Before he saw her, the humble priest of this small town, he heard her approach, one he assumed was to find them all after their ordeal with the dragon cultist; her departure then was for the better at least in that moment, as her newfound rage could have overwhelmed what seemed outwardly to be a demure and unassuming spirit, ruining their efforts. Not that Brannor disapproved of this awakening he knew only in part based on what he witnessed of her tonight, but at that very moment it would not have been timely. Not as timely as this arrival at least after he had given it some thought.

"Brannor. Anything important that the prisoner had spoken about?"

"Perhaps, depending upon what you consider important." Brannor stood to his full height, rather than stooping forward and into the blocked stone of the crenellations as he had been. "The woman went on some rant about a 'queen of dragons' and that the 'wealth' of your town needs feed its hoard. As you can imagine, simpleminded fools flocked to such a rumored power and have since created marauding bands of scaled thieves and other mortal servants."

He addressed her thereafter in person, peering down to her like a wall of mismatched, worn, warped armor, "But all I took from it, of actual importance, was that they have a lair somewhere in the region with dragon eggs."

There came a lull in the nighttime conversation between the two, the words allowed to settle in and soak with meaning. She received the exact thoughts the huntsman had in mind, nothing more and nothing less. All of the finer details were irrelevant, unimportant and largely the ravings of an insane woman beyond apparent redemption. Fitting she died such a swift, easy death as her smaller draconic friends; doubtful what they would get in return if the circumstances were reversed. Brannor had no intent of being captured, as being caged or confined was as good as death - only a few things stood to change that. One of which he plotted within mind at the moment now, revealing it to the young Chauntean cleric.

"I intend to track and kill their number tomorrow, as well as however long it takes thereafter." He said.

The words were as cold as any hunter setting out to do his deed. They were plain, as though he was indifferent to the notion of having to kill man and woman to do so. Granted these people were addled by some monster's power, enchanted and enthralled by its allure, but the indifference was almost monstrous on its own.

@Norschtalen

The governor nodded at the adventurers, although this nod was much more dismissive than those he usually showed. "I thank you for your concern, but I have made up my mind", he shared, clearly set on his course of action. Sergeant Longwater stepped back, raising his hands in the air behind the governor, a gesture that clearly signalled him giving up and encouraging the others to do so just as well. Nighthill had made up his mind and if the guardsman's behaviour was of any indication, the governor would hold on to decisions such as this. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps just plain stubbornness. Whatever be the case, it seemed this meeting was over for now as the heroes of the night began scattering from the rooftop.

And it did seem as if there would be no more incursions for the rest of the night. Sentries reported no critical structures under attack, the sally port held fast against any further probes, the Old Tunnel saw no more traffic from the keep, nor did it seem as if the enemy would have wandered in there. And even if they did, they either failed to notice or deliberately ignored the door inside. But as things are according to Murphy's Law, if something could go wrong, it would. The keep itself was well defended, but it was those who were left outside of its walls that would be used against the denizens this time.

---

When barest hint of sunlight just barely appeared above the horizon, the raiders gathered close to the keep. Now that they were all in the same place, it was easy to see why a no holds barred counterattack would have been a futile endeavour: They numbered at least thrice the amount of defenders available. And even if one could consider the adventurers a boon to Greenest, they were not the only side packing more formidable force.

From the darkness, a creature strode into the dim light of the fires of the keep. Although shaped roughly like a human, it was at least seven feet tall, its skin covered in blue scales, fingers bearing wicked claws and its face... it carried the muzzle and reptilian eyes of a dragon. The creature stopped about eighty yards from the main gate, a line of kobolds fanning out behind it. These servants used their spears to prod forth four prisoners, a woman, a teenage boy in a blood-soaked tunic and two children. They let the scene set in to the hearts and minds of the defenders for a moment, but finally the half-dragon breaks the 'silence' by hailing the keep.

"Defenders of Greenest! This has been a successful night, and I am feeling generous. Do you see these four pitiful, useless prisoners? We have no need for them, so I will trade them back to you. Send out your best warrior to fight me, and you can have these four in exchange."

As it has finished speaking, a distinct sound of people brawling in metal armour can be heard, at the source of which one can see a few of the guardsmen holding back sergeant Longwater, who is in turn doing his best to press through his underlings. "Let me through! Those are my wife and children out there!" the sergeant bellows, but his men do not give way. Quite on the contrary, the dwarven castellan rushes into the room with even more guards who join in keeping Longwater in check. As this is going on, the governor has crept behind the adventurers.

"My friends", he spoke up, "you've demonstrated your prowess all through this frightful night. I realise this is an awful burden to ask you to bear, especially after all you have already done for us, but any of you has a better chance to defeat that... thing, than any of my militia have."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Norschtalen@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

Afflicted with the agony of his family ransomed as barter for a mere dual with a half-dragon, Longwater attempted to billow through his armored guard, but to no avail, as the Castellan added insult to the injury of helplessness.

”Let me through! Those are my wife and children out there!”

Nighthill, in response to the illuminated situation, beckoned the heroes:

”My friends, you've demonstrated your prowess all through this frightful night. I realise this is an awful burden to ask you to bear, especially after all you have already done for us, but any of you has a better chance to defeat that... thing, than any of my militia have."

From a stunted distance, the demanding opponent, who split the morning with his war cry, promenaded easily within an archer’s strike. No weapon or armor could be discerned, save his claws and cerulean scales, bearing no apparent tarnish or dent. A stripe bearing spears nudged the unfortunate four denizens further into view, as the kobolds waited expectantly for an answer.

