such nothing could be done about the Skeleton really, save for perhaps an attempt to withdraw to a decent distance to take cover, albeit not very helpful given the skeleton had legs. Thus perhaps it would be best to stand his ground and wait for the skeleton make the mistake of believing Thomas was easy food. A healing burst would suffice, but just to check his investments, maybe it would be best to help the party's healer. He did after all take a liking to her. Sort of. Maybe? It's complicated, but this was no time to play Southern Chivalry.

"Satilla, Behind!"

He was far enough from the frontlines to see Satilla being charged from behind. A rather dastardly affront to a lady to so eagerly romp towards her backside. Estimating the trajectory of the flanking skeleton, given the rate of its movements, and calculating the distance behind Satilla to clear her of his spell, Thomas lifted his right hand at the space roughly a yard (or at least what he estimated to be about a yard) behind her. Quill grasped between his thumb and forefinger pointed like a wand, blood rushing through his veins as the cosmos shined within him. His concentration taken away from the skeleton at his doorstep and focusing into the direction of his gesture.

May his gambit pay off, and may the skeleton be bathed in the light of day, incinerated by the strength of the celestial sun. He was probably going to regret this should his attempt fail, given the cost of such a spell would make it difficult for him to defend against another attack. Hopefully his observations and guesswork were enough to keep him alive. Maybe, if not he would expend his solar spell...

Satilla Valen

“BYTHESPIRITIBLOODYHATEUNDEAD!” Satilla almost screamed in a mixture of fear, annoyance and anger. She did not want to get tangled in melee fighting with the legions of dead and even more important she didn't want to join them! Her present situation was not the best. She had a big crocodile to cover one of her fronts, but there was also a bonehead rattling at her from behind! She was happy Thomas had tried to warn her, but her hearing was good enough that she had actually heard the undead. That and Skittles was hissing at him.

'What do I do now!?' She gave herself a brief moment of thought for that was all the time she had to spare right now. A swing from a simple wooden staff was probably not going to be too effective as she simply lacked the raw strength. Maybe if she had a bat or something, but the staff was not the best momentum based blunt weapon. Undead she decided to use the best tactic she could come up with in the brief moment of time. She hoped and suspected while the skeleton was all and dandy and evil and stuff... it probably lacked sheer strength her like... hopefully. So she thrust her staff forwards in the path the bony bugger was charging at her. She didn't really have the certainty to trust into the eyesockets. Instead she aimed at the chest, hoping the sudden pressure on small area would at least cause it to stop in it's track and at best maybe even have some bones fall from the main body.

---

---

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three

Interacting With: Undead Melee

---

---

After full melee was joined, the skeletons spread out and attempted to penetrate their line. To a degree, they were even effective in this task. Enough at least for two of them to have slipped behind the more physical warriors and make a run for their healer, as if they knew who she was and her value to their group. All the same, Keystone had fought hordes of the Undead before. This was a vastly inferior force than was needed to take their location. He had taken out nearly as many skeletons by himself, a few months ago. Of course, geography was on his side; he was able to bottleneck the approaching bony horde and lay down some decidedly unpleasant fisticuffs upon them.

The one skeleton that got in his way was now a clunky pile of people-ivory, though it was admittedly not his best work. Keystone risked a glance back to assess the condition of the rest of his team before continuing forward to the bucking, once steak-covered adversary that presently beleaguered Sana. What he saw made him question the sanity of his compatriots.

Calanon seemed clear. The naked Half-Orc had a skeleton attached to the end of his broad, shaggy blade. Looked like fun. Satilla was scared, two skeletons making for her, one gaining the attention of a rather angry looking crocodile, the other the incantations of their recently acquired spellcaster, who had decided to completely ignore the aggressive dead guy two feet from him.

The pause as Keystone took in this last spectacle was apparently enough for one of his framework assailants to break away from the Orcs to the side and stab a short sword into him. He was able to block the blade away, for the most part. It skipped off f his bracer and the harder parts of his coat, but still managed to snag and penetrate his upper arm. The problem was, the scarred brawler had someplace he needed to be - out front, beating a skellybull into ossified shards on the cold, uncaring ground. But first things first - get to Sana.

"PROTECT SATILLA!" he bellowed, confident that the combined combat prowess of the others present could handle three skeletons without loss of life. As long as they had someone gifted with the ability to close their wounds and pull their heads out of their ribcages when necessary, their more minor hurts could be suffered in the interim. Keystone had somewhere to be. Whispering a single word in a long unused dialect, the bracers on his forearms thrummed to activity, and the broad man sped into action.

His first motion was to launch an ordinarily heart bludgeoning palm-heel strike into the sternum of the skelly that had just put a blade into him. Destroyed it or no (it was likely), the force of the strike from a man like that may very well shove the creature back from where it came, to the Orcs it was originally attacking. The rest of his attention for the next moment would be centered straight ahead, full attack. There's a bovine that needed to die.

...again.