Location: Near Thomas and the Skeleton Actions: Fighting the Skeletons
Well that was embarrassing. He was trying to do a big heroic charge and he slipped on orange peels of all things. What was this, some sort of childish prank? By the time he got up a wall of ice was erected and most of the skeletons had exploded on the other side. Ntaj couldn't complain too much, but looking back at the others he noticed that Sana doesn't seem well. If he had to guess, she was the one who casted this spell. One of the reasons he didn't particularly like to rely on magic, since if it doesn't work the first time you've effectively left yourself at the mercy of your foe. More magic was casted from Thomas who summoned some sort of pillar of light. Ntaj didn't know if it was just for illumiation or if it was meant to harm the undead. Or anything else that got into the circle for that matter.
And just to top off the situation, some sort of misty creature approached, made of red fog and claws. Ntaj has never seen anything like it before, but if it was an undead creature then Ntaj was almost certain that neither his choppa or his shield would harm it. He'd need magic, or failing that, getting his holy water flail. Which was a good thirty or forty feet away, somewhere in his tent. So far the odds weren't looking too great for the party. More skeletons were bound to be on their way, and he wouldn't have time to grab something he could use to effectively throw at them. So Ntaj simply readied himself for combat: Either for any undead or skeletons that broke through or bypassed the wall, or for that ominous red fog to try and do something hostile, be it attack them straight out or cast a spell on them.
Location: Up in a tree, near the fight Interacting with: ...potentially Kyra
A breath of relief softly escaped her lips as it became apparent that the form in the trees was Kyra. The cold air shot through her bones as the ice wall emerged, a slight shudder moved through her spine. She skid to a spot that would place her near Kyra, keeping her balance as best as she could. She may be quick with her bow, but two archers shooting simultaneously had to be better, right?!
âColor me shocked, but that didn't sound very friendly" , Lerraina cocked a brow towards her comrade in the trees as she slid an arrow into place. Her tone shadowed any hint of concern or fear and the smirk plastered on her face gave off an air of confidence, meant moreso to inspire some in others. The rogue knew a dire situation when she saw one and she just couldn't see a way out of this one. Unless they just tucked tail and ran. However the ominous red fog gave her the impression that not even that would be an option for them. She didn't particularly care for that, so if there was a shred of a chance getting out of this alive, that was what she would focus on.
Lerraina took aim at the charging skeletons and let loose her fury. Arrows swooshing through the air one after another. Her movements were swift, though through the chaos, she couldn't quite tell how accurate they were. She only hoped that her skill and training would be enough to pierce the baddies, with no casualties from friendly fire.
Her arrows ranged from long range combat to short, so she knew not all of them would make their mark. She had tried to compensate as best as she could with the arrows she had. Oh joy, why hadn't just just bought the blessed arrows when she had the chance. If she wasn't so busy trying to kill the damn things, she could've kicked herself. She had trained for many years, but nothing could've prepared her for this.
Location: By the Cave Interacting With: Cool tall and misty?!!!
Satilla had just allowed herself to take a deep breath as the boom boom skeletons stopped charging at the wall. Seems their attecker's target was mostly changed now as the explosions started appearing from some distance, where Satilla supposed the orcs were. So the enemy had targeted the large number of orcs instead of them, probably because thinning their ranks would help him in the long run. That would be all fine and dandy except there was one big issue.
âWhat by the spirits is that!?â Satilla almost shouted as she noticed the red misty form of the creature that was circling around them as a predator around it's pray. It appeared vaguely Jinnie-ish... Well Satilla herself had never seen Jinns, but there were the occasional stories and ballads one would hear in taverns and so on... but she was not sure it could even be one of those. She hoped it wasn't and hoped it was just going to go away.
âAnyone hurt?â She asked the rest as they were still around. There were a few members of the party missing from their merry chilled hangout, namely the two archers and Ash... Satilla worried about them, but given they currently had a big misty creature on them, maybe out there somewhere was safer?
Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three
Interacting With: The Ground
Keystone wasn't sure if what was going on was good or bad news, on the short term. Realizing that all of this was a force building tactic often employed by utilizers of the Undead, the broad man was fairly confident that long term consequences of this evening pointed squarely toward the negative end of the "Stuff That Could Happen" spectrum. But he couldn't react to then. He could only react to now.
Or could he? Red, swirly force of potential death above, ice formed around him, death raining down upon the Orcs not protected by a wall of ice... and where the ass was Kyra and Gretchin? Keystone took a glance over to Sana. She didn't look so great. The reflexive step in her direction that he meant to take was waylaid by the forces of greater thermal and fluid dynamics (not that he knew what to call it). The frost building up upon the ground seemed thickest directly near the wall, the very spot in which the occidental monk found himself when it formed up. Thick and fast enough to hold one of his boots to the ground around it, even before his feet registered the drop in temperature.
Like a man caught unawares by the shoelace-tying pranks of youth and/or immaturity, Keystone waved his arms around, impotently trying to maintain balance before hitting the ground like a sack of meat. At least his boot ripped free of the accumulating ice, but he was forced to spend any time he may have had doing something useful picking himself up from the frozen ground in an ungainly fashion. This was not how he hoped his evening would progress.
Location: Hell Frozen Over Interacting With: Hypothermia
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The feel of ice reverberating through her fingers and to her bones, Sana knew this sensation and despised it. The spell had worked and the wall of protective ice formed in place, coming up out of the air, drawing in the moisture from around and concentrating it in one arced around the group; protecting them for now. Yet there was a price to pay for every spell that was cast. Just as a a man would swing a sword towards his opponents and his muscles, constitution, and breath, would pay a price depending on how strong the swing was, so did a magic user. Magic cost so much more than the day to day physical dealings. It wasn't created out of thing air, this one in particular was created out of moisture, a change in the very environment around her and channeled through the warm blood of her veins.
Tips of her fingers began to frost over just as the ground at her feet and it cut just as deep. Stinging and burning with cold as her voice ceased and the song was called to an abrupt halt. There was nothing to be done to stop the progression at this point only an attempt to fight off the effects long enough to stay awake despite the chill, the pain, and the bone chilling creaking she could feel building up as the tendons in her joints started to constrict and tighten up. Dark amber eyes seemed to glass over with a setting of frost as she looked around. Her lips turning blue as her breath could be seen crystallizing as it left her lungs in tight short breaths. Then the knees buckled under the strain and turmoil, sinking to the ground not even trying to keep her balance at this point and letting gravity take over.
Epona coming to her side as Ash did, each animal seeming to protect her at each side. Sana leaning against Ash, his fur not warm enough to stop the chilling of her limbs but it was far better to lean against than the defrosting ground now that the spell had stopped. Frosted lashes blinked as Sana looked up and saw the arrows flying from Sana and Lerraina. She needed to get up but there was nothing to it this round, her bow hanging limply from its position slung across her back. There was nothing she could do for now but take steadying breaths as she concentrated on staying awake for now.
Season: Late Fall/Early Winter Time Of Day: Night, middle of Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky General Ambiance: AHHHHHHok, this is getting old. Tense, obviously. Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave
Specific Resolutions:
Cyneburg: Cyneburg's plant growth spell kicks off marvelously. Basically, every plant within radius (that isn't a tree) is making life difficult for anyone and anything trying to move through it, especially any straggling skellys. Any movement very far from the ice wall is brought to an undramatic crawl. Four more people like you, and you can summon Captain Planet.
Calanon: A momentary slip in Mr. Elk's footing causes the first arrow to thud harmlessly into the wall of ice. Likewise, the second arrow finds no luck, embedding into the now invasive undergrowth wrapping around the skeleton you were aiming for. Sorry duder. This was not your best round. Better luck with the upcoming.