The pirate motioned to the half-blood and the paladin to ingress closer, ignoring Kyra. “Lads…” A pause and a stare occupied several breaths before words flowed once more. “There’s never been a dwarven smith who could match the reckless endurance of an orc’s constitution. But….” Another intermission allowed the minimal flattery to soak in prior to hinting his disapproval of the barbarian. “I sense that wilted exhaustion has bettered our Orchid. Your need for sleep bloomed in complete transparency since our last return.”

Looking further into the divine aspirant’s golden haloes, the druid squawked, “Where hope has no champion, evil reigns matchless. I know not of the grassy borders you hail, nor of the Lady your untamed sword esteems. This rift in time is the beginning of the world's remaining history. If not Greenest. If not now. Then this jaded rot will slowly engulf these lands and eventually the wild your feral eyes herald from.”

The decrepit posture cracked as the Tethyrian fang gestured the blue-haired halfing to descend down the stairs again to the tunnel, leaving the trio. “Decide amongst yourselves, but my straw is for Ashkar Brannor as the Elect in this dawn of need. At any rate, whoever accepts.” The tongue-ring wavered, while the sailor’s pupils glanced at Parum. “We each will provide you guidance and inspiration before battle.”



@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

The sheer racket the sergeant managed to conjure was what had drawn the attention of the young hunter, who not long after then found himself running almost headlong into the salted elder and his bizarre presence. He certainly was not responsible for whatever was taking place, neither was the governor who appeared behind them, who too was seemingly drawn from the bowels of the keep as well and toward the noise of what was several men brawling with their superior to retain control of him. The official addressed the rest of those who found themselves present as they paid witness to the scene before them, not long after their events unfolded.

"I realise this is an awful burden to ask you to bear, especially after all you have already done for us, but any of you has a better chance to defeat that... thing, than any of my militia have."

Something had their attention and when Brannor laid eyes on it, he could see just why.

It was indeed a thing, neither quite a dragon or a man, almost as though the two were made one in an unsettlingly familiar way. What dark depths kept conjuring things like these tonight? The aspirant had gone the entirety of his life with seeing little more than men, dwarves, elves and those somewhere in between. There were stranger things afoot, but never so many had he bore witness to or even all at once. It was enough to set him on edge, just as the dragon did before in its first incarnation - hopefully these two fiends were not one in the same. After all, the grizzled man professed his admission that perhaps Brannor, the hunter and outlander to this lot, was perhaps the sole thing that could effectively fight it, going so far as to draw the rest of them in so he could speak more precisely his arcane logic.

"Then this jaded rot will slowly engulf these lands and eventually the wild your feral eyes herald from.”

The bearded fellow's voice trailed off, about his mysterious ways but not without final words. Vanishing as he was, leaving them there with only the governor, the sizable swordsman shifted his eyes about in thought before leveling them at the man who lorded over this keep and its survivors. Brannor had come to trust the well dressed if not bloodied and battered fellow to an extent, enough to know he would not ask anything of them that he did not believe his men could do. And this? This monster and whatever it wanted, was unquestionably something that they could not triumph by the means of mere men alone, if ever at all.

With a deep breath and an unspoken prayer that came with subtle stroking of his silver pendant, the wilder addressed those present.

"Then if we are to do this, we will be wise about it..."

Brannor looked to the desperation that had consumed Sergeant Longwater, who had no doubt paused in exhaustion from the gang of his own men that were restraining him against all his worldly efforts.

"I will take the man's sword and shield as my tools to champion," The words as a gesture more symbolic than anything, "As well as any heavier armor you can spare that would further aid the cause."

The latter address had moved to Governor Nighthill, who the outsider hoped would be willing to spare what he could. Such tools were replicable, but life was not; if the paladin was to truly risk death, he would do so competently and with added plans made. Dying here to an apparent bout of amusement for that draconic humanoid was not going to further the greater cause, not just for four lives, but an effort all the same needed to be valiantly made. Failing to so much as try would unquestionably snuff out the last light of the few enkindled spirits here.

"And I will fight on the conditions that the duel is to submission, not death. Whoever falls and can no more resist has submitted... yet consider me wary of a dragon's notion of honor however," Brannor remarked, inferring that the men should keep their weapons trained upon it, lest it attempt a killing blow out of spite, "... and that the prisoners are released before, not after. So that if I might die, they needn't join me."

He approached the mob of men, that of which included the dwarf, pausing only to look back to the rest of his remaining compatriots and the man who called upon them once more in service to Greenest. Before them his sizable figure offered a glove toward Longwater, hopeful he would accept the effort the divine champion made to use his arms in the coming fight.

"Lastly, I ask for you not to fear the things I will do."

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen

After a long day of dealing with the injuries and fighting, Kyra was given a moment to rest as the night drew on. She had found herself a corner and a vision and quickly fell asleep. However her rest wouldn't last for long, as barely a few hours in she was awoken by a ruckus of soldiers and shouting. Worried that they were under attack Kyra quickly gathered her equipment and headed to the battlements.

It was there that Kyra received a summary of what happened. It seemed that the leader of the attack force had finally decided to withdraw. But before doing so he wanted to fight Greenest's strongest warrior. And the only incentive he had for others not to turn him into a pincushion was that he had Longwater's family hostage. The look of horror dawned on Kyra's face. She knew Logeater had family, but she had thought they were in the keep. "No... He said there weren't anyone else left out there..."

A mix of anger and fear started to overcome Kyra when she spotted Torus and Brannor nearby. Remembering her father's words she went over to these strasngers to get their counsel. Whatever her feelings about them individually was, she cannot deny that they have been a boon for her village. And now... Now she needs them for one more task. She heard Brannor volunteer himself for this gruesome task and she nearly began to shed tears. She could never understand what makes a hero, but to hear that this stranger, aloof and brusque as a bear, was willing to champion for them... Kyra knew she had to do something for him.

