In the Streets: The charge of the Gnoll brigade
"That's a Gnoll," the Cultist Summoner hissed as he rolled his eyes at Irrak as it began to charge forward, shield out, through the undead ranks and towards one of his mages. The beast's charge towards the cultist was unexpected, as was the sudden appearnce of a Gnoll, and foolish at that but it would have a moderate success against its target and the Summoner knew it. As the beast charged, the mages began to fling their spells, with molten fireballs and dancing lightning blasts being repelled by the shield or outright missing the beast altogether. The cultist in front of Irrak, as his eyes grew wide and the corners of his lips dropped, turned his body and attempted to run as the Gnoll closed the distance; he did not make it very far. Soon enough the beast was on top of him, and those who were faint at heart had to turn their attention away from what followed.
The Summoner was all too glad to sacrifice one of his pawns to draw out the towering beast, however, and the Summoner smiled from ear to ear as he watched the unspeakable happen to that poor soul. With his right hand, he grabbed a miniature sized bull skull, no bigger than three inches from side to side, out of his small bag of talismans. He released his control over the undead creatures as he brought the talisman close to his face,
"
Nav dorvosr, var dei suun," the Summoner spoke as he blew black smoke out of his mouth and onto the small skull.
Almost immediately, the skull began to shake as cracks as red as hot iron ingot fresh from the forge began to spread across the skull; before long the skull radiated enough light for those still by the tavern to make out the ominous red glow. The summoner tossed it with a gingerly fling in the direction of Irrak, bouncing a few times across the cobblestone street before it came to rest some fifteen feet away from the Gnoll. As it stopped moving, a black smoke erupted from the ground all around the skull; eventually giving way to a ring of fire some ten feet in diameter that erupted upwards some fifteen feet into the sky. After three seconds, the ring of fire ceased and was once again replaced by a cloud of black smoke.
Mulad, finally out on the street, watched in horror as he knew what was to come. "
Run, Irrak," he shouted over the sounds of combat and in the direction of the Gnoll; his warning would come too late.
As the warning from Mulad echoed off a nearby building, the smoke began to dissipate and the silhouette of a creature began to take shape. With arms and legs as thick as tree trunks, with a face that had more skull showing than skin, and with a height that towered over the Gnoll itself, the Minotaur emerged from hell; and it looked every bit the part as well. The skin on the creature's face had long since been removed by the conditions of the demonic plane and the creatures' eyes roared forth with a fiery hot stare that burned hotter than the scorching flames of a cultist magics. As the smoke parted completely, revealing the true extent of the charred remains of both the monster's flesh and fur, Mulad knew the Gnoll would be in a fight for his life. The beast roared and the surrounding area roared back with an echo before it charged the Gnoll head on; knocking him through the door of a ruined building with a heavy strike.
Though ill-advised at best, the Gnoll's charge had achieved two unintended side effects.
In the Streets: Ill-advised success - Mardion
The cultists hands quickly fell from their elevated position and the fireball spell, which was held in his right hand and lined up for a near guaranteed hit on Kestrel, turned into a puff of smoke as an arrow penetrated deep through the left area of his chest; striking through the mage's heart in the process. His eyes darted down to the arrow shaft, and then up to the elevated position of Mardion. The mage dropped to his knees, before eventually falling to his side and died on the spot; but the dead never truly stay dead anymore now do they. Soon enough, the corrupting magic entered his body as well, and he rose to his feet once more before it slowly began to make its way towards the heroic party. One of now two surviving cultist mages channeled his magic into his right hand and threw a fireball spell towards Mardion, with it impacting just to the left and missing its target; but it was all too close for comfort none the less.
The second unintended effect the Gnolls charge had brought would be less dramatic, though it gave many of the others a better chance at defeating the enemy as a whole. As the summoner focused his magic on summoning the monster, he let his grip on the undead creatures lessen and a result they began to revert back to their dead forms all around; with many nearly immediately dropping to the ground, dead as nature intended. That is not to say they were forever downed, as once the summoner returned his focus to the magic did the undead begin to rise once again.
In the Streets: Safety in numbers - Gerhard, Roth, Andin, Kestrel, Nimue, Eovaine,
Mardion was not safe in his little perch. One of the two cultist mages had begun to assault his position even further with consistent blasts of magical strikes shaking the area around Mardion while the second mage had begun to rain down a magical barrage around the giant of a Knight and the two elves; though Mulad was working hard to prevent any spell from landing a blow. Now standing beside the Knight Gerhard, Mulad eyes had adopted a bright blue glow to them as he used his defensive magic to deflect the magic projectiles away from the group and through the hordes of the undead; though he was having some difficulty protecting both the core group and the archer at the same time. Eventually, he would choose the party as a whole over the one soldier, even if it was his guide.
Similarly, Kestrel and her horse had become a prime target for the undead creatures. They attempted to swarm and knock her off her horse but thankfully up until this point they have been just near misses; that would change quickly as the summoner took notice of the lonesome warrior. The undead strikes had become more organized with the undead now grabbing wooden posts, spears, or whatever long item they could get their hands on; each with the singular purpose of driving that item into the chest of Kestrels horse, force her down, and bring the lonesome one into the dark embrace of the many. Eovaine bore the mark of this type of misguided adventure all too well. Before backup could arrive, a single undead creature would land a glancing blow against the elf and a small, narrow, and blood dripping wound now present on his right shoulder; the wound was neither serious or a cause for a concern on its own
Eovaine and Roth had a much higher chance of success if they fought together but their chances would eventually run out if something was not done. They had limited avenues to travel down thanks to their precarious position. They could fight their way back to the Knight and Mulad, fight through the undead horde and assault the summoner himself, or they could stand their ground and die. Each second counted in whatever endeavor they chose.
Inside the Tavern: Gala, Nimue and Andin
All the undead had been destroyed by the holy magic of the Priestess, so whatever attempt at crafting a weapon to be used against the enemy could succeed in peace. Time was of the essence. Two mages and nearly fifty undead creatures had been defeated in combat; though through the Gnoll accepting the bait the group now had to contend with a Minotaur. Whatever they would plan, if not executed in a timely manner their plan and non-presence in the battle could prove fatal for one. Similarly, Gala and her mace could do a ton of damage if she and her weapon entered the fight.