Kyra: The fletching of one arrow causes it to veer slightly off course. Both arrows seem to be attracted to the same skeleton; the first detonates it, while the second continues traveling through to nail another one caught up in Cyneburg's angry plants, the explosion spinning the arrowhead into yet another with equal, plant-shredding boomage. Hey, a three-fer! Way to go, Kyra.
Ntaj: Nothing particularly awful happens to Ntaj. I just wanted to put this here to mess with your head.
Lerraina: Good news and bad news. Let's go in reverse alphabetical order and start with the good: The first arrow nails a skeleton that wasn't mired down by the undergrowth, before it manages to nail a group of already injured Orcs. For whatever it's worth, congrats. Lerraina might just be labeled as Orcfriend among the surrounding tribes. Don't go putting that on a resume just yet, though - here's the bad news: The frost from the ice wall had gotten a bit out of hand, affecting the branch Lerraina's squatting on. Her boot squeaks out from under her, and she's fast on her way to meet the ground. I'd recommend exhaling before making connection. Hurts less that way.
Keystone: Is able to get back up. That's really the best news he has at the moment.
Sana: Welcome to the Wonderful World of Hypothermia! I'd show you around, but you're in no condition to move a whole lot. Sana is conscious, but getting colder rapidly. Her teeth seem to be tapping faster than Gregory Hines on Red Bull. Alive, but in bad shape.
New Round
Those of you inside the wall of ice can still hear the occasional POP POP POP, but they're coming slower and farther apart. As are the shouts of Orcs, for better or for worse. As the seconds tick away, a profound quiet returns to the woods. Those of you outside of the wall notice that the skeletons have stopped running forward, and no more have joined the fray. There are a few caught up in the wildly inconvenient underbrush, but their heart (if they still had one) really isn't into attacking. Slowly, they try to turn about and return to where they came. Meanwhile, there are plenty of dead Orcs on the ground.
Back inside of the wall, the vaguely humanoid mist stops its circular movement around the ward. It crosses over the wall slowly, its strangely illuminated eyes darting back and forth from Thomas to Sana, back and forth, back and forth, playing an awful game of Eeny Meeny Miny Moe, before settling on the compromised Gypsy. A horrifying grin splits its vaporous face, impossibly wide and terror-inspiring. The thing floats down steadily, secure in its own absolute control of the situation. It looks hungry.
Location: Orc Camp Interacting with: Sana's unconscious body
Alright, now that the skeletons seemed to have been taken care of, there was the more immediate threat at hand. How by the Eight Phases of the Moon was anyone going to handle this mist construct? Just by looking at it it was obvious that any of the physical attacks the majority of the party used were going to do nothing to it. And she didn't like how it was looking at them. It was circling like a predator sizing up a soon to be eaten prey. When going after prey, you always went after the weak: the injured and sick, and this figure seemed to be following the same pattern.
A druid does not get much done by standing around thinking. It was true that most of the job is sitting around observing and thinking, especially for the more stationary nature priests, but when they need to act, that wasn't really an option. When Cyne saw the mist go after Sana, her body sprung into action. She sprung forward to tackle-grab Sana out of the way of the mist-man. She wasn't the swiftest out of the group (in humanoid), and the ground was iced over, but even then her agility wasn't anything to sneeze at. Hopefully it'd be enough to get the bard out of mortal peril.
Location: Hell Frozen Over Interacting With: Hypothermia And Something eying her like she is dinner
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chilled to the bone, Sana looked up slowly as the formerly red mist decided that she was it's target. She could ponder why but she knew, if the roles had been reversed she would have targeted the weakest to take out right then. It was simpler that way. She had cast, which was something she hated, but she could see how it would make her a target - she showed magic and magic was dangerous. To top it off her magic had caused her own damage, it was freezing her. Making her more susceptible and made her seem weaker than the rest. An Ice cannon; a big bang but that could crack under the pressure.