Approaching Brannor Kyra's voice spoke above the rabble. "I will come with you, as your second. I do. It have much magic left within me, but I will ensure that if you fall, you will not be left to the mercy of those... Monsters." Kyra spoke with a fire in her eyes and passion in her voice.

Parum didn't get much sleep, not only because of the overwhelming feeling of dread, but she wasn't comfortable laying on stone. It was less comfortable when she heard the milita begin to scramble at early dawn. Having not really rest well Parum got to her feet and tried to figure out what was going on. She got enough from the panicking voices to tell that the bandit army was outside the fortress walls, and their leader was present. Not only that, but they had a family of hostages. And he'd only guarantee their safety if they send someone to fight him in one-on-one combat. Parum froze as she tried to process all this information.

"More prisoners? But I thought we had cleared the village of everyone? Unless... Unless these cultist had captured some prisoners before we arrived. But why would they just stand there and demand a duel instead of taking over the keep? Wait. The prisoner yesterday, she mentioned this... Greenest was only the beginning. After they'd raid what they could they'd just leave. But now they want to mock us, have us fight their champion when we're too tired to fight at our full strength. And we can't rely on trickery or else those hostages would die... Dammit, if only we had an equal force, we could face them head on!"

Parum bit her thumb and tried to think of something. Her first thought was how to save that family. No doubt that the cultist have them somewhere open that could easily be seen; stealth wasn't going to be easy. Perhaps they could create a diversion? but Parum didn't know if that plan would work. For starters, what exactly could they do to create a diversion? Even with her illusion magic, that'd only work within sixty feet or so. She was certain that the rear of the army extended much further than that. Not only that but if the enemy suspects foul play, they may simply execute the prisoners immediately.

Then Parum thought who would be the champion. Already she knew that it'll either be Orchid or Brannor. No doubt Orchid would already be throwing himself into battle, though Brannor would have the honor of fighting as well. But as much as she believed in them, she knew that neither of them would be fighting at their full strength. They had barely any time to rest, and after their last battle they're most certainly out of resources. Even Parum had no more spells to use aside from cantrips, for all the help they'll provide. Parum wished she just had more time to make a plan, but alas she had no other choice. She needed to find the others and figure something out on the go.

Running to the walls Parum found most of the others looking at the enemy. Parum nearly fainted in fright; she knew that the soldiers said that the enemy had at least three times as many as themselves, but seeing all of them made Parum feel like an insect facing a dragon. Or a halfling facing a dragon, considering that's an experience she truly had yesterday. Parum supposed she should thank the gods that these cultist were more interested in collecting treasure for their horde instead of senseless slaughter, because the sheer amount of soldiers present would ensure they'd have no trouble with it. Still Parum steeled herself as she approached the others, overhearing their plans.

"I'm coming too." Parum said loudly as she approached. The other soldiers cleared a path for her, making her feel just a bit more confident. "I cannot help you in a fight, but I will ensure that the hostages are saved, and to negotiate the terms of this duel. I... I'm sorry Brannor. I wish there was some way we could do this without risking your life but..." Parum frozen up before taking a deep breath and wiping a tear from her eye. "I will do everything I can, if you'll believe in me."

Orchid had slept like a complete baby, and would've even slept through all the commotion if one of the soldiers hadn't accidentally stepped on him. He came up swinging but didn't strike anyone, and was throughly confused at what all the ruckus was about. "Oh. What happen? We attack?" Gathering his things together Orchid went straight to the battlements, figuring that whatever was going on could easily be seen from there. Perhaps they were being attacked by dragons again? Orchid hoped so, he wanted to finish what he started. Unfortunately, instead of a dragon it was just a massive army. Orchid couldn't count very high, but if he had to guess there was at least "A lot" of cultist.

Curiously as Orchid looked at the enemy forces he spotted one that stood out among the rest. From a distance he appeared to be a blue dragonborn, but as Orchid got closer he realized that it was no mere Dragonborn; but a bonafide half-dragon. Orchid had only heard of such people in the legends the elders spoke of back at the village; humanoid dragons born directly between a mortal and a dragon, about as purely dragon as you can get without being a dragon yourself. They certainly had more power than your average Dragonborn, often gifted with abilities of their draconic parent. Scales as hard as iron, talons as sharp as swords, wings that could fly across the ocean, and a breath that could kill swarms. At least in legend. In reality, Orchid simply thought of them as tough opponents. Certainly the type of opponent who'd he'd love to face.

"Half Dragon. Good hat." Orchid said outloud. That's when he realized that he was standing next to Torus, Brannor, Kyra, and Parum. Seemed like they were talking about who was going to go fight that half-dragon, and Orchid raised his hand. "Orchid go! Orchid strong. Kill half dragon, make hat." The others were taking this far more seriously than Orchid was, though he was serious to an extent too. He knew very well that this fight could get him killed. He knew his fury was still limited, and his stamina wasn't as great as it could've been. But he also knew that this half dragon led this army, and if they could defeat him, than his army would fall. Hopefully.

"Hmm... Buuuuuuuuut... If Orchid not fight, Orchid say this: Blue dragon spit lightning. Strike underbelly, it soft and has no scales. And hmm... If you go first... Dodge."