Yet, Sana was anything but weak. Granted her stubbornness to refuse to let herself black out was one thing but she had more working for her than that. She had endurance as well, something she had honed for years, but only time would tell if she could hold strong enough right then to keep herself from becoming a Hungry Mist's Frozen Dinner. Shaking, frosting over like a lake in the winter she tried. Attempting to draw her bow and a silver arrow from her quiver. To nock it into place. To draw back on the string and take aim towards the entity coming for her. To let it loose to tear through it.
Yet even if she was able to do that, those simple little things that she could normally perform in her sleep that felt more like moving mountains right then would it even help? Would a pure arrow of silver created by elves to take on the undead be any use on the monster before her? She didn't know because she had never faced something like this before but it was her best bet. At least for now. Epona stayed by her side, moving behind her and Ash, holding her own ground (and action) for now.
Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three
Interacting With: Bloody Smudge In The Air
The dashing and knightesque figure of the Occidental Monk known in the realms of Men as Keystone very heroically picked his oversized, leather clad ass up from the cold ground, trying like hell to dislodge the sheen of ice from his massive boot with short and mostly ineffective kicking motions. By all the decent and virtuous gods there were (and a few that were merely agreeable), the last time that Keystone faced down an army of the Undead he was much more robust and dignified. Dangerous. Feared by his enemies, even. It would be an understatement that the last few days were not the most valiant nor noteworthy of his career. Were he not locked in a fight with mortal consequences, he may well have been depressed. But there were more important things at hand.
The suddenly eyeballed, crimson mist in the air was drifting down toward Sana, a malevolent glow about it. At first, Keystone mistook the inhuman grin and downward movement as being directed at himself, on account of his admittedly comical escapades involving falling over and shaking his foot about. "Oi, ya smilin' waft o' blood-fart! Think that's funny, does ya? I ripped arse vapors tougher'n you..."
Then he understood. The things eyes moved past him, paying the empty-handed pugilist zero attention. It looked to Sana, a little way behind his current position. Something in Keystone's voice changed; it went straight past "businesslike threatening" and over to "dedicated controlled rage". "No, you bloody well don't." he growled with believable certainty, and raised his fists. That thing was trying to hurt Sana, so by all those gods mentioned earlier, Keystone was going to respond in the most violent manner possible. The second it got within range, Keystone leapt to attack, fully, and without hesitation.
Location: On the ground nearing Keystone and the red mist Interacting with: ...potentially The red mist and Keystone and any other baddies that try to attack
Lerraina hit the ground with a loud thud. The shrubbery surrounding the tree barely broke her fall, instead its thorns found way to pierce whatever skin was availa, and the impact of the fall left her body stunned with pain for a short moment. She had endured worse though. One thing was for certain, she refused to let falling out of a tree be the cause of her death.
As soon as she was able to, Lerrain scrambled to her feet, shoving herself as far back against the tree as she possibly could. She had lost her advantage and fell smack into the thick of things. With her back less exposed, she evaluated their situation. Strangely, things finally seemed to be moving towards their favor, save the eerie red mist monster. She eyed keystone as he shouted at the thing. The air around them grew thick and a horrible feeling stirred in the pit of her stomach. She crept slowly towards the scene as it unfolded, an arrow ever at the ready.
The skeletons started to disburse, though they were never truly the real threat were they. Lerraina's face had contorted into true concern as she stared at the ethereal being, it's force gliding over dead bodies and rubble as it made its way to its mark. This being wasn't undead, but he seemed to control them. There was no hiding this emotion, no hiding the fear. However she blanketed it with her raised bow. If the gods willed it, she would provide backup to Keystone should things go sideways.
His shots had failed him. The mist's presence had effected his aim, though he would have been hard pressed to hit anything even without it. The Skeletons had mostly more or less passed his field of vision anyhow. Brogach stiffened and was visibly disturbed at this looming apparition that glided closer and closer towards the party, though it didn't seem to be focused on he or his steed at the moment. He saw Gretchin reappear to the side, which made him feel a bit less stressed to know where she was, but was she in danger? No, this thing focused on only two in particular.
The mist seemed to be gazing between the spellcasters. Or...the ones that used magic that was not all natural like Cyneburg. Calanon did not know what to do. He surely could not destroy this monster, but...perhaps he could calm his steed and his allies? He set his bow back onto Brogach, and reached for his Ocarina. He began playing Glade of Serenity to incite calm and clear minds with his allies, especially but not limited to their animal companions. He did not know if the Nymph blessing effected this mist, but this would not hurt to try. A soothing melody flowed from his instrument and cascaded across the night air.
Location: At the camp-turned-battlefield Actions: Running towards his tent
Sure enough the red mist was on the attack. The mist was moving towards Sana, the spellcaster who had summoned the wall of ice. How powerful would such a spell be, and if it was strong, just how powerful was Sana? Not that Ntaj really knre nor cared, only that he understood what sort of a threat this mist was. Ntaj was readied to charge and was about to do so when a voice in his head reminded him that his weapons wouldn't harm the mist. Even if this creature wasn't exactly a spirit or ghost, it was still some sort of physical mist-like creature. Keystone ran to engage it in combat, but Ntaj wasn't certain how effective Keystone could be. Ntaj wasn't certain how effective he would be if he just went over there to attack it.
It was perhaps cowardly, maybe even foolish, but Ntaj did not attack the mist. Not immediately. Instead Ntaj ran towards his tent. It was a far bit always considering the battlefield at the moment, and he could see that more magic was at work binding the skeletons to the local flora. While Ntaj was almost certain that it was one of his allies who had cast the spell the half-naked half-orc also was certain that the magic could ensnare him as well. And the last thing he'd want to do is trip and fall like he did with those orange peels. Still there was little time to waste: he'd need to get to his tent, grab his holy-water flail, and charge the mist monster as soon as he could. Ntaj was careful to avoid slipping on any loose fruit, sticks, vines, or other obstructions as he ran to the tent to grab his other weapon.
Location: Tim Burton & Guillermo del Toro Collab. Interacting with: Le Miasma Rouge.
What causes the rain to fall? For to fall from the skies is easy Any fool may plummet to his death, But to first fly high enough to fall, That is the difficulty is it not? As such the rain falls down and not up. For it is that path of least resistance.
So too was the course of the mist. The creature observed neither completely there or not, immaterial almost to Thomas' earlier observations before being so rudely interrupted. It had chosen Sana over him, an interesting course of action as Thomas would have disagreed. Sana had more experience than Thomas, obviously and somehow would pull through. Thomas however had no feasible means of self-defense at such a close range as evidently by his cut. Of which, would need tending perhaps by their resident healer who Thomas may or may not have a thing for. Yet right now was no place to consider healing minor injuries and relationships. Now was a time to go defeat this thing, whatever it was.
Thomas had three more spells. Another column of light as last time, a close-range burst, and finally his most impressive spell which would best be used in Moon-phase under the moonlight. However, the cost of doing so would be as Sana or any other spellcaster would be able to tell, quite dire. Yet could they harm a creature which was not completely corporeal? For knowledge was still power, and Thomas had no course of action but to attempt again to identify what sort of creature or magical entity was this. Surely something summoned or created. Thinking back to pick up his spellbook as the melody of Serenity resounded, again with the music. Too many bards made for a bad band, at least it was soothing sound to focus on devising a strategy to beat this adversity based on what the thing even was. Observations on the efforts and effects (if any) the other had would surely be better use to the group than to start casting more beams of light and engulf their would be attackers.
Thomas really had to explain that he would not be able to be much use if everyone kept tight quarters around the targets...