The defenders seemed to have reached a conclusion, the man known as Ashkar Brannor was to stand as the champion of the town against the invading force's half-dragon. The heroes huddled together, wanting to share what wisdom and magical help they could, preparing their fellow soldier to their march against the evil that stood just beyond the keep walls. The paladin's request for stronger armour was seen to, as the castellan managed to procure a splint mail that fit the big man, as well as had Sergeant Longwater resign his blade and shield to his use. "You better not do anything that would bring harm to my dearest", the sergeant shared as he handed over his equipment, these words meant for the entire group. The governor nodded behind him. For now, they would have to play by the opposition's rules.

The group was led outside through the old tunnel below the keep, the administration allowing a few combat medics to join the entourage already consisting of the heroes that had arrived only this night. The few spells that the group could muster to aid their champion were placed upon him during this walk so that they would not have expired by the time they stood against the half-dragon. As they approached, the half-dragon ordered them to stop before getting too close and requested the named champion to step forth, others to stay behind.

With Brannor and him standing there, a few paces apart, the half-dragon broke the silence that had fallen with the tension hanging in the air: "Greetings, champion of Greenest. My name is Langderosa Cyanwrath. This will be simple: No interference by the outsiders, or the prisoners die. Fight with me to the end, and they are released. Run, and you and they die. Now, what should I call you, other than champion?"

The paladin's answer was stern as they always were, and there was but two things he wanted changed. First was to duel only to the submission of the other side, while the other regarding the early release of the prisoners was promptly denied.

"I stand before the walls of your keep. Had I not my trump card, I might have been shot dead already. No, they are released once the duel concludes. As for fighting to the submission, that I may accept. The first to fall will have lost." With the 'pleasantries' out of the way, kobolds brought out a zweihänder and Langderosa marched to pick it into his talons. "Approach, champion Brannor, and we may begin!"


@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Norschtalen@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

The arm that bore the borrowed, weathered shield of Longwater of Greenest adjusted slightly as the huntsman, now clad in added splint mail to his adornment of hide, leather, and chain, came to and faced down the challenger no more than paces away. The dragon's command to set to battle was not ignored in this hesitation, on the contrary rather, for the knight-aspirant drew in a breath and brought himself to a place internal understanding. This was the very steel and mettle of spirit that this Cyanwrath seemed to demand in the form of a worthy opponent, but the enemy of the quiet town was not quite aware of that just yet, neither were the numerous onlookers, be them the defenders or the would-be attackers. What came next was known only to Brannor in spirit, for the grip of the wild power he called upon consumed him physically.

Brannor's previously gritted jaw tightened as his already fierce outline in person grew far more savage. He became far larger, audibly cracking and creaking as this strange transformation viciously crept over him, bending and changing in proportions. What armor he wore, that which surely would have bent and broken, adjusted just as the rest of him did when he sprouted deathly fangs and claws, all of which accompanied a tremendous coat of pallid fur marked by an irregular golden pattern. So startling and harrowing was the unnatural power unleashed, that when it ended, the huntsman turned hunter needed to consciously exhale the breath he had taken earlier, forcing it to manifest now as a bestial snarl.

"I was born with the gift of the Silver Lady." The coarse voice came from the mingling of man and tiger, "Let your contest be proof of my willingness to use it on her behalf."

The half-dragon met the transformation of the paladin with a smile, something thoroughly upsetting in the environment in which most backed away instinctively. As Cyanwrath opened his mouth to speak next, few crackles of lightning could be seen between his teeth, tongue and the roof of his mouth.

"Haah, this might actually prove to be more interesting than I dared hope... I may not need to hold back after all!"

"You and I both."

A tremendous charge followed, led first by the bulwark of the battered shield, which crashed down upon the half-dragon with inhuman force. The two giants, by any human standard of measure based upon their stature, collided to an audible boom of metal. The siege was forced away to arm's length, only to feel the bite of slashing claws as the scaled soldier shunted his attacker back with both hands upon his sword. Cyanwrath was not one to stay on the receiving end without fighting back, and was quick to return fire to the revealed weretiger's aggressive assault with two swings of his large blade. The weapon whose type was familiar to Brannor as something he preferred to use missed on the first strike, but landed a solid hit to the side of the warrior's chest armor on the second. The half-dragon smirked and shuffled his feet, preparing for the next attack from his adversary.

The draconic being's true physical talent revealed, its attack had sent bits of adhoc chain and splint clattering to the earthen path. The strike, something that would instantaneously kill in all regular circumstances, only left the pale wilder staggered in the wake of its blow. Regaining lost footing as the enemy moved in, Brannor raised the shield he had so borrowed and struck with vengeful return, slamming the back of his armored fist with full force into the enemy's grip. The sword it landed upon sang, as did the damaged barrier. Startling as it was, the following attack by Longwater's sword in the hands of a snarling beast was even more vicious, one the half-dragon narrowly defended against by sheer chance rather than skill.

Cyanwrath was surprised to notice that the other warriors attacks were no longer aimed to maim him, but to instead strip him of his weapon! His grip held easily against the first strike, but the second one nearly wrested the blade from his grip. He held on the handle with all of his might, fuming inside at the blatant attempt of removing what he had sought of this combat in the first place. He had wanted a duel with weapons, not some brawl on the ground! As Cyanwrath prepared to strike back, he huffed deep, angry breaths which sent small sparks forth from his nostrils.

His next two attacks were clearly telegraphed as he brought his weapon high above his head and brought it down repeatedly, hammering twice at the shield of his opponent. "Respect!" BANG "The intent!" BANG "Of the duel! he bellowed, sparks of lightning forming in his mouth and as he roared the last few words, he let loose his breath weapon. The paladin was caught unawares by the commander's sheer surge of speed and the attack landed solidly, sending them down to the ground.

Cyanwrath huffed a few more times before raising his blade onto his shoulder and kicking at Brannor for good measure.

"Next time, know the etiquette of a duelist..." he spat out and walked back to his troops.

The kobolds raised the threatening of their spears and allowed the prisoners to go, the family then rushing for their freedom and loved one in the keep as fast as their injured bodies could carry them. By them, with just as much urgency, passed the healers of the fortress who had broke rank the moment their attackers had; the trio of Sefblom, Creek, and Creek the Younger. Despite the presence of their numerous enemy, many of whom eyed them warily, they went about their work skillfully - or at least with as steady of hands they could muster given what they, as with the surviving town, had bore witness to in unnatural powers.

The cult of the dragon did not waste this opportunity either, commencing their withdrawal as soon as Langderosa Cyanwrath had handed off his great weapon and started his way from town. It seemed that the half-dragon had kept their word.


@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen

As quick as it started, the battle was over. Kyra remained stoic and strong even as she saw Brannor fall, and for Cyanwrath to kick him while he was down. Kyra was nearly tempted to shoot the dragon in the back, her hand on her bow. However as the others ran out to aid brannor, Kyra too remembered what her duty here was and went to assist them. While The three healers were more than enough to stabilize Brannor, Kyra still used a bit of her magic to ensure that Brannor would recover, as well as carry his equipment. She shot a spiteful glance back at Cyanwrath's army, making a silent vow.

"For my people, for my goddess, and for my friends here, I will deliver justice. This much I promise."

Picking up the broken gear Kyra ran back to the keep with the others. She stayed close to Longwater's family and tried her best to console them, the children especially. Kyra didn't even want to think what sort of horrors those monsters exposed these children too. The fact that the oldest sons was drenched in blood made Kyra's blood boil. Just what did they do in front of him? Did they kill a man before his eyes? Force him to wear this soiled tunic from an executed villager? Did they possibly even hurt him? Any of these theories fueled Kyra's rage as she seethed quietly to herself. She said nothing, not even when they entered the keep, and simply left all the equipment she had on the floor. Standing off to the side she clenched her fist and slammed it into the wall in anger.

"Dammit.... Dammit it all..."

With Brannor chosen as the champion, Orchid opted to stay on the walls and cheer him from afar. Orchid knew that if he was out there, he wouldn't simply stand idly by and let Brannor fight alone. The half-orc only had a silver of knowledge of what "honor" was, hearing of it only in tales told to him as a child. To him honor was linked to Heroism, and if Orchid would dare call himself honorable, he wouldn't let anyone else fight his battles, not even if they're more capable. Other left with Brannor, and when they finally went out Orchid was rather surprised at how large the entourage was. "Eh? Brannor have party?"

Orchid's confusion was soon put aside when he saw the half-dragon draw his weapon and announce his name. Langderosa Cyanwrath. The name wasn't familiar to Orchid at all. From his position Orchid couldn't even fling a javelin, but he knew his voice could reach Brannor. Taking his machete and shield out Orchid banged the two together loudly and lead a fanfare of war cries on Brannor's behalf. The half-orc's voice pierced the air, letting all hear his bellowing voice. "WAAAAAAAAARGH! SLAUGHTER HIM BRANNOR! RAAAAAAAAGH!

And so the two clashed. Despite his distance Orchid could see the battle clearly as if he was fighting himself. He could sense the logic and rhythm of Brannor's movements, smiling as he parried and swiped. Brannor took a devastating blow to the chest, but like a true wilder Brannor would not fall so easily. Than he began to focus his attacks not on Cyanwrath himself, but his weapon. This got Orchid's blood pumping, as this was a tactic that Orchid himself would've employed. "STRIP HIM OF HIS TEETH! BREAK HIS CLAWS!" Orchid roared with a blood curdling cry. However the battle did not last long. Shortly after Brannor attempted to disarm his opponent of his weapon, the half-dragon retaliated at full force, hammering Brannor down. Before the paladin could strike back, the dragon unleashed his fury and engulfed Brannor with a breath of lightning. By the time the sparks vanished, Brannor had been defeated.

Orchid was quite, however the half-dragon did not bother to finish off Brannor nor turn back on his word. The family was returned, and Brannor was soon attended to by Kyra and other healers. Before the others had returned to the keep Orchid raced down the battlements to meet them at the tunnel, wanting to be with them as soon as possible. Orchid did not know why he felt such... Camaraderie with these strangers. Certainly, they are still strangers to each other. Up until recently Orchid had not even known their names, yet here he was, concerned about their well being. Was it perhaps because his passion included concern for others, or was it destiny ensuring that Orchid stayed with these folks? Not really one for such philosophy, Orchid didn't care and just wanted to see them. As soon as they arrived the greenskin's voice echoed off the tunnel walls.

"Brannor! Brannor dead!? He not dead, yeah?"

The Silver Lady quickly stripped Brannor of any recognizable humanity. His fangs sprang forth, bearing ivory sabers; his borrowed armor overflowed with the fur of a king. The poised tiger-man’s golden eyes seeped of royalty before his evil adversary. Fierceness, strength and bravery met the half-dragon. Blows exchanged and banged with luck and skill gracing each weapon. Bystanders waited for the victor until triumph raised from bated breath, filled with nefarious lightning.

The healers who abetted the suffering, alongside Kyra and the druid, the frightful night prior, rushed to resurrect the wilder. Despite knocking on death’s door, his gaze under his hood invited vengeance, which would be dealt if Cyanwrath would savor another unfortunate reunion with the paladin. Torus recognized the might within the feral warrior, evolving into a legend, with time as his only constraint. In defeat, the green knight’s vision peered through a world where frailty and chaos held no sway amongst the embers that constituted the champion of Greenest.