Location: Hell? Interacting With: Skeletons and one falling for her :P
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If Kyra had been the type to get excited she probably would have done a little cheer. You know the type, pumping fist in the air, a few pom poms, pulling something like a Genie from the lamp and going "Rick 'em, rack 'em, rock 'em, rake! Stick that sword into that snake!" but about Skeletons you know? But she wasn't. Three down, and she cursed under her breath that she hadn't been able to take at least one more out. Shaking her head she went to grab for another set of arrows out of her quiver but it seemed that things were not going as balancedly for her partner archer than they were for her.
Kyra's head whipped around and suddenly her goal right then changed. It wasn't about killing Skeletons right then, or dealing with some shape shipping mist, or even ragging Sana over the fact that Keystone seemed to fall head over heels (literally) just a moment ago. Ir was about keeping a fellow archer from cracking her skull open on the group below. Kyra slung her bow quickly over her shoulder and dropped to straddle the tree, her ankles locking beneath the branch. Letting her weight take over and gravity itself, she swung upside down trying to hand there and grab Lerraina's wrist before she dropped out of reach. If that worked she would attempt to swing the woman back into the tree or at least help her to a lower branch.
Location: By the Cave Interacting With: Cool tall and misty?!!!
âSana!â Satilla reacted, realizing what was wrong with the bard after she tried to act. It was so obvious! The chill had entered her body, causing her temperature to cool down! At least she had two warm animals to protect and warm her a little, judging by how Ash and Epona had kept very close near her. Then there was the other problem with big tall smoky creature that seemed to want the bard for breakfast!
There was no time to lose! The witch right away decided what she had to do, the only current damage sustained by the party was Sanaâs! She needed to firstly deal with the chilled bardâs health! Cyneburg seemed to tackle at Sana to bring her away from the enemy⊠whatever it was. Thus Satilla right away dashed towards them too, her wooden staff in one hand, keeping her left hand free in order to touch Sana right away when she reaches them. She focused on a medium cure, to be ready to use it upon the bard right away. If the medium cure was not enough, she was going to use the serious one or a life pact⊠Though she kept the life pact for truly bad cases.
That was the situation for now, she had decided to not deal with the tall misty thing. She simply didnât have any way of seriously opposing it. Her job was to keep everyone alive!
Season: Late Fall/Early Winter Time Of Day: Night, middle of Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky General Ambiance: Desperate Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave
Specific Resolutions:
Cyneburg: An amazing display of Druid Fu brings Cyneburg to Sana, wherein she is harmlessly acquired and the two of you begin to roll harmlessly out of the way of the approaching baddie. Go Cyn. At the very moment she begins to realize that she was insanely successful, a strange white blur careens toward the both of them, seemingly unable to steer itself.
Sana: The amazing Tuck and Roll maneuver aside, Sana's hypothermia is advancing, now to the point that her skin is turning white and cold. Sana's taking cold damage. It's slow, glacial even. But as soon as Sana can feel her extremities, thusly begins the OW. But FIRST, you also notice the same uncontrolled, partially cartwheeling pale blur nearing your position.
Keystone: Spouts off a slew of interesting yet confusing profanities, all while nigh-suicidally advancing to intercept the malevolent, reddish mist-monster. Beyond the concept of rational thinking, he's actually somewhat effective - Keystone's flurry of dedicated barehanded attacks seem to cause the creature a measure of hurt - in places its misty form seems disrupted. Hey, it's just as surprised as we are.
Lerraina: Your first shot was impeccably aimed and finds its mark. Unfortunately, the arrow passes right through it, without so much as ruffling up a breeze. But wait! There's good news! Kyra manages to grab a handful of beltstrap that prevents your untimely fall onto the unforgiving ground below. (I know this throws off the second half of your intended actions for the round, but think of it an an opportunity!) Lerraina/Gretchin is pulled back up, with full action for the following round.
Calanon: The song is met with mixed success. That is to say, the creature doesn't seem to be affected, nor anyone who is attacking/has attacked this round. Everybody else though - Mixed effects of feeling calmer, for good or ill.