The light of his master’s guidance was easily apparent, traversing all boundaries, separating life and demise, all manifest before the trio of Sefblom, Creek, and the Younger’s curative restoration. The pirate understood the significance of this untamed zealotry, realizing the nigh impossibility of respite until such a sinister force from the realm was vanquished.

Langderosa’s promise exacted in execution, with Longwater’s family released to the citadel. As the sailor marched into the tunnel, the orc joined their ranks with concern and joy, over the outcome of the skirmish. Before the outlet was closed, a raven fluttered from the burrow of granite, aiming to trace the invaders’ withdrawal.

He muttered to himself, after glancing the boastful curse of the youthful cleric.

"To soar as high as hope, to dive as swift as justice."

Once their direction was ascertained, the dark avian disappeared from the morning clouds, allowing the commune of the heroes to be realized in the conquest of a long-deserved rest.

Parum walked with the others to the sight of the battlefield. Before she could get a word in, Brannor had demanded for the hostage's release. However his opponent, Langderosa Cyanwrath, refused on the grounds that it was the only thing protecting him from a swift and immediate end from a volley of arrows. Parum could not disagree with the logic, however it still infuriated her that this half dragon would stoop to such low just for one-on-one combat. Surely he'd recognize that even if they had somehow managed to slay him from afar, his army had the numbers and power to overtake the fort without his leadership. Holding the family hostage was just rubbing salt into the wounds. Still Parum did not speak out, not wanting to compromise this delicate ordeal.

And so the battle commenced. "Defeat him Brannor! We believe in you!" Parum's words would fill Brannor with what meager amount of courage the halfling could provide, but in the end it was not enough. Brannor fought bravely, even tapping into some sort of animalistic feature she's never seen before. She had feelings that Brannor was a warrior of the wilds like Orchid, but she did not imagine that he was one of the beasts. Brannor was some sort of Lycanthrope, perhaps a wolf, or perhaps some other beast. With his back turned and covered in armor, Parum could not do much but watch as he fought and soon fell. Cyanwrath abolished Brannor for his apparent unsportsmanlike tactics, only to kick the man while he was down. This made Parum furious, despite the fact that Cyanwrath could easily kill her with his barehands. This was never going to be a fair duel from the beginning. The half-dragon simply wanted to boast his strength against an enemy who had no chances of fighting back.

At least in the end Cyanwrath honored his end of the bargain and left with his army. Kyra and a few other healers immediately went to Brannor's side while Parum took the family back to the keep. "It's fine now, you're safe. You're safe and sound. Let's get you all back to Sargent Longwater." Parum said to soothe their nerves. No doubt the family was most shocked at the results of the fight. It was their lives on the line after all. Everyone returned to the keep without further incident, and soon they were greeted by Orchid and some of the other leaders of Greenest. "Brannor is alive, Orchid. He was defeated but not killed, thank the gods." Parum noted Kyra standing off to the side cursing to herself. Parum wished she could have done something more. Because once again, all she did was stand to the side and speak a few meaningless words. The feeling of doubt and uselessness overwhelmed Parum, as she too stood in silence for herself.

The battle of Greenest was over. But the war against the forces of evil still continued.

When Orchid came asking questions the youngest of the guard medics opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the halfling answering the question for them. He closed his mouth and continued helping in moving the unconscious man back to the safety of the keep infirmary. He was not in any real danger any longer, but it never hurt to have people who had been hurt so bad they couldn't stand on their own back where someone could keep an eye on them. When the Longwater family was finally reunited, they tossed a quick question to the eldest child, regarding whether he'd want to be checked. He refused the offer so the medics kept going, disregarding whether the rest of the heroes would follow.

Meanwhile, the guard sergeant met his family in a surprising silence. The man and wife threw their arms around each other, locked in an embrace, joined by the children joining in, forming a one big hug pile. "Thank gods you all are fine... thank gods..."" the sergeant whispered barely audibly. Only now could be seen just how much the man had been hiding inside as he had been going around figuring out the death toll while his family was still out there and he could only hope that by the end of the night they would not have ended up on that list. "They didn't... harm you in any way, did they?"" the husband asked, looking wary at the potential answer. The woman's answer was silent, but by the reaction of the sergeant it hadn't been anything he had been afraid of as he returned to the hug, his face now calmer.

All the while this reunion was taking place, the people of the infirmary got to see the champion being brought back in, not that all of them were even aware of the fight that had transpired out there. The sight of a half-tiger being brought in shocked many, but most of them were quick to dismiss this as a fever dream, while the rest could dismiss the sight as 'somebody else's problem', given that there was a group of three medics dragging it about. Well, with the exception of a single soul who screamed for a minute straight and then fell unconscious out of sheer fear, but taking into account how many were housed within these walls that was a rather good ratio.

But they weren't the only one to react differently to the most. A monk with a large bandage on their foot and a cane to help them walk moved closer. The medics tried to keep them away at first, but after exchanging a few words they could trust the man would not be in the way, nor of harm to the patient and let him be. The monk, known as Nesim Waladra stayed around, waiting for the weretiger to wake.

And after two hours, his patience was rewarded. At this point he had received a chair and was sat on the side of the bed, leaning against their staff. As Brannor opened his eyes, he met them with his. "You are an unusual sort, aren't you? I am rather sure a fellow brother mentioned someone like you working with them earlier... Ah, but where are my manners? I am brother Waladra. Pardon me for intruding by your bedside so."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Norschtalen@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

The descent into the quiet dark was a sure enough sign that this was not death; no, something else more grounded, less surreal, and even less permanent. This was not the first time he had been here, here being alone to mind in the expanse that was the unconscious. The reality of this mindscape was that of distant echoes and subdued noises, none of which were familiar in their distortion and dreamlike ways. What few questions crossed the mind in its absence from the world outside were blurry grey things, all seemingly quite recent. Like the noises they were undecipherable, familiar in their own right as though they were to be expected, but nothing clear or visionary. The contrast was what would have given Brannor some comfort, assuming he could so much as even actively think, instead only playing off emotion and instinct to these ends.

He was not dead, that was all that was for certain.

Alas, he was not awake, or at least not for some indiscernible amount of time. When he did at last come to, the crack of his tremendous knuckles wrenching their digits into the wood of the bed was his first of many reactions. The wood, creaking by the raking of heavy clawed fingers, was only overwhelmed in volume by the deep snarl that escaped his jaws upon realizing his plight of being stared at by a stranger and in a place he certainly did not remember. To friend or foe, the saliva slicked fangs bared themselves at the figure hanging upon his staff until the surprise subsided. Wisely, the bandaged man spoke in explanation of himself and just why he stared into the eyes of the tiger.

"You are an unusual sort, aren't you? I am rather sure a fellow brother mentioned someone like you working with them earlier... Ah, but where are my manners? I am brother Waladra. Pardon me for intruding by your bedside so."

Brannor snorted, ears still sleek to his pale skull. Unclasping his talons by the easing of his murderous hands, the wilder paused and let go of the rest of his defensive tension, or as much as he could muster.

"Consider yourself excused," His fingers pried themselves from the wood and some of the torn material that was the bed; he looked about in the dim candlelight and came to understand just where he was in the keep before focusing again on the monk, "But why are you here?"

He stood slowly thereafter, resting one palm to the aged stone of the wall, the strangeness of his own legs working against him throughout this effort. That and it helped none the rush of power, that which fueled this change, was burning away with supernatural flames within; it was not something refined or controlled, something the young beast of men could only beseech in prayer. It had taken years to so much as even see it, let alone years more until now to so much as call it out if ever briefly. Now? Now with it fading away, held on to only by concern for the company - whose motives he truly did not know - the moontouched found himself before. Brannor trusted the seemingly crippled man was what he appeared to be, but appearances were deceiving as he himself knew. He could not let go of this ferine power, at least not weakened and disoriented as he was now.

"And where are the rest?" His voice reverberated a growl in absence of control.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen

Several knocks, bereft of gentleness, struck upon the door to the infirmary chamber housing the maneful Brannor. The verbal exchange of an unrecognized voice and the paladin's growls warranted some urgency from the pirate, as he had recently held watch outside the feral warrior's room in hopes he would stir, as the medics further tended to his wounds.

"Lad, is everything tranquil on your side? May I enter?"

Ascertaining when Kyra visited him last, possibly an hour or so ago, the druid pondered the eavesdropped tone, firm and slow, now inquiring of the identity of the tiger-man. It did not belong to any of the medics nor of Nightill, Longwater, or the Castellan. The old sailor lingered, awaiting for further words to be evoked or another snarl to beckon him inside.

After seeing that Brannor was okay, Orchid went about helping the keep and it's people. Though still rather sluggish, Orchid volunteered to escort villagers back to their homes and ensure their safety. Orchid didn't find any hostiles, at least none who weren't already dead. Orchid also helped with the rather messy business of moving the bodies, often at the behest of the grieving people. Orchid solemnly did what he was told, knowing that he himself didn't particularly understand or care for funeral rites. Having grown up among the elves, the closest thing to a funeral he's ever been to was disposing the body in such a way that it would not spread disease or illness. Granted, it was mostly the elders and the druids who actually participated in the ritual of it. Orchid simply moved the bodies, much as he was doing now.

And while the half-orc wasn't what you'd call a contemplative man, as he worked he wondered what he should do next. He could not simply ignore the threat that now looms ahead. This was no mere incident that could be ignored by moving. No, if the dragon queen was to awaken, Orchid wanted to be there to see for himself. And ideally, stop her. Taking a moment's rest Orchid looked down at his equipment. A machete given to him by his people. An axe he stole from a merchant. A knife he found in the forest. A shield he put together with wood and hide. The tools of his trade, and a loincloth to preserve modesty in civilization. Some would call Orchid a brute, cocky, foolish. He wouldn't disagree with them. But he also knew that what he had wouldn't be enough to fight an entire cult. He was willing to fight and die for any cause worthy, but he wasn't going to throw himself on his enemy's blade just for the sake of it. No, if he was to fight evil, he'll need to upgrade.

"Maybe Keep have weapons and armor."

The orc mused to himself. He remembered how quickly the soldiers armed Brannor for his fateful duel against the half-dragon. Orchid wondered if they'd be so kind as to give the barbarian a suitable set of armament. After assisting the villagers with what he could, the outlander decided that he ought to go ask. Orchid went to find the governor, who do doubt was busy with restoration efforts. Perhaps this was a bad time. Not that Orchid knew that, nor would he have cared. He needed weapons and armor to go fight evil. And evil waits for no man. Eventually Orchid would find the governor one way or another, and made his request bluntly and loudly. "Orchid need weapons! And armor! To fight evil! You have, yeah? Orchid need."