Ntaj: Somehow, Ntaj finds a way to scramble up a vertical pane of ice to get to his hanging tent. (The damaged section at the front is a likely point of egress) He arrives at his tent without issue. Go be a hitter.
Thomas: Ok, Thomas's background knowledge of many things mystical bears some fruit on the nature of your opponent. Maybe (if you can get this info to your teammates fast enough) this knowledge can turn the tide in what looks to be a painfully depressing outcome. So: Everyone who is RPing a sorcerer named Thomas in this storyline may click on the hider below.
What, are you kidding? Clicked on it anyway, didn't you? You must think I'm stupid. Grey: I'm PMing you the results.
The rest of you guys are asses.
Kyra: Good roll to catch your fellow bowgirl. It was precarious, at first - and oddly not the only lady hanging in a tree this week in my RPs - but you've got her. Hauling her back up without dropping your bow is interesting, but manageable. Mazel Tov.
Satilla: This ...was the most fun to resolve, I think. It resulted in a chain of reactions that led to some interesting results. First off, your dash over to an almost downed Sana is waylaid by that damned, random orange peel that keeps popping up. We're still not sure why, by all rights there really shouldn't be one in this climate. But here it is, conveniently explaining the slapstick that is to follow.
Satilla skids forward, arms waving, scream not quite escaping from her lips, t-boning Cyneburg's bard-saving tuck & roll. The three of them change direction and morph into a huge ball of feminine limbs and utter shock, pinballing off of the ice wall and rolling back toward the cave entrance. This day will live on in the stories of the northern Orc tribes for generations to come. Seriously, someone should start a slow clap, right about now.
New Round
The mist-like creature, at first moving with a sense of slow certainty that only two of these miserable feebs put before it could possibly pose a threat is quickly taken aback at the fact that it just got hurt. You can even see it playing out on its face, insomuch that it has something resembling a physical face that expresses. But there it is, flashing from arrogance to surprise, surprise to shock, shock to uncertainty, and then to rage. This big, vulgar, seemingly mundane brute punched it. Punched it, and it hurt.
Forget the spellcaster. Misty has a new target.
A sound, ethereal but horrifying, baritoned out of the creature. As it yelled, a halitosis reeking of old blood filled the semi-enclosed space between the cave and the wall of ice, where most of the group now stands. A sort of wind buffets up, only inside of the confines of the monster. Varying colors of red and pink swirl faster, and its features take on a more sinister tint. Its tendril-like appendages lash out at the insufferable fool that dared hurt it, wrapping around and lifting him a foot or so from the ground.
As Keystone rises, one can hear a suppressed groan issue from the large man. Resistance to unseen pain gives way to the massive sensory overload, and he involuntarily shouts in agony, trying to squeeze his eyes tight against it. Otherwise struggling against the semi-corporeal nature of his aggressor, Keystone is temporarily at the mercy of the creature.
His shout is cut off by a wet coughing sound. Gleaming sickly in the low light of the evening, blood sprays from the Pugilist's face; eyes, nose, and mouth raining their own rivulets of the crimson fluid; additionally the wound on his arm adds to the occasion. Instead of striking the ground, however, it is taken in by the monster attacking him. The beast's color darkens and it becomes less transparent as Keystone's blood energizes it. The disrupted part of its form from the earlier attack remains, but it is still active and vital.
Keystone is dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He raises a hand to his face weakly; he's not dead, but he's not happy. The beast turns to the rest of the group, apparently picking out his next course in the meal set before it.
"Keystone!" Calanon cried, his hands now whipping his drawn bow out and aiming almost instantly. He was not entirely sure if his magical song would help or not, but he had no other way of hurting the creature or helping his allies than him attempting it. However, it seemed to have done very little in the way of aiding his team. He doubted Keystone hit the creature and harmed it because of his magical music. Brogach was kept calm, but bayed nonetheless at what was occurring.