Kyra stayed in the keep to deal with the last of the wounded and injured. There were still many soldiers who needed aid and villagers who got hurt. Fortunately with the threat of the cultist gone, they were able to get what was left of their medicine and supplies from their homes. But there wasn't really much left at all. Those people stole everything work more than a silver, and practically destroyed everything else. Kyra was certain that the village's Mill was gone. No doubt many homes were burnt to the ground. Gardens trampled, fields stripped of their harvests. Animals slaughtered. This attack would put the village back at least four seasons from Kyra's guess. But it was worse than that. Fields can be regrown, homes rebuilt, and new animals can be raised. But the scars they bare today, both mental and physical, will take much longer to undo.

Kyra was eventually allowed some time out of the infirmary to take a break. She had been working nonstop since she returned from the keep and it showed. Her eyes looked exhausted, her hands were soaked with blood and pruning, and her clothes were stained and smelly. Kyra knew there was more work to do but she accepted the rest for now. Her mind was too occupied to really argue. She walked out of the infirmary and just wandered around the keep aimlessly, almost zombie like. Everyone was hard at work moving things around or going back home, trying to set up a meager defense in the event the cultist come back. But what could they do even if they did? Greenest lost many of their protectors already. They couldn't muster defenses fast enough to fortify the village. It only made Kyra frustrated even more.

Eventually Kyra found herself back at the infirmary, but this time in the private wards. Specifically Brannor's. Kyra had stopped by before, but only to help the healers operate on Brannor. While magic could heal his wounds quickly, neither Kyra nor many of the other magically inclined had any energy left in them to cast more spells. They had to treat Brannor traditionally, settling his bones, batching up his wounds, and applying a lot of ointment to all the burns over his body. Kyra was going to leave again when she heard voices inside; was Brannor awake? Kyra knocked on the door before peeking insisde. "Brannor? Are you feeling well?" Kyra noticed he had guest, Torus and someone she didn't quite recognize. She knew he was one of the monks who were here at the Keep, though Kyra didn't know much about them. They certainly weren't part of Greenest's congregation.

Orchid had found the Governor, although Nighthill was not in the most agreeable of moods with such a night behind him. He covered his face with his palm as his bodyguards struggled to keep Orchid a respectable distance away from him. They removed the gesture from sight before answering the loudly spoken request of the half-orc by moving both of his hands behind his back and shaking his head. "I am unsure what someone like you could gain from us. Judging by your current attire, you are not one to use heavy metal plates... and even then, we already gave our best to the champion. If it will even last..."

He now turned to properly face the orc and waved at his guards to stop trying to push them back. Once these matters were attended to, he locked eyes with the barbarian and explained his side of the situation: "Now, I know that it is difficult to pay you back for what you have already done for Greenest. But our armaments are limited as they are. You may ask the Castellan to check more thoroughly, but... I cannot make promises of such things now. I have something else in mind though, a little something set aside... just let me rest after the hardships of this night and I will award them to you properly." Nighthill hoped this would be enough to satisfy Orchid for now.

---

"I would not know, frankly speaking. You are the first of those people I really have had a chance to talk with... few of you stopped in the infirmary for longer than-", the monk by Brannor's bedside had managed to start his reply when the voice of the Druid penetrated the wooden barrier. Odd, when had that door been closed? It had remained open for the most of the night... well, said problem did not exist for much longer as the priestess opened the door to peek in. "I would guess your friends are right beyond that door, champion of Greenest", he remarked, helping himself to a standing position with his walking aid.

"But you also asked why I am here... well, our master has gone missing and I don't think blaming the cult would go that far away. I was simply wondering if you would find it within yourselves to look for him while you are out there... Of course, it is just a request, I... well, we can talk more about it once you have rested. Let me quit bothering you for now, if your friends are here to meet you..." Brother Waladra began to slowly make his way towards his bed, giving the others ample time to stop him for more questions if they so wanted. But then again, he had promised to return to the subject later.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Norschtalen@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

Orchid frowned, the mayor's big words mostly going over his head, but he figured out that Orchid wasn't going to get new weapons and armor. The mayor mentioned the Castellan, who Orchid remembered as the dwarf who was not a chef. Apparently he might have something for Orchid. "Okay." Orchid said simply as he left the governor to find the Castellan, Escobert as Orchid soon remembered, figuring that he was also probably barking at the soldiers somewhere in the keep. Orchid could see the halls filled with soldiers, many of them stripping off their equipment. The burden of armor and weapons was a great one, and stripping it would be a much needed relief for these soldiers. All the more telling that Orchid actually sought to don armor instead.

Eventually Orchid would find Escobert among the throe of soldiers carrying out duties to help the village and maintain the keep. "Escobert!" The half-orc shouted, jumping into the air and waving at the dwarf. The commotion caused some of the soldiers to make a path for Orchid, perhaps out of respect for the stranger, or just because he was a weirdo and no one wanted to deal with him right now. "Escobert! Nighthill say you have weapon and armor. Orchid need to fight evil." As Orchid made his way towards the dwarf he figured that if he explained his reasons why he needed them, perhaps that would increase the chances of Orchid actually getting them. He was only dimly aware that maybe no one in the keep actually has anything to give Orchidl as far as the barbarian was concerned, he figured that they stowed away something good in case things turned out badly. Orchid was hoping to have that thing. "Dragon Cult leave, but not gone. They do evil here and other places. Orchid go and fight them. Orchid need weapons and armor!"

Thinking more about it, Orchid should probably get help too. Brannor, Parum, Torus, and Kyra seemed up to the task. Orchid made a mental note to go find them. Last he remembered Brannor was still resting in a room, so he would be the easiest to find. "Mhmm. Greenest hurt real bad, but bad guys still hurt others. Steal things. Orchid go, fight bad guy, bring back things they steal. Give bac to Greenest! But Orchid need strong weapon and strong armor. You have, yeah?"