Still, he watched with a sinking fear when he saw the creature rear its terrifying visage upon the one who had harmed it. The blood seeping out of Keystone gave Calanon a cold shiver in the pit of his stomach. He had not spoken to the Pugilist much, but he quite enjoyed his company and matter-of-fact way of thinking and speaking his mind. He'd lost comrades before, and by the Gods he wasn't going to lose this one. Perhaps this less corporeal form was easier to harm? He loosed two arrows, aiming for the creature's eyes.
Location: Hell Frozen Over Interacting With: Hypothermia
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ever wonder how those shit storms start out? Well if you watch closely you can see. You see, you have one frozen person, well near frozen, get hit by one and then another and suddenly you are the core of a pin ball and if there had been more ice and frost on the ground it probably would have turned into one of those cartoon scenes where one guy starts rolling down a snow covered hill and by the time he reaches the cabin at the bottom of the hill it is a snowball the size of the damn cabin and well... you know what happens.
Sana didn't know what the hell had hit her or what was happening, she just felt the world spinning and not in a good way. I mean, she was turning head over heels and it wasn't love driving the feeling. If her insides hadn't felt like they were frozen solid she might have thrown up. Well there was still a chance that she was going to vomit all over the place but it was going to come out of her more like a frozen regurgitated not-so-hungry mans dinner right out of the frozen food section - except in a long tube cylinder instead of a rectangle. Where was a microwave when one needed one?
Oh well, there isn't one. Sana doesn't have much she can actually do but she tries anyway. She tries to stop, to tumble out of the group, to roll this way or that. Anything to get out of the current predicament but hell, being frozen and tumbling makes it difficult. Come on, she needs help. Epona is there, darting after the ball but the horse knows better than to head butt it. She is just trying to keep at this point and keep herself between everything else and the ball of what she thinks is her master right then.
Location: By the Cave Interacting With: Pinball?!!!
It all happened just so fast! One moment she was dashing over to Sana to heal her and the other she was skidding through the ice on something! Her mind her pretty much went into full confusion at that point as she was unable to understand why she would slide just like that.âWhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!â She didnât even have time to scream properly before she hit into Cyneburn and Sana.
Next thing she knew all 3 of them were rolling and finally fell on place as a tangled mess of limbs and bodies. Her head was spinning and not she couldnât focus for a little while. With a groan, she manage to raise her head a little as her confusion went slowly away and she finally realized everything that had transpired.â This was not according to planâŠâ She mumbled as she despite all quickly planed a hand on SanaâsâŠ. ehhh leg? It was easy to make out which limb of this tangled mess belonged to which woman.
The witch quickly closed eyes and focused on using her Cure medium wounds spell.
Location: Near Keystone and the Big Red Ghost Actions: Taking a swing
Fortunately nothing happened on Ntajâs way over to his tent. He opened it up, noticing that Honey was gone and that most of his stuff was still here. Ntaj didn't question where his partner went, Honey was smart enough to know where there's danger too big for him to handle. Inside the tent was all of Ntaj's gear, including weapons, armor, and potions. If he had the time he would get all of it, but for now he could only take what he needed.
Ntaj dropped his choppa, as he lacked a free hand to hold it as he reached for his flai. If what Ntaj thought is true then it's the only weapon that would harm the new beast. Hopefully his theory would work; the entirely mundane iron jar would simply phase through the incorporeal form of his enemy, but the holy water within will strike and burn the creature as usual. And this way Ntaj doesn't need to waste the holy water by flinging or splashing it against the ghost. Or whatever that red monster is.
Armed with his flail Ntaj turned back towards the beast who was giving Keystone a hard time. Still feeding off his rage Ntaj charged back into the fray, still watchful of any debris or orange peels inexplicably littering the forest floor. He screamed at the top of his lungs in hopes of attracting the attention of the monster away from the others.